Hot For Teacher (33 page)

An hour into the movie, his hand is hiked up my dress and he’s tickling my stomach. I sigh as his fingers slide over my soft skin. I can feel his excitement digging into me and I press back against him, hoping he’ll go further.

He tilts my face toward him and presses his mouth against mine. It’s electric. Every touch from him sends my body crazy. I reposition myself so I’m sitting in his lap, his hands clutching my ass. I gasp as his hand moves to my breast, rubbing my nipple between his fingers. My core is throbbing like crazy. I need relief and I need it soon. 

“Can you feel how hard you have me?” he whispers as he sucks on my earlobe. I nod and narrow my eyes as my fingers brush over his crotch, his erection rubbing against the palm of my hand.

His fingers disappear from my breast and work their way down my stomach, resting over my panties. Stopping at the white lacy edge, he motions for me to lift my hips. I do, and he slides my panties down my legs, discarding them on the floor.

I unbutton his shorts and he shrugs them off too so, then he lifts my leg over him his stomach so I’m straddling his chest. His cock presses against my stomach and I gasp as he slides a finger, then another inside of me, circling and rubbing.

“Fuck, Eli, I’m going to come soon,” I moan loudly.

“Not yet,” he mumbles. “I want you wet. Can you take me, Jill? Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

Oh, god.
His dirty whispers in my ear have me just about ready to explode. He leans over and grabs a condom from the pocket of his shorts, ripping into it with his teeth, all while his fingers continue to work me. I moan, rocking against his hand. It only takes another minute and I screaming.

He positions his cock at my entrance and I lower myself down slowly. I’m throbbing—aching—at the size of him, but it feels so damn good. I curl my arms around his neck as he rocks me back and forth.

“Jill, fuck, Jill,” he moans. His back arches as he jerks forward, releasing inside me.

I collapse on top of his sweat-covered front, the smell of sex around us.
That is the hottest fucking thing that has ever happened to me.

“Wow,” he whispers in my ear. “That was…” He shakes his head, at a loss for words.

“Wonderful? Epic? Amazing?” I suggest, laughing as he tickles me.

“All of the above.”

With a lazy grin, I sit up. “I might take a shower.”

He nods and watches me walk into the bathroom.

***

He is dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed when I get out of the shower. He looks serious. He looks angry and I have no idea why the mood has suddenly changed.

“Get dressed and I’ll take you home. I’m sure you’ve got an early morning start for work, right?”

I glance at the clock. It’s barely eight. I have no idea what the hell is going on. He fucks me and then kicks me out? I grab my clothes and dress quickly, trying not to show how upset I am.

“I’ll catch a fucking cab,” I say, gritting my teeth.

I grab my bag and storm out of the room. What the hell was that? He got his orgasm so we’re over? I can’t believe I was so wrong about this guy. I’m fighting back tears as I hail a cab out front and give the driver my address.

As upset as I am, I’m also royally pissed.

Arriving home, I crawl right into bed. I can’t stop thinking about him and what happened. How can he make me feel so alive and so violated at the same time?

Maybe I scared him away with being too forward too quickly? I don’t know what the hell I’ve done.
Stop it, Jill. It is not your fault the guy is a asshole.

As I roll over, ready to at least
try
and sleep, I notice a text.

Eli: I’m sorry, Jill. I shouldn’t have kicked you out like that, but I was angry. Your phone rang while you were in the shower and I went to answer it. Your ID fell out. How could you not tell me you’re only seventeen?

My heart pounds and I feel sick.
He knows the truth
. I have no idea how to respond to that. He is eight years older than me, and I lied to him. Do I blame the guy for hating me? I feel stupid for taking my ID with me on a date with a guy eight years older than me, and even more stupid for falling for him.

No matter how well we clicked, or how much he likes me, he will never get past this.

I arrive at history class half an hour ahead of schedule. No one arrives until ten minutes before the class—not even Mr. A, but I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to face Mom this morning.

I reach into my bag for my phone and check my emails and texts to see if Eli has contacted me. He hasn’t.

I need to talk to someone, so I text Alice.

Me: I’m fucked. Literally and figuratively. He knows. We had sex and he saw my ID. To say he was pissed is an understatement.

Alice: Dude, you woke me up. Time zones! Maybe he’ll calm down?

Me: Yeah maybe, but I doubt it. Sorry for the wake up. I’ll talk to you later.

I smile as I think about our weekend—minus the part where he discovered what a liar I am. Isn’t there some machine invented that rewinds time? I want to do it all again, and this time leave my ID at home.

Mr. A walks into the room. He’s a lot earlier than normal and he’s looking a little worse for wear. After setting up the projector, he sees me sitting up at the back and walks up to ask how my weekend was and praise my paper on the works written by Plutarch on the Roman Emperors. I’ve had a love for Greek history for a few years, though I’m sure the majority of seniors only take this class because he is an easy marker.

“Thank you, it was an easy essay given my obsession with it. My weekend was good. I had fun, actually. How was yours, Mr. A?”

He looks a bit defeated. “Oh, it was okay, Ms. Wilson. My family decided to visit last night, so I’m tired.”

“Family will do that to you,” I joke.

He is about to walk away when he turns around.

“I hope the class is interesting enough for you today that I don’t need to confiscate any phones.” He smirks as I blush.

***

“All right class, I need to make you all aware that due to personal reasons, I need to cut back on the hours teaching, and my son will be taking the majority of the classes for the rest of the term. I’ll still be available via the AP’s office. However, try and go through Mr. Junior Anderson as much as you can. Please make my son welcome.”

My heart sinks.

Another person I have formed a good relationship with that is disappearing from my life. I turn my head to the door waiting for this mysterious son. A familiar figure walks to the front of the room.

Standing in front of me is Eli. My Eli. The one who slept with me and then kicked me out last night.
Eli is Mr. A’s son.

Oh god, no.

I can feel tears starting to well. Why the fuck did I not ask him what his father did for a living? Why the fuck did I not push him to tell me
why
he was here? What a disaster.

Eli introduces himself to the class and gives his background.

“It’s probably easiest for you all to call me Elijah. Less confusion that way.” His eyes scan the room and lock on mine. I swear his face goes white. The shock has rendered him speechless. So much so that Mr. A nudges him.

“I…I’m looking forward to getting to know you all. I’ll just be observing for the rest of the day, but feel free to ask me any questions.” He glances my way again, but then his gaze falls.

Mr. Anderson chooses
this
moment for each student to stand up and introduce themselves and explain why they chose this subject this term.

Fucking perfect.

This whole thing is so fucking awkward. I sink low in my seat and hope like hell that I’ll be bypassed. No such luck.

“Ms. Wilson. It’s your turn.”

Standing up, I clear my throat and look at Eli right in the eye. The last thing I want him to see is how upset I am. Just before I start to introduce myself, Jamie pipes up loudly and in a girly voice.

“Hello Elijah, my name’s Jill and I like to sit in class and watch soft porn all day.”

The class snickers and I lift my head and stare at the ceiling before my eyes go back to Eli. He’s staring at me intently, and all I can think about is him thrusting himself inside me. Is he thinking about that too?

Can this get any more mortifying?

“Jamie, leave the room. NOW.” Mr. A’s voice booms through the room, making me jump.

Eli looks at his Dad with a stoic expression, and even Jamie looks surprised. He mumbles something under his breath and storms out.

Turning to me, Senior Anderson nods.

“Hi, my name is Jill Wilson and I selected this subject because I have an interest in Greek history,” I say in monotone. My face is expressionless as I look straight at Eli. I’m almost daring him to look away.

He doesn’t. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I’m sure it isn’t good.

Could this get any worse?

The minute I walk out of the classroom, I run across the campus toward the library trying to hold back my tears. I reach the confines of the bathroom and hurl my breakfast into the bowl. I’m not sure whether my emotion is anger, frustration, or complete sadness at the situation. But either way, I know I’ve lost any chance of anything happening with Eli.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I don’t want to talk to anyone at the moment in my current state. In fact, I think I’m just going to call it a day and go home.

Eli: Meet me in the classroom in five. We need to discuss this.

I snort. “Discuss this.” How mature of him. Why didn’t he want to discuss this before he threw me out last night? I gather my backpack off the floor and check myself in the mirror. My mascara has run down my face and my hair is messy. I guess heaving your head in a toilet bowl for half an hour will do that to you.

I fix my makeup and hair and make my way across the school grounds to meet Eli. My heart is racing and potential scenarios are going through my mind. I’m in my own little world when someone walking past clips me on the shoulder and the contents of my bag scatter the ground. I look up and it’s Jamie.

“Hey… watch where you’re going, slut” he spits at me and walks off with a snide look on his face. The friends with him laugh and tears spring to my eyes. As I gather my things, I realize I’m shaking.

What’s his fucking problem with me?

I arrive back in the history room and Eli is leaning against the desk with his arms folded. I take a few seconds to admire his beauty. He’s so young, how can he be a
teacher
? He has to be right out of college. Not that it really matters. New teacher, seasoned teacher, he is still
off limits.

I clear my throat and he looks up. He places his hands on the edge of the table. His gaze moves over me, taking in my loose but short black skirt—though longer than most of the girls wear them—and my school blazer. I know I look a mess, but at this point I don’t care.

“Jill,” he says quietly. His voice is calm. Controlled. The fire in his eyes betrays him, though. He’s
angry
. At me. And I don’t blame him. “Why did you lie to me?”

I walk into the room and take a seat in the front row. I’m close enough that his aftershave hits my senses, sending shivers down my spine, but far enough away that there is some distance between us.

I don’t trust myself to be close to him. I don’t trust myself not to press my lips against his. Would he resist? I shiver.

I run my fingers through my hair, which seems to affect him, and look him in the eye. I’m contemplating my response. Why
did
I lie in the first place?

Because I knew he wouldn’t give me a chance if he knew how young I was. Because everyone my own age—guys and girls—are dicks who would rather torture me than get to know me.

Because I was—
am
—lonely.

“You know how I told you I’m always alone because my parents are never around? And we move a lot due to Dad’s job, so I’m not in any place to make real friends?”

He nods at my admission, not taking his eyes away from me. I take a breath and force myself to continue.

“I thought it’d be a great idea to set up a profile and make some new friends. Only I thought no one would want to be friends with a seventeen-year-old girl in high school.” I pause. “Well, except for creeps.” I’m embarrassed so I look away from him. This sounds immature even to me. If one thing, I’m showing my age. I’m showing how inexperienced I really am.

“So, there’s other people that you’re chatting to?” His voice is sharp, and I know he means guys.

My eyes widen in shock. He sounds almost…
jealous
.

“No, it’s only you,” I mumble, refusing to meet his gaze.

God, I sound like a poorly written greeting card.

“How the fuck could you lie to me about something so catastrophic?” he growls, slamming his fists down on his desk and cursing. “This could ruin my career.”

“Are you kidding me?” I laugh. My defenses are kicking in. I’ll take a huge chunk of the blame for this, but he was part of this too. “Let’s not forget that you lied to me as well by omitting to tell me you’re a high school teacher.”

“Because it had nothing to do with you,” he explodes.

“Women lie about their age all the time,” I mutter. I know it’s a weak excuse. I look down, not wanting him to see me cry. I know I’m in the wrong and I hate that he’s so angry with me.

“Jill,” he whispers, his voice strained. He gets off the table and walks toward me, his face softening. “All night I thought about you, trying to rationalize how I could possibly be so into you being that you’re so much younger than me. And now it’s fucking worse. I’m your
teacher
.” He laughs as the word tumbles from his lips. “I owe you a duty of care. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t involve sleeping with you.”

His attempt at a joke cracks a smile on my face. Kneeling in front of me, his hand moves over my knee and I gasp. A simple touch like that has me on fire.

“We can’t go there, Jill. It’s over.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” I mumble, so desperate I’m clutching at straws.

He reaches up and wipes away the tears running down my cheeks.

“We could keep this a secret and continue the relationship, couldn’t we?” I don’t need him to answer.
I already know.

Eli sighs, his eyes closing.

“Jill, we can’t continue . . . whatever
this
is that we have going on, and no one can ever know about this. I admit, I’m attracted to you.” He pauses and exhales loudly. “I can’t risk my father’s career, let alone my own,” he says softly.

I hadn’t even considered how this might look for Mr. A. I don’t want to hurt him either. I offer him a simple nod. This is all too much to take in one day.

I stand abruptly, making him stand too. With a fresh round of tears welling in my eyes, I turn around and walk out the door and don’t look back. All of this could’ve been avoided if I’d just been honest with him. But this is his fault too. He made me fall for him. He pushed our relationship out of my comfort zone.

Every single decision was made by him, not me. Not
us
.

For that he needs to take some responsibility.