Just a quick… quick glance.
Leaning back in my seat, I cross my hands behind my head and watch the students work in their textbooks. I let my eyes roam over each of their faces in case anyone is looking before I stop on her.
I don’t know where she is in the text, but I study the way her emerald eyes roll over each word, how they pinch at the corners when she comes across a section she doesn’t understand.
Her teeth nip at the corner of her bottom lip, sucking in the pink flesh until it’s plump and red.
The sleeve of her dress continues to fall down her shoulder, exposing delicate white skin and the soft curve of her collarbone. She must not feel it dip, even as it sinks to the swell of her breasts.
A hint of lace pokes up from the neckline, giving me a peek at her firm, supple flesh. My stare dips lower, counting the moles that dot her chest until they disappear into her dress.
Her eyes lift then, not on me, but on the timeline outlined on the board. Nude-painted nails glide up her milky skin, leaving a trail for my stare to follow until she adjusts her strap and focuses on her work again.
A sigh bubbles in my chest as I gaze upon her. She’s completely unaware of how beautiful I think she is.
Okay, that is enough.
“Alright, class! Pack it up!” I announce, my throat catching at the last bit when her lashes fan in my direction.
My pants begin to tighten, so I shuffle farther into my desk, hiding the firmness in my slacks while saying goodbye to my students.
Clearing my throat of the ball currently lodged there, I call her to my desk. As she makes her way to me, hands playing with the ends of her long, raven waves, I slam myself into my seat and roll my lower half under the desk.
What started out as a growing discomfort quickly becomes a pulsing need. Breathing through the erection pressing against the zipper, I tent my fingers under my chin and calmly ask, “Are we still on for tutoring today?”
There she goes again, playing with that fat bottom lip until it’s candy-apple red. The tip of her tongue licks at the swollen area, and for a brief second, the thought of tasting her springs to mind.
My dick jumps in my pants then, causing me to flinch violently enough to slam my knees into the bottom side of the desk. She startles, a tiny squeak coming from her petite body before she breathes out a chuckle.
“Yeah. I’ll be here right after-”
“Wait. What? You’re tutoring her?” Ariana, another student of mine, interrupts, hands crossed in annoyance under her chest while she sends a deathly glare in Scarlett’s direction. “You never tutor.”
“Usually, I don’t.” I admit, struggling to give her my undivided attention. “But Scarlett came so late into the year, I’m working around my schedule to help her catch up.”
At least that’s what it started out as. But as I sit here, fighting the boner in my pants and the inappropriate thoughts from spinning around in my head, I wonder if tutoring is such a good idea.
“Well, I need tutoring, too,” Ariana argues, still glaring daggers at Scarlett. She pays it no mind, though. In fact, Ariana’s blatant aggression seems to amuse Miss Dane if her little smirk has anything to say about it.
Clearing my throat again, I slap on my most sincere smile. “Ariana, you have one hundred percent in this class. You’ve never gotten below a ninety-nine on any assignment or exam, and you’ve done every single extra credit project. You, of all my students in every class, do not need tutoring.”
She stares at me aghast before glaring at Scarlett with unconcealed loathing. Aggressively swiping her backpack from the corner of my desk, she storms out of the room, slamming the door on her way out.
“I think you pissed her off,” Scarlett remarks, chewing on her lip to keep the laughter at bay, but she fails, and her light giggle sparks something inside me.
I can’t speak, can barely even think as I watch her walk away. It takes everything in me to keep my eyes off her ass, but it’s damn near impossible as it sways underneath her cloudy blue dress.
Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me?
The door slams shut again, and I rush to lock it.Thank fucking God that I have no sixth period, I think as I flip the lights off, bathing my classroom in pitch black.
Against my better judgment, I pull my throbbing cock out of my pants and give it a long tug, silencing my groans as I work it harder.
It’s just ’cause my wife doesn’t fuck me, I repeat internally.
This has nothing to do with Scarlett, I demand, while rolling the beads of pre-come around the swollen tip of my dick.
From base to end, I drag my fist up and down, working my foreskin back and peering at the weeping head. I close my eyes and imagine her tongue pressing against the seeping slit. Her nails, sharp as claws, dig into my trembling quads, piercing my flesh until blood trickles down my thighs. Euphoria is the only word that can describe the feeling of her touch on my skin.
