“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, seeing as this is our first official class together, what do you say to us starting it off with a bang. An essay perhaps?” Mr Sinclair slipped his glasses back on and eyed the class.
God, it was just sinful to sit here and have illicit feelings about my teacher. My roving gaze snapped to Cian and she fanned her crotch under the table, making me laugh.
“An essay on Benjamin Franklin’s contribution to history perhaps?” Mr Sinclair asked, writing on the chalkboard.
And I don’t know why I did it. “History is such a beautiful subject. Benjamin Franklin is such a boring old goat. I’m sure there’s a lot more colourful history we could write about,” the words were out before I could stop myself. Soft whispers flew around the class, and I wasn’t sure if they were surprised at my boldness or stupidity to question the teacher.
“Are you saying old people are boring, Miss Singh?” he asked without looking at me.
“No...yes...um,” I sputtered. “Some old people are boring, I guess. Just like history, there are plenty of interesting old people and topics. I’m just saying maybe you should make the topics more relatable, that’s all. Challenge the young minds, so to speak.” Okay, I should just shut up now.
“So, you like to be challenged, Miss Singh?” He turned away from the board, tossing the white piece of chalk on the table, crossed his arms over his chest then raked a gaze over the class. His movements slow before those green eyes came to rest on me. The expression on his face had me wishing I’d shut my mouth. I’d never seen an animal out in the wild before. Watching this man, I knew what a lone lion trapped by a cackle of hyenas felt like—two simple words.
Bring it!
That’s what I saw on this man’s face right now. He loved a challenge and I’d just given him one.
“Pens up, heads down. Now,” he instructed before I could answer, his tone terse and pointed almost like he was daring someone to argue with him.
And I so wanted to, just because his dismissal irked me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed heads dropping quickly. Tilting my chin defiantly, I stared at him.
Then I gulped when he stalked toward me, his gait sexy, confident and so freaking hot. I resisted the urge to fan my face. When he placed his hands palms down on my desk, I couldn’t help admiring the perfectly manicured strong fingers or just how much those roped veins fascinated me. I dragged my gaze further up, following the contours of those cords snaking around his inked forearms to disappear beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his grey button-down. I don’t think I’d ever seen a teacher with tattoos before.
He began speaking and I lost track of all my thoughts. “Wipe that look off your face, Miss Singh. Bury it in the process. Make it part of the history you love so much,” his words were low and husky, for my ears only.
“What look?” I whispered, feigning innocence. Why was he so freaking observant? Hiding facial expressions around him would be a tricky feat. Acting unaffected an even harder sell.
“Like you want me to throw you on my desk, rip off your panties, spread your legs and eat your sweet pussy.”
Holy freaking shit.My jaw dropped, hitting the floor so hard, it smacked my pussy on the way up. I clenched my thighs tight.
He leaned closer still and I got a whiff of his cologne, headier than the scent at our first meeting. “That I know for a fact is dripping right now at the thought of my tongue curling around your swollen clit, that I’m wholly familiar with,” he added.
“Oh, my God,” I gasped, unable to conceal the swallow his nearness elicited.
Then his words hit me. Did he just say he was familiar with my clit? How? All sorts of weird scenarios converged in my startled brain. We ran into each on the school tour. Wait. Did he see my crotch when I fell?No, I silently screamed, instant heat flooding my cheeks.
“You’re not fam...” I began but his eyes glued to mine like he waited for me to continue, the slightest twitch of his lips told me he knew he wasn’t wrong. I glanced away to hide the truth. “You’re not familiar with anything...” I trailed off because he was already returning to the front of the room.
Frazzled, I snuck a quick look around to see if anyone else had heard his comments. But all heads were down, focusing on the essay he’d asked for and something I should be doing as well. Only, I couldn’t stop the images of me on his desk, my legs spread wide, and his head buried between my thighs while he ate me out. I shivered.
“God, this is going to be a long-ass year of wet panties and painful nipples,” I muttered under my breath.
Like an intrepid mind reader, my sexy teacher lifted one dark brow. Those intense green eyes daring me to challenge him again. The tiniest of squirms in my seat was probably all the confirmation he needed that my panties were soaked. Chances were if I stood up, a huge wet spot would be clearly visible on my seat. Thank God, my school skirt was dark. Regardless, I didn’t have it in me to walk out of this class without clenching my thighs. Nor could I ignore just how heavy my breasts suddenly felt, my nipples hard and eager for his mouth.
Groaning softly, I leaned an elbow on my desk and cupped my brow, hiding the effect he was having on me.
“What did Mr Sinclair want?” Samantha poked at the hand holding my head with her pencil. When I didn’t answer, she leaned closer. “He’s so out of your league, you know. Teachers like him, don’t run behind fat girls.”
I was so tempted to punch her in the teeth. Instead, I shook my head. “No, they don’t, because hussies like you make it easy for them to score when their balls need emptying, nothing more,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
She gawked at me, opened her mouth to say something then turned back to her paper. Mr. Sinclair would undoubtedly have lots of mouths to choose from when he needed his cock sucked. Covering my grin with my hand, I looked up to find my teacher watching me. Those black rimmed specs hardening my nipples.
Focus, Lee.
When I got home that afternoon, dad called to say he was expecting a visitor and he’d be home early to make dinner. Great, I could soak in the jacuzzi like I’d planned yesterday but never got to because I had homework and also, I was still reeling from meeting my prince Winthrop again.
Even though we all had our own bathrooms, dad had a jacuzzi built into a room near the kitchen with doors that overlooked the pool. Stripping off my sweaty school shirt and skirt, I wound my hair into a makeshift bun, hit the on button and as soon as the jets started churning, I plugged in my earbuds and stepped inside.
