“Well, I don’t take well to assholeness,” I muttered.
“I’ll make it up to you. I’m a master at oral sex.” Jaime’s perfect skillful mouth said, his serene blues scanning me earnestly.
“How so?” I raised an eyebrow as he inched closer to my p*ssy, still pumping his fingers to the rhythm of my thudding heartbeat.
He gave a light shrug. “Spent summer camp last year eating p*ssy at Park City, Utah’s most exclusive teen retreat. Campers, counselors, even a fucking park ranger. Twenty-six of ‘em.”
That was probably one of the most disgusting things I’d ever heard, but I was having too much fun to care.
“Not all women like the same things in bed,” I croaked when his face was level with my p*ssy.
“True, but all women like me in bed.” Jaime punctuated his cocky grin with a wink, reached for his jeans, pulled out something small, ripped it open—was it a condom?—and tossed it into his mouth.
“I know what you want, Ms. Greene. You want to come undone. I’ll make you come. And with me, you’ll never be done.”
He dove in.
Jaime’s cold, minty mouth met my hot-as-sin flesh. My hips bucked, chasing his touch as he sucked hard on my clit before breathing the fresh bite of mint into my p*ssy, driving his tongue deep inside. I tried to wriggle free, the intensity of my pleasure so profound I felt like I’d combust into burnt marshmallow under his body. But he pinned me down, placing a flexed muscular arm over my stomach, insisting I see this through with him.
It was tantalizing, the wave of weakness and lust that crashed over my body, head to toe. I gripped his long blond hair—so soft and shiny—in my small fist and jerked him closer into me, letting out a desperate mewl. A violent orgasm ripped through me, my muscles tightening in pleasure.
Jaime pinned me to the floor and crawled on top of me, devouring my mouth with his. “Taste it,” he growled like a beast, disposing of his gum in my mouth. His tongue was everywhere—my teeth, the walls of my mouth, on my chin, even my cheeks. “It tastes like you, Teach.”
I chewed on his gum. He was right. It tasted like my p*ssy.
Thrill sliced through my veins when Jaime raised his body and fumbled for his jeans. I prayed he was actually searching for a condom this time. I wanted to fuck him more than I wanted to hit the lottery jackpot, but I was still too flushed, my nerves too sensitive after my mind-blowing orgasm.
He rolled on a condom and guided his cock between my folds until his balls hit my entrance.
“Missionary, huh? What kind of camp was it? ‘Book of Mormon’ Youth?” I egged him on.
He laughed, hissing a moan, his eyelids half-mast as he started thrusting, finding the tempo that made us both groan. He was the perfect size. Big and thick, but not scarily so.
“Baby, I’m just breaking you in for the future.” He bit my earlobe, his damp chest sticking to mine. “Once I’m done, you’ll be begging for missionary.”
I believed him.
The sex lasted nearly fifteen minutes, a lot longer than I thought an eighteen-year-old, even one who’d just gotten off from a blow job, would be able to last. He came again, and after flipping him so I was on top, watching his gorgeous, Channing-Tatum-meets-Ryan-Gosling face as I clutched his cock, so did I.
When we were done, I rolled back and lay on the floor beside him. He had one hand tucked under his head and the other on his stomach. Everything about him was so perfect. Even his blond armpit hair was sexy. And that made me sad, because I knew guys like Jaime grew up to find women who were just as put-together as they were.
And these type of women? I wasn’t among them.
He stared at my popcorn ceiling in contented silence.
“Say something.” I cleared my throat, glaring. I had my head propped on one arm behind my head, my chest still dancing up and down. We were both naked, and it was starting to get chilly on my floor. But I wanted him to speak. Needed him to, badly.
“I’ve just fulfilled a fantasy.” He slanted his head so we were looking at each other. “I think I’m allowed a moment to regroup.”
“I was your fantasy?” How could that be? He was perfect, rich, and handsome. Young and sexily dangerous. And I was…his boring teacher.
“Ms. Greene…” he started, cupping my cheek.
I leaned into his hand before I realized what I was doing. By the time I felt his warmth against my skin, it was too late to pull away. “Please, call me Mel when we’re alone.”
His lips twitched, but he fought his smile. “Mel,” he corrected. “You’re it. You’re so. Fucking. It. Smart, sassy, and witty, and unimpressed with all the wealth and bullshit drama around you. You have no idea how hot you are. Which makes you even hotter. This is fucking happening, baby. We’re happening.”
I nuzzled into his neck, knowing that I was fueling a delusion that was just waiting to explode into calamity but not giving a damn anymore. His words moved something inside me. Not gently, either. They shook me to the core.
“Just until school ends,” I whispered into his warm muscular shoulder, trying to convince myself more than him. He brushed his thumb along my back, sending goosebumps to my arms and scalp.
“This ends the last day of school,” he agreed.
We had a deadline.
We had a plan.
And for a moment there, our warm bodies on that cold floor, with the haze of sex and bliss clouding our minds, I believed we were going to keep our careless promise. There was a little earthquake—a literal one—that moved some of the boxes as we made this agreement. I thought it was a coincidence. It wasn’t. It was the devil in hell down below, rattling the earth with his laughter. Laughing at me.
At how wrong I was.
THE NEXT WEEK AT SCHOOL was paradise. My classes were perfectly behaved. I didn’t struggle to hold the students’ attention, because my new fuck-buddy, an intimidating senior jock who made people fall in line with his stare alone, spread the word not to mess with Ms. Greene. No one was ballsy enough to ask why. Everyone naturally assumed my fucked-up car and his freshly painted Range Rover and its retreat to the student parking lot were the answer to that question. To them, Jaime wanted to keep me happy since he bumped into my car.
No one suspected we were bumping a few other things in our free time.
I taught all my classes then sat with Jaime in detention. I used the time to work, while he used the time to text. On the last day, I kept glancing at my watch, tapping my Sharpie against my desk. I couldn’t concentrate on anything with him in the room. There were no words spoken between us. When his time was up, we both picked up our belongings and walked out of the classroom. I went to my car, he went to his, but by the time I got home, he was waiting inside my building, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.