Hot For My Teacher

A Teacher & Student Romance

Gigi Thorne

Copyright © 2018 by Gigi Thorne

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover by Mayhem Cover Creations

Contents

1. Kara

2. Jackson

3. Kara

4. Jackson

5. Kara

6. Jackson

7. Kara

8. Jackson

9. Kara

10. Kara

Epilogue

Who is Gigi

Also by Gigi

1

Kara

“Cart three on the Ghost Chase needs a rescue at zone seven,” Rick, the midway night manager says over my walkie-talkie.

Unclipping the bulky device from the waistband of my tan colored yoga pants, I bring the mic close to my lips. “I’m a minute out,” I answer. “Be there shortly.”

Taking a shortcut behind the Zombie Snatcher, I enter the Ghost Chase from the blacked-out service door closest to location seven. Before my eyes can adjust to the darkness, I hear the hysterical cries and my chest tightens. The little boy sounds just like him. It’s times like these that I wish my parents had sold their chain of amusement parks with adjoining motels around our state, and gone into a different business. Every little boy’s cries remind me of Aiden. Every panicked child sends me into panic mode, and I can’t turn off the desperate need to make sure this little boy is okay.

But all the saving in the world won’t bring Aiden back.

Swallowing hard, I push down the thought, and flip on the zone seven switch just in time to see a little boy no older than four or five standing in his cart.

“Try not to move,” I shout, moving quickly beside the metal track that guides each cart separately through the glow-in-the-dark kids’ ride.

Somehow, the little boy figured out how to undo his seatbelt and lift the safety bar holding him and the girl around his age sitting beside him. He has one leg dangling precariously over the side of the cart, ready to make the three-foot jump to the floor. The height is not what puts him in danger. It’s the fact that depending on where he lands, he can fall or become wedged between the tracks, possibly injuring a finger, a limb or worse. Thankfully, the ride has an emergency stop safety feature that’s triggered when anyone in the cart removes their seatbelt.

“I want to get out!” the little boy cries, his deafening screams bouncing off the narrow walls as I make my way to get closer. “Let me out now!”

“Sit down, Nathan,” the girl beside him shouts, her voice matching his volume. She tugs at the back of his t-shirt. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Hush up, Sofia. I don’t want to sit down!” he answers her, his voice slightly weaker. “I want Mommy.”

“The ride is almost over, Nathan. It’ll be okay, kids,” I hear the deep, calm, masculine voice rumble behind them. My head turns as I follow the sound, and when my eyes land on his piercing green eyes, all the air is sucked out of my lungs.

I have no idea why.

In my job here at one of the busiest amusement parks in the city, I see thousands of men of all ages. There’s no logic as to why this one man catches my eye, but he does, and for a long, distracted moment, I can’t look away.

I should be a lot more professional than I am right now, taking him in from head to toe as I stand a few feet from the little boy and girl that I assume are his.

The fluorescent track lighting overheard shines down on his thick dark head of hair, casting shadows down his face and sharp jawline to his unbelievably broad shoulders. The man exudes alpha maleness. He’s walking masculinity. Well, sitting at the moment. He’s all alpha male, yet his features have a calmness to them, or maybe it's the patience in his tone as he tries to coax his little boy back into the cart. I can tell he's really tall too, from the way he sits with his knees askew from having folded himself into the boxcart. It's made to comfortably fit two medium-sized adults, but his shoulders take up almost all the width, and his legs can only go in sideways. That's devotion, I say to myself. He must be so protective of his kids, not letting them out of his sight, not even for a six-minute indoor ride. But then again, I can't blame him when his son is in a panic, crying for his mother.

Heat spreads out from between my upper thighs as I look at the rest of what I can see of his body. He's ripped. His chest and torso strain the fabric of his plaid button-down shirt, hinting at every line and ridge of all those muscles. My eyes trail back up to his face, and he gives me a crooked smile. This time, when our eyes meet, I discover that just as I had a moment to take a good look at him, he’s doing the same, with me. Heat rises to my cheeks as his gaze drags slowly down my face and body, his eyes seeming to darken. They inch past my collarbone, pausing at my breasts, then jump to my waist, my hips and back up to my eyes. I’m sure my face turns a deeper shade of pink in reaction to his appraisal, which is when I snap back to my reason for being here.

“Hello. I’m Kara,” I tell the little boy. “Is your name Nathan?”

He nods but doesn’t stop stretching one leg down the side of the cart as he struggles to get out by himself.

"I need you to lift your leg back into the cart," I say to him. “Can you do that for me?”

Nathan shakes his head and points back where the carts came from. “I want to get out. I don’t like it in here.”

“The ride is so close to the end, Nathan. Really close.” I motion over at the only red flashing light ahead of us. “See that light? That’s where the ride ends. After that, you’ll be back outside.”

“Please let me out, Miss Kara,” he begs so softly, and his two hands reach out toward me. I can’t ignore his adorable plea for my help. The ride has been held up for several minutes and must have at least a few livid passengers in the carts behind, so I get the urgency.

Glancing over at the striking face of his father—at least, I think it’s his father—I see him nod his okay. I take his son into my arms. Little Nathan clings to my side, his small arms around my neck, his legs tight around my waist, his blonde head of wavy hair buried in one side of my jet black ponytail hairdo. His whimpers and cries soon stop.

“Can you stay buckled up?” I ask the girl that was in the cart with him.

“Yes. I’m a good girl,” she answers, nodding her head so sharply that some of her long blonde locks fall into her face. She pushes her hair away from her light hazel eyes. “Not like my baby brother, Nathan.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, and quickly look back at the man again, ignoring the nervous flip my stomach continues to make. “Sir, I’ll be right outside the exit with your son, okay?”

“My nephew. And yes, that’s fine,” he answers, and that half-smile appears again.

I disable the emergency stop and switch off the zone light in a haze, and watch the carts jerk into its lazy motion along the rail behind him. Taking a breath, I retrace my steps to the service door with Nathan cleaved to me. He’s so calm as we wait. My mind transports me back to a time when I would hold my younger brother, Aiden this way. He was slightly older than this boy when the universe took him from us. For a moment, pain clenches my chest again, as though it only happened yesterday.

“You smell good,” Nathan mutters sleepily into my hair. “Like my mommy.”

“Um, thanks,” I answer. “Is your mom here at the amusement park with you?”

“No…Uh-uh.” He points upward. “She’s in heaven.”

I don’t have a response to that. The ache in my chest rises to my throat from his answer. Seeing someone so small forced to face a loss so immense and all-consuming, warms me up to him instantly.

After a few minutes, I catch sight of Nathan’s big, broad, handsome uncle with Sofia in tow.

“Thanks for helping him back there,” sexy uncle says to me and holds his arms out to take Nathan when he’s close.

“No problem at all,” I answer.

His fingertips lightly touch my forearm as he lifts Nathan from my arms. I get all the butterflies. My skin tingles. And the pulsing at the top of my thighs catches me off guard. I press my legs together, hoping it’ll stop soon.

But it doesn’t.

Nathan has different plans for me. When he’s almost in his uncle’s arms, he tucks his left leg back to my waist, and his left arm curls around my neck. Using all the force his legs and arms can muster, he tenses his limbs and pulls his uncle and me into a kid’s version of a group hug. Neither of us adults moves to close our side of the embrace, and thank goodness for that. This close to his sexy uncle, my arms go limp, and I’m pretty sure every exposed square inch of my skin turns red from embarrassment. Or from the heat of being in such close proximity to the man who got my motor running with just one look. I can’t tell if it’s one or the other. Or both.

“All right, Nathan,” his uncle chuckles deep. “That’s enough for now. Let’s say goodbye to the nice lady so she can go back to her job.”

“Bye, Miss Kara,” Nathan says, sounding more tuckered out by the minute.

“Enjoy your shift, Kara,” sexy uncle tells me with a polite nod.

“You too.” I watch him walk away with his niece and nephew, and they merge into the dense evening crowd.

Too bad I didn’t ask for his name. Not knowing what it is, I’m left longing for the first time ever.

My disarming stranger is still on my mind at the end of my shift. I walk back to my place, the home I’ve lived in with my parents since it was the four of us. Aiden made four. I quickly try to push the thought away, but tonight, it’s so hard. Holding that little boy in my arms brought it all back.

On my way around the side of the motel we own next to the midway, I look up at the sound of the large, loud, outdated ice machine that motel guests use. I hear myself gasp under my breath when my eyes land on him.

It’s him again.

Sexy uncle green eyes.

There he is, a handful of feet ahead of me.

I notice him on the walkway before he realizes I’m watching. He leans against that pillar near the ice machine, looking a lot taller than I expected, and naturally rugged in only a white t-shirt, dark shorts, and loafers. And there are no nieces or nephews in sight. Under this light, the faint stubble on his jaw gives him an edge I didn’t notice before. I didn’t think he could be more handsome, but he damn well is.

“Kara,” he calls my name the second his eyes land on me, and I freeze.

It’s not fair. He already has a slight advantage over me, just from knowing my name. I want to know his, but my throat goes dry, and my mind goes blank. I couldn’t string together a proper sentence right now if I tried.

“Thanks again for helping Nathan out,” he murmurs. “You have a real gift with kids.”

“I… it was nothing,” I stammer out, staring up into his face. “I work here.”

“Yes, the uniform kind of gave that away. And the nametag.”

His smile disarms me yet again. All I can do is nod, and my hand nervously flies up into one of my ponytails, twisting the end.

“Kara… lovely name.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, and barely have the presence of mind to ask for his. “And you are?”

“It’s Jackson,” he answers, extending his arm from his spot against the pole for a handshake. “Good to meet you.”

I meet his handshake, and his large, warm hand envelops mine. “Same here,” I answer. I try really hard to ignore the tremor of nervousness in my voice and the electricity that rockets through me when our fingertips touch.

“I didn’t realize the staff has to live on the premises.”

“They don’t.”

“You’re not staff?”

“No… yes. My parents run the park. I live in that house over there.”

He looks off in the distance toward the only single-family structure on the property, tucked away a few hundred yards from the motel. “Very nice,” he says, then turns to face me again. “Will they have a problem if I ask their daughter out for a drink or dinner as my show of thanks? Away from here, of course. Somewhere with a dress code.”

“Probably,” I answer, feeling more comfortable with him all of a sudden. “But that’s never stopped me before. Full disclosure…I’m eighteen. A meal might be a safer bet, in case I get carded by a bartender.”

He studies me again, looking down into my face with those piercing eyes. “Is that a yes?”

Nothing like this has happened to me before. Sure, A couple of the male staff and a few of the amusement park patrons have tried to make a move on me. The difference this time, well, it’s me. I didn’t find them interesting or attractive. I’ve also never felt my body react to anyone. I don’t know if I should run far away or give in to my undeniable attraction to him. But as he steps closer and smooths out some stray strands of my hair behind my ear, I know that if I stand here a second longer, my ability to choose will slip away, and I’ll be left with only one answer.

To give in to whatever this is.

2

Jackson

The second I saw her, I knew I was in trouble.

Then I heard her say her name in a tone as sweet and slow as molasses.

Kara.

When my nephew, Nathan leaned into her arms, I was sure she had to be different.

But when he pulled us into that group hug, drawing me close enough to touch her, to smell the citrusy sweetness of her shampoo, to feel her skin brush against mine, to hear her breath hitch, I was done for.

He hasn’t let anyone outside our family get close enough to touch him, let alone carry him. Not since my sister Tanya died suddenly. She took a piece of each of us when she passed away. Her husband, Sam is a wreck. Her kids are still coming to terms, still working their way to accepting the loss. As for me, I’m numb. It’s only been six weeks.

The only reason I’ve kept it together is for her kids, and to pick up the slack until my brother-in-law is more himself. There’s no indication on how long that’ll be, but I can only hope it’ll be soon. Next month, we’ll both be back in the classroom teaching History to our mostly disinterested high school seniors. Sam and I went to teacher’s college at the same time. He and my sister had been dating since high school, and got married shortly after graduation. Tania had Sofia right after Sam landed his first job here in our hometown. I was working in a contract teaching position two counties over until the end of last semester. Come next month, I’ll start teaching at a high school nearby. The small bungalow house I bought a few blocks away will be ready to move in by then too. I can look in on Sam and the kids a few times a week. Tanya would’ve wanted that.

And now, meeting Kara is a bonus.

She is exquisite. Beautiful, young, and perky, with kindness in her eyes that can’t be faked. I drink her in again, admiring her pale, porcelain skin, hair so dark and silky it shines under any shade of light, and riveting deep blue eyes. From her face, my eyes travel down to the undone button of her polo shirt. It’s not hard to picture what’s underneath. The rise of her full breasts. The imprint of her nipples that makes my cock hard in no time. The way her sides taper into her tiny waist, then flares out to perfectly wide hips. And those legs. It’s like she was made for me to hold onto, built for fucking, her body begging to be claimed.

She’s standing a few feet away from me, so close to my motel room, so close to my bed. My dick twitches in my pants, signaling its agreement.

I want her.

As I lean against the cool side of the ice machine, I want to drag her into my room and watch her slowly undress just for me. I want to shove her onto my bed, and get between those long, shapely legs. My fingertips are tingling already, eager to grip her little waist as I sink balls deep into her. I just met this sweet girl, and I’m craving her like my next meal. She’s ripe for devouring. Perfect for me. It’s been a while since I let myself indulge in such thoughts. Even longer since I’ve been with a woman. Although, Kara is young. At eighteen, she’s around the age of the students I teach. I’m not much older, but the age difference holds some significance for me. But Kara seems different. She has this air of maturity about her. I should stay the hell away from this girl, but it’s already too late. It was too late when Nathan pulled this girl into my atmosphere. It was hopelessly inevitable the second after our eyes landed on each other. I didn’t just like what I saw, I craved her. And in her eyes, I saw the same thing reflected. She’s attracted to me. It’s crystal clear. Undeniable.

“What do you prefer?” I ask her again. She’s already agreed to dinner because just as she explained, going out for drinks might not be possible at her age. Though, drinks don’t have to be entirely off the table. There’s always the minifridge in my room. I made a point of stocking it with beer, wine, and whiskey to take the edge off.

Kara’s head tilts to one side, and her eyes flash up at mine. “Drinks, dinner…I’m fine with either.”

“Can we be honest with each other?” I ask, lifting a brow.

“I haven’t lied to you about anything. What do you mean?”

I step closer. “I don’t believe either of us would survive sitting across from each other for as long as it takes for a decent chef to whip up our meals. Do you?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, a faint smile lifting her cheeks. “I don’t know. We could try, right?”

“Only if you’re willing to risk it. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s a chance I’ll end up spreading you out on the dining table and running my tongue all over you, long before they can bring us our drinks.”

Pink stains her cheeks and her tongue slides across her lips. “I’m… I don’t… You… I think this is way out of my league,” she breathes out in a whisper.

“I don’t disagree,” I tell her, and don’t hold anything back as I rest my hand on her cheek. Closing in on the side of her face, I brush my lips along the tender skin of her slender neck. Her breath catches again, and her hips arch toward me as I suck her earlobe between my teeth. “This thing… it’s bigger than the both of us. You felt it too, I can tell. But if I’m wrong, let me know and I’ll walk away.”

I have her answer when her hands reach up to my forearms and she leans into me, her breasts grazing against my upper abs. Then she makes her message loud and clear. “This has never happened to me before,” she admits. “But you’re right. It’s too big… too strong to walk away from. Take me to your room.”

“Now?” I ask in a groan as my cock stiffens that much more from her request.

“Yes,” she moans. “Now. Before I lose my nerve or talk myself out of it.”

That’s something I can sink my teeth into. She’s so tempting I can eat her up, and now that she’s asked for it, I suddenly have an appetite. But I can tell that I’m better off taking her slow. It’s the only way, and to be honest, I’m not sure I want it to be over too fast. Not with her. Taking her hand, I lead her to my room. I unlock the door with the key card and show her in, wondering if I should’ve taken her somewhere else. If I’d met her a few weeks from now, I could take her to the house I bought. Timing is everything, though. And she’s already asked me to fuck her now, not later. Here, not at my house or at a place that’s more her style. Even from this distance, I can tell from that large mansion she pointed at that her family is well off. Its shows on her too. And I would know the look, as my mother came from money and my father ran a large brokerage firm for over thirty years before he retired. But just as it is for me, money means very little to her.

“Care for a drink?” I offer her.

“Water’s fine,” she answers, standing in the middle of the room, looking uncomfortable. “Or beer. I’m not a big drinker.”

“Beer it is. The room isn’t much, but it’s clean. Make yourself at home.”

“That’d make for a nice slogan,” she says under her breath.

I carry the beer bottle to her, opening it in front of her. A woman can’t be too careful these days. I want her to see that I didn’t tamper with the drink. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“And for a motel, probably,” I agree.

“Sorry, what about the motel?” she asks, seeming flustered.

“The slogan you mentioned.”

“Oh, I didn’t think you heard me. And I really didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” she says quickly, nervously taking a seat on one side of the bed. “My parents own a few of these setups. You know, midways and lodgings. Anyway, ignore me.”

I gently rest a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Just relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I know that.” She lifts the beer to her lips and takes a sip, then her eyes land on me again.

Sitting beside her, I put down our bottles, lift her chin and take that pouty, sweet-looking mouth. She tilts her head back, letting me kiss her more freely. As she moans at my lips, I run my fingers through her hair and part her lips with my tongue, tasting more of her and the slight tang of the beer she just sipped. I could kiss that mouth all fucking night.

I feel her arms grip my biceps. In one move, I lift her legs from the backs of her knees and rest them on top of one of mine. Reaching a forearm around her small waist, I drag her closer. She’s tight against my side as we continue to kiss, breathing heavily, all curves and leanness against my bulky muscles. Just then, she adjusts herself on me, moving one leg, then the other to sit facing me in my lap. At this point, her nipples rub against my pecs, and the heat between her thighs are brushing up against my cock through my pants. My dick jumps. It’s so fucking hard and we haven’t done anything yet.

That’s how I know her body’s perfect for me.

I let my hands run up and down her hips, pulling her tighter against me each time, allowing her to get a preview of what’s behind my zipper, and how I’ll use it once it’s free from all these clothes.

Kara starts to tug her polo shirt out of her work pants, but I stop her and pull from the kiss. “I’ll do that,” I tell her.

I want to be the one to unwrap her like the gift she really is. I press a palm on her lower back and flip her onto the bed. She gasps and color stains her cheeks at the sudden movement, or maybe it’s our position. I’m on top of her, my massive arms bracketing her, my imposing frame looming over her tiny body, my cock at her folds, and she has her legs around my waist. The only thing separating us are the clothes on our backs. And very soon, those will be on the floor.

3

Kara

The way Jackson kisses me, I’m tempted to let my lips stay locked with his all night, but what I really want is for him to make love to me. I’m not a virgin, although by pleasure standards, I am one. I’ve been with one boy. Once. I really liked him too. But that one time I struck up the nerve to let him go all the way with me, he slipped on a condom, slid into me, and came in four thrusts.

He came.

I didn’t.

Then he broke up with me a week later for some other girl at our high school. The sad part—or maybe it’s the good part—is that I felt nothing after. Not heartbreak, not jealousy, not disappointment. Perhaps that in itself was a sign.

But that’s not the case with Jackson. I feel something. I feel a lot. If I had to explain what the feeling is, I’d say it’s hunger, but not just in my mouth and my stomach. I’m hungry all over my body, from head to toe, in every cell. Craving only him. Just a look from him leaves me longing. And his touch, his kiss, they send jolts of energy racing through me, straight to places that should’ve felt something when I gave it up to that other boy. That’s why I’m here, in Jackson’s room, hoping for more than four thrusts.

Of course, I hope he doesn’t think I do this often. I find myself drawn to Jackson. It’s also a bit of a stretch, but someone out there felt they could trust him to care for their two kids. My gut tells me there might be more to what we’re about to do than just two people wanting to scratch an itch. But I prefer to be realistic. More likely than not, tonight will be the one-night stand to make up for my shitty first time.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks from his spot above me, pulling me back to what we’re about to do.

I nod a few times and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m sure. I have condoms in my bag.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got my own supply.”

Piece by piece, he slowly peels off my clothes, leaving only my panties. Then he gets to his feet and undresses, his eyes piercing mine, studying my reaction to every big, bulging muscle and body part he reveals. When his pants and boxers drop to the floor, I feel a lot of things in a lot of places. I’m throbbing between my legs, my nipples go hard, and my eyes can’t stop blinking from shock. His cock is huge, bigger than anything I imagined was possible.

I don’t want to wait to feel what it’s like. Skipping the foreplay should be mandatory tonight. Screw the appetizers. I want the main course. The meat.

When his hands move to the curve of my hips, and his head starts to move south, I stop him. “Can I be brutally honest?”

“That’s the only way,” he answers. “What’s up?”

It takes me a second to summon up my courage, but I take a breath to ready myself. Lifting toward him, I place my palm on his hard length, press my lips to his ear, and I whisper, “I would really like to feel you inside me now… with a condom, of course. What I mean is, I enjoy getting to know each other’s body, finding out the things we both like. But right now, I’d love it if you’d come inside me and fuck me.”

He pulls back to look at my face, I see his eyes go dark and a subtle crease of a smile on his face. “Whatever you want, doll. As long as you understand that after I give it to you, if you stay in my bed tonight, I may want more from you than one quick fuck.”

“Yes, I agree,” I tell him. “I think we understand each other.”

He reaches for a condom from the strip he placed beside the motel alarm clock. Deftly opening the wrapper with just his teeth, he rolls on the rubber and spreads my knees wide. His eyes meet mine as he positions himself, and with a nod, he sinks into me, hard and fast. Oh my God, he’s big. He fills me to overflowing, to the point where I’m trying hard not to breathe too deeply, because doing so will stretch my inner walls past their breaking point. I grip his biceps and wince from the full feeling.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, Kara. How are you doing?” he asks, seeming to have to hold on for some control himself.

“Good,” I squeak.

He kisses a spot on the hollow of my neck, and I feel my hips move along his length. There’s a biting pain deep inside, but every soft, slow kiss eases the discomfort, nudging me to the edge of what might be pleasure. He lifts my knee off the bed, and the new angle starts to feel so, so good. Soon we’re both moving with a rhythm. He inches into me, pulls out slowly, and repeats. My hips roll, taking more of him into me each time, and each moan I let out on my breath are more about pleasure than pain.

“Yes… that’s it,” he groans as I grind into him some more. He speeds up, and for a second, I have a vague awareness that we’re way past four thrusts, that every move he makes now feels better and better.

“Jackson,” I moan, losing my breath as I feel pleasure flutter and spread out from somewhere deep within me.

“Yes, Kara. Come for me,” he orders, thrusting hard and fast into me as my body is battered by an explosive wave of sensation I’ve never felt before. My eyes snap shut. Fireworks light up the inside of my eyelids. I shake and shudder and pulse and lose all control, and when the wave subsides, I know that Jackson has just given me a gift.

My first orgasm.

* * *

I wake up the next day with a deep soreness that extends from somewhere inside me, down to a spot between my knees. After my first orgasm, Jackson stuck to his guns and gave me several more during the night. He came with me a couple of times too. Before he fell asleep, he hinted at getting together again. I’d like that, but I have no delusions that one night might be all I’ll get. He’s still asleep when the sunlight hits the motel window and streams in blinding daylight. Slipping out of his bed, I get dressed beside the pile of our clothes. I use the bathroom quickly and come back to press a kiss on his forehead, then pick up the bag I came with.

It was just one night, but I’m leaving with one hell of a memorable experience.

“Kara,” I hear him call my name groggily. “I’m not done with you.”

I smile and turn to him.

“Good morning, sexy,” he greets me.

“Good morning.”

“Did you hear what I said?” he asks.

“I did. I’m glad.”

If only he knew.

4

Jackson

I’ve been awake for a little while. I feel the bed move when Kara gets up, and can’t look away as she dresses slowly, teasing me all over again.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she says. “I’ll look you up.”

As she slips through the door, she leaves me hungry, wanting more, hooked.

I don’t know what she was thinking, but it’s good that she knows now. We didn’t just have a one-time thing.

* * *

I stare out the passenger window of my brother-in-law, Sam’s SUV as he drives us into the teachers’ section of the high school parking. Kara is on my mind. The Ferris wheel at the midway where she works comes into view. It towers over the nearby buildings and foliage, just like my night with her has a way of taking over my thoughts. I haven’t seen her since that night. The last two weeks of summer passed by quickly, with my move and preparing for my new job. We didn’t exchange numbers, but I promised I’d look her up at the midway once I settle in, and I’ll do that soon.

I won’t be carpooling into our high school every day, but I let Sam talk me into driving in with him just for today, the first day of school. I attended the mandatory all-day staff meeting on the Thursday before Labor Day, so I’ve met a lot of the teachers who work here. His offer of a ride is his way of making me feel welcome.

After dropping off my lunch in the teachers’ lounge and greeting a few of my new coworkers, I head to my assigned classroom, passing the throngs of students in the crowded hallways on my way. In the classroom, I set down my worn leather satchel at the front of the empty classroom, write my first and last name on the blackboard in large capital letters, and pull out the main textbook for the World History course I’ll teach this semester.

I’m early, and I’m ready for anything.

Almost anything.

Almost, because as my students start to file into my classroom, one face is far too familiar.

Kara.

She flashes me a gaze at the doorway, stopping short. I don’t doubt she’s as shocked as I am, but while her jaw drops, I make a point of showing no reaction, at least not with any part of me that’s visible.

She realizes there’s a lineup forming behind her and finds the nearest seat, her widened eyes fixed on me as she lowers into her chair. This can’t be good. If anyone finds out what we did in my hotel room two weeks ago, there’ll be hell to pay.

5

Kara

This can’t be happening.

I slump into the desk closest to the classroom door, blinking to be sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

No.

They’re not.

It’s Jackson.

His name is written in neat block letters behind his broad, muscular body.

Jackson Kent.

I had a wild night with this man and was so looking forward to several more. But now, that’s not possible.

He’s my teacher.

Repeating the words in my head does nothing to make it feel more believable. Except there he is, at the front of my class, dressed in a dark business suit and pale blue dress shirt.

Shit.

Frame by frame, every single thing we did two weeks ago flash before my eyes. Jackson in front of me, his mouth on my neck, backing me up into his motel room, his hands, his cock in me, taking me hard, me calling his name. Heat stain my cheeks and I avert my eyes from looking straight at him. I look at the concrete wall, the trash can beside his desk, the hair color of the kid sitting in front of me, anything to avoid meeting his eyes.

If I’d known I was sleeping with my brand new World History teacher two weeks ago, I would’ve thought better of it. He doesn’t show his surprise the way I do, but I’m sure he’s rattled. We’re in the same boat, because he slept with me, a student.

Jackson—I think his name then chastise myself inwardly. I should call him Mr. Kent. Yes. The formality helps.

“Good morning. My name is Jackson Kent, and this is World History.” Mr. Kent looks around the classroom, avoiding eye contact with me. He nods at those who are still standing around.

“Take a seat anywhere, unless you’re not enrolled in World History,” he instructs the class, his focus on the stragglers and the ones milling around as though it’s a free period.

After another brief introduction, he does the roll call and quickly breaks down his expectations. It’s the usual spiel most teachers give to seniors about working throughout the semester, communicating if we have questions any assignments, and avoiding the temptation to procrastinate or wait until the eleventh hour to complete or hand in our work.

He seems relaxed during his speech. I, on the other hand, am a statue. I sit with my fingertips gripping the edge of my desk, my body stiff and tense, my heart hammering in my chest as I keep hoping I’ll wake up from this dream. I don’t, but my heart is racing and every cell in my body is vibrating on one frequency, telling me that one of us shouldn’t be here. I can’t follow a word he says as he launches into his day one content of the course curriculum. How on earth could this have happened? Haven’t I been through enough already?

In my surreal haze, I manage to feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Slipping it out of my pocket, I check the message. A text from my good friend, Pattie waits in my inbox. She’s supposed to be taking this course with me, but to be honest, I didn’t see her come in. I didn’t see a thing since I found Jackson—Mr. Kent—at the front of my class, pulling all my attention away from everything including breathing.

Four more messages pop up from Pattie before I can think to put my phone away. The first few words of each message slide across my locked screen, grabbing my attention.

Her messages read:

Pattie: Well, hello there. Holy fuck, hot teacher alert! Screw world history. I want to know HIS story.

Pattie: Why aren’t you sitting back here with me, Kar?

Pattie: Hey. Look around the class. Every girl in the room is drooling after him, and every boy wants to be him.

Pattie: Yo, Kar. Is he seriously so distracting that you can’t answer my goddamned text?!?!

Pattie: Hang on, Kar. I’m noticing a pattern. Why is Mr. Kent giving you the goo-goo eyes? Do you know him from somewhere?

Shit. On reading Pattie’s latest message, I whip my neck around to look at her, and give her as subtle a head-shake as I can. She shrugs her shoulders and flips her wavy, shoulder-length sandy brown hair to one side, looking confused. I need to shut her down fast. I made the mistake of telling Pattie that I met a random sexy guy at the midway and he fucked my brains out two weeks ago. She knows every detail about what happened, from his larger than life size, his bold green eyes, olive skin and dark hair. The only information I left out was his first name. Lord knows that if Pattie has already noticed Mr. Kent acting strangely toward me on day one of school, she’ll pick apart his and my behavior until she puts two and two together. It won’t take her long to figure out that I. Fucked. My. History. Teacher.

And when that happens, she won’t let me live it down. I mouth the word later to her, hoping to buy us some time, but she furrows her brows as though she didn’t understand. Hiding my phone behind my textbook to avoid being caught, I scramble to key in a reply.

Me: Hey. I said later. Let’s talk about this after class, okay?

I glance back and wait for the message to show up on her phone. She looks up at me, eyes as wide as saucers after reading the text.

Her fingers are flying over her screen. She’s not even discreet about texting during class. We’re not allowed to use our phones during class time unless it’s for an activity the teacher approves. Some teachers are hard-asses about it, and other’s don’t give a crap. Mr. Kent is new around here. If she’s not careful, she’ll end up having to read everything she’s typed in for everyone in the class to hear. Or worse still, her phone and mine, along with all our messages, can end up in the principal’s office.

Pattie’s flurry of messages all come in at once.

Pattie: You know him! Admit it. Either that or he knows you from somewhere.

Pattie: Come on. Fess up.

Pattie: Just make sure you put in a good word for me. I can use an easy A this semester.

Pattie: Kar, why the hell are you acting all shady? Talk to me.

Pattie: Whoa. Hold on. Green eyes. Big and broad like a linebacker. Dark hair. Kar?

Pattie: Did you and Mr. Kent… You fucked him, didn’t you? Omagad Kar!

Fuck.

I lock my phone screen and put it away. I don’t dare look back at Pattie, but I can feel her eyes bore through the back of my head. I can hear her restlessness as she impatiently waits for some kind of confirmation from me. She shifts around in her seat, crossing her legs and smoothing down the front of her plaid skirt of our mandatory school uniform. But I’m not talking. She knows too much already. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but secrets like these, even when said privately, have a way of bubbling up. She won’t tell anyone, but I’m afraid she’ll behave differently around me, and while in Mr. Kent’s classroom. All it’d take is one knowing look, or a few words said under her breath while the wrong person is looking.

The bell rings for next period, and it’s the most welcome sound I’ve heard all day. I can’t leave that classroom fast enough. The first one in the hallway, I hurry to the ladies’ room to splash some water on my face. Maybe it’ll wash away some of the guilt too.

“Kar?”

I hear the voice behind me and wipe my eyes with a paper towel. Glancing into the mirror, I see Pattie staring back at me. “Not here,” I tell her and neaten the white collar on the blouse of my uniform. “Just… don’t.”

She walks over to the four bathroom stalls and pushes each door open, checking to see if anyone’s with us. “We’re alone,” she stresses, folding her arms at her waist. “Jesus, Kar. Talk to me.”

“No. I shouldn’t have said anything to you.” I turn to face her, my blood boiling. “The whole room noticed you in there, you know? Ever one. Probably Mr. Kent too.”

She shakes her head dismissively. “The whole room had their eyes on Mr. Kent, not me. I’m telling you. Aliens could’ve landed at the front of the room, and no one would’ve noticed. He’s so frigging sexy. It’s a wonder every girl in class isn’t in here dousing themselves with water like you are… but my guess is they’re all at the front of the room still, asking him dumb questions so they can keep staring at his bulging biceps and hang on his every word.”

“Just do me a favor and pretend that we never talked about that thing from two weeks ago.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” she demands.

Ignoring her question entirely, I throw my bag over my shoulder and head to the door. “Do you have a class now, or a spare?”

“I was right!” she shrieks, following me out of the ladies’ room. “And no, I’ve got Comparative Government and Politics now. My spare is last period.”

“You’d better get cracking,” I tell her, a blank stare on my face as I walk the hallways. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Kara Elizabeth Richards!” she shouts firmly, and everyone in the hallway within earshot stops what they’re doing. “I’ll let you off the hook for now, but you’re going to tell me everything!”

I roll my eyes and turn to face her, dragging her off by the elbow to an open spot beside some unclaimed lockers. This is exactly what I meant. If she keeps this up, everyone will know before the end of the day.

“I’ll tell you, okay? Just not here, and not now. And I swear to God, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will never speak to you again. And I mean it this time.”

She grins and nods excitedly, visibly happy to be the first to know that something so scandalous has taken place at our school, involving her best friend and a teacher, no less. The girl thrives on knowing. That alone can be dangerous.

“I can’t wait!” she hisses out in a whisper and looks at her phone screen. “Shit. Gotta go! But I’ll catch you after school. Wait for me, okay?”

I nod and head to the school exit closest to the parking lot. My car. That’s where I’ll lay low. Whatever it takes to avoid bumping into Mr. Kent again.

6

Jackson

Right woman.

Wrong time.

Wrong place.

After seeing Kara in my classroom, I know it’s a matter of time before the shitstorm hits. My teaching career? It has a shelf life now. My job at this school? Forget it. I might have found a woman I can take my time getting to know, but it won’t be in this lifetime.

I fucked the right girl at the wrong time.

It’s one of those random events that seem harmless at the time, but it’s only after it takes place that you can see it for what it is. A life-altering moment that shifts the course of your life forever.

And not by choice.

Like a hurricane. You’re minding your own business, keeping your head down and hoping you’ve taken every precaution to avoid it. But it sweeps you up anyway. It moves you way off course, then spits you out somewhere you didn’t expect to land. And after it passes, after you look around and assess the impact, that’s when you know. The damage is permanent and irreversible. No one will get out unscathed.

Kara and I are both innocent, consenting adults. We met, we had a connection, I fucked her, and was open to having her again when the rug got pulled out from under me. I never thought she was a student, let alone one who attends the school that just hired me. What was I supposed to do? Ask every person who talks to me if they’re a senior in this new school where I teach, and happen to also be enrolled in World History?

I don’t feel wrong about what we did, but that won’t matter. Facts and truths can be corrupted by context and interpretation.

It won’t boil down to the actual timeline of meeting her, fucking her, then discovering she’s a student. If this comes out, the school administration will only see what’s wrong.

An illicit student-teacher relationship.

An abuse of power.

A breach of ethics.

They won’t see us as people, but an issue to resolve, a mess to clean up, something broken that needs to be fixed or swept under a rug.

I met Kara. We kissed. She willingly came into my motel room. I touched her, tasted her, pounded into her, took her pussy. Then we did it again. Then morning came, and weeks later, I walk into her school, and she walks into my classroom.

But that’s not how it’ll look to the higher-ups.

I spend the entire first week of my new teaching job walking on eggshells. Every day, I act like nothing happened. My new daytime routine is much like the one I had at my previous school. It includes an intense weight conditioning workout first thing in the morning and a healthy breakfast before school. After that, it’s walking the school halls, teaching my assigned history courses, mingling with other teachers, and meeting with students who have questions or need help. But this routine is somewhat different. I’m also going through the motions and avoiding any contact with Kara.

After school, I give Sam a hand with Nathan and Sofia, helping with dinner, Sofia’s homework, and both their bedtimes a few nights during the week. When I’m back home at night, I plan my teaching units, have a decent dinner, and after that, it’s where my old routine goes to shit.

When the lights go out, I have Kara all over again. It’s all in my head, getting myself off from both reliving that one crazy night, as well as this new set of images that started to play on repeat since Kara walked into my classroom. It’s cliché and crazy. I’m at the front of the classroom, but it’s empty. No other students are there. Just me. Until I turn around and Kara walks in. She’s wearing her uniform, except the plaid skirt is super-short, so short it exposes the tops of her thighs and the fact that she’s not wearing any panties. The hem of her white blouse is tied up around her ribcage, showing off her flat stomach and giving me a peep show of her big tits. And her shoes? They’re sky-high fuck-me heels. She calls me Mr. Kent as she walks in, and right away, she sashays up to the front of the class. She’s sassy and playful, turning my chair around so I’m at eye level with her cleavage. Once she has my undivided attention, she stands with her legs apart, inches up her little skirt, and starts to play with her bare pussy. She lifts her mound with her index and middle fingers, showing me her pink clit as she spreads her folds for me to see.

“You’re my teacher,” I picture her whispering as she turns her back and bends forward, her hands pressing against the blackboard. She sits in my lap, eagerly grinding her ass on my stiff cock through my dress slacks. “Teach me something.”

I went to college because I have a passion for history. I became a teacher because I wanted to give back. Because the world can use more people at the front of a classroom who give a damn. If anyone had told me a week ago that I’d be fantasizing about fucking one of my students, I’d tell them they were insane. I would never intentionally cross that line or jeopardize the years I spent training to be here. Now? It’s a nightly pastime. It’s so vivid, it may as well be in person.

By the time Friday morning rolls around, I’m bracing for the possibility that sooner or later, someone will find out. The wrong someone. And I’m starting to believe that’s already the case.

Kara’s friend in my World History course.

Pattie Court.

She knows.

It’s all over her face when she sits at the back of the class. As far as I’m concerned. That’s one person too many.

On Friday night, I see no other option than to confront Kara in person. She needs to understand what’s at stake. We were both consenting adults when I fucked her. Neither of us had any idea that we’d end up in a teacher-student situation within mere weeks of that night. That part is no one’s fault. But ignoring it like it didn’t happen, not having a game plan that we both agree to, it’s fucking dangerous.

I have no one to blame but myself.

This is all my fault.

By not approaching her back on Monday when we realized I’m her teacher, and she’s my student, I fucked up.

Big time.

Now it’s time to fix it.

* * *

There are one of two possible places I can meet with Kara. We never exchanged phone numbers, so unfortunately, I have to show up out of the blue to see her.

School is not an option. It’s off the table entirely.

Option one, then, is to look for her at the midway. Although the school is back in session, the midway opens on the weekends from Friday to Sunday, right up until Thanksgiving or the first snowfall, depending on which one happens first. I know this because it’s my business to know. I took the time to peruse the midway website while I was weighing my options. The problem with this option is that it’s a public place. People will see us, and very likely, one or more of those people may have some connection to our school. No matter how innocent our conversation is, there’s the chance that if we’re seen by anyone, they can quickly jump to conclusions.

The second possible place to confront her is at her home. The risk of her parents finding out about me is high, but there’ll be fewer eyes on us. There’s definitely a better chance for a private discussion.

Twenty minutes before the midway closes, I drive to Kara’s secluded house. Parking on the street, I wait for her. There are no vehicles in the driveway, which I take as a good sign. Maybe her parents are working late. Of course, they may also show up at the same time that she does, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

After an hour of sitting in my late model Ford Mustang, a pair of headlights approaches from behind me. I see Kara’s profile in the driver seat as her Range Rover SUV passes me. I’m relieved to discover that she’s alone. Giving my car horn a honk to get her attention, I see her slow down a few yards ahead of me and pull over to the sidewalk.

I knew everything that I wanted to say, right up until she steps out onto the pavement and starts to walk toward my vehicle. But I was fooling myself into thinking that I showed up to talk about keeping what happened under wraps.

No.

That’s not it.

I take one look at her and everything changes.

I have to have her again.

I just hope she wants the same thing too.

7

Kara

A car I’ve never seen before is parked outside my driveway. If that alone isn’t alarming enough, imagine my surprise when I look at the familiar imposing frame of the occupant and hear him sound his horn to let me know he’s here for me.

I slow down and put my Range Rover in park, hopping out of the driver seat.

“Mr. Kent?” I say his name in a question through the rolled-down window as I make it to his driver side door. “Are you lost or something?”

“Get in the car,” he says, his deep voice taut and stern. “We need to talk. Privately.”

I look up and down the deserted dead-end street, then back at him. “I know I’m the only house on this street, but this is a public road. People from the motel sometimes end up all the way up here before they realize it’s a dead-end street and they’re going the wrong way. I think you should come inside.”

“You’re not expecting anyone?” he asks.

“My folks are out of town for another week. It’ll just be me.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, studying my face.

“Positive. I just need to park. You can leave your car here, or park it behind mine. Totally up to you.”

After parking, he follows me to the door. There’s a heavy, uncomfortable silence between us that wasn’t there the first night we met. I’d like to believe it’s the formality of being student and teacher. Maybe we’re both embarrassed, since neither of us took the time to find out a thing about each other before we fell into bed and fucked each other that night. Maybe I’m just naïve about what it really is.

Anticipation.

Sexual tension.

Longing.

None of these feelings have any business popping up right now.

Unlocking the front door, I deactivate the alarm system and lead him through the large foyer to the living room.

“Have a seat,” I tell him. “Would you like a drink? I think Dad has a few beers in the fridge. There’s wine in the cellar too.”

But he doesn’t answer me. He doesn’t sit. He moves over to me and facing me in the arched doorway, searching my eyes as he looks down at my face.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Kent? Is something wrong?”

“Don’t call me that,” he orders me. “Not when it’s just the two of us.”

“I’m not sure I can call you Jackson anymore,” I admit. “It’ll be too easy to slip up at school.”

“You told her,” he murmurs, leveling his gaze at me as he takes a step toward me.

“Pardon? Told who? And what?”

Leaning forward, he rests his palms on the wall behind me, blocking me in with his beefy, muscular arms. “You told your friend about us. What were you thinking?”

“Look, I’m really sorry about that. That was before I realized…before I knew you were my teacher.”

“Your friend doesn’t look like she can keep a secret,” he says frankly. “I can’t take that risk. It’s better if I disclose what happened and face the consequences now. It’ll be much worse if they believe I withheld key information about myself that could’ve protected you and other students.”

“I prefer to leave it in the past,” I tell him. “I won’t say a thing. Pattie won’t either. I’ll make sure of it. I’m sure you can do the same.”

“You want to act like it never happened?”

“For now, yes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just one course,” I say, feeling the words catch in my throat. “Just one semester. One school year, tops.”

I want him to read between the lines, and I can tell he’s processing something.

“What exactly are you trying to tell me, Kara?” he asks. “Say it.”

“I can wait for you,” I blurt out on a breath, then regret the way it sounds. “What I mean is, we didn’t plan for that night to happen, but I don’t regret it. I think there’s more… to us. So, maybe we can wait. Keep it professional… as student and teacher for the school year. After that, I’d like to find out what more there might be between us. If that’s what you want too… is it?”

“No,” he growls out, lowering his face to the side of my cheek until his lips are inches from my ear. “That’s not what I want.”

The rejection hits me in the gut, but I take a breath and let it wash over me.

"This is wrong," he mutters as he presses me against the wall. He cups my chin, his mouth just inches from mine. "I'm your teacher. This has to stop."

I lift up onto my tiptoes and lean into his awaiting kiss. We can stop tomorrow... not tonight. It’s not the end of the world. At least he’s honest. At least he saved me the energy of pursuing something he’s not interested in.

“Thanks for being straight up with me,” I tell him as I pull from the kiss, although I’m confused. Why is he here right now? He wanted to talk, we covered that Pattie’s and my lips are sealed. So why is he still here? What are his lips doing so close to my skin? Why is his body bracketing mine, holding me captive to all this lust?

“What do you want, then?” I finally ask.

“I don’t want to leave it in the past,” he groans, his every breath kissing my skin. “And I don’t want to wait.”

“What, then?” I ask.

“If I have to quit my job to be with you, then that’s what I’ll do. Until then, I’m taking you right now… right here. And before I’m done with you tonight, I’m going to punish your ass for telling your friend about us.”

Throbbing with anticipation, I arch into him, unable to fight. Unable and unwilling.

8

Jackson

I took Kara all over her parents’ house. Against that wall. At the top of the stairs. In her pretty bedroom. Then we slept for a while. Not long after dozing off in her bed, I wake up to the sound of her calling my name, her voice in a mild panic.

“Are you okay if we go to your place?” she asks, her eyes glued to her phone screen.

Sitting up, I lean against the backboard to clear my sleepy haze. “Sure. Yes. Everything all right?”

Kara kicks her legs off the edge of the bed and jumps to her feet.

“Yes,” she answers, picking up each piece of clothing that we stripped off of each other’s body just a couple of hours ago. She piles them up on one arm and scans the room. “But my parents will be here within the hour. My mom just sent me a text from the airport.”

“Definitely.” I’m fully awake and clear-headed in no time. I don’t know if Kara’s parents are easy going or conservative, but I don’t want to meet them like this for the first time. Not with my pants down, so to speak. “Let’s move.”

We’re dressed and out the door within ten minutes, and shortly after that, I’m showing her into my new home, into my bedroom.

Her clothes are the first thing to come off. I watch her remove her clothes as though she’s more comfortable without them. She smiles when she notices that I’m staring, my hand over my zipper, ready for my dick to spring free.

“You realize how risky this is, your coming here?” I ask her, standing at the foot of my bed, fully clothed as she crawls into my bed, her body completely bare.

“Risky? What do you mean?” she purrs out the question, seeming more playful.

“I may not let you leave,” I explain, and hear the seriousness in my voice. I’m not kidding. I’m dead serious.

Kara turns on the bed, still on her hands and knees, and crawls over to me. “I may not want to go either.”

She cranes her neck up at me and slowly licks across her top lip. With the way her face isn’t far from my groin, I take the movement for what it is. An invitation. One where my dick is the guest of honor. Well, I love a woman who’s as eager to suck my cock as I am to eat her out.

I look down into her face, aroused and mesmerized as she runs her palm over my bulge through my pants. She takes her time dragging the zipper down, her eyes locked on mine, seeming to take pleasure from my reaction. She might be inexperienced but she sure as fuck knows what she’s doing to me. Her tiny hand slides past the open zipper, and she pushes my boxers out of the way to wrap her little fist around my shaft. As she pulls my cock free and sees my big, thick hard flesh up close, I hear her release a moan from deep in her throat. Her pouty lips part slightly, then some more, and she leans closer, circling her pink tongue around the head of my cock. Fuck, I’m harder than ever.

The urge to keep watching her is strong, but fuck, I want to let my eyes shut and just enjoy her handiwork. Soon enough I do the latter, letting the feel of her lips sliding up and down my shaft overtake everything else. She uses her mouth and her hands to work my full length, alternating her rhythm to bring me closer as I start to pump in and out of her gorgeous fucking mouth, hitting the back of her throat each time. She’s so fucking good. My hips buck, and she puts both hands on my hips to let me make my own pace. I run a hand through her hair, gripping her scalp to anchor her to me as I fuck her sweet mouth. And soon, the image drives me to come hard. And she swallows every drop as though it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

Coming for her is the biggest fucking turn on for the both of us. I’m still rock hard, and from the juices dripping down between her thighs, she’s ready for me.

“I want you on top,” I manage to groan out as I find and put on a condom from my bedside drawer.

I push my pants and boxers down my legs, take off my shirt, and leave the bundle of material on the floor. I’m on the bed right away, enjoying the view of her tits as she straddles me. Holding on to my shoulders, Kara kisses me hard. Her tongue passes along the seam of my mouth, and I get a taste of my come. I fucking love that she tastes like me. As our tongues connect, she lowers onto my thick, condom-wrapped cock. Inch by inch, her tight, wet heat takes in more of me. Her hips sway and roll, grinding down on me, and I can’t stop myself from wrapping one arm around her waist and dragging her pussy down and up along my cock.

Looking up into her face, I see the pleasure build, the same way each thrust takes me closer. When her head falls back and her body tenses and bucks, I know she’s hit her peak. I keep pounding into her long after she comes, long after her body goes limp, and after a while, I come again. Lying back into bed, I lower her with me. Her head rests on my chest, and I hold on to her while our breathing comes back under control.

As I start to drift off, it’s clear to me that there’s a lot we haven’t said. A lot that I should tell her about me, my family, everything I’ve been through. I want to know everything about her too. But for the first time, I know there’ll be time for all of that. There’s time because neither of us is going anywhere.

Because she’s already mine.

* * *

The closer I get to Kara, the more confident I am that we have something special.

Something more than chemistry in the bedroom.

I spend the morning in bed with her. We fuck, talk, and laugh. Then she tells me about losing her younger brother, Aiden to a tragic fall at the midway. I understand why she’s so protective of children there, and why Nathan and Sofia have taken such a liking to her. Before I know what I’m doing, I tell her about losing my sister, their mother, to a brain disorder that went unchecked. We open up to each other in ways I didn’t think two people could in such a short time. There’s no logic as to why, or how, but we just… fit.

Which is a fucking problem.

My trip to her house last night was supposed to be a wake-up call for both of us. Instead, we’ve dug ourselves deeper. So deep that neither of us can seem to stop. So deep, we may not be able to crawl out.

Sometime before noon, we make it out of bed. I put the coffee on. Kara explores my house and settles in on the front porch with her phone. She seems at home here, and I watch her for a while, imagining what we could be, if this dark cloud weren’t lurking, waiting to unleash on us.

A familiar minivan rolls onto the last empty space on my driveway, and I’m instantly tense. How the fuck am I going to explain Kara to Sam? Pouring coffee into three mugs, I wait for the first cloud of the hurricane to hit us.

Sam hops out of the driver seat while the back passenger door slides open automatically. He does a double-take when he notices Kara relaxing on my porch, wearing one of my button-down work shirts and nothing else. The look of surprise on his face is almost entertaining. Almost.

I look back and forth between them, examining their reaction to each other. Shock. Confusion. Fear.

Sam leans into the back of the minivan, undoes the kids’ seatbelts, and lift them out onto the driveway, and all that hesitation disappears when Nathan, then Sofia run up the porch steps into Kara’s arms.

Or maybe it doesn’t. Sam’s floored.

He tells her a brief hello, then I hear the front door open and his heavy footsteps as they make their way to me. He stops at the kitchen entryway.

“I just want to know three things,” he says, a baffled look on his face.

“Good morning, bro,” I answer. “Go ahead. Ask away.”

He points in the direction of Kara and his kids through the window “Why the fuck is a student out on your porch, when did you fit in the time to introduce her to my kids, and how did she manage to get through to Nathan?”

“Long story,” I answer him. Setting a mug in front of him, I take the one I made for Kara with me, and grab a couple of the juice boxes I keep stashed in the fridge for the kids. “Give me a second to give them these.”

I’m out there and back in a few minutes. Sam has the same look on his face.

“What the hell, Jackson?” he demands. “Did you just make me an unwitting party to your… affair with a student?”

“That's not the way it went down,” say, my eyes narrowing. “Have a seat. You might not believe it, but this is how it happened.”

We sit across from each other at the kitchen table, and I tell him everything. Start to finish. In order. When I’m done, he shrugs and drags the chair back from the table. “You need to pull your head out of your ass and put a stop to that. Right fucking now.”

“Were you listening to a word I just said?”

He levels his gaze at me but doesn’t answer my question. “Get me a pen, will you?”

Leaning back toward the counter, I pull open one of the drawers and lift out a pen and notepad. “What’s this for?”

“This shit’s too big to hide.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket and scrolls through the app, then jots a number down on the notepad. “You do realize you’re just a week into this job, right?”

“Dude, I just told you, we didn’t plan this.” I say, losing some of my patience. “And you’re supposed to have my back. You know I wouldn’t look for this kind of trouble.”

“Yeah. I know. Tell me something. How many people know about… this… her?

“You, me, Kara, Kara’s friend from school,” I tell him honestly.

He leans his weight against the table, looking exhausted already. “Jesus. Someone else knows?”

“Just one person, I think.”

“You think? Listen, you have to go to Edlund,” he says, referring to the school principal.

“Fine,” I answer, my voice tight. “I’ll talk to him on Monday.”

“No.” He slides the notepad across the table. “You’ll call him on his home phone right now, and you’ll meet with him. Today. Tell him it’s urgent and involves a student. Tell him it can’t wait.”

I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“No.” He pounds a fist onto the tabletop and I snap to attention. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re being naïve. He can fix this for everyone. It’s not too late. But if you wait another day to tell him, you might as well consider your career over. She’s not a minor is she?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Good. Still, let’s get him on the horn. And I’m telling you. You have to. Right now.” He reaches forward and taps the notepad a few times with his index finger. “Right fucking now.”

As he gets to his feet, I put Edlund’s number into my phone contact list and fold the page with his number in two. “Fuck, all right. But give me a second to tell her. She deserves the headsup. This’ll affect her too.”

“Fine.” He turns and heads back to the front door. “I’ll take the kids back home. Fill me in later on how it goes.”

Less than an hour and a half later, I’m sitting across from Edlund in his office. Kara’s out in the hall, waiting for me to wrap up so her meeting can start. Edlund knows everything now. He’s not happy to be faced with a situation like this so early on in the school year, but I can tell he’s serious about figuring out the best course of action for all parties. For the school. And for himself.

9

Kara

In the beginning, I thought that what I felt for Jackson was just wild and fleeting, an insanely potent attraction. A novelty. A temporary addiction. I was sure it’d eventually fade once we got used to being together. But I was so wrong.

Knowing him has seared my soul.

As I sit in the hallway of the principal’s office—on a Saturday afternoon—I’m about to face what I’ve known all week. Our being together will change everything. It’ll probably wreck Jackson’s career.

We’ve only slept together on two separate nights. Two nights to change a whole lifetime doesn’t sound fair. But neither of us can turn our backs. Not anymore. I’m not just hot for my history teacher, I’m madly in love with him.

Jackson Kent has my heart.

Depending on this meeting with Principal Edlund, if he’s even remotely against throwing his support behind us to help find a solution, Jackson and I will both be ruined. My mind and body are in turmoil from this truth. We need him. Without his backing, it’ll be disastrous. I don’t know who else saw us, or how they found out, but left unchecked, the rumors at school will spread. Soon, kids will start staring, speaking in hushed voices as Jackson or I navigate the hallways. Our names will be the ones uttered on their lips like a sin.

I’ve seen this before with rumors about other students. The difference here is this one’s about a student and a teacher. Without the principal’s intervention, any day now, someone will crack a joke or make a comment in front of a teacher, shining a light on Jackson and my illicit, forbidden love affair. Edlund will have no choice but to either expel me or fire Jackson. My parents will be pulled into it. Maybe the police too, if they believe there’s a pattern where Jackson is concerned. I wish we could both deny it, sweep it under the rug, keep it hidden. But lies this big have a way of catching up to people. And when they do, they take away every good thing along with them.

I don’t want the situation to worsen or to get that far for Jackson.

Checking the time on my phone, I start to worry. They’ve been in there for over half-hour. I don’t want to lose my shit, but I start to mull over another option. It’s purely a fantasy. Nothing I’d ever do for real, but as I have time to kill sitting here, I picture myself driving home. I’d look around the pale lilac walls of my bedroom, assessing how much I'll need if I run away. It's the last thing I want, but there’s a part of me that is sure that such a move will hurt the least.

It's like that philosophical question about the tree that falls in the forest when no one's around. Right now I want to believe it won't make a sound. It means I can apply it to all the chaos I’m about to create in my life, in Jackson's, at school, for my parents.

If I leave, if I go far, far away, maybe there won't be any fallout for them, or consequences. They'll only have to deal with rumors, not reality. Right now, it's just talk, not truth.

The school can't fire Jackson for inappropriate behavior with a student if I'm no longer a student. Surely, they can't destroy his life if I'm not around at all. And my parents, they won't have to face the blame, the shame of my mistakes. I desperately want to spare them all the pain, but it's too late for that. Leaving will hurt. But staying will break them.

Before too long, this unrealistic option starts to sound like the only course of action. The one thing I can do is lessen the blow for everyone by leaving. They'll miss me while I'm gone. I'll miss them terribly too. But once the dust settles, when what's happened is so far in the past that no one remembers or cares anymore, I can come back to them. To him.

My leaving will restore all their lives to the way it was before.

But as I get to my feet and start to leave Principal Edlund’s office, his door creaks open. Jackson emerges first, and passes by me without saying a word. This is not good.

“You may come in, Miss Richards,” the principal addresses me. He stands aside, straightening out his yellow short-sleeved shirt over his blue jeans. It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed so casually, but then again, it’s Saturday and this is a spur of the moment meeting.

Suddenly cold, I hug my arms around myself as I slip into his office and find a seat. I don’t know how these meetings go. It better not last as long as Jackson’s. To say I slept with a teacher before I knew who he was, sounds straightforward enough. Sure, we’ve muddled it up some more by sleeping together last night. And this morning. But as it’s too late to run, all I want is to hear what will happen to us now.

“Miss Richards,” he says, his dark brown eyes on me. “I’ll start off by saying I’m rather surprised to have you in my office for such a highly sensitive issue. Other than the short string of absences a few years ago, your record here at school has been pristine.”

He pauses, as though waiting for me to explain myself. I’ve got nothing to say. Pressing my lips together tightly, I look at the way the light streams in through the shuttered window behind him, making his graying hair shimmer, and I wait for him to tell me my fate.

10

Kara

I roll my shoulders to ease the tension in my neck and back, still waiting. Mr. Edlund opens a file folder on his desk and studies the contents.

“As I understand it, this is a unique case, which occurred very recently, and which has not been reported by any other sources, other than the two of you. I appreciate that Mr. Kent has come forward in a timely manner, just as you’re now doing. As for the next steps. I’ve asked Mr. Kent to continue his teaching role until further notice, so that other students are not impacted by an abrupt disruption in their senior year course curriculum.”

“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to allow you to remain enrolled in his World History course. Looking at your credits, I believe you can replace this with either Religious Studies, Psychology, Human Anthropology, or Advanced Ethics, without affecting your timetable or graduation schedule. All four courses are taught by Mrs. Morgan.”

Instantly, I release the long breath I’d been holding in. Jackson’s safe for now. I am too. Although, I do hear the way his tone changes as he stresses the words religious, ethics and Mrs., and have to force down the smile threatening to rise on my face. He may not have come out and openly judged me for sleeping with Jackson, but I can read between the lines. He doesn’t approve. I’m sure he’s hoping one of these ethically conscious courses will influence my future choices. And if they don’t, they’re all taught by a woman, which he must believe will lessen the odds of me repeating the behavior with another teacher.

Still, I’m confused. He has no reason to be so accommodating to both of us.

But I won’t argue with this way forward.

“Thank you, Mr. Edlund,” I finally say. “I’ll go over my course schedule and replace the course right away.”

“I’m not done,” he barks. “If you’re hoping to remain at this institution, I will need Mr. Kent’s and your assurance that what transpired between you two will not happen again for the duration of the school year. Can you make such a commitment, Miss Richards?”

I’m not sure what to think or how to respond. He wants me to agree to stop seeing Jackson? As much as I’d like to believe that waiting is an option, it’s not a promise I can make alone. Jackson would have to agree to it too, and that’s doubtful, considering what went down at my place last night.

“If you believe this will be a challenge, it may be more suitable for me to have a conversation with your parents and recommend that you spend your final term of high school at another institution… perhaps at the designated public school closest to where you live.”

This is an interesting development. Jackson can stay, but if I want to continue seeing him, I’m the one who has to leave. There has to be more to this that he’s not telling me. But sitting here, I’m sure that no amount of probing or questioning on my part will change a thing. I don’t want my parents to have to deal with any of this.

I get to my feet. “I’ll look into all of your recommendations and let you know as soon as possible. Thank you for…everything.”

“Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Miss Richards,” he says, and I leave his office with a few more options at my disposal.

“Kara.” I find Jackson waiting for me in the hallway. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Agreed,” I say to him, relieved that the worst is over.

“How did it go?” he asks as we walk to the parking lot.

“Really good, considering,” I answer. “I can’t believe he’s letting us both off the hook with barely any repercussions. Why is he so nice to us?”

“He’s not being nice. He’s looking out for his own ass… and his daughter’s.”

“Oh, right.” I stop between our cars. It all makes sense now. “I forgot Brianna Edlund is in your class.”

“Yes, and she needs to complete it now. It’s a prerequisite for a college level class next semester.”

“I see. That’s why he wants you to keep teaching the course. Did he tell you to stop seeing me immediately?”

Jackson nods and huffs out a breath. “Yeah, that was the first thing that came out of his mouth.”

“Did you agree to it?”

He takes a step toward me, runs his hand down my arm, and clasps our palms together. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Jackson. I want to keep getting to know you, but Mr. Edlund has a point. It doesn’t look good, me seeing you, even if I’m not in your class.”

“Then I’ll give him my letter of resignation,” he announces with not an ounce of regret. “There’s only one person I care about in this whole damn school. It’s not Edlund or his daughter.”

“And I care about you.”

A car rolls into the parking lot, pulling us from the moment. “Let’s talk about this at my place,” Jackson tells me.

“Okay.” I unlock my doors with the remote, and he pulls my door open for me to sit inside.

“See you in a bit,” he says.

On his way to his driver side door, I sit in my vehicle, thinking about everything. Then I hear my phone buzzing non-stop with text messages.

It’s Pattie. The phone doesn’t stop. She’s on a mission to reach me, calling, then texting, then calling again. It’s as though she’s keying in one text to me, hitting the send button, then phoning me to find out if I read it. And when I don’t, she keys in yet another text. Around this time on a Saturday, she’s usually at her contemporary, jazz dance class downtown. It’s a program she and at least three of the girls in our high school have attended for years. Which usually translates to a whole lot of gossip on who’s now dating whom, which couple broke up or are in turmoil, or some other dance-related drama that means precious little to me.

I let the phone buzz two or three times, but it keeps going. And going. I don’t want to think about anything right now. Lord knows I’ve got enough on my plate, but I decide I’d better check the messages to avoid Pattie’s wrath if it turns out to be something urgent or relevant to me.

And boy, is it ever.

My stomach does a few flips on unlocking the phone, and with my palm pressed to my chest, I read each message slowly.

Her messages read:

Pattie: Kar. How’s your Saturday going? You will NOT believe what Alicia Munroe is saying about you and Mr. Kent.

Pattie: Hey chica. Call me ASAP. You and Mr. Kent are now subject #1 of dance class. Did you tell anyone?

Pattie: Kar. Alicia Munroe says she and her boyfriend saw you and Mr. Kent kissing at the midway three or four weeks ago.

Pattie: Why aren’t you answering? It’s all over town. Does Mr. Kent have a kid? They’re saying you were with him and his little boy. Like one happy family. All the way back a few weeks ago. Before the semester started!?! How am I just hearing about this? Wait, was that the night you banged him?

Pattie: Do you have a secret love child with Mr. Kent from like, when you were 13 or 14? That’s what these bitches are starting to say. I shut that nasty shit down, but Jeez. Text me back or something.

Pattie: Call me, Kar. Call me, or I’m coming to your house. I want the deets!

My car engine has been turned on all this time, but after reading all of that skewed, muddled garbage, I shut it off. My decision is made. I send a brief text back to Pattie that I’ll explain everything as soon as I can, then I shut off my phone. Heading back inside the school with an empty duffel bag from the trunk of my SUV, I go to my locker and empty it out.

It’s an easy decision. Taking my three remaining courses at a nearby public school is a no-brainer.

This way, everyone will have what they want.

Edlund will have his World History teacher for his daughter.

Jackson will keep his job and career.

The rumors about us won’t stop spreading, but if I’m out of the picture, they’ll die down eventually.

And me? I’ve hit the jackpot. I get the guy.

Instead of going right over to Jackson’s house, I stop at my place and go up to my room. Grabbing the duffel bag, I slide open the zipper. I turn the bag upside down, and as I watch the contents slowly drop onto the center of my bed, it feels strangely symbolic. It's a little sooner than I’d planned, but it had to happen. Dumping my school life, emptying what's inside to make room for the next chapter.

My future with the man I’ve fallen so hard for.

Epilogue

Jackson

Three months later

I hear Kara push open my classroom door and right away, my dick is hard and ready.

“I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon,” I tell her, my voice rough and demanding.

She kicks the door behind her and locks it with a loud click. “Hi, baby. I ended up using the entire allotted time for my last exam,” she explains. “But I feel pretty good about how I did.”

“Congratulations in advance to my newest high school graduate,” I tell her.

“Thanks! It’s good to have it behind me.”

I close in on her, my eyes dragging down her body, taking in the white, deep V-neck shirt she picked out to wear with her favorite red mini skirt, and my personal favorite, her red patent leather high-heel pumps.

Looking back up her body, our eyes lock, and she presses her palms on my chest. “Guess what?”

“Tell me.”

She reaches into the hidden pocket of her skirt and slowly draws out a tiny scrap of red lace. Her thong panties. “I took these off on my way over here,” she says in a sultry voice.

“Lucky me,” I growl.

“Just so you know, Sam is dropping off the kids for dinner tonight.”

I smile. Ever since Kara started spending the night at my place, my niece and nephew have grown closer to her. She adores them, and has quickly become the only female influence in my sister’s kids’ lives. Which I have to admit, makes me love her that much more. They’ve met her parents too. We’re all beginning to spend time together. After she left our school and enrolled into the nearby public school, the rumors were rampant about why she left, and what was the nature of our relationship. Eventually, all the rumors died down. Kara and I have no secrets. She knows all about my background, my family and she’s shared everything with me. Deep down, I couldn’t be more sure of one thing. One day, I plan on making this woman my wife and the mother of my children.

“That’s great,” I answer. Gripping her tiny waist, I turn her to face my desk at the front of the class. I slide her skirt up the sides of her legs and past her hips, exposing her bare backside. “It’s even better that we have some extra time right now…and that you came here prepared.”

She moans out her need as I hold on to one hip and reach the other hand up the front of her shirt. Sliding my fingertips under her bra, I cup her breast and knead the flesh under my hot palm. The more I palm each breast and pinch her nipples, the more she grinds her ass along my rock hard erection.

Fuck, I still can’t get enough of this woman.

My woman.

Pulling from her for a moment, I undo my zipper and release my cock. I groan on seeing a drop of pre-cum form at the tip. My dick can’t fucking wait, and neither can Kara, seeing as her pink pussy lips are engorged from her arousal, and drenched, just for me.

She looks over her shoulder, her eyes darkened with need, her full lips parted. “Take me now,” she begs in a whimper. “We don’t have much time.”

She’s right about that. It’s not only that we have little dinner guests coming over. We’re in my classroom, and although the door is locked, anyone can knock from the other side, pulling us from our little slice of heaven on earth.

With my nails biting into the flesh of her hips, I position myself at her folds and sink into her, burying my cock all the way to the hilt.

“Oh God,” she cries, slamming her ass back into me, taking me deeper as I pump into her.

Every thrust is pure pleasure. Every moan pushes me closer. Dragging one hand up Kara’s back, I wind her dark locks around my fist and tug her head back, fucking her hard. She loves it rough, and when I reach my other hand down her lower belly and cover her mound, she goes wild. A few flicks of my thumb over her clit, and she begins to tremble. She’s close. Any second now, she’ll hit her climax. I love how fucking responsive she is to my every touch.

Spreading her legs a bit wider, my cock hits her inner walls at a new angle. I see her hands grip the edge of my desk tightly, and her hips roll with every thrust I make. Her breathing changes, and as I speed up, her pussy clenches tight around me, sucking my come out of me when we reach our orgasms together.

I lower to her back, kissing a spot between her shoulder blades while we catch our breath.

“That was so hot,” she breathes out. “I think you got rid of all my exam stress, baby.”

“That’s the idea,” I tell her.

We take a few more minutes of alone time before straightening out our clothes, and as soon as we’re ready, I take her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way, baby,” she murmurs. “You know I’ll go anywhere with you.”

I feel exactly the same way.

Who is Gigi

Gigi Thorne is a group of USA Today and NYT bestselling authors who came together under one name to write bite-sized romance for the naughty girl.

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