Everything

by Erin Noelle

  “Please, Everett, please don’t stop,” she whimpered, grinding down on my hand.

  The corners of my mouth curled up in a satisfied smirk. I had no idea what to expect when I’d confronted her, but this was definitely best-case scenario. The look on her face as she writhed against me, begging me, would forever be seared into my brain. It was illegal, unethical, and morally wrong. But I didn’t give a fuck about any of that, and based on the way she urged me on by her rocking hips against my hand, neither did she anymore.

  Using the heel of my hand, I pressed down on her swollen clit, rubbing tight, hard circles as the tempo of my thrusting fingers gradually increased. With a gasp, Belle shot up on her toes at the added pressure and gripped the edge of the sink. “Close… so close,” she panted, spreading her legs wider.

  “That’s it, beautiful,” I encouraged, both of our eyes now glued to the spot in the mirror where my hand worked her over feverishly under the soft material of her leggings. Somehow, not actually being able to see what I was doing made it even hotter. “Show me what I do to you. Show me how you shouldn’t come for me, but will again and again.”

  More spectacular than any fireworks show I’ve ever seen, she exploded with her release, her internal walls clamping down on my fingers as she moaned my name over and over. I rained down adoring kisses along her neck and throat as she rode out her orgasm, soaking in every single aspect of that moment. I would never be able to get enough of her and, after this, I was going to make damn sure she felt the same way too.

  When her body finally sagged against mine, I withdrew my hand from between her legs, holding her up with my other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and lifted my fingers, slick and shiny from her arousal to my mouth. Watching her watching me in the mirror, I brought them to my lips and sucked them clean.

  “Do I make myself clear on what’s happening here, Ms. Sloan?”

  I CALLED IN sick to work the next Monday. After what happened in the bathroom Saturday night with Everett, I lied to Liam and told him I’d gotten sick, hence the reason I was gone for so long. We’d foregone the final game of pool and left immediately, and when he dropped me off at Lindsey’s front door shortly thereafter, not daring to get close to my make-believe germs, he promised a raincheck for when I felt better. All I could do was nod with a tight-lipped smile and wave goodnight. Yeah, that’s totally not happening.

  I was a terrible person who was probably going to lose her job, do time in the state pen, and live out eternity in Hell, because I couldn’t say no to a teenager. And I no longer wanted to.

  Regardless of his age, Everett Templeton affected me in a way that I couldn’t even begin to explain. Getting involved with him was nonsensical, ridiculous, and just downright stupid. I was risking everything I’d worked so hard for over some kid I knew very little about. But none of that mattered when his deep, penetrating gaze was fixed on me, making me feel like I was the only person on Earth he saw, stirring something inside me to life that I’d never experienced before. Something I wanted more of.

  Waiting for him to graduate would’ve been the smart thing to do. But despite my 4.0 GPA all throughout college and grad school, I clearly was not very smart, because before I left the bathroom that night, in my state of euphoric weakness, I’d given him my phone number.

  And when he’d texted me the next morning, with no excuse of being under the influence of alcohol or suffering from post-orgasmic bliss, I’d replied, beginning a string of messages that led up to the last one I’d received, which I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to.

  (Sun 7:23AM) Everett: Morning, beautiful. Hope you slept well.

  (Sun 8:02AM) Me: Why are awake so early on a weekend?

  (Sun 8:05AM) Everett: It’s a new dawn…a new day…a new life for me. And I’m feelin’ good.

  (Sun 8:08AM) Me: All right, Michael Buble, if you say so. I need coffee before I feel anything.

  (Sun 8:08AM) Everett: I do say and I like Muse’s rendition of the song better. Brings a modern-day edginess to it. How do you drink your coffee?

  (Sun 8:09AM) Me: Usually with my mouth out of a cup, but sometimes I get wild and use a straw.

  (Sun 8:11AM) Everett: The thought of you acting wild and sucking on things does crazy things to my imagination.

  (Sun 8:34AM) Everett: You disappeared. Let me guess, I’m not supposed to say things like that.

  (Sun 8:47AM) Me: I was taking a quick shower, and no, you’re not.

  (Sun 8:51AM) Everett: A shower? Now you’re just being mean and taunting me. You have plans today?

  (Sun 8:53AM) Me: Not much. Going furniture shopping with my friend for my new apartment in a bit, and then grading papers later. You?

  (Sun 8:55AM) Everett: Ashlynn and I are supposed to work on some new songs, but who knows what time she’ll roll out of bed. Are you already in your new apartment? If you need a truck to haul your furniture around, I’ve got one… in case you forgot :P

  (Sun 9:02AM) Me: I move in next weekend and I’m hoping to have it all delivered. And no, I haven’t forgotten your truck.

  (Sun 9:24AM) Me: Now you’ve disappeared. I’m heading out for breakfast and shopping. Talk later.

  (Sun 9:38AM) Everett: Sorry, all the talk about sucking on things, you showering, and the bed of my truck meant a shower of my own. Especially after the way you left me last night. Devil woman.

  (Sun 3:42PM) Me: Devil woman??? I’m pretty sure what happened last night was all your doing. Just got home btw.

  (Sun 4:04PM) Everett: My doing only because you tempt me with your apple, Ms. Sloan. I’m no better than Adam in the Garden of Eden.

  (Sun 4:05PM) Everett: Did you find everything you needed for your place?

  (Sun 4:10PM) Me: I am no Eve. And mostly, still need to get a kitchen table and chairs, but since it’s just me, I doubt I’ll eat at it much anyway. Living room and bedroom are done. All will be delivered next Saturday morning.

  (Sun 4:22PM) Everett: Way sexier than Eve. What time should I be there Saturday?

  (Sun 4:24PM) Me: Be where?

  (Sun 4:27PM) Everett: At your apartment. It’s not safe for you to be there alone with a bunch of delivery guys, and you can use my man-strength to move things around or hang pictures or whatever. And don’t you need someone to help you break in that new mattress?

  (Sun 4:49PM) Me: Not sure that’s such a great idea. I’m sure I’ll be fine, but thank you.

  (Sun 4:55PM) Everett: Stop overthinking it. We’ll be careful and discreet, and the best place for that is at your place. Unless you need another lesson, of course… But make no mistake, Belle, this is happening.

  (Sun 10:17PM) Me: 1533 Kipling St. I’ll be there around 8:30AM.

  (Sun 10:18PM) Everett: I’ll be there. Good night, beautiful. See you tomorrow.

  (Sun 10:20PM) Me: Good night, rockstar.

  (Mon 7:58AM) Everett: Where are you? I brought you a present this morning.

  (Mon 7:59AM) Everett:

  (Mon 8:11AM) Everett: I know you aren’t sick. Tell me where you are or I’ll sneak in the office and pull your file to get the address. Either way, I’m coming to see you.

  For over ten minutes, I sat in bed and stared at his last message, contemplating my response. I should’ve told him to forget about all of it, to once again pretend that nothing had happened and for us each to go our separate ways. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was already in too deep.

  If we’d gotten caught before, I could’ve possibly defended myself with the fact I didn’t know he was my student the first time we’d met, but now, after what happened Saturday night and the subsequent text conversation on Sunday, there was no excuse or justification for my actions. And what was even worse, I wanted him to come to me. I craved his hands on my body, his kisses on my lips, the sound of his gruff voice in my ears. I wanted to please him, to show him how I could command his body much like he’d done mine. My pulse spiked at the mere thought of him losing control and making him explode for me. I was a lost cause.
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br />   (Mon 8:24AM) Me: 927 Waverly St. Park your truck in the back of the house and knock on back door.

  After I typed out the message and hit send, I dropped my phone on the bed like it was a smoking gun. I’d pulled the trigger, and now all I could do was hope that no blood would be shed.

  (Mon 8:25AM) Everett: On my way. Have you eaten?

  (Mon 8:26AM) Me: Not yet.

  (Mon 8:26AM) Everett: I’ll bring breakfast. Be there in 20.

  Scrambling out of the bed, I dashed into the guest bathroom to brush my teeth and take a quick shower. I scrubbed and shaved all the important areas then dried off and twisted my wet hair up into a clip. There was no time for blow-drying or styling, much less applying makeup, so I hoped he liked the au naturel look. I put on a pair of comfy but cute gray yoga pants and a fitted pink cotton t-shirt then checked my appearance in the mirror. With my fresh face, and hair pulled back, I looked closer to eighteen than he did. I chuckled dryly at the thought then shook my head at how absurd this all was. I was an idiot, pure and simple.

  A loud knock came from the backdoor before I could think more about my reckless stupidity. Sucking in a deep breath, I went to let him in, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants as I hurried down the hallway. How was it that just seeing him had my heart racing with excitement, if this was so wrong?

  My fingers trembled as I unlocked and opened the door, and when my gaze traveled up from his jeans, over the baseball-style shirt that clung to his broad, toned abs and chest, and then landed on his handsome face, all twinkling eyes and panty-dropping smile, I swooned like a middle-schooler. Chuckling, Everett lifted up two white paper bags in one hand and the Starbucks coffee he’d sent me a picture of earlier in the other, and then strode inside.

  “I’m not sure how good the coffee’s gonna be now, since it’s about an hour old,” he set the food and cup on the kitchen counter then looked over at me, the smile now a cocky smirk, “but whatever you drink, it’s gotta be out of that straw.”

  Rolling my eyes and ignoring the butterflies in my stomach, I closed and locked the door then set the alarm for added precaution, in case Lindsey or Michael happened to come home early. They never had before that I knew of, but I was a strong believer in Murphy’s Law. No reason not to be as careful as possible.

  “What did you bring for breakfast?” I sauntered over to where he stood, as casually as I could, and reached for one of the greasy bags, but his hand shot out and caught mine before I nabbed my target.

  “Wait, before we eat…” He pulled me in front of him and stared down at me in that way that made me feel like I was the most precious thing on the planet. “Tell me why you didn’t go to work today.”

  My eyes fell to the floor as my cheeks heated. I knew avoiding the situation was the coward’s way out, but I was scared of how I would react around him. “I just didn’t feel very good this morning,” I replied, nervously rocking back on my heels.

  Cupping my chin, he lifted my gaze back up to meet his and shook his head gently. “Try again, beautiful. The truth this time. Was it because you didn’t want to see me? Mr. Carroll? Both of us?”

  I blew out a heavy sigh and my shoulders slumped forward, but I kept my eyes on him. “The problem is I want to see you too much,” I admitted aloud for the first time. “I wasn’t sure how I’d react when I was around you today, and I was scar—”

  His lips crashed down on mine, stealing both my words and my breath as his tongue swept in. I moaned into his mouth as I grasped at his chest, savoring the feel of his muscles beneath my fingers. My nipples hardened in response to the slow, gentle thrusts of his tongue, and I shuddered with want. He undid me with a single kiss.

  As we broke apart, he brushed his lips over mine once, twice, and then rested our foreheads together. “You’re overthinking it again, babe. Just go with what feels right, what makes you happy. Shit, Belle, you make me feel so damn alive.”

  “But what if—”

  “No buts. No ifs. We’re both smart people. We’ll be careful and figure out how to make it work. Everything’s gonna fine, I promise.”

  Lost in his spell, I nodded and whispered, “Okay,” even though I knew there was no way he could guarantee such a thing. The fact that he cared enough to say it was enough for me. His eyes crinkled as he smiled, his thumb sweeping over my cheek.

  A loud growl from the empty depths of my stomach shattered the intimate moment, causing both of us to erupt in laughter. Grabbing one of the bags, he pulled out some sort of pastry that had what looked like cream cheese and bacon on top of it, and set it on top of a napkin in front of me.

  “Here, by all means, please eat.” He got another one out of the other bag and served himself. “Did you forget dinner last night?”

  I didn’t want to tell him I’d barely eaten at all the day before. I’d been so nervous, excited, anxious, and every other emotion that made your stomach hang an “out of order” sign and close up shop. Anything I attempted to eat pretty much bypassed the whole digestion process and made its second appearance shortly after. Yeah, totally not sexy-talk.

  “No, I didn’t forget, but I normally eat breakfast like two hours ago.” I picked up the flaky bread and examined it from every angle. “What the hell is this thing anyway?”

  Everett gaped at me like I’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “What do you mean? It’s a kolache. Haven’t you ever had one before?”

  “A what-a-what-chee? And no, I’ve never had one before.” I giggled as I stuck my tongue out and tasted the smooth filling on top. Yep, cream cheese, and it was yummy.

  “A kuh-lah-chee,” he sounded it out for me, grinning from ear to ear as he watched me take another swipe at the sweet creaminess with my tongue. “They have them at pretty much any doughnut shop you go to around here, and there’s a bunch of places that just specialize in these. They fill them with fruit, different meats and cheeses, and sometimes they even have eggs in them. I got these at the little shop down the street from the school. Theirs are delicious.”

  I took a bite of it and moaned softly. He was right; it was mouthwatering, like velvet on my tongue.

  “Good, right?” he asked.

  Nodding, I peered up at him, smiled brightly, and repeated the words we’d both said the first night we met, “Better than good.”

  “WHERE ARE YOU headed so early on a Saturday?” Mom asked, glancing over at me as she strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet.

  I was finishing up a fruit smoothie at the breakfast bar, already showered and dressed for the day. It was moving day for Belle, and I was due at her house in half an hour, before the furniture delivery guys showed up.

  After Monday, when I’d skipped my first two classes to go find out why she hadn’t come to work, things had been going well between the two of us. When we saw each other in class or passing in the halls, we were careful not to act in any way that could be read as flirtatious, keeping our interactions as close to a normal student-teacher relationship as possible.

  It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, but probably because I knew as soon as she got home each afternoon, we’d be texting or talking until we went to bed. I made it a mental challenge for myself: as long as I was on my best behavior during the day, I was rewarded with my prize at night. And oh, what a fucking prize she was…

  “Everett, did you hear me?” Mom lifted her eyebrows at me expectantly as she peered over the top of her steaming cup. “I asked where you were going so early this morning. It’s not even eight yet.”

  Chugging back the rest of my liquid breakfast, I stood up and padded across the kitchen toward the sink. “Helping one of my friends build some furniture,” I answered with my best innocent smile, bending down to kiss her cheek as I passed by. “I’ll probably be there most of the day, and then we might go grab some dinner and catch a movie or something later. I’ll text you and let you know what’s up.”

  I honestly had no idea what would happen at Belle’s when I got there, but I hope
d after we got her apartment set up that we could grab some takeout, cuddle up on the couch, and watch some of the movies we’d messaged about wanting to see. And whatever transpired from there was all bonus. I hadn’t kissed her since that Monday morning, hadn’t touched her in five days, and I’d be a lying sack of shit if I didn’t admit to wanting to spend an infinite amount of time exploring every inch of her body with both my hands and my mouth.

  But it wasn’t only about that.

  I liked her. Like, really liked her. Of course, we’d had the normal “getting to know you” type conversations, when I did my best to dodge questions that involved talking about my dad and focused more on her, learning she was born and raised as an only child in Fairhope, Alabama, where her parents still lived, happily married. When she’d moved out to the west coast after high school, she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, but got a job as a receptionist in a museum and discovered her love for art history. Things didn’t work out in LA, so she’d gone home to finish college, and a couple weeks after she finished her master’s degree, we met.

  Even though I liked learning about her past, it was discovering the many layers of her personality that I really looked forward to in our nightly messages. I was quickly falling not just for her body and mind, but her quirks too. And the times her weird matched my weird was just a bonus. Like how we both put ketchup on our eggs, liked to swim in the rain, were deathly afraid of June bugs, and loved peanut butter-and-banana sandwiches because they were Elvis’s favorite.