Mr Blackwell: Teacher Student Romance

by S K Quinn

  Preface

  Yay!

  You picked up my book. Which at least means the cover is good …

  Hope you like the story too.

  Books have always been my light in the darkness, so I write feel-good romance to lighten your day.

  I still can’t believe so many people read my books.

  Each and every day, I am humbled by this fact.

  I can’t thank you enough.

  Ps – I’m excited to share my new website.

  If you’d like feel-good stories and (sometimes) free books, take a look:

  www.feelgoodbooks.club/blog

  Happy reading, pretty lady. xxx

  Mr Blackwell

  This is Book V of the Ivy Lessons series, and is written from Marc Blackwell’s point of view.

  Marc and Sophia have just decided to share their relationship with the world. They are in bed together and Sophia has fallen asleep.

  Marc is watching Sophia and waiting for the morning …

  WARNING: In this book, Marc shares his past relationships with women, including bedroom scenes. If you loved the Ivy Lessons and feel this would spoil the romance, you may want to wait until the next book.

  1

  Midnight.

  Ivy College.

  The night I let go …

  I love watching Sophia sleep. Sometimes I almost can’t bear how beautiful she is.

  ‘Marc?’ Sophia stirs. ‘Is it morning yet?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Go to sleep.’

  It’s dark outside, but the day will come. The sun always rises. And in the morning it will light Sophia and I up for the world to see.

  Tomorrow, we will go public with our forbidden relationship.

  Everyone will know about the teacher who fell for his student.

  I can imagine what the press will write.

  Marc Blackwell. Oscar-winning actor. Owner of Ivy College. Seduces young, innocent student.

  I don’t care what they say about me. But if the press badmouth Sophia or her family tomorrow, I will kill them.

  Christ.

  Sophia and I … out in the real world together.

  But it has to happen. We can’t run anymore.

  We love each other to the point of obsession. We were meant to be together. We just cannot be apart. So whatever challenges we have to endure, we will endure them.

  If Sophia didn’t understand what she was getting herself into, I would let her go. I would walk away. But she’s a grown woman. She knows it will be hard.

  The press will dredge up stories of my past – stories that will hurt her.

  It really is impossible to think there was a Marc Blackwell without a Sophia Rose. But there was. An angry man flailing around in darkness.

  Sophia has changed me – she found my light. I never want to be the man I was before.

  Together we move forwards.

  Away from darkness.

  I lay back on the pillow, hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling.

  Memories prod and poke.

  There was a time before Sophia. A dark, lonely time. I just pray she can forgive my past …

  2

  Ten Years Ago

  Los Angeles

  The set of Their War

  I sit in a plastic chair drinking coffee from a polystyrene cup, watching the film crew set up for Ria’s big scene.

  Ria struts around in suspenders and a corset, picking up outfits and holding them against her tanned curves. She doesn’t need to be half-dressed on set like this, but she likes to tease the crew.

  The teasing doesn’t work on me though, because I’ve already seen her naked.

  Ria plays my mother in this movie. But when the cameras stop rolling, we have sex in her trailer.

  As I watch Ria prance around, the bulk of Baz Smith falls onto the plastic chair beside me.

  Baz is a legend. A huge, hulking action movie star who has the muscles to back up his big mouth.

  He plays Terry Stout in this movie – a commander who saves me from a land mine. I play an underage soldier who lied to get into the army.

  Before I met Baz, I idolised him. Most teenage boys have pictures of lingerie models on their walls, but I have pictures of Hollywood legends like Baz. His poster sits right next to De Niro and Pacino.

  When I saw how many scenes I had with Baz, I was determined he wouldn’t act me off the screen. I would hold my own. And I have.

  ‘Nice-looking girl, isn’t she?’ Baz observes, as Ria tosses her long brown-black hair around tanned shoulders. ‘Got those Brazilian curves going on. Well. Fake ones, anyway. You fucked her yet?’

  I nod.

  ‘Me too,’ says Baz, putting his elbows onto his knees. ‘She was good. But fucking high maintenance.’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘You had sex with her too?’

  ‘You’re not jealous are you?’ Baz asks. ‘Don’t get your heart broken son. She’s not worth it.’

  ‘She won’t break my heart.’

  Ria struts towards us still in her underwear. She sits on my lap and whispers in my ear, ‘I’ll be naked later. In my trailer.’

  ‘You go ahead and enjoy yourself honey,’ says Baz. ‘Just don’t break him. We’ve got a big scene coming up.’

  Ria giggles. ‘I think he might break me.’

  3

  An hour later, I knock on Ria’s trailer door.

  ‘Come in,’ she calls.

  I do.

  Inside, Ria is completely naked, lying on a white leather sofa. She has the same body as every other actress in LA. Gleaming, tanned skin. Huge fake breasts. A toned, tight stomach.

  I close and lock the door behind me.

  This should be every teenage boy’s dream. My body is happy enough. But I feel empty inside.

  I go to Ria, placing a firm hand on her breast and stroking down along the curves of her body. When my hand falls between her legs, she lets out a moan.

  ‘That’s right,’ she says. ‘Move it just like that. Up and down.’

  I watch Ria’s head drop back and her eyes close.

  She moans louder.

  I roll her onto her stomach and place my hands on her round, tanned buttocks.

  ‘Not yet,’ Ria calls out, lifting her knee so the curve of her buttock moves nearer my face. She takes my hand and sucks my finger, her big, brown eyes fixed on mine. ‘How much do you want me?’

  ‘I want you.’

  Ria moves away from me and sits on the sofa, her beautiful breasts high and round.

  She looks down at her naked body, smiling. Then she cups her breast with one hand and squeezes it.

  She makes seductive eyes at me. ‘That feels good. Don’t you want to touch me?’

  I step forward, but she wriggles back, waving a finger. ‘Oh no, not yet.’ She opens her legs again. ‘Not until you make me come.’

  I put my hand back between her legs, but she shakes her head.

  ‘Not your hand. Your mouth.’

  I drop to my knees and put my tongue where she wants it.

  ‘You are good at that,’ says Ria, dropping her head back again. ‘Oh yes. YES. YES, YES, YES!’

  She comes.

  I rip off my shirt and climb on top of her naked body, feeling her large breasts against my chest.

  I plunge inside her, picking up a leg so I can go deep.

  ‘Oh. Oh!’ Ria screams, her eyes tight shut. ‘Oh YES!’

  I move against her over and over again, barely hearing her screams of pleasure as I get nearer to my own.

  I feel Ria’s leg wrap around me, and she whispers something in my ear.

  It doesn’t register at first – I’m too close to coming.

  I p
ound into her a few more times, come, then collapse on her naked body.

  It’s only as I’m lying on top of her that I realise what she just said.

  ‘Marc. I think I love you.’

  3

  I scan the set for Baz.

  Where the fuck is he?

  Eventually, I find him having fake wounds removed by a pretty, young makeup girl.

  ‘Baz, can I talk to you?’ I ask.

  Baz must hear the seriousness in my voice, because he brushes the makeup girl’s hand away and says, ‘Sorry love. Give us a minute would you?’

  ‘But—’ She makes big, sad eyes.

  ‘Casey. Sweetheart.’ Baz favours her with his chipped-tooth smile. ‘I’ll come find you later okay baby?’

  She raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Promise?’

  ‘I don’t do promises. But I’ll try.’

  Casey trudges off, throwing Baz a mournful look.

  ‘Isn’t she a little young for you?’ I ask.

  ‘You’re gonna tell me about age appropriate? The sixteen-year-old fucking his on-screen mother?’

  ‘About that …’

  ‘Uh oh.’ Baz slings a big arm around my shoulder. ‘Told you it would all end in tears. Come on kid. Let’s get you a drink.’

  4

  Half an hour later, Baz and I are perched on bar stools in an English-themed pub called, ‘Dog’s Bollocks’.

  Baz’s choice, naturally. He hates ‘poncy fucking LA bars’.

  I’m the only man in the whole bar wearing a suit jacket and I see the tattooed, scarred clientele eyeing me up.

  Baz shouts at the barman, ‘Hey Billy. Two of the usual.’

  The gruff, shaven-headed barman folds his arms. ‘You’d better drink fast. We’re starting in five minutes.’

  ‘Starting what?’ Baz asks.

  ‘The fight. It’s Saturday, remember?’ The barman glares at me. ‘Who’s the suit?’

  Baz grins. ‘A very talented actor. Marc Blackwell. We’re shooting a movie together.’

  The barman snorts. ‘Never heard of him.’

  ‘Then you don’t watch enough TV,’ says Baz. ‘He’s been in loads of stuff. He’s been acting since he was a kid.’

  The barman laughs. ‘A pampered child actor? Don’t bring him up to the fight for god’s sake. He’ll shit himself.’

  ‘He ain’t pampered,’ says Baz. ‘He’s lived more of a life than most of the men in here. He’ll do just fine in the ring.’

  ‘He’ll get the crap beaten out of him.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

  The barman slams two pints of lager in front of us, shaking his head. ‘I’m serious Baz. Keep the little LA prince away from the fight.’

  Baz crosses his arms. ‘Listen. If he fights, I’ll vouch for him, all right?’

  The barman walks away. ‘Just as long as he doesn’t call the cops.’

  Baz pushes a pint towards me. ‘Get that down you and your troubles won’t look half as bad.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask. ‘Fight? I thought we were here to talk.’

  ‘And we will. Didn’t know the fight was on tonight. But since it is … let’s make a man out of you sunshine.’ Baz takes his own pint and downs half in one gulp. ‘Good stuff.’ He slams the glass on the bar. ‘Now then, young Marc Blackwell. Tell me your worries.’

  ‘Ria said she loved me.’

  ‘Oh shit. Well that’s a first. She certainly never said that to me.’

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Don’t do anything.’

  ‘Shouldn’t I … I mean, I don’t want to hurt her. Shouldn’t I tell her I don’t love her?’

  ‘Don’t tell her a thing. Just keep on doing what you’re doing, and when the movie ends you’ll forget all about each other.’

  ‘I don’t want to lead her on.’

  ‘Look, sometimes you have to tell women a few white lies.’

  ‘That’s not how I do things.’

  ‘Listen mate. Ria’s a nice-looking girl. What makes you so sure you don’t love her back? I mean the two of you have been at it for a while now.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Okay, so get rid of Ria and find yourself a nice girlfriend. Someone your own age. A kid like you – you should be falling in love with someone. That’s what being a teenager is all about isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not the sort of man who falls in love.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’

  ‘For me, it’s just not a good idea.’

  Baz downs the last of his pint. ‘Because of your dad?’

  ‘He’s gone now. Forgotten.’

  ‘Yeah, but … the way he was with your mother. He roughed her up a bit, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you think you’ll be the same?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  A clanging rings across the bar.

  ‘Uh oh.’ Baz nods at my pint. ‘You’d better drink up. Time to head upstairs. Fight time.’ Baz gives me his crooked grin. ‘This will be the making of you kid. Just you wait and see.’

  The bar crowd leave their drinks and head towards a wooden door at the back of the pub.

  Two confused-looking tourists watch the stampede.

  Baz and I join the throng of muscular, shaven-headed men in paint-covered overalls and workman jackets.

  There are a few boys my own age, pushing and jostling through the door. They look tough. Mean. Well used to scrapping.

  My black jeans and polo shirt couldn’t be more out of place. Nor could my clipped, brown hair.

  Behind the door is a large, dark room with a rubber floor.

  There’s a boxing ring in the centre edged with gnarled rope.

  ‘Boxing?’ I mutter, raising an eyebrow. ‘You know I’ve never boxed before don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t say I never give you nothing.’ Baz grins at me.

  By the ring stands a girl in a bikini. She’s in her twenties, with bleached blonde hair and a hardened face. A stack of signs lean against her splotchy, tanned leg.

  The barman puts his meaty arm around the girl’s shoulder and pulls her close.

  ‘Ready for some action darlin’?’ says the barman.

  She pulls away from him. ‘Stop it Tony.’

  Tony slaps her backside, and she yelps again, ‘Stop it!’

  Before I can rush forwards, Baz’s fingers tighten on my arm. ‘Leave it son. That girl can handle herself. Take it out in the ring.’

  5

  Manly roars fill the room.

  Tony the barman slaps his hands together and bellows, ‘Who’s up first?’

  Baz grabs my fist and pulls it into the air. ‘Marc Blackwell.’

  I feel adrenalin surge through my muscles. ‘Baz, these guys will tear me apart.’

  ‘They will if you let them.’

  The eyes of the crowd are on me. There are jeers as they take in my clean-cut appearance. The barman is shaking his head, a sneer on his scarred lip.

  ‘What are you gonna to do?’ Baz asks. ‘Fight or not?’

  ‘I’ll fight.’

  ‘Good on you kid! I knew you had it in you.’

  A beefy, red-headed teenager shouts, ‘I’ll take him!’ and a cheer goes up.

  The redhead swaggers towards me. His hair is clipped short and he has a deep scar on his lip. He’s taken his shirt off and his pale body is covered in snake tattoos. I’m guessing he must be eighteen – maybe a few years older.

  He eyes me up. ‘I’m Jaden. And I will be beating the shit out of you today.’ His accent is British – Manchester to be precise.

  The men around us roar with laughter.

  ‘Marc might surprise you,’ Baz mutters.

  ‘Tony says he’s an actor,’ says Jaden. ‘What does he know about fighting?’

  Baz gives me a shove. ‘In you go son. Show him what you’re made of.’

  I climb into the ring, take off my shirt and hand it to Baz.

  ‘Listen,’ Baz hisses. ‘Three rounds okay? B
est of three. Anything goes, and I mean anything.’

  Jaden glances at my torso. ‘You’re fit at least. Hope you’ve got plenty of makeup back on set to cover the bruises.’

  More laughter.

  I wait for a bell, but there isn’t one. Instead, Jaden smacks me so hard in the jaw that I stagger back and nearly fall over.

  While I’m still reeling, Jaden delivers punch after punch to my jaw and torso.

  I’m knocked down, and Jaden kicks me hard in the ribs over and over until the world spins.

  I hear someone shout, ‘Give it to him!’

  Dimly, I see the bikini girl hold a sign that says ‘Knock Out’.

  But I’m not knocked out.

  I stagger to my feet.

  Baz shouts, ‘That’s it! Get up! Get the fuck up Marc Blackwell and start fighting back.’

  Just as I get my footing, I walk straight into another punch.

  There are a few laughs and jeers as I fall backwards again.

  ‘Jaden started before the fucking sign went down!’ Baz yells.

  ‘Do that again and you’re out,’ the bikini girl tells Jaden.

  I rub my jaw and find my feet.

  Jaden barks, ‘Put the sign down bitch and let me finish him off.’

  Bitch. I can’t stand men talking to women like that. My fury is intense. I can barely see.

  I land a punch so hard and fast that even I’m surprised by it. But not as surprised as Jaden, who staggers back and falls to the ground.

  Knock out.

  One punch. That’s all it took.

  I look at my fist in disbelief.

  When Jaden hits the floor, there’s an eerie silence.

  After a few minutes, it’s clear Jaden isn’t going to get up.

  ‘He’s fucking out cold,’ Tony shouts.

  Baz grabs the Knock Out sign from the bikini girl, holds it up and pulls my fist into the air. ‘Winner!’ he yells.

  But there are no cheers. I think the crowd are still in shock.

  Someone yells, ‘He got lucky!’

  ‘Time to go kid,’ says Baz, as Jaden is dragged from the ring by red-haired men who I take to be his brothers.