Forbidden: A Student Teacher Romance

by Amanda Heartley

  Or, in Roy’s case, five days per week. I turned in my pacing, watching Heather help Roy back into his wheelchair. I sighed, glancing at my phone once more. It was silent, as it had been for the last two days as Carla struggled to right the wrongs that had been done to Miami Models. I wasn’t jealous or hurt, per se, I just wanted information.

  How was she?

  Was she eating enough?

  Sleeping enough?

  Had she resolved the modeling agency issues or not?

  Did she need my help?

  I smirked to myself, realizing I was sounding like a concerned parent—or boyfriend—or even more. I realized that, in the last few months, two days was longer than we’d spent apart in ages, and it felt like even longer. I slid my phone into my pocket, mentally preparing myself for getting Roy into the car and back home to his own beachfront cottage, an ordeal in itself—and not just for Roy.

  I realized that when it came to Carla, I was more than just her boyfriend. We had shifted, during our time in Siesta Key, to something far more serious, even if neither of us had mentioned it.

  Was it love? I supposed it was, though far be it for me to say the word first. At the same time, it was hard to deny my feelings, particularly during Carla’s almost painful absence. I could drive the boat, I could make small talk with fishermen, I could bait hooks and clean fish, tidy up the boat and even cart Roy to and from rehab five days a week. It was familiar, even pleasant, but without Carla, it was meaningless.

  Maybe it wasn’t just the routine that was meaningless, I realized, drifting from the wooden walkway outside the rehab center toward the rear entry door, but life itself. Was that what love felt like? I wondered, drifting back into the rehab facility, which smelled like Lysol and Listerine. Was it love making me do the things I was doing, so far removed from South Beach and modeling? Was I just growing up and taking responsibility for someone other than myself?

  I chuckled, sensing I needed Carla to help me answer such questions, even if they were about… her! With my phone in my pocket, and a smile on my face, I greeted Heather and Roy in the reception area. The double doors were open and Roy’s new accessible van was in the handicapped space a few feet away.

  “Hey pal,” I said, rubbing Roy’s frail shoulder as I approached him carefully from one side. “How’d it go today?”

  His reaction time was slow and he often got upset when surprised. But this time he smiled, nodding and saving himself the time of a reply by moving his right hand in a “so, so” manner.

  I winked back at him, turning to Heather for a more verbal response. Like most of the therapists here, she was young, motivated and energetic. A little on the harsh side, with dyed blond hair and a trim figure, she was a marathon runner and looked every bit of it, her purple scrubs almost tailor made for her thin, narrow body.

  “He’s being modest,” she explained, helping me wheel Roy through the double doors and out onto the front walkway, all but deserted at this hour. “He walked two extra steps today, didn’t you, Roy?”

  Roy nodded bashfully, frail in his big wheelchair, swimming in his favorite pair of black sweatpants and matching hooded sweatshirt. “Nice one!” I huffed, opening the double doors on the side of the van and backing his chair onto the metal ramp before strapping him in. “Wait’ll Rose and Carla hear about this new development.”

  Face to face as the wheelchair rose into the middle of the van, our eyes met and Roy struggled to speak. I leaned closer, struggling to make out the words that erupted, mushy and fast, from Roy’s mouth. Heather leaned in to interpret but I turned to her with an understanding smile on my face. “No Roy,” I said, belting him in for the quick ride back home. “Carla’s not back from South Beach yet, but trust me… you’ll be the first one I tell when she is!”

  He nodded, satisfied, as I shut the double doors to seal him in. I waved to Heather, rounding the front of the van and wishing I could be as satisfied with my own explanation. I wasn’t sure when Carla would be back from South Beach or, for that matter, when I might hear from her again.

  Chapter 39

  Carla

  I stared at the phone, vibrating with another one of Kellan’s increasingly impatient texts, this one just a series of question marks! I sighed, wishing I had the courage—or the words—to respond, but ever since giving in to Deacon’s kiss the night before, my mind had been awhirl.

  I’d barely slept, tossing and turning with forbidden desires of what might have happened if I’d given in to temptation and leaned into the kiss, signaling I wanted—needed—more. And I did! But not, I realized around 4 AM, from Deacon—but from Kellan.

  Still, I had to wait out my deadline and give the founder and owner of Florida Faces enough time to make an offer, or blow me off. The sun was growing pale and wan in the orange-black sky when Kellan’s text faded and the outside doors opened.

  Deacon walked inside, all business in a black suit that looked like it had been made just for him—and probably most certainly was. He looked clean shaven and hard pressed, as if he’d dallied too long the night before and, rebuffed by my chaste kiss, had switched gears from pleasure to business in less than a day.

  I sat serenely at my desk, prepared for whatever might come. I was tired, frustrated, confused, lonely, guilty, ashamed, proud, anxious and, above all, flat-lined. After the romantic dinner with Deacon the night before, I’d drifted home—alone—to my loft high on top of South Beach.

  There I’d stood, sipping seltzer and nibbling crackers to ensure I wasn’t hung over this morning, peering down at the city that had once felt like home to me. Glittery and neon, bustling even at the late hour, it had suddenly seemed more foreign to me than some chaotic marketplace in far flung Zanzibar. My heart ached for what I was missing—not just home, but the man who made me feel at home.

  I had frowned and sighed, squirmed and paced, well into the night, until finally inspiration struck and then, at peace, I finally slept until well past morning. Rising casually and dressing in the same manner, I’d made a few calls, and even fewer appointments, before finally arriving to my office after a late lunch, bag in hand and heavy from the efforts of my morning.

  I’d sunk into my chair, still avoiding Kellan’s texts because… what would I say? I’d be on my way home in a few hours? Broke as a joke or at least broken? That I’d kissed another man last night, but it didn’t mean anything? How’s my family?

  Instead, I’d settled on nothing, muting my phone and sliding it off my desktop while waiting for afternoon and then, evening, to approach. Now that it had, and Deacon had arrived, I remained seated, in a surprisingly Zen state for someone so desperate to right her wrongs and, quite frankly, save her ever loving ass!

  “I expected you to be more prompt,” I teased, crossing my legs beneath my casual crinkle shirt and twiddling my left foot as I peered up at him, standing on the other side of my clear Plexiglas desk.

  He grinned just as casually as I was dressed. “I had a lot to think about, Carla.”

  “Me too,” I said, sliding a contract across my desk. “That’s why I took the liberty of preparing a package I think you’ll find more than acceptable.”

  He cocked a salt and pepper eyebrow and picked up the contract, glancing at it briefly. As he read, eyes widening, fingers tightening on the thick packet of pages as he gently slumped into the seat across from my desk. He took his time, poring over every page, every paragraph, sub-paragraph, addendum and addendum to the addendum.

  When he was finished, he put the contract down and slid it halfway across my desk. The move was dismissive, but his thin lips, hungry eyes and lean cheeks weren’t. “What’s all this?” he asked, voice calm even if I heard the hitch of excitement just behind the practiced façade.

  “It’s a contract, clearly,” I said, standing abruptly and grabbing a pen on the way to my feet. “Offering you what I think you really wanted out of dinner last night—the Miami Models franchise, its name and, as it stands, my current stable of talent.”


  His eyes grew narrow, no longer striking. His face grew angular, no longer handsome. His pose was almost predatory, turning to face me even as he remained standing, his whole body tense. “Is it legal?” he asked, and I knew then all my worries had been for naught—he was in, hook, line and sinker.

  I clicked the pen playfully after that, my heart full of relief and already anxious for the ride home to Siesta Key. “I met with my attorney over lunch,” I said. “Then called each of my models after my meeting. One by one they’ve all filed in to sign off on it. For the price listed, they’ve agreed to join Florida Faces, no ifs, ands or buts.”

  “But…” he teased, winking playfully even as he reached for my pen. “What if I don’t want all your models?”

  “Sorry,” I said, reaching to grab it back. “It’s all or nothing, my friend. My models, my franchise rights, my office space and equipment, lock stock and barrel. It all goes today, to you, or tomorrow, to someone else.”

  It didn’t, of course. It either went to Deacon, today, or to bankruptcy court, tomorrow. Either way I’d be free, one way or the other. He shrugged, signed both copies and tossed the first contract back my way. “I’d have bought it at twice that price,” he huffed, smugly putting the cap back on my fancy contract signing pen.

  “Funny,” I said, sliding my signed version into my valise and reaching for my car keys. “I’d have sold it for half as much.”

  He chuckled, watching me take a key off my chain and slide it on top of the contract. “What’s this?” he asked as I leaned slightly closer to satisfy a quick case of curiosity.

  “My key,” I said, purring slightly. “Or should I say, your key?”

  He smirked, almost nervously, as I licked my lips in a suggestive display. Inching closer, he eased his seat back and stood uncertainly. “I, uh, think it’s better if we don’t mix business and pleasure, Carla,” he murmured almost nervously.

  I smirked, mission accomplished. He had never wanted me for me, nor was there any romantic enticement behind his fervent kiss the night before. He had, as always, been using me. I was almost relieved as I nodded and strode purposefully toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, holding his contract in one hand and the key in the other.

  “Home,” I huffed, pausing in the doorway between my office and the reception area. “This is your office now, Deacon. So don’t forget to turn the lights off when you leave and, again, nice doing business with you!”

  Chapter 40

  Kellan

  The cottage was quiet as I rose, blinking my eyes slowly to the smell of fresh ground coffee. I shook my head, thinking to myself it must be a dream. I’d never quite mastered that whole “set the alarm so the coffeemaker goes off at the same time every morning” thing. Still, as I tried to bury my head in the cottage’s comfy pillows, I realized the smell was stronger than any dream—and the cottage not so quiet.

  There was the clatter of a spoon, soft but distinct, and the whisper of bare feet on creaky floorboards. Curious, even hopeful, I rose naked from the bed and hastily pulled on a thin cotton robe from the chair by the door. I was still tugging it on when the smell of Carla’s perfume, soft and fragrant, overpowered the smell of fresh coffee in the pot.

  “Carla?” I croaked, not sure if I was asleep and still dreaming.

  She emerged, dressed as hastily—and scantily—as I was in one of my dress shirts, half-buttoned over nothing else. Her hair seemed still damp, her body aglow from a recent shower. “Hi babe,” she said, almost bashfully, face flushed as I took the cup of steaming coffee she offered and set it down on the counter next to the still gurgling coffeemaker.

  “Hi nothing,” I gushed, taking her into my arms and nearly crushing her with relief. “Where the hell have you been?”

  She answered in kind, clutching me heartily and sagging against my chest with relief. “I finally unloaded Miami Models, babe, and, well… it was harder than I thought.”

  Now it was my turn to be relieved. “Thank God, though, right?” I asked, pushing her away only to see my shirt fall open, slightly, revealing the swell of one glorious breast, her nipple hardening against the thin cotton of my shirt.

  She nodded, biting her lip as her eyes moistened. “I’m so relieved,” she said, wiping away fresh tears as I stood admiring her physical perfection. Ripe, womanly hips beneath the powder blue shirt, legs for days and a soft, flat belly begging to be kissed, teased and caressed.

  “You and me both,” I said, reaching to unbutton her shirt. Sorry, my shirt. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “Well,” she teased, tugging at the string of my robe until it gave way just as I freed the last button to reveal her glossy red bush atop her glistening pink pussy. “You’re about to see a lot more of me because I’ve sold Miami Models, lock, stock and barrel and my loft is on the market as well.”

  “Perfect,” I said, hoisting her up on the counter and kneeling as I spread her legs, her delicate bouquet rivaling the fresh roasted coffee. “Now we can fuck as often as we like.”

  “Kellan!” she said, squeezing her thighs shut as I leaned back on my haunches. “Is that all you missed me for?”

  “Hardly!” I shrugged out of my robe and hoped my tanned physique, harder than ever from weeks of physical labor in the intense Florida heat might tease her thighs back open. “But now that your business is settled, and your back, why not celebrate with a pussy buffet!”

  “Kellan!” she squealed, giggling so that, distracted, I could tease her legs open and lick and kiss the velvet insides of her thighs and distract her even more. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “It’s not what’s gotten into me,” I murmured, my hot breath spilling across her moist pussy. “It’s what’s about to get into you…”

  I kissed her then, my mouth flush with her pearly pink labia, lapping and licking its musky coating until the words died on her lips. She spread her legs wider, as desperate and hungry as I was for this—for all of this.

  She’d opened the windows while making coffee, and the sound of crashing waves mingled with her breathy murmurs. Her belly began to dance and wriggle as I teased her clit from its glossy sheath. It was firm and fiery, throbbing beneath my tightened lips as I pulled her closer to the edge of the kitchen counter for a better taste.

  She was glorious in all her femininity, musky and ripe and primal. She began to quake and writhe and grind her pussy along my face. I indulged her every whim, every angle, sensing her desire as it crested and climaxed in a hot bath of quaking, dripping lust.

  I lapped at her, like a dog at its bowl, eager and hungry in a way I’d never been before. She was helpless there, naked and dripping on the countertop, her belly and breasts and body quivering as I knelt on the floor. My face between her legs, at her service as she slid up and down, left and right—my tongue pressed tight against her weeping bud as it rocked and throbbed and danced again and again.

  I could have stayed there all day if my own needs hadn’t finally prevailed, and as I rocked her world for the dozenth time, my prick danced and leaped and leaked with anticipation.

  Only then, did I rise to my feet and smother her lips with my own, creamy and fragrant and dewy as she lapped at them greedily, eagerly, our desire overcoming our humility as I placed a hand on each thigh and, gripping her tight, slid my cock along her rosy, fragrant pussy.

  Chapter 41

  Carla

  I cried out when he entered me, not with surprise or even shock, but unbidden desire. I had wanted this so badly, since long before I’d left Siesta Key. Hand holding with mom and care giving with Roy had left me little time in the sleep department, to say nothing of the “sleeping with Kellan” department.

  We’d had such a healthy and robust sex life in South Beach, I hadn’t realized how much I missed it—missed him—until I saw him there, tall, lean and sexy in a loosely tied bathrobe, the morning sun caressing his chiseled features.

  Now I felt every inch of him, thick and throbb
ing as it slid deep inside me. We’d never fucked like this before—hard and fast and fierce—but fucking was what it was, and I’d never felt so satisfied so quickly.

  He’d made short work of my desire with his expert tongue and thick, tender lips, and now I returned the favor. I clung to every inch of his glorious cock as it slid in to the hilt, his pelvis beating against mine as I curled myself to the very edge of the counter, angling my hips to invite him even deeper inside.

  When at last he could go no further, he clung to my thighs and thrust, gently, grinding pelvis to pelvis, mound to mound, fur to fur, the motion so subtle and intense I came once more—suddenly coating his flat belly with my feminine lust.

  He seemed to revel in my helplessness, kissing me breathlessly as he began to thrust and grind and pivot and fuck me senseless. My bare ass, damp with lust, squeaked and squelched on the tile counter, the cabinets behind my head clattered and creaked, our fuck-juices blended together as he thrust in and out as if he never had before—and never would again.

  I gasped and came and cried out and climaxed and squealed and orgasmed and lost track of time. I sweat liberally and cursed despicably and ground myself sore as I met his every thrust with one of my own. Our bodies rocked and slapped and bumped and squeaked until at last, he neared his own thrilling orgasm.

  Pinning me in place, his hands on both thighs, sealing my lips with his so I could only breathe—and barely at that—through my flared nostrils, he fucked and pumped and thrust and fucked some more. He fucked until we were raw, wet, dripping, red, pink, sore and then fucked some more, until I cried out inside his mouth and he bit down slightly and came, hard and fast and deep—deep inside me.

  I felt every splash and drip, every throb and splutter as we sagged against one another, boneless, wet and sticky and panting and raw as at last our lips, sticky with drool and desire, drifted away from one another’s.