Schooled

by RaeLynn Blue

  Fuck.

  His cock thickened and his hand drifted down to his rapidly growing phallus. In seconds his hand had pushed past the boxer-brief’s elastic and firmly wrapped around his engorged member. He groaned and rubbed the expanse from balls to tip and back again as the vision continued her seductive tease.

  God, she’s hot!

  The ability to see his fantasy with his eyes wide open occurred as a result of being locked up. He could ill afford to masturbate with his eyes closed while incarcerated, so he honed his horniness into waking visions, such as the one unfolding before him in his very own kitchen.

  She smiled the same sweet grin she gave him at the conference, and glanced back over shoulder as she masterfully danced on top of the shuddering washing machine—as if it too found her so damn sexy it could hardly concentrate on its task.

  Cock in his fist, he pumped in a lazy manner, gliding over the purpling satin head, and down the deeply veined shaft, for Nathaniel knew his overworked mind conjured the vision before him, just as it had in his dreams the last two nights. He blinked several times.

  Yeah, I’m losing it.

  He caved in to the waking fantasy, and his hand became hers. Ms. Perry no longer stood astride the appliance, but had magically appeared on her knees in front of him. He looked down and she gazed up at him, carting the same smile. Quietly, she took his stiff staff in hand and opened her luscious mouth and slowly licked his purple head of his cock.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Nathaniel said to the stale kitchen air, hissing as his hand pumped up. Down. Up. Down. Faster. Faster. Faster!

  His apparition’s brunette strands brushed his balls, teasing and taunting him as she glided up and down his member. Those full lips served as pillows playing into the sensations rushing through him and burrowing into him and awakening things he’d left alone, locked down when he was locked up.

  The orgasm spilled out of him as the beautiful woman at his feet rippled and vanished.

  He spied the disillusion of his fantasy through slits in his eyes and as the aftershock of reaching his pinnacle pumped through him, making him pant and growl in pleasure.

  “Damn.”

  He snagged the freshly laundered dishtowel and wiped himself. Smirking as he turned to the fridge and squatted down to search about for something to eat. Not very hungry—at least not for food—he allowed the cool air to rush over his hot, damp body, but nothing stirred his interest. He closed it, and stood up.

  I’m restless now, and more than a little bothered. The woman’s a teacher, and my son’s teacher at that. I can’t get involved with her. I mean, as if she would have me. Still, my body’s craving her like it does food. I can’t even eat thinking about her—again.

  He left the kitchen, attempting to leave the lingering scent of his orgasm and its memory behind. The sparsely decorated living room contained a mauve loveseat, deep mahogany coffee table and end tables, and a leather recliner. Small, only 700 square feet, his one-bedroom apartment had been his sanctuary, his place of peace. After sharing a box with a variety of others for six years, this apartment felt like a castle. The solitude had cushioned his nightmares, his demons, and held steady him since his release. The halfway house had only served as an extension of his jail time.

  Ms. Perry. Monday would come quickly, the weekend zipping by the way they always do. Then come Monday, he’d be faced with the vixen vibrating her luscious body through to his, making his cock stiffen and his lusts spill over the container in which he’d kept them. Sure, he’d met beautiful women before, and after his stint in the slammer they seemed a plenty, but Ms. Perry plucked something loose inside of him—something he’d kept locked down tight and heavily guarded by sarcasm, indifference, and a tough hide of fast fury. His fists pounded back any physical threat, but the ones to his heart had been harder to avoid. Tara tore through him with damage that lingered in gaping wounds and leaked out his hope and faith in people. She left only his disillusionment to fester.

  But Ms. Perry had wiggled her ample bottom into the spot he’d long since kept female hands away from. How? He didn’t know. He’d only spoken to her for what? Fifteen minutes? But he couldn’t deny the full force tug of her allure. She snagged his attention in a matter of minutes, with those beaming white teeth, kind eyes and curvy body. His thoughts centered on the dual problem of his ache for Ms. Perry and the trouble with his son.

  “Yeah, I want her. What man wouldn’t want to be buried deep inside those creamy caramel thighs?” he confessed to the empty room. Even though no one heard it, relief washed over him having spoken his sensual appetite aloud. Sure, he wanted her, but that didn’t mean he should. He ran a hand across his buzzed strands and sighed, feeling his member start to pulse. Already the flush spread throughout his flesh, making him hot. What would she want with a convict? A construction worker at his uncle’s business, to which he owned 40% shares, Nathaniel wasn’t one for the boardroom. He acted as the foreman, a position he preferred, but he took the job a step further and got his hands dirty too. He could’ve come right out of prison and directly to the vice president spot, but he passed, electing to act as a foreman. He liked the tough work.

  To make a play for the teacher or not?

  As usual when he arrived at home, he headed down the hallway to his bathroom on the right, across from his bedroom. He pushed back the shower curtain, leaned into the shower, and turned on the water flow. Climbing into the tub, he felt the water for temperature before slipping into the warm streams. He put his head into the spray. The rush of debris, dust, and demolition fragments fell away under the water’s spray.

  Since being released after serving 80% of his time and fulfilling his parole obligations, Nathaniel couldn’t ever truly see it as a release. His record acted like a shadow, always there, but hidden until illuminated. Like a blinking billboard, it would announce his one major screw up to the world. He longed for one bright spot in his life.

  One.

  And it seemed he’d found it right when he hadn’t expected to ever discover it.

  Ms. Perry. Would you love being in the shower with me right now? Touching me, allowing me to kiss those swollen orbs and soliciting little sounds from you? Do you like it from the front or the back? Would you want me buried inside you from behind or the side? Would you call my name or simply beg me to fuck you harder, baby? Whatever you want, Ms. Perry, I’d do…

  When he first started his prison sentence, he thought nothing would quiet the rumblings of regret in the many hours of midnight his life had become at that point. Once released, the heavy drape of despair became a constant. Yet, his hope found only a void, clammy and vacant where hope once thrived and flourished within him. Now there was only nothing.

  He’d felt steady. No. Not steady in her presence. Hopeful. Yes. That was it. Although the revelation of Scott’s behavior had blindsided him and pushed him down into a long, dark tunnel of guilt and frustration, talking to Ms. Perry helped.

  He shifted his head, having successfully shampooed it and rinsed the suds until the water ran clear. Picking up the soap from the dish, he lathered the grit and grime of manual labor.

  If only it was as easy to erase my criminal past.

  Ms. Perry popped into his mind, sending a beam of light directly into that dark thought. She was a beacon in a maelstrom.

  Automatically his hand brushed his swollen shaft before closing over it once more. God, to lay his hands on the real woman, feeling that supple flesh beneath his hands, pressing his lips against those full round globes, taking those dark nipples into his mouth would be heaven. He would love to push his cock into her promising warmth. The idea made his body tinge in need.

  Up. Down. Up. Down.

  Pleasure plowed through pride, through his guilt and fatigue.

  Her. Ms. Perry. What will you teach me?

  His hand became her soft, tawny one and Nathaniel pushed back against the wet, cold shower tiles, and increased the rhythm. Up. Down. Up. Down. His balls tightened. The image of her se
xy mouth pressed over his shaft, sucking, licking his lonely tool, forced his climax and his cock jerked and sputtered, the water cleaning his juices as he erupted, the shower’s thunderous noise, drowning his grunts and heavy pants.

  “Damn,” he groaned, doubled over from the wham of his orgasm.

  I want her. Fuck, I need her!

  Later dried and dressed in shorts, Nathaniel crawled into bed, flicked off the bedside light, and uttered his first prayer in fifteen years.

  “Lord, keep me where the light is. Keep me where she is.”

  Chapter Six

  Monday, James Tennison Middle School

  Nathaniel pushed the budding fury downward far into the darkest part of his mind. Less than five feet from him sat Tara in all her bleached blonde glory. Air brushed nails painted a bright fuchsia that coordinated with her lipstick shade, her spaghetti strapped shirt and artfully painted smattered jeans. She wore flip-flops, which she bounced in complete boredom. Beside her hovered that schmuck of an advocate she used in her divorce proceedings, John Flynn. The six of them had been at it for over an hour. Discussing the best route for Scott, his behavior issues and his academic troubles failed to produce a clear-cut path. Though Nathaniel had said little, he understood one thing with certainty: they weren’t getting anywhere fast. The lot of them fidgeted and sighed.

  Ms. Rodriguez occupied the chair beside Tara, and beside her sat Mr. Shoemaker, the special education teacher. Scott didn’t qualify for special education, but Mr. Shoemaker had daily contact with him. On the other side of Mr. Shoemaker, Nathaniel kept his arms crossed and his eyes straight ahead. The knot of frustration in his chest lessened when his eyes met the soothing calm chocolate ones across from him.

  Now, he glimpsed over again to Harper. She made a point this morning to make him call her by her first name, Harper. She said only the students called her Ms. Perry. And he damn sure wasn’t a student—not with the thoughts running rampant through his mind about her. She struck an image of professional chic, but Nathaniel liked how she didn’t downplay her figure like some women with a little meat on their bones did.

  He allowed himself to drink in the striking picture she posed, seated across from him. He couldn’t help it. The creamy silk blouse wrapped around her upper torso and hugged every curve like he’d love to do. It contrasted nicely with her rich dark skin, setting those earth hues on display. A navy skirt came to just below her knees and it skimmed those ample hips and thighs. Her amazingly flawless calves reached down into a pair of matching navy pumps, or whatever those damn things were called. The heel wasn’t high, but rather square and chunky. As his eyes traveled back up her fantastic body, they stopped at her throat, where a single heart-shaped diamond pendant swung from a thin gold chain. Classy. Harper presented a classy woman, and damn if he didn’t want to strip those clothes off and devour the woman beneath, make that classy vanish into a screaming, pleading, and panting passion-filled woman.

  She met his eyes, shot him a small smile, and tucked her hair behind her ear. They’d done that a lot over the last hour. He’d glance over at her and discover her watching him. Once their eyes met, it seemed he would get shocked by a brief energy burst. It sizzled across his skin. As if she’d felt it too, Harper would break the connection and her deliciously darker skin nearly hid the flush of her skin. Was she shy, or was she trying to keep it professional between them? Paying attention to the discussion had grown increasingly difficult with the electric zings between him and Harper. Yeah, she didn’t have to say it aloud. He could tell.

  The chemistry that boomed between them at the conference had thickened and grew to something almost tangible. He wanted to shove all the binders, papers, and pens to the ground, snatch Harper up and dive into her heated cove right there on the table. To hell with everyone in the room—except Scott.

  Scott.

  A giggle captured his attention, and he dragged his eyes from the glorious Harper to the source of the inappropriate chuckle. Nothing they discussed would be humorous with the exception of Tara’s idiotic requests for Scott. But then, only he and Ms. Rodriguez found her requests to be outrageous and enabling. He’d said so numerous times, and Tara ended up screeching like a banshee at everything that came out of his mouth. Ms. Perry had played the role of mediator. The principal or the assistant had been scheduled to appear at the meeting, and the murmurs of a woman drifted in from the hallway outside Harper’s room. She stuck her head in, shot the group a one-minute signal and vanished back through the doorway. That had been thirty-five minutes ago.

  Glum faces abounded, but Nathaniel kept coming back to Harper. She managed to present a serene smile, and nodded at the appropriate times, but whether she actually enjoyed this discussion remained to be seen. Nathaniel figured she didn’t. Her fingers gripped her clipboard a little too tightly.

  The only happy person here was Scott. He fixed the boy with a glare, and watched with budding anger how his son nestled closer to his mother as if seeking protection. She patted his head absentmindedly, but kept her attention on her nails. Occasionally she would look up, scowl at him, and then return her glare back down to her nails. Content with John Flynn acting as her mouthpiece, she only wanted to rattle the cage, but her true interests had nothing to do with Scott, that much had become obvious. Why had she come?

  To get a look at him or worse, to derail all attempts he made at repairing his tattered relationship with his son.

  “I’ve got ten minutes more, and I’m walking out,” Ms. Rodriguez said distastefully, and effectively causing the blabbering John Flynn to cease his tirade in mid-sentence. “Forgive me, but I have students arriving within the next twenty minutes and I need to prepare.”

  Harper cleared her throat and tried to ease the sharp bitterness of Carlita’s words.

  “I agree. Ms. Pearson, could we come to a set plan for Scott for second quarter?” she asked, smiling that same smile she’d given them all morning. Nathaniel noticed how it only flashed across her lower face, not reaching her cheeks or her warm eyes. It was for show only, a prop, nothing real. This smile didn’t hold any of the hints of pleasure the ones she gave him had held.

  “We ain’t done with this quarter,” Tara spat, bucking up to a sitting position. “He ain’t failed this quarter. Y’all—”

  “Yes, he did,” Ms. Rodriguez said with so much venom Tara actually gasped into shocked silence.

  “I thought we agreed that Scott will have the opportunity to redo his first quarter work,” John Flynn said, whining as he did so. He folded his hands and rested them atop his belly. “The boy isn’t really ready to move on to second quarter material, having not mastered the first. Things build upon each other, do they not in mathematics, Ms. Rodriguez?”

  “With the proper modifications, Scott can be successful in math second quarter,” Ms. Rodriguez said, meeting John Flynn’s lazy gaze with daggers in her eyes. “If he gets the support he needs at home, comes to tutoring, and corrals his behavior. Academics are not Scott’s issue—”

  “What we all agree with,” Harper interrupted, slicing through the math teacher’s budding rant as she pointed at the teachers, “is that this quarter has passed and demonstrated that Scott needs a lot of assistance. Let’s start him with a clean slate and a chance not to fall further behind by making him redo work from first quarter. By doing that, he grows further behind with the second quarter curriculum, which ultimately means he will fail second quarter. That’s something we all want to avoid—even Scott.”

  Scott stopped drawing on his paper long enough to glance up at Harper and scowl hard at her before returning to his doodles.

  John Flynn licked his lips and Nathaniel spied his eyes staring at Harper’s delectable breasts. The man had no pride. John’s gaze swept from one full, ripe melon pressed against the flimsy fabric, to the other and he had the gall to lick his lips as if he tasted them! It happened fast; Nathaniel bolted out of his seat, fists clutched. All he could see was his fists smashing into John Flynn’s fat face,
over and over again. So rapid was his action, he sent his seat crashing to the floor, shocking everyone to silence.

  “Stop!” Nathaniel shouted, eyes slits of rage, and he had to force himself to stop stalking toward the other man. Stop staring at her like that! She’s my woman, not a damn T-bone steak, you fat fuck! Back the hell up…

  John’s piggy raven eyes zipped to Nathaniel.

  “Mr. Pearson? Stop what? I—I haven’t said anything.”

  Nathaniel took in a slow breath and tried not to look at Harper. She wasn’t his anymore than she was John Flynn’s. Hell, he’d been allowing his eyes to feast on her since he walked in the door. He couldn’t control who checked her out. With a body and demeanor so sweet any man would give his left nut to have her, he could hardly knock the hell out every man who gave her an approving once over.

  But God he wanted to try.

  “Uh, you can stop this madness, John,” Nathaniel said, the words rushing out without pause. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him and they weighed against him. He had to repair his actions. “I agree with the teachers. Let’s start Scott off with a clean slate, as Ms. Perry said, and see where we go from there. I think arguing about last quarter is a moot point. I’ve got to go back to work. Thank you, teachers, for spending your time today on this.”

  He picked the chair up and scooted it against the table as gently as he could. Avoiding the glare of Harper’s eyes, he fought the flush threatening to erupt over his face. She has no idea of the man I am underneath. She’d been scared when I shot out of that chair, and I can’t see that on her face again.