Schooled by a Senior

by K. Webster

  Another buzz.

  With a sigh, I yank my phone out and stare.

  Teacher’s Assistant: Do you miss my cock? It’s been a long fucking weekend.

  I let out a shocked gasp and smile despite myself. Before he left Friday afternoon, he programmed himself into my phone. I made him swear he wouldn’t text me anything to get me in trouble. Luckily, he actually texted me about The Scarlett Letter and the quiz I had to prepare. It was nice to chat with him and not sit in silence while Devon does whatever it is he does in his office with the door closed.

  Me: I’m deleting this. You’re such a bad boy…

  Teacher’s Assistant: Only fifty more minutes until I’m deep inside you, Maze.

  My cheeks are flaming when the first student walks in. Jerking my head toward the door, I attempt to compose myself. I’m thankful, I think, when it’s Author.

  “Miss me, little turtle?”

  I hit delete on his messages and turn to smile at him. “Actually, I missed that mouth. You say stuff that makes me crazy, but I like it.” So much for being free of the fog. I’m once again drunk off his presence three seconds into seeing his handsome face.

  He saunters over to me all man in a navy-colored school uniform. It was meant for boys, but this guy fills it out in all the right places. Men like him don’t belong in school learning from the likes of me. He belongs somewhere where he can lead a crowd or a place where he can delegate duties. Author’s the kind of man people will flock to. I certainly have a hard time not flapping my wings every time he gets near.

  His masculine scent envelops me a second before he swivels me in my seat to face him. Then, so boldly and so Author, he leans down and captures my lips in a kiss that said he missed me all weekend, too.

  “You look hot today, Maze,” he says against my lips and kisses me once more before pulling away. “Did you make us anything sweet today?”

  As soon as he steps back, kids start filing in the room. I’m speechless and breathless. Author gives me a knowing wink before striding back over to his desk. Once he’s seated, his eyes lock onto mine. His gaze dominates me. Owns me with one heated stare. Somehow makes me feel beautiful and educated and worthy.

  Which is ridiculous.

  I’m not any of those things.

  The only reason I ended up marrying Devon was because I interned at his office and we spent every waking moment together. He dazzled me with expensive lunches and weekend getaways. Other women were sexier than me and more clever. I was just me…and yet, for some reason, Devon wanted me. I’d been going to college for office management when he urged me to quit school and marry him. That he’d take care of me and love me.

  I fell for it.

  At twenty-one, with a nearly completed degree, I threw in the towel. Traded my textbooks for recipe books. My schoolwork for housework. My life for…love. Or so I thought. Devon loves his things. I will always be just a shiny ornament that belongs to him. He gets off on pulling my strings. I thought he’d have a coronary when I boldly told him I was getting a job as a substitute teacher.

  For seven years, I’ve let him tell me what to do. I’ve turned a blind eye to his affairs, too many to count. I don’t make any decisions and let him control me as the wife he so carefully sought out and married.

  He didn’t think I was beautiful.

  He didn’t think I was clever.

  He thought I was stupid and could easily be manipulated. A perfect wife in his eyes.

  And I was stupid because I fell for it. Then, I stayed. I stayed until a few months ago when I decided I wanted more out of this life. There was more than the four walls and roof of our expensive home. There was more than pricey hairdos, fancy government dinners, and expensive cars.

  We were missing love.

  It had always been missing. Even from the beginning. Oh, he put on a good show. Said the right things. Was gentlemanly and sweet. Got me right where he wanted. Once that heavy diamond sat on my finger, it was like our marriage gave him the license to do whatever he wanted.

  I let him.

  I always let him.

  Just like last night, I let him yank me around, make fun of me, and then ignore me. Well, I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of being some ungrateful man’s maid and whipping post.

  No more.

  As much as I wanted to give him the middle finger and waltz right out our front door forever, I knew better. On many drunken nights, Devon has bragged about other politicians, judges, policemen, and on and on, that he has “fucked.” If they piss him off or don’t play his little games, he screws with their lives. He’s calculating and devious. If I tried to leave, he’d take pleasure in making my life a living hell. There would be no way I’d ever find a job or a place to live with him whispering in people’s ears and shoving hundred dollar bills in their fists.

  Devon always wins.

  But he can’t win if I don’t play his games.

  I’m playing by my own rules.

  I am living for the first time in seven years.

  “Earth to Miss Hottie!” a loud boy barks from his seat.

  Jerking out of my daze, I can’t help but glance over at Author who gives me an encouraging smile before sending the boy a death glare.

  “Uh, yes. Well, we were going to have a pop quiz,” I murmur.

  A few kids groan and a few noisier ones in the back ignore I even spoke. The class is nothing but a chaotic symphony of chatter. I clear my throat but remain unheard. I’m about to give up when Author’s voice booms.

  “Clear your desks. You’ll only need a sheet of paper and a pen.” His voice is deep and powerful. Commanding. Everyone snaps to attention, and now the only noise is zippers moving as they hunt for their things.

  He climbs out of his desk that looks way too small for a man his size and strides over to me. My mind flits to Friday afternoon when we had sex. Twice. Once at the school and once at the Hilton. After we’d cleaned up, he hugged me in his arms on the bed for a long time. It was relaxing and sweet. We didn’t have to speak. The thundering of our hearts spoke for us.

  “They’re piranhas,” he reminds me. “You can hide in your shell all you want, little turtle, but they’re still going to eat you. Lift your chin and make them listen to you.” His voice is soft and warm and encouraging. It works wonders for my self-confidence.

  “Thank you.”

  He sits on the edge of Mrs. Lovell’s desk and crosses his arms over his thick chest. Sitting there, he looks every bit the teacher. More so than me. His black hair is styled in a messy way that reminds me of how it looked when I ripped my fingers through it when he made my body do things I never knew it could do. A lopsided grin on his full lips is enough to send a blaze of heat and excitement through me that has me speaking with confidence to the class.

  “Ten questions worth ten points apiece. Here we go,” I tell them firmly. “Oh, and if you do well, I’ll give you all some homemade chocolate truffles I made last night.”

  This turns groans into excited chatter.

  And that turns my frown into a wide grin.

  The next fifty minutes go by quickly. After the quizzes were turned in, I assigned them a character profile analysis to hand in tomorrow on which character fascinated them most from the story. When the last person leaves, each kid with a truffle in hand, Author wastes no time taking me in his arms.

  He’s strong and warm, and I like him wrapped around me. “You did great today, Maze.”

  Beaming, I look into his glowing jade-colored orbs. “Because you helped me.”

  “Nah, that was all you.”

  I crave to kiss him—to do it openly and without a care in the world. Instead, I smile at him and start to pull away. “Thank you.”

  He grabs my ass through my short skirt making me squeal. “I’ve been waiting all period to shove this up your hips and fuck you.”

  I push away and swat at him. “Earn your keep, mister. You have a stack of papers over there to grade,” I sass, arching an eyebrow up in def
iance.

  His gaze is smoldering as he prowls over to me. He doesn’t attack me like I want. No, he simply brushes a hair away from my face with his thumb. “So fucking pretty.”

  “Where’s the crude boy I know?” I taunt even though I secretly love this sweeter side of him.

  He smirks—a look on him that surely just lit my panties on fire—and points at Mrs. Lovell’s desk. “Crawl up under there. You’re going to suck my dick while I do your job.”

  My jaw hangs open, and I’m already arguing. “What if someone sees?”

  “You’ll be hidden. I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he says with a growl that drenches those flaming panties.

  “Okay,” I concede.

  Running over to the door of the classroom, I do a quick peek into the hallway to make sure nobody is coming. Once I’m satisfied we’re alone, I make my way over to the desk. It’s a squeeze, but I’m able to get underneath without too much problem. He doesn’t sit right away and takes his time gathering the papers, whistling while he does it. I’m about to change my mind when his slacks and loafers come into view. He pulls the chair over and sits. Then, he bravely undoes his pants to free his impressive cock.

  “Suck it, Maze. Make me proud.”

  I giggle under the desk and take it in my grip. Papers shuffle above me. Not having his intense gaze on me gives me the confidence to try and do a good job for him. I run my tongue in a circle on the tip of his cock, which earns me a hissed, Jesus Christ.

  His hot length jerks when I lick along his shaft. I can hear his pen scraping along the paper on the desk as he grades while I tease him. Deciding to really distract him, I slip my lips over the top of his dick and then slide down slowly as far as I can go without gagging. He groans but keeps working. I work the base of him while my mouth pleasures the top. Friday, he gave me the most amazing oral sex of my life, so I vow to return the favor. If his heavy breathing is any indication of his pleasure, I’m doing quite well.

  “Fuck, this feels good,” he praises.

  His words of encouragement fuel me on, and I suck him like it’s my calling. Licking and sucking and teeth scraping, I give him the best blow job I’ve ever given. My slobber is everywhere, but something tells me he’ll enjoy the mess.

  “I’m going to come soon.” His words are a pleasure-filled hiss.

  I intensify my efforts but freeze in terror when he speaks again.

  “What’s up, Brock?” he questions, his voice friendly and calm.

  I’m on my knees under another teacher’s desk while I blow her favorite student. This is beyond getting fired…this is scandalous and newsworthy. Author must sense my horror because he reaches beneath the desk to grip my hair.

  “You weren’t answering your phone. Want to play basketball at five over at Nate’s? Everyone’s going to be there,” the guy named Brock says.

  At least it isn’t a teacher—it sounds like it may even be a friend of his. Author urges me with the grip on my hair to keep going. So, I do. It becomes a fun game to see if I can make him groan or growl or gasp while I blow him. He and Brock just carry on a normal conversation as if I’m not sucking him dry.

  “Do me a favor, man,” Author says, his voice tight. “Hit on Dahna. Pursue her. Whatever the fuck. Just distract her so she leaves me the hell alone. You can tap that if you show up at her house on Friday. Her parents’ll be out of town.”

  I listen with interest, thankful that Author is pushing some girl off on his friend so he can be with me. It makes me feel powerful.

  “Double D Dahna? She’ll try and marry my ass,” Brock jokes.

  Author laughs. “Like you could get any better. Catch her while you can.”

  Brock launches into a lengthy story about her last boyfriend and how she went psycho on him while Author laughs along. Then, he offers Brock some truffles. They both gush over how tasty they are, which makes me happy. I work his cock eagerly until his heat explodes into my mouth. The urge to gag is strong, but I swallow him down until he’s completely empty. When I finish, I lick him clean before tucking him back into his pants. They continue to chat, so I rest my cheek on his thigh while he strokes my hair.

  “Okay, dude. Go the fuck away. I have a pile of shit here to do, and you’re distracting me. I’ll text you later,” Author says, his voice relaxed and pleased. I made him that way. The smile on my face is immediate.

  “Fine. Have fun,” Brock says in a mocking voice, “grading papers.”

  Author chuckles and then a few moments later, the door closes shut.

  “Did he know I was under this desk?” I hiss in horror.

  His chair rolls out and he holds his hands out to me. I accept his help so he can pull me out. Once I’m standing, he tugs me into his lap, nipping at my breast through my shirt.

  “Nah, our little secret,” he murmurs, his palm inching up my bare thigh. “Now help me grade this shit so I can take you somewhere and fuck you. You drive me crazy, lady.”

  Dipping down, I kiss his mouth which tastes like lingering chocolate. “You drive me crazy, too, so we’re even.”

  “It worked!” I squeal and jump onto the hotel bed fully dressed.

  He sheds his blazer and tie but climbs on after me. “What’d he say?”

  “I told him the meeting at the school would probably last until like nine. He texted back and said auditors were in the office, so he’d be home closer to midnight.” I grin and let out a relieved sigh. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

  His brows furl together in an angry way, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong. When I frown, he runs his thumb along my lip before kissing me chastely there.

  “You deserve to have a lot more fun. I’m sorry you’re married to my asshole father.”

  I run my fingers through his gelled hair and mess it up. “I’m not sorry I met you. You’ve woken me up. I feel like I’m seeing the world through crystal clear eyes rather than the dark haze I’d been walking around in.”

  We lie there for some time in silence. His hands don’t stray from me and he plants kisses on me frequently. If I could freeze this content moment forever, I would.

  “I was so pissed when I found out you were married to him,” his quiet voice says, breaking the peaceful silence of our moment. “ All these years, I imagined my father sitting at the dinner table with his other family. My mother and I far from his mind. Telling his wife and kids how lucky he was that he dodged that bullet. I carried around so much hate. It was my plan to torment and fuck you just to get back at my dad.” I cringe at his words. His eyes are narrowed, and they flicker with anger. Then, his eyes warm as he gives me a small smile. “But Friday, I didn’t want it to be about revenge between us. I just wanted you. Now,” he says with a sigh, “now I don’t know where this is going, but it certainly isn’t the way I’d planned.”

  I stiffen and clutch his hand. “Do you like being here with me?”

  He lets out a huff of air and tightens his grip at our conjoined hands. “Of course I fucking do. More than anything. I don’t normally date chicks. I fuck them. But I have this urge to take you places and show you things. To buy you presents and treat you like you deserve. I want to walk down the street with you on my arm for all to see. And then to bring you home and drive intense pleasure from your body. With you, I crave to do more.”

  Smiling, I straddle him. We’re fully clothed, but he quickly hardens between us. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me.”

  I let out a shriek when he flips me over onto my back and grinds against me. “Well, get used to it. I might say sweeter shit every now and again. Like, when you were giving that quiz, I was dying to bend you over that desk and let the whole class watch me claim that tight pussy. I wanted you to squirt all over that first row so fucking Jack Turner could have a taste of what he’ll never have. They’d all see your cunt and your sexy-ass mouth belong to me.”

  “There’s my crude boy,” I purr as I work at the buttons on his shirt. “Tell me more of what you
want to do to me.” His shirt gets tossed away, giving me a delicious view of his sculpted chest.

  He chuckles as he works to free his cock from his pants. Slacks and boxers are peeled off until he’s hard and naked before me. “I’m going to fuck you with your panties on, Maze. In this hot skirt on this hotel bed. Then I’m going to take you to dinner while my cum runs down your thighs. Every time you rub them together, the stickiness will be a reminder of how good you got fucked.”

  “You’re too much…”

  His fingers brush against my pussy as he tugs my panties to the side. I’m wet and ready, so when his cock pokes at my entrance, he easily pushes all the way inside of me without any resistance.

  “Oh, God,” I whimper. “More.”

  He remains still as he flashes me a smug grin, barely tilting his hips at me. “Which is it? Too much or not enough? You’re so wish-washy, little turtle. Tell me what you want, and I’ll fucking give it to you.”

  That mouth of his…

  “Do it. Hard. Fuck me hard, Author,” I beg.

  The words are barely uttered from my tongue before he slams into me to the point of pain. His strong hands find my wrists, gripping them tightly and slamming them to the bed. I cry out as he drives into me with such force, I wonder if he’ll split me in two. With every thrust, his cock hits me in the never-before-been-found G-spot, causing me to see white stars.

  “Yes…right there…”

  I’m squirming but I don’t want to get away. It’s the pleasure he forces on me—it’s intense and addicting and too much all at once. But I want it. I want every single bit of it. I want him to hold me down on this bed and take every bit of my pleasure.

  “Oh God!” I shriek in warning, my entire body tensing in preparation to climax.

  His grip becomes so tight my hands go numb. The normally smug and collected look on his face is gone. Replaced is a look of unmasked desire—desire for me. In one look, he tells me I’m beautiful and perfect and worthy. His expression, in the end, is what sets me over the edge.