727 Cumming Ave. (Cherry Falls)

His chest is perfection, each ridge of muscle sharp against my softness as I cling to his neck and he walks to the edge of the pool our bodies slip sliding together as he moves. He carefully sits me on a sort of square mattress that’s there, running his hand down to my hips, fingers playing with me through the bottom edge of the t-shirt as I shiver.

“I need you to know something…” His eyes darken as he starts, jaw flexing as my stomach twists.

Here it comes…the letdown. Sorry, I got carried away, this can’t be… Or… It’s just, this is a no strings deal, Jenny, you understand that…

“It’s okay. It was just a mistake, I shouldn’t have—”

He cuts me off with his hard palm pressing over my lips.

“I’m not done talking, little flame,” he says as he looks at my chest. The thin fabric of the wet t-shirt is practically translucent, my nipples like miniature pink corks trying to pop through. “I need you to know, I’m really, really fucking sorry for how I’ve treated you since I came to Cherry Falls to teach.”

He takes his hand from my mouth, slipping it down my shoulder to rest on my other hip and I swallow hard, unsure where this conversation is going.

“But, see. When you came in my class that first day, smiling and talking like we always did in our tutoring, I knew I was in trouble. I felt something for you before that day, but then, seeing you live, in the flesh…” His voice trails off as he licks his bottom lip, his body between my open knees. “I also should have told you before that day I was going to be there. I fucked up hard. I’m sorry.”

Smoldering heat is gathering down low, my panties—already wet from the pool water—are getting wetter by the second. The shiver I had earlier is gone, replaced by tiny sparks lighting all over my skin as his fingertips dig into my flesh.

His eyes catch mine and it feels like my heart has relocated down between my legs. The pulsing there takes on a life of its own as Mason opens his mouth and finishes…

“Let’s just say, there was a reason I had to teach that first class sitting behind my desk. And…I had to race home at lunch to change my pants.”

A flutter dances in my belly as my core clenches. My math teacher nutted in his pants during class…because of me.

“I think…” I start, my voice cracking the words feeling stuck. I fall silent, embarrassed, forcing myself to take a breath as I hold my finger up, trying not to laugh at my own ridiculousness. One, two, three, and continue… “I think that if I died, right now, this moment…” He gives me a hard look, dark brows drawing together as I finish. “I just mean, if for some cosmic reason, there was a rogue lightning bolt, or I had a massive brain aneurysm right now and the last thing I heard before I crossed the rainbow bridge or whatever it’s called, was that you jizzed in your pants in class, because of me? I would die a happy girl.”

“Well, I’m not letting you die. If anyone or anything tries to take you from me, little flame, let’s just say I won’t use my math skills to end them. Or it, whatever. You’re not dying.”

The sky feels bigger, darker, as his thick arms swoop behind my back, pulling my body forward until my butt cheeks are barely hanging onto the edge of the pool, my crotch pressing against his hard body as we lean in to each other, kissing again, and I want to freeze this moment.

Stay right here, because right this second everything is perfect.

Something shifts inside of me as our kiss slows and I hear the groan that rumbles from Mason’s throat, vibrating into my mouth. The thought of his erection in my hand just minutes ago has my insides clenching.

A new sort of need is washing through me. I want him. A lust I never understood before has its hands around my throat and I can barely breathe.

I lock my ankles around his back and to my surprise, I tighten my spread girly bits against him, grinding.

Yes, grinding.

I never thought I’d use that word, let alone be the girl doing the action that goes with it.

Against her math teacher.

Holy hell, this is the stuff of bad porn.

But, this isn’t bad. It’s so good. So, so, so, so gooooooood.

We make out like teenagers—well, one of us is a teenager—for what feels like forever. His tongue is talented, knowing, and I can’t help the thought that jumps into my head: what would it feel like inside me, down there?

As we turn our heads, snatching breaths from the suddenly-airless atmosphere, his hands against my back turn rigid, tightening me against him, and my aforementioned grinding turns desperately manic.