Misbehaved

His fingers dive into me. Not one. Not two. Three.

And it’s not dirty. It’s filthy, and we both know it.

He plunges into my hot center, in and out, not rhythmically, but in a way that lets me know that he is nowhere near as in control as he wants to be. I slide forward and ride his hand, taking over the situation. His hand between my legs is heaven, and now I know why his hand is on my waist. It’s either that or unbuckling himself and fucking me raw and senseless on his desk.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” His voice is barely audible, nothing but a frustrated whisper, every time I dive in and he is knuckles deep inside me. He fills me. He stretches me. He consumes me in a way no man would ever be able to, and it’s not a stupid high school crush that’s saying this. It’s the reality of things, and we both know it.

“I’m going to come,” I moan, and it’s the first time I look down to see his massive tent of an erection pointing at me. I look up, and he is tortured. Every curve of his face gives it away. He loves it, and he hates that he loves it. He is fucking his student with his fingers, and he is disgusted with himself. Good. He sure made me feel like shit for asking for it this morning.

“Come.” He inhales deeply, his nose in my hair. “Come, my favorite secret.”

And I come, collapsing under him.

Everything becomes brighter.

The earth shatters beneath us.

And when I’m done, I stand up, smooth the hem of my skirt, rearrange my panties underneath it, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and pat his chest.

“Thanks for that, Mr. James. Oh, by the way, I won’t be needing a ride home tonight.” I unlock the door and leave. Just like that.

Two can play this game, Teach.

After school, Christian is waiting for me by the steps outside, leaning on a pillar, looking all kinds of broody.

“You’re taking me home, and then you’re hanging out with me until you tell me what’s going on,” I inform him, sticking my index finger under his nose to wiggle his septum ring. He bats my hand away and rolls his eyes.

“Fine. But, I saw you pull up to school today…” he trails off, waiting for my reaction. “With Mr. James. Seems like we both have some confessing to do.”

Well, shit.

My eyes dart around, looking for anyone who may have overheard.

“All right,” I concede. He kicks off the pillar and hooks an arm around my neck.

“Remi, Remi, Remi.” He tsks, shaking his head. “I have a feeling your sins are far worse than mine.”

“And probably a lot more fun,” I joke, wagging my eyebrows suggestively.

“Mmm, that’s debatable.” Christian laughs, then pulls me in to give me a quick peck on the forehead.

We walk to his Range Rover, and when he starts the engine, I burst out laughing. He looks at me, confused.

“What?!” he demands.

“I’m sorry,” I say, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. “You look ridiculous driving this now. You’re way too punk rock.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, pulling out of the parking lot, but he can’t keep a straight face either. “You’re just jealous of my sweet ass ride.”

“Hell yes, I am,” I admit. “So, are you going to tell me what’s up with Christian 2.0?”

Christian sighs, running a hand through his dark green hair. “It’s complicated.” I shoot him a look that says fucking duh, and he continues.

“Benton and I—”

“I knew it!” I point at him triumphantly, nearly jumping out of my seat.

“Yeah, yeah,