The Junior (College Years 3)

I arch into her, my hands settling on her hips as I guide her, help her maintain the rhythm. I’m not one to use corny expressions like making love. I am all about straight fucking.

But this moment right here is about as close as we can get to love. I’m so damn grateful for this woman.

Gracie rides me steadily, her hands braced on my chest as she works her hips. She’s careful, keeping up the rhythm and always pushing me off when I try to exert power over her. She’s watching out for me, probably still worried about me too, and I let her. I enjoy the shift of her body, and how she takes me deep. I savor the view of her tits bouncing, the look of pure pleasure crossing her pretty face. I’m a lucky man.

And I know it.

Within minutes her pussy clenches tight around my shaft and I close my eyes, a groan sounding low in my throat. I’m close again. It doesn’t take much for us to come. And it always seems to get better between us too.

Will it always be like this? Probably not. There will be ups and downs and arguments and maybe even some resentment sometimes, but damn it, there’s no other woman I want to do all of this with. I want to fight and love and laugh and just be with this girl.

For as long as she’ll let me. If that’s forever, then…

That’s more than okay with me.

Epilogue

Gracie

Late Spring

“Miss Hughes, Miss Hughes!”

I laugh as my students rush toward me, surrounding me with their eager smiling faces. “What, what?” I ask them.

They’re all hyped because the end of school is drawing closer and closer, and they can feel it. The air becomes warmer and the days become longer. We start doing more school activities outside, and they love it. So do I. Being outside helps them burn off all the pent-up energy that keeps them restless throughout the day.

If I could bottle up little kid energy and sell it? I’d be a gazillionaire.

“We want to go outside!” one of the boys announces.

It’s near the end of the school day, and sometimes I let them sit in the grass and we take turns reading a story. Anything to feel the warm sun on their faces and the cool breeze stir their hair.

“Let’s go read then,” I tell them.

We pick out a couple of books and head outside, my class sitting in a circle in the grass. I stare at all of their faces as I read to them, my heart swelling with emotion. I swear to God I always thought I was such a heartless bitch, but once I opened up this cold heart of mine to my man and my class?

Forget it, now I’m an emotional, weeping mess.

I’m starting to read another book when a couple of my students start getting antsy. They keep giggling and looking at the spot above my head. I pause in my reading, sending them a look.

“What’s gotten into you guys?” I ask them, frowning.

They shake their heads, still giggling.

Big, warm hands suddenly cover my eyes, and I can smell him.

My boyfriend is here.

“Guess who?” he asks, his deep voice full of amusement.

“I have no idea,” I say drolly.

“It’s your boyfriend!” squeals one of the girls at the top of her lungs, making me wince.

Caleb drops his hands and presses a kiss to my cheek before he plops onto the grass next to me, sitting cross-legged like the kids. He’s visited me a couple of times on campus lately, always stopping by the main office as is protocol, getting a visitor’s pass and essentially charming the ladies that work there. They adore him.

So does my class.