Rule Him: A virgin student/teacher forbidden romance (School of Seduction Book 1)

by Gisele St. Claire

  His eyes wavered, watching me as I licked across my bottom lip before he put his face back down to his papers.

  “So, can you recall any instances where on Broadway, improvisation has been used to good effect?”

  “It’s hot in here today, isn’t it?” I answered, and then I pulled down my top a little, revealing a hint of the tops of my creamy white breasts and I blew down my top. I recalled a seduction scene in a book I’d read a couple of weeks previously, and the devil in me began to act it out.

  “Improvisation?” He reminded me, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

  I gave him a complete and concise answer to his question. I think we both knew that my asking for his help had been a lack of confidence in my abilities. I was acing the subject.

  “Perfect, Candy.” He told me. “Just…perfect.” I wasn’t sure if we were talking about my answer anymore.

  He gave me a small written assignment and set a time of fifteen minutes to do it. I made sure I tucked my hair behind my ear and that I kept sucking on the end of the pen, or biting it as if in deep thought. Parker stayed mainly hidden behind the screen of his laptop, though when he did look up, I felt his gaze burn through me.

  At the end of the fifteen minutes, he walked over and stood at the side of the desk, brushing past me. I felt his thigh against my naked arm, the brush of the material of his pants and the heat from his body. “Are you finished?” he asked.

  I leaned over slightly to pick up my paper knowing it would give him, should he be looking, a direct view of my breasts encased in my lacy white bra.

  “I’m not sure, Parker.” I handed it over to him. “You tell me if I’m finished.”

  The paper came out of my hand and floated across the floor, as the top of my arm was grasped and I was dragged towards the back of the classroom out of view of the windows.

  The next thing I knew I was pressed up against the wall as Parker Newell’s hand trailed down the side of my face.

  He stared into my eyes. I should have been nervous, but I wanted this too much.

  “What you do to me. I can’t bear it.” He said.

  He held my chin and tilted my head up to his and then his face came forward, and he crushed his lips to mine. It was like fireworks exploded in my body. So many sensations, things I’d never experienced before converged on me. I felt like my lips had electric shocks from their contact with Parker’s. I wrapped my arms around his neck as his tongue forced entry into my mouth. Everything I’d read about in my romance novels, even the ones that that made my body react, did not come close to what was happening right now. I felt my panties dampen as my juices flowed from my core. Parker’s hand dipped underneath my top, and his fingers trailed feather light touches up my flesh, causing goose bumps. As he reached the edge of my bra, I felt him hesitate, for a brief moment, so I grabbed his hand with my own and placed it over the cup of my lacy number. He groaned into my mouth, while he slid his hand down inside the cup of my bra and cupped the flesh there. My nipple hardened as he stroked it with his fingertips, coaxing it into bud. I was breathing hard against his mouth.

  Then he pushed me away and backed off as if I’d burned him.

  “I can’t do this. We can’t do this. My job.” He ran a hand through his hair, his face creased in torment. “I’m sorry, Candy. So, so, sorry. If you want to report me, go ahead. What I’ve done is completely inappropriate.”

  I moved towards him and grasped his hand.

  “I don’t want to report you. I feel the same. Please, can’t we keep it secret?”

  He shook his head vehemently. “You’re seventeen, Candy.”

  “I’m eighteen in eight days.” I pleaded with him. “This can’t be wrong; it felt too right.”

  But it was too late, the shutters came down across Parker’s face, and he rushed towards his belongings.

  “I’m sorry, again, Candy.”

  “Tell me you don’t have feelings for me,” I demanded.

  He shrugged. “It wouldn’t make any difference. I’m your teacher. I can’t give you extra tutoring any more, Candy. It’s not appropriate. You don’t need it anyway, its more than obvious that you are amazing in English. You’ll make one hell of a teacher or a novelist. I trust whichever path you take you’ll excel. I’ll still see you in English but please don’t make this any more difficult for me than it already is. Date Julian. He’s your age. He’s what you need.”

  “You’re what I need.” Frustration made a tear slip from the corner of my eye.

  He shook his head again. “I’m not. Now please leave.”

  I gathered up my belongings. Parker indicated my top, and I realized my bra was visible. I hastily pulled up my top, and then I ran from the classroom straight to the nearest bathroom where I locked myself in a stall and cried until I was heaving with dry sobs.

  After a while, I realized that I needed to get home. I washed my face and reapplied my make up to disguise my puffy red eyes as best as I could. I pushed the bathroom door open slightly and peered around to make sure he wasn’t nearby and then I went home. I faked a headache and asked for dinner to be sent to my room. My parents were going out anyway, so they didn’t check up on me. I spent my evening tormenting myself as I replayed what repeatedly happened in my mind. He kissed me. I touched my fingertips to my lips. He felt my breast. I climbed into bed, closed my eyes and imagined the whole thing again, but let my imagination take it further as I used my hands. I imagined his touch between my legs, and it brought me to an orgasm. When I came again, shame, regret, and devastation flooded my senses. What if he never touched me again? I don’t think I could bear it. I cried myself to sleep.

  I woke and slowly the events of the evening before washed over me. The fact it was the last day of the school week was reassuring. If I could just survive the day, then I had the weekend to think things over. Then I remembered it was the double date. Good, I thought. Maybe I’d have fun with Julian and thoughts of Parker Newell would disappear from my mind. I got out of bed with renewed vigor. I would look fabulous. If Parker saw me, he would think I was unaffected by what he’d done. It was time to move on. My eighteenth birthday was approaching, and it was a time for celebration, not to be miserable.

  I fixed my hair in a ponytail which swung as I moved and I wore a cute top decorated with pink love hearts and a pair of cream cut offs.

  “Hey, Lar, Jeff.” I greeted my friends at the curb. “You still on for the date tonight?”

  “Yeah. As long as it’s Guardians of the Galaxy,” Jeff said. “I’m not watching any of that girly stuff.”

  “Guardians sound good,” I said, as Larissa and I gave each other a look that we knew meant that even if the film were utter garbage it had Chris Pratt in it, so we’d enjoy it anyway.

  “So, movie, then Surf Shack?” Jeff checked.

  “Yeah, baby. I love a good old surf n turf.” Larissa rubbed her stomach. “I’ll be glad when your party is out of the way, honey so that I can eat properly again.”

  “You girls. Dieting to fit in dresses. Crazy.” Jeff said.

  “You say that but would you still want me if I was huge?” Larissa asked.

  “Yeah, I’d dive into your doughy flesh and never come up for air.” He replied.

  We laughed. Then I sat back in the car and watched the two of them. They were so in love. I bit my lip hard to stop a tear from forming.

  The movie was fantastic and eased me into our date. I’d seen nothing of Parker all day which had both disappointed me and made me feel relieved. We’d sat in the cinema: Jeff, Larissa, me and then Julian. Julian had bought both of us a drink and some popcorn to share and other than the odd bit of general conversation we’d just watched the movie. On the way out and as we walked to the Surf Shack, he’d taken hold of my hand. I’d let him. It felt nice. He sat alongside me in our booth, opposite the others and again in between food arriving he kept holding my hand.

  “This time next week we’ll all be at your party, Candy. I don’t think we
’ll be as comfortable then.” Larissa said.

  “No.” I sighed. “We’ll be in dresses we can barely breathe in, while our every movement is watched by our parents.”

  “Ah shoot, do I have to wear a suit?” Jeff joked, who I knew had it all ready to go.

  “We’ve got to accompany these fine women and complement their outfits. What color is your dress, by the way, so I can get a tie to match?” Julian asked.

  “Silver,” I told him. “So, silver or grey will do.” I turned to him. “You do know that my parents, especially my mother will have me mingle with every guest, so I’ll be lucky if I get to spend much time with my actual friends.”

  Larissa looked at me; her face a world of understanding. It was how the upper east side worked. My mother may as well put me on the top of a huge cake. I was just a display.

  “We’ll make time.” She reassured me.

  “Yes, we’ll steal you away,” Julian said. “I’ll want some alone time with the birthday girl so I can give you your present.”

  “Oooh,” Larissa exclaimed.

  I went bright red, but it didn’t bother Julian at all.

  “Miss. Davenport, take your mind out of the gutter. I haven’t even kissed the lovely Miss. Appleton yet.”

  He picked up my hand and kissed the back of it. “Though there’s a start.”

  I felt all shivery as his mouth left the slightest moistness on the back of my hand. When we left, would we all head home together or would Larissa and Jeff leave us? Would Julian want to kiss me?

  I became so nervous I barely ate my main course, bringing the headache out as an excuse for the second day in a row.

  Sure enough, Larissa and Jeff said their goodbyes and Julian agreed to take me home. He drove me back in his Lexus and pulled up further down the street.

  “I’ll walk you to your door in a moment, but first I want to do this,” he told me. Then he leaned over and kissed me. His lips landed clumsily on mine at first, but then we tilted our heads together and found a steady rhythm. His mouth was soft and warm, and when he tried to put his tongue in my mouth, I let him. He tasted of hickory sauce. He didn’t try anything else. It was nice. That was all I had to say about it. Nice. There was no passion awoken in me like when Parker kissed me. Maybe it was the fact my kiss with Parker was forbidden and that made it hotter?

  We broke the kiss and then Julian walked me to the house.

  “So, can I take you out again?” He asked.

  “I have so much going on this week, getting ready for the party, so can our next date be the party itself? I’ll have more time when that’s out of the way.” I told him.

  He looked disappointed for a moment and then he rallied. “Sure. Plus, I’ll see you at school too. When your party is out of the way, maybe we can go out, just the two of us.”

  “That sounds nice,” I told him. There I was again with that word.

  He kissed me on the cheek and walked back down the street to his car. I waved to him and was about to go into my house when I saw him, right across the street.

  Parker.

  I stared at him.

  He stared at me.

  I was about to turn and walk up the steps to my door when I saw him put up a hand. He beckoned to a restaurant down the street. All of a sudden, my appetite returned. But was it for food, or for Parker?

  As I stood there, he crossed the street.

  “Come to dinner with me.”

  I peered around. “What if someone sees us?”

  His posture was stiff, muscles rigid. “I don’t care.”

  “Parker. You could lose your job. You were right. What we did last night was foolish. You need to leave me alone. I have a boyfriend now.”

  “That child?” His jaw was set, and he spat out the words.

  “He’s a few months older than I am, so thanks for clarifying what you think about my age.”

  “You need a man, not a boy.”

  Tension knotted my neck and shoulders. “I need to not bring shame to my family for kissing my teacher.” I spat back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t seen them since early yesterday evening.”

  He grasped my hand.

  “It’s killing me.” He said.

  “What?” I whimpered, suddenly having lost my fire.

  “I want you so goddamn badly. I’ll wait. You’re eighteen in a week. It’s all over school about your celebration. One week. Please don’t do anything with Julian Murphy; I couldn’t bear it.”

  “It’s not allowed, Parker,” I said, withdrawing my hand. My head dropped to the floor as his gaze was too intense.

  He lifted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “I’ll see you Monday. In class and afterwards.” He said, his voice choked with emotion.

  “Class, yes. Afterwards, no. You were right. I don’t need any more tutoring.”

  “Candy.” He wrung his hands.

  “Leave me alone, Mr. Newell,” I said. “School’s out for the weekend.”

  I ran up the steps and into my house.

  On Monday, I skipped school, so I didn’t have to go to his English class. The rest of the week was a blur of last minute preparation for the party and all my spare time at school was filled between Larissa and Julian. Before I knew it, it was Friday once again.

  I was now eighteen years old.

  Chapter 8

  Candy

  I jumped out of bed and peeled back the curtains. I noticed that there was a large pink bow across the adjoining door between my room and what was now to be my closet. I pulled off the bow and pushed open the door and stood there looking at the sheer luxury of the interior of my new closet. Everything was split into sections for different pieces of clothing. There were large mirrors, a grand chandelier, and a rack that held my shoes. All my new purchases were hung along with other brand-new items. There was one section of the closet packed with totes and purses, all brand new. I stared at them: Chanel, Prada, Balenciaga.

  My feet walked across the plush carpet as I stared at the rows. There was no doubt about it; my mother had outdone herself and, had my image been everything to me, I would have felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. However, though it was amazing, and the clothes and accessories seemed exactly my style, it was just dressing up. It was focused on the outside of me, and I thrived on focusing on the inside. “Candy, don’t be so ungrateful,” I said to myself. As I reached the end of my new closet, I saw another bow across a closet door. What on earth could be inside this one? I didn’t think there was anything I didn’t have. I pulled it open.

  It wasn’t a closet door.

  It was a fake closet door.

  My mouth dropped open.

  Through the fake door, was a library. There were bookshelves all around the room. My feet took on a mind of their own, and I ran around the periphery. Although a lot of the shelves were empty, I found first editions of many classics. Also in the room, there was a beautiful antique chinoiserie pedestal desk and an Edward Wormley chaise longue. The whole place was filled with massive vases of flowers and large balloons with ‘18’ on them. My mother’s interior design talent had brought my dreams to life.

  My hand was across my mouth. I was speechless. Tears threatened to pour from my eyes. My mind whirled with emotions. I was overwhelmed, my senses spinning.

  I dressed quickly in an Alexander Wang peplum shift dress I’d spotted hung in my new closet, slipped my feet into Sergio Rossi studded suede sandals and ran down the landing and staircase into the dining room where I threw my arms around first my mother and then my father.

  “Oh my god, thank you so much,” I said to them. I was almost dancing around the room, and I didn’t care. My father for once did not have his head hidden behind a newspaper and I saw the table was decorated with the best china.

  “Come. Sit for your birthday breakfast.” My mother reached for a glass. “Here, don’t tell school but it’s mimosa for breakfast made with Armand de Brignac gold champagne and fresh oranges from Union Square.”

 
; I took the glass, and my mom and dad raised their glasses. “Let’s raise a toast.” My father said. “To our beautiful eighteen-year-old daughter. We are so very proud of you sweetheart and hope you get everything in life you wish for.”

  “I already had one of them granted this morning.” I beamed. “Mom, the closet is beautiful, but my library—there aren’t enough words to express how I feel about it.”

  “Ironic given it’s a library.” My mom laughed. “It was your father’s idea. After I had shown him the closet, he said why didn’t we just continue through that part of the house. It worked out splendidly. We did consider carrying on further with a living area, but then I felt we’d never see you, so I vetoed that idea.”

  “I have everything I need up there: my room, my closet, my library. I will make it downstairs for food and to see my parents.”

  “Glad to hear it,” my father said. “Now, while we wait for our breakfasts, why don’t you open your other gifts.”

  My father passed me a gold envelope. Inside was a store card for the largest bookstore in New York.

  “Fill your shelves whenever you like. Any editions you would like them to search for, there’s the business card of their acquisitions person inside the envelope.”

  My eyes went wide. My mother passed me another envelope. The same thing for three of the finest clothes emporiums of the Upper East Side.

  “And now this.” My mom passed me a blue box with a white bow. Tiffany’s. Inside was the most beautiful bangle bracelet in white gold. Etched with a feather design.

  My mouth dropped open. It matched my eighteenth birthday dress. The one I’d kept hidden.

  “Mom.”

  “I saw the dress during the renovations. I’m afraid I know all the tricks about hiding purchases; I used to do it with your father before our wealth increased and I no longer had to hide anything.”

  My eyes sought reassurance from hers that everything was alright.

  “The dress is beautiful, and you are going to look sensational. I called Romana and sent her details, and she has changed your hair and make-up plans to complement the change of outfit. She’ll be here at four-thirty, so you should hurry home from school.”