Teacher's Pet - A Standalone Novel (A Teacher Student Romance)

by Claire Adams

  “I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear from you.”

  “No, she wouldn’t, because I’d remind her of you. So it would probably just depress her. What are you doing tonight?”

  I paused. I hadn’t decided on whether or not I was going to share the latest developments with Tessa with Jack, but since he was asking, I decided I might as well.

  “Tessa’s coming over,” I said. “She decided to take me up on my offer for extra credit.”

  Jack laughed. “Ha, ha, that’s a good one. What are you really doing?”

  “That. I’m doing that.”

  “I thought you were going to apologize to her.”

  “You know, I was. I really was. I had full intentions of saying I was sorry and I was a dirty rotten scoundrel, but then she said she wanted to take me up on the offer. And you know what? I decided to go for it.”

  Jack shook his head. Now he really looked disappointed. “I can’t believe that you’re going to actually do something like this. It’s not going to end well. It might be all fun and exciting now, but it’s going to turn into a shitshow, and not the good sort of kind.”

  “Who knows? Maybe she’s the love of my life.”

  “Stop it, Leo. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing it. You’re abusing your position of power. You’re taking advantage of a student who is in a desperate situation. It isn’t right, and I know that you’re not the sort of person who would do something like this.”

  “See, I’m not really looking at it that way,” I said. “I don’t see myself as this person in power, taking advantage of anything. If anything, I think this is going to be a mutually beneficial thing.”

  “You really think that?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s kind of hard to describe, but I just got this feeling that this isn’t something she’s doing out of desperation.”

  “Or that’s just what you’re telling yourself.”

  But I did have that feeling, especially after our almost-rendezvous in my office earlier. I didn’t feel like this was something that she was being forced to do—she wanted to do it.

  “It’s not,” I said. “It’s not just what I’m telling myself. But even if it was, I don’t really care.”

  “I’m worried about you,” Jack said. “You don’t really do any of the same stuff you used to do.”

  “You’re right—I’m no longer a journalist, but a journalism professor.”

  “That’s not what I mean. And you know as well as I do that you could get back into it very easily, if you wanted to. I mean, you don’t go fishing or ride your bike or play disc golf anymore. When was the last time you did anything like that? You can go ahead and tell me that you’re too busy with work, but that’s total bullshit, and you know it. And so yeah, when I say that I’m concerned, I am, because it seems like you’re not really that happy with the way your life is going right now, and I don’t think that getting involved with a student is going to improve that.”

  I had to hold back my laughter. He really did have a concerned look on his face, like he thought I was going to go home and take a razor blade to my wrists. “This whole thing sort of seems like some kind of cry for help, if you want to know the truth.”

  “Cry for help? Are you kidding me? This sort of thing is what most guys dream about. Don’t tell me for a second that if some hot little thing came up and propositioned you that you wouldn’t at least consider it.”

  “I would never do anything like that.” Jack shook his head. “No way. I would never do anything that would jeopardize my position here.”

  “Well, I guess that’s the difference between the two of us. And I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you wouldn’t at least consider it. Or, if not consider it, think about it later and wonder just what it would be like.”

  “I would put it out of my mind and not think about it again,” Jack said.

  Okay. I could see that we could stand here debating this for the rest of the night if we wanted to, which I sure as hell did not.

  “Why don’t we go do something? Go out to eat, go check out a movie or something. Why don’t you do that with me tonight, and then see how you feel about getting involved with a student. I think it might just be something that you need to give yourself a little time to think about, and realize how bad of an idea it is.”

  “Sorry; I’m not choosing dinner and a movie with you over seeing Tessa tonight. But I will let you know how it goes.”

  I lived in an apartment that overlooked the Financial District. It was rent-controlled, which was the only way I’d ever be able to afford a place like it, and for that, I was grateful. In the past, though, this apartment had really been like a home base, a place that I’d live in a few weeks at a time before heading off to some new location I’d never been to, to write up a story.

  The magazine that I’d previously worked at had sent me all over the globe to cover all sorts of stories, though my niche had eventually evolved into extreme sports. So I’d go to Rotorua, New Zealand for Crankworx, do a feature on diving at Shark Cave in Bali, and my last assignment before I’d gotten canned was to go out to Leogang, Austria, to do a write-up on freeskiing.

  Now, it would be fair to say that had I not made the decision to sleep with the boss’s wife, I’d still be gainfully employed, getting paid to travel around the world and write up stories. I get it. And was it worth it? If I could go back and do it again, would I do anything differently? Of course I fucking would, but I couldn’t let myself think like that. There was no point, because as far as I knew, no one had created a time machine that would let you go back and fix your mistakes like that.

  Was I making a mistake here with Tessa? Maybe. But at this point, it didn’t matter to me either way if I got fired. Life had suddenly become interesting again, and I didn’t want to do anything to fuck with that. It had been too long.

  11.

  Tessa

  I stood in my bedroom, looking into my closet, trying to decide what I should wear when I went over to Leo’s tonight. So far, I had only decided on a black lace bra with a little rose in the middle, and a black G-string. I’d only worn the G-string once; it was uncomfortable, though Lindsey said it just felt that way because I wasn’t used to wearing one, and if I did it on a regular basis, eventually, I wouldn’t even notice that I had it on.

  The doorbell buzzed. I left my bedroom and went over to the small front hallway to the intercom. I pressed the call button, expecting to hear Lindsey’s voice outside. But it wasn’t; it was my mother.

  “Mom!” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I met up with Marjorie for tea at Top of the Mark, and I thought I should at least swing by and say hello! I didn’t bring my key, though—will you let me in?”

  “Oh! Okay! Hold on.”

  “Just buzz me in, Tessa! I need to use your bathroom; I had way too much tea.”

  I was standing there in my underwear, I realized. If she came in and saw me dressed like this, she’d know that something was up. I breathed a little sigh of relief that she’d forgotten her copy of the key she had to my apartment; if she’d remembered it, she would have just let herself right in, like the place was hers, which, I supposed, since she and Dad were the ones paying for it, it kind of was.

  “Tessa! Are you going to let me in?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I was just getting changed, but come on up.”

  I unlocked my apartment door and then rushed off into the bedroom, grabbing a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants out of my drawer. I was just sliding the shirt on over my head when I heard the door open and my mother bustle in. She headed straight for the bathroom.

  “Ah,” she said a minute later as she came out. “Sorry about that. Tea runs straight through me. It was delicious though; you should let me take you out there sometime. Such a nice view. Anyway, I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. I didn’t love the way that we left things the last time you stopped over.”

  “I’m fi
ne, Mom,” I said. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “Are you sure? Your father and I had a long talk about it when he got home from golf that day. He’s not going to change his mind about anything, which I’m sure won’t come as any surprise to you. I partially agree with it—we did all talk about it beforehand. But at the same time, I know that you’re a good girl and if you say you’re going to turn things around, then you will.”

  She smiled, and I immediately felt bad, because she had no way of knowing what I was about to go do.

  “Well, thanks, Mom,” I said. “It helps to hear you say that. And I wasn’t expecting Dad to change his mind about anything. I know he’s not like that.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt him to be a little more flexible about some things, though. And it’s not like you’re failing anything, right? That’s what I told him—you weren’t failing anything, though I realized after I said it I didn’t know for sure whether or not that was true.”

  “No, I’m not failing anything.”

  “I knew it. Everything’s going to work out, Tessa. We all hit rough patches now and then. I don’t want you to feel like we’re just going to cut you off if everything doesn’t go perfectly in your life, and I realized that’s kind of how it sounded.”

  I rarely wore G-strings, and I wasn’t used to the feeling of the string part in between my ass cheeks. I shifted. “Well, it’s good to hear you say that you don’t mean that. But I think Dad does. I think if I were to get B’s on my next report card, he’d just cut me off.”

  “Only until you got your grades back up. The way he sees it is that he’s been very generous with you and that you’ve got ample time to dedicate to your studies. You know, your father put himself through college. Your grandparents weren’t wealthy, and your father put himself through school, and he worked.”

  “I know, Mom. I’ve heard the story before. I don’t need a whole Donovan family history lesson.”

  My mother smiled. “I know. Anyway,” she said. “I didn’t come over here tonight to be a Debbie Downer. I thought that maybe we should go out and do something. Would you like to go see a movie? I think there’s one out that I wanted to watch but I can’t remember the name of it. I’m sure it’ll be playing though.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “Tonight’s not a good night for that. I’ve actually got a lot of studying to do.”

  “Oh, of course!” my mother said. “Silly me. I’m not trying to get in the way of your studies. That’s so responsible of you, Tessa. I’ll be sure to tell your father that I was trying to get you to go out and do something fun and you chose to stay home and study. That will please him very much.”

  I forced a grin. I just wanted her to stop talking, because everything she said was just making me feel worse. She was looking at me with such pride, like I’d already gotten my grades back up. I could just hear her in my head, what she’d be telling my father when she got home, how I was just going to stay in and study and what a good, responsible girl I was.

  “Yeah, I better get studying,” I said. “I don’t mean to kick you out or anything, Mom, but—”

  “No, no, you don’t need to apologize. I’ll just show myself out. Maybe we can go out to brunch or something in a couple days. I’ll be in touch though; I won’t just drop in with no notice.” She came over and hugged me, and as I felt her hands go around my back, I was suddenly overcome with the fear that she would feel the bra I was wearing and know exactly what I was up to. But she just gave me a squeeze, and then she let go and waved and showed herself out.

  I showed up at Leo’s wearing a pair of black leggings, a rose-colored skirt, and a scallop-necked black T-shirt with ruched sides. Before I’d gone into his building, I turned the voice memo on my iPhone on and slipped it into the front part of my backpack, which I left partially unzipped.

  He lived in a high rise that overlooked the Financial District, and he came down to let me in. We took the elevator to the 10th floor, and I followed him down a softly lit carpeted hallway. It almost felt like a hotel.

  He hadn’t said much, other than hi and to ask how I was. In the elevator, part of me had been expecting him to rip my clothes off right then and there, but he didn’t.

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said when we went into the apartment. It was a one-bedroom, like mine, but I could tell it was much bigger. There was a front entryway, then to the right was a small office with a laptop and a desk covered in papers. To the left was the kitchen, with a bar, and then the living room. There was a short hallway that led to two other rooms, which I assumed were the bathroom and the bedroom.

  “Come on in,” he said, closing the door behind me. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt. I wondered if he was nervous, or if he had spent any time thinking about what he was going to wear. Probably not.

  “Hi,” I said, glad that my voice didn’t shake. I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. I was nervous, but it was an excited nervousness. I didn’t want to come across that way though—I wanted to come across as the empowered sort of woman that Lindsey had said I should be. I let my eyes travel around his apartment, and then I looked at him. “Nice place.”

  He held my gaze for a moment, as though he was trying to decide if I was being genuine. Then he nodded slowly. “Thanks,” he said.

  We went in, and I put my bag down; we sat next to each other on the couch. The air seemed to crackle between us, and I wondered who was going to speak first. If it ended up being me, I knew I was going to say something stupid, like some comment about the weather or something. But neither of us said anything; instead, he slid closer to me and reached up to touch my cheek, turning my face toward his.

  “Kiss me,” he said.

  I closed my eyes and leaned forward, maybe an inch, until I felt my lips brush against his. He pressed his mouth back against mine, gently at first, and then with increasing intensity. His mouth opened, and mine did, too, and the tips of our tongues touched. It felt like I had kissed him before; he felt familiar, yet exciting, and my body pressed up against his.

  He slid his hands up my skirt, his palm cupping me between the legs. I could feel how wet I was. He pulled one of his hands out and yanked my shirt up, pushing my bra up so my breasts were exposed. My nipples were hard, and he leaned down and put his mouth on my right breast, lightly biting at my nipple. His other hand kept rubbing me, and I felt my inner thigh muscles trembling.

  “Let’s get these things off of you,” he said in a low voice, raising his head for a second. He didn’t slide the leggings down, though. Instead, he grabbed the waist and pulled, and I heard the fabric rip. My bra and shirt were up near my collarbone, my skirt was up around my waist, and my leggings were hanging in tatters. The only thing separating me from him now was that flimsy little G-string, made even flimsier by how wet I was. My thighs were slick, and for a second I was afraid that it was going to gross him out, but then he put his hand down there again, and I saw on his face just how much this turned him on.

  “How lovely,” he said, almost to himself, and then he pushed the G-string to the side and ran a finger from my clit to my pussy. He did this several times, each time making my whole body tremble. The next time he did it, he didn’t bring his hand back up, but instead, worked a finger inside of me, watching my face the whole time.

  I knew I was making funny expressions, but I didn’t care. It seemed to be the only way to respond to how good he was making me feel—grit my teeth, squeeze my eyes shut, furrow my brow. My whole body felt like warm clay that he could mold however he wanted to.

  He paused to take his own pants off, then his shirt. Before he settled back on the couch next to me, he stood there for a moment, naked, his cock hard and huge, bigger than I remembered Nick’s. He sat down next to me and took my hand, and brought it over to his lap. I closed my hand around him, my fingers not quite able to meet. I moved my hand slowly up and down, pressing my fingers against the ridge that ran along the underside. He leaned back against the couch, hands cla
sped behind his head. He watched me the whole time, and then after about a minute, he had me stop. His cock was huge, pulsing in my hand, the skin soft like satin. He sat up.

  “Lean back against the couch like I just was,” he said. We traded positions, so I was sitting, and he stood in front of me, pushing my thighs apart. He kneeled on the edge of the couch, hoisting one of my legs, then the other, up onto his shoulders. I could feel the head of his cock pushing against me, that momentary pause before he slid in, halfway first, then, with a slow push of his hips, the rest of the way in. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to relax my muscles around him. My body felt as though it were humming with electricity.

  He started to move, pushing himself in and out of me. I’d never actually done this position before, with my legs up on someone’s shoulders, and it felt as though he were further inside of me than anyone had ever been. I tried to take deep breaths. Little groans escaped from my throat.

  He was moving faster now, practically folding me in half, as though he was going to compress my pleasure into the tiniest space possible before allowing it to explode out. I was right there at the edge, about to get pushed over, when suddenly he stopped. My eyes flew open. He was still inside of me, still hard, but his hips remained still. He eased back a little so my legs slid off his shoulders.

  “Wrap your arms around my neck,” he said. “And wrap your legs around my waist. Hold on tight.”

  I did as he said, and, with his cock still inside of me, he stood up slowly. Now that I was upright, he was putting more pressure on a different part of me, and it sent a shiver up my spine. I rocked my hips back and forth, trying to rub against him, because each time I did it, that shiver got more and more intense. It felt like it was shooting into my brain, and like my whole body was just going to dissolve. I thought he was going to walk over to the wall and press me against there and finish the job, but instead, he went over to the sliding glass door at the other side of the living room. He slid it open and then we were out on a small balcony. I could hear cars below, someone shouting something. There was a round teak table and a few chairs; he kicked one of the chairs out of the way he slowly lowered me onto the table. The wood was cool and smooth against my ass. There was the mildest of breezes, and it blew my hair softly against my face. His cock had remained in me this whole time, and once I was on the table, he grabbed onto my hips and began to fuck me again. He moved slowly at first, doing circles, first one way, then the other. My inner thighs were like jelly. I reached around and gripped his shoulder blades, then raked my fingers down the smooth planes of his back. His movements sped up, and I arched my back, feeling the head of his cock press right against that spot inside me. I shuddered, feeling like the amount of pleasure coursing through my veins was going to overflow and explode out of me. We were both panting, our movements synchronizing. I squeezed my eyes shut, my brain short circuiting as the sensation overtook me and I let out a shriek, not caring that we were outside, that people could hear me. Leo came a moment later, letting out his own anguished-sounding growl, his muscles trembling underneath my fingertips. We were both slick, drenched in sweat. He buried his face against my neck, his breath warm.