His Naughty Schoolgirl

by Lorraine, Tracy

  My mouth goes dry and my heart pounds. But his eyes never drop to my body. I guess my reaction to him is wildly inappropriate, which isn’t unusual. Mr. Henderson has been a regular feature in my fantasies since I clapped eyes on him on the first day of the semester. I had a bet going with myself about how ripped he might be under the perfectly pressed white shirt he wears every day in class, and it seems I just won the jackpot.

  A throat clearing behind me drags my attention from molesting my teacher. “Earth calling Maddie,” King says with a laugh.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Christ, Mads. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drool before.” They burst out laughing as I bring my hand up to my mouth to see if they’re telling the truth. It’s a real possibility.

  “Could he be the one?” Zayn whispers as he flicks a look over to the phantom in the room.

  Along with a couple of the girls, Zayn is the only other person I’ve confided in about my lack of sexual experience.

  “I highly doubt that,” I say with a laugh, hoping it’s enough to cover up how badly I wish it were true. Mr. Henderson could be the one any day of the week.

  “I don’t know…he’s still checking you out.”

  Despite telling myself to continue looking directly at Zayn, my head spins and the second I lift my eyes I find him staring at my barely covered behind.

  “You should go for it,” Zayn whispers before he gives my shoulder a shove.

  I stumble over my own feet, afraid I’m about to go down any minute when a large, warm pair of hands grips my waist.

  “Than…” My words trail off when I right myself and look up at who caught me. “Thank you,” I say again, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

  I’m surrounded by his woodsy scent, and when I manage to drag my eyes away from his and look down, I realize I’m only an inch from being pressed up against his hard body. My gaze gets stuck on his full lips as he runs his tongue along the bottom one. My mouth waters as a ball of need explodes between my legs. Does he taste as incredible as I’ve been imagining?

  His head moves slightly and I panic. Is he going to lean in and kiss me?

  Sadly, his next movement is anything but leaning in towards me. I’m forced to take a step back as he strides out of the room without so much as a glance back in my direction.

  “What the fuck was that?” King asks, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  Some movement outside the door catches my eye. Is he watching?

  “Yeah…I’m, uh…fine.” I think.

  “Who was that? I didn’t recognize him from campus.”

  I just about manage to keep the smile off my face. Maybe his disguise was better than I thought.

  King and Zayn say their goodbyes not long later, wanting to go and see the other rooms and hit on some girls who might be interested. I barely remember saying goodbye to them; my head’s still replaying what happened only a few moments ago with Mr. Henderson.

  A few of the other girls come around to check out my room and supply me with more alcohol, but the next few hours are a total haze. I guess I could put that down to the vodka, but I’m pretty sure I’m still reeling from my encounter with the phantom.

  I’m leaning over one of the desks, turning my fairy lights off for the night when a sound startles me.

  “Don’t turn around.”

  Josh

  I make quick work of undoing a tie from one of her dead students before running the smooth fabric through my fingers as I stalk towards her. Even from behind, I can tell she’s up for this. Her chest is heaving as she clenches and unclenches her trembling fists.

  She groans at my heat against her back.

  “What are you…”

  “Shhh…” I cut her off as I slip the fabric over her eyes before tying it behind her head.

  Once I’m happy it’s secure and she can’t see anything, I pull my own mask off and place it on the desk she was bent over a few moments ago.

  “Naughty schoolgirls need to be taught a lesson, don’t you think?”

  She swallows before she whimpers, “Oh god.”

  “Not quite, sweetheart. Good guess, though.”

  Grabbing her hip with one hand, I pull her back against me and press my hardness into her pert little ass. My other hand pushes her thick hair over one shoulder, exposing her neck. Running the tip of my nose around the shell of her ear, I whisper, “You tell me to leave, and I’ll walk out that door right now.” My hand slides up her stomach until it’s resting on her ribs, millimeters from the swell of her breast. The harsh movement of her chest only increases my desire, “but the second you allow me to touch you, there’s no turning back.”

  “You’re already touching me.” Her voice is a breathy whisper, and my fingers twitch to explore more of her.

  “So I am.” She doesn’t move or say any more. “You sure about this?” I drop my lips to the sensitive skin of her neck and she groans. I take that as the yes I want. Spinning her around, I push her up against the wall. My lips seek hers and within seconds, our tongues are dueling as I explore every inch of her mouth. My hands run up from her waist and easily slide under the fabric of her top. She moans once again when I take her tits in my hands and gently squeeze.

  Frustrated by the barrier between us, I tear my lips from hers as I pull her top over her head, dropping it on the floor behind me. The second it passes her lips, I lean forward again, too addicted to the taste of her to go another second without it.

  I tease her nipples through the fabric of her bra, but I can only deny myself more for so long. Kissing down her neck as I work the clasp, I eagerly continue my descent until I can pull one of them into my mouth.

  She pants and moans above me, and the sounds are exactly as I imagined time and time again. The way she tastes, the softness of her skin…it helps to keep my rational thoughts at bay.

  “Oh god, please, please,” she pants.

  “My pleasure.” Sliding my hands up her thighs, I wrap my fingers around a thin bit of lace before dragging it down her legs while peppering her thighs with teasing kisses. The smell of her arousal surrounds me, and my mouth waters. Nudging her legs wider, I take a quick glance at her smooth pussy before pushing my head forward and pressing my tongue against her.

  “OH FUCK!” she shouts before I hear her head slam back against the wall. Her knees buckle as my hands go to her ass to keep her standing.

  Opening her up, I continue licking at her, she tastes so fucking sweet. When her moans and demands for more start getting frantic, I suck her clit into my mouth while my finger finds her entrance. I slide it in easily, followed by another as she purrs above me.

  “Come on, kitten, let’s hear you fall apart,” I whisper against her. The extra vibrations must be what she needs because her pussy clamps down around my fingers before she cries out, and fuck if I don’t want to feel that tightness around my cock. It weeps at the thought.

  Sitting back on my heels, I look up. Her chest is heaving, her lips are parted and curled up in the slightest smile, and the tie is still firmly in place.

  An order for her to bend over the desk is on the tip of my tongue, but an image of her sitting at her desk in my classroom hits me like an ice-cold bucket of water.

  Standing, I stumble back and avert my gaze from her sinful body.

  What the fuck have I done?

  With my cock still straining against my pants, I rush out of the room, away from the lust driven mistake. A student just came all over my face and fingers, and I was about to…fuck.

  The second I step out into the dark night, I run. I run as fast as I can to put some space between me and the girl I’ve been dreaming about.

  If anyone finds out about this, I’m fucked. My career is fucked; my future is fucked. Who am I kidding? My life is fucked.

  At least she didn’t know who I was.

  Madison

  The second the door slams shut, coldness engulfs me and my knees give up. Falling to the floo
r and ripping the damn blindfold from around my eyes, I throw it to the ground in frustration. As I hug my legs, hot tears start to sting my eyes. That was the most incredible experience of my life, but at the same time, it was the worst.

  He left. He took one look at me after what he did and he couldn’t get away fast enough. The logical part of me knows he probably left because he should never have been here in the first place, but that doesn’t make any of this feel better.

  He has no idea that I’ve been lusting after him since that first morning I walked into class.

  He has no idea he’s just broken me.

  I need to get myself together, and clothed, before one of the girls comes looking for me, so I drag my weary body from the floor. The first thing I see when I look up is his mask on the desk next to me. Running my fingers over the smooth white plastic, another sob bubbles up my throat.

  Blowing out a shaky breath, I try to remind myself that I can’t fall apart here. People will see and start asking questions. I’m never the emotional one; I’m the fun, easy-going one everyone comes to for cheering up. One look at me and they’re going to know there’s something seriously wrong.

  Quickly pulling my discarded clothes back on and shrugging into my coat, I glance around to make sure everything’s okay to be left, and I try sneaking out the house without being caught.

  By some miracle, I make it all the way back to my room without bumping into anyone. I’ve no idea what I would have said if I had seen someone.

  Pulling his mask out of my pocket, I place it on my bedside table before once again removing my coat and costume—only this time, it’s much more depressing. Pulling my thick robe around my chilled skin, I quickly make my way to the shower. As much as I don’t want to wash away what happened, smelling him on my skin is just a harsh reminder of my stupidity.

  How am I going to walk into class on Monday morning like everything’s normal? How am I going to answer his questions…fuck, I’ve got a one-on-one with him next week. There’s no way I can sit in his office and talk about my academic progress. What the fuck am I going to do?

  I stand under the stream of water until it starts to go cold, not giving two shits about the others living in this house. Their worlds aren’t falling apart around them. I cover myself in my favorite moisturizer, hoping it’ll make me feel better, but it does little for my fragile state.

  As I lay in bed staring up at the dark ceiling, all I can see is him. His piercing blue eyes as he stared at me when he first entered the room. The feeling of his large hands wrapped around my waist. The warmth of his tongue…I squeeze my thighs together as a rush of desire runs through me. Would I have let him go all the way?

  Of course I would. I’d have given him anything he wanted. I still would.

  I toss and turn all night. Every time I drift off, his face is right there. My dream is so vivid that I actually expect him to be next to me when I wake.

  Feeling unable to deal with being here, let alone going back to my room at the haunted house where it took place, I write a note for Stacy and pin it to the board on her bedroom door, letting her know I’m unwell and heading to my parents’ for the weekend for some rest. I feel awful about abandoning her and the haunted house like this, but I can’t see any other way. I need to get my head straight.

  They live only an hour from ORU. I’m so lost in my own thoughts that the drive passes me by and it feels like only minutes before I’m sitting behind the driver’s seat of my Range Rover, waiting for the gates to my parents’ place to allow me access.

  As I approach the excessive house my parents moved us into when we relocated, I’m reminded of how grateful I am of the life I’ve lived because of their success. It makes me feel like a bit of a fraud, because although I do as they wish, attend college and major in biology just like them, none of it really excites me. Working every hour of the day just to have a house like this really doesn’t appeal to me. My parents are amazing and I don’t feel like I’ve really missed out on anything, but I have this strong desire to just be a wife and a mom. It’s something I’ve never admitted out loud because I know no one would understand—especially not my workaholic mother.

  There are days she’s only in this house to sleep. She and Dad are like passing ships in the night. I don’t want a life like that for myself. I want to be there in the morning to make breakfast for my husband and have dinner ready and waiting for him when he returns from work. I want to watch my kids grow every single day and teach them everything they know.

  I let out a giant sigh as the image I’ve had in my head for my perfect life fades away. It’s not exactly realistic. I haven’t got a boyfriend, let alone anyone who could be considered husband material. Jesus, I haven’t even had sex. A self-deprecating laugh falls from my lips at how ridiculous it all sounds.

  As expected, there are no other cars parked out front and the house is in silence when I enter. Not even Shelly, the housekeeper, is here. Grabbing myself a bottle of water as I pass the kitchen, I head straight up to my bedroom and flop on my bed once I’ve dropped my stuff to the floor.

  “Madison, baby, are you here?” breaks through my sleep only a few seconds before I hear my door opening. “There you are. You didn’t say you were coming home this weekend. Is everything okay?” At her soft, comforting voice, I break down. “Oh, baby.”

  Mom sits on the bed and pulls me into her arms immediately. Being in the safety of her embrace only makes me cry harder.

  “You want to talk about it?” she asks once I’ve pulled away and she’s wiped my tears from my cheeks.

  “Not really,” I admit. Talking to my mom about what happened is the last thing I want to do.

  She eventually encourages me to follow her into their bedroom so she can start getting ready for the dinner party they’re hosting tonight. I silently groan that in only a few hours, the place I’d come to for some peace and quiet is going to be filled with my parents’ wealthy friends.

  “Go and drag one of those gorgeous dresses from your closet and join us,” Mom suggests. She doesn’t seem to understand that I’ve come here to hide for a few days.

  “No, I’ve got a paper to write. That’s why I came here.” The look she gives me tells me she doesn’t believe me, but I don’t really care. Socializing is the last thing I want to do right now.

  After swiping some food Shelly was busy preparing in the kitchen, I take myself back up to my room for the night. I have no intention of showing my face and having to make up some story of what I want to do when I graduate in a few months to everyone downstairs.

  Josh

  “We thought you’d changed your mind,” Dad says when he pulls their front door open.

  “Sorry, I had to go into work,” I lie. In reality, I’ve spent all morning trying to convince myself that staying home and going back to the haunted house tonight to see her again is a really bad idea. I eventually got myself on the bus without looking back, and headed for my parents’. Mom insisted on cooking me a birthday dinner. She wouldn’t have it that at twenty-six I didn’t need a fuss.

  “Your mom’s over at the house sorting out a dinner party, but she’ll be back soon.”

  “I’ll just go shower,” I mutter as I make my way towards my room.

  It’s exactly as it was when I first visited five years ago—a replica of my childhood room in the house my parents owned. I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia from my teenage years. I hated everything about this place when they explained they were selling the dilapidated building we called home five years ago. The fact that they were moving here to become a housekeeper and grounds man for some wealthy family didn’t sit well with me. I knew they were being paid too well for it to be the case, but I felt like they’d become servants…all because of my dream to live a better life, to continue my education and fulfill my desire to become a professor.

  It was clear how happy they both were here from my initial visit. It was a relief to see them both smiling and relaxed at last. That wasn’t the only thin
g that changed how I felt about this place. I found something, or should I say someone, that first visit. Someone I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

  After dumping my bag on the small twin bed, I do what I do every time I enter this room. I walk to the window.

  The garden’s empty, as I would expect for this wet autumn day, but to my surprise, there’s a light coming from her bedroom window. I didn’t realize on my first visit but when I came back here for Christmas later that year, I saw her bedroom was dead opposite to mine, and if I was lucky enough she’d put the light on before pulling the curtains. Images of her working at her desk fill my mind…the way she pulls her hair from her neck when she’s really focused.

  I stand there and wait, hoping she’ll appear, but there’s no movement. I decide someone’s left the light on just to tease me.

  Memories of her velvet skin and her sweet taste are all I can think of as I shower. I’m hard, just like I have been since the moment I saw her in that little schoolgirl costume. Nothing I do even takes the edge off. I know what I really need is her, and I’m afraid of just how consuming that need is becoming.

  My frustration at myself continues all night. Mom and Dad spent the evening shooting looks between them as they try to figure out what’s wrong with me, and I’m finding it hard to care about my foul mood.

  I know coming here was the right thing to do; there’s too much temptation at home. But fuck, I’m pissed off that I’ve distanced myself from her.

  By the time I get back to my bedroom late that evening, the top floor of the house outside my window is in darkness, but it doesn’t stop my imagination as I think about what could happen if she were mere feet away from me.

  * * *

  “I’m going to head back,” I tell my parents when we’ve finished breakfast the next morning.

  “I thought you were staying the whole day.” The disappointment on Mom’s face tugs at my heartstrings.