Teach (City of Sinners Book 1)

by Jillian Quinn

  “I didn’t even have time to react before the bouncer threw him out.”

  “You should’ve kicked him in the face for getting so close.” She tilts her head back and laughs. “That would’ve taught that bastard a lesson for touching the goods.”

  Taking a seat in front of my dressing table, I sigh. “I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t had dudes try to touch me before. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  Donna sits beside me, pressing down on the corner of her eye to hold her fake lashes in place. “At least you start your new job on Monday. You won’t need this place soon enough.” She turns to me and frowns. “I’ll miss you when you are a hotshot professor and have dozens of published papers in some fancy law journal.”

  “It’s only an associate professor position at Strickland University, not Harvard.”

  “Strickland is still a prestigious school. Give yourself some credit. Not too shabby for your first teaching gig. And it beats the hell out of the public defender’s office.”

  I shrug, nonchalant, even though I know the position is the opportunity of a lifetime. “You’re acting like I scored a job as a department head. I will still be here, shaking my ass next to you, until I have my freedom back.”

  She grabs a bottle of water from the vanity and holds it up. “To freedom and making money. I’m so happy for you, Liv. Professor Ford has a nice ring to it. Professor Olivia Ford. You sound very official.”

  Her comment brings a smile to my face. “Thanks, D. I guess you can say, teaching is in my blood.”

  “I bet your dad was a good teacher. He can teach me quadratic equations any day.” She licks her lips and winks at me.

  “Gross!” I throw a tube of lipstick at her, laughing. “That’s my dad you’re talking about. He’s retired and…just ew.”

  She shrugs. “What? He’s cute for an old dude.”

  I grew up in a middle-class neighborhood in Northeast Philadelphia with parents who were both schoolteachers. My dad taught high school mathematics and met my mom shortly after when she applied at his school to teach English. I’m a little bit of each parent, good with both numbers and words.

  Instead of teaching, I went to law school and landed myself a job at the public defender’s office after I passed the Pennsylvania Bar Exam right out of school. I had offers from top firms in the city, but I chose the life of a civil servant because I wanted to help people. Too bad the job paid shit. With all the loans and credit cards I had racked up while I was in school, the pittance of a salary I made wasn’t enough to keep food on my table, a roof over my head, and the collection agencies off my back.

  I loved my job…until I had that one case—the one that rips you apart and tears you to pieces. Every lawyer has one client who tests their limits, their morals, and their judgment. Glen Brandis, aka the Wissinoming Park Rapist, was the straw that broke my back. I lost all desire to practice law after his case. I still lose sleep at night over what happened in the courtroom that day.

  “Let’s go, ladies!” Tamara, the grouchy woman who manages the dancers, screams through the dressing room door. “You’re on again in two minutes.”

  I groan and slide off my stool. “I seriously hope I won’t have to endure much more of this before I can make my escape.”

  Donna laughs. “You only have to slum it a little bit longer, Teach,” she says, calling me by my dancer name.

  MARK

  House music—the real techno shit that gets my pulse pounding—cranks through the speakers suspended from the ceiling of Club Rave. The bass vibrates beneath my feet, sending a tremor up my legs that goes straight to my balls. Or maybe it’s the half-naked girls dancing on the bar in front of me. Coyote Ugly-style, six girls are shaking their asses for the crowd. Each one is wearing a different role-play outfit, looking sexy and scantily clad while fulfilling every man’s fantasy. Mine included.

  We have the slutty referee in black thigh-high boots, a schoolgirl with pigtails and all, a cowgirl, a nurse, and a cop. But the girl holding my attention is the same one I managed to catch before she fell off the bar. Standing in front of her as she dances, I can see the tight black booty shorts riding up her ass underneath the gray skirt that could pass as underwear.

  She makes direct eye contact with me during the entire song, grinding and gyrating against the pole connected to the bar and ceiling. Her bra top shows off nice perky tits that spill out as she works the pole like a pro. A pair of black knee-high socks and heels complete her outfit, revealing subtle muscle definition in her toned legs.

  I lick my lips at her, and the corner of her mouth curls up into a tiny smile. Taking a sip from the highball glass in my hand, I suck down the last of the whiskey before setting it down on the bar.

  Dirty Dan, my fraternity brother, taps me on the biceps with his elbow and holds up his beer, raising it toward the bar. “I’ll take the Catholic schoolgirl. Which one do you want?”

  I try to suppress a laugh but fail. “I hate to break it to you, bro, but you don’t have enough game to get that girl. And, after the bouncer found Sawyer again and threw him out of the club, there’s no way you’re getting anywhere near the girls.”

  He shrugs. “We’ll see about that.”

  Dan got his nickname because the dude is downright dirty. He will fuck anyone and anything, and on top of that, he’s the biggest slob in our fraternity house.

  To celebrate the initiation of our new fraternity brothers, my best friend and president of Delta Sigma Phi, Luca Marchese, suggested we take the guys out for the night. For once, we’ve ventured off the Strickland University campus, located in downtown Philadelphia, and to a club on the Delaware River, known for good music and hot dancers.

  We normally go to Scores, a sports-themed strip club down the street. Owned by the Marchese family, the joint is a front for the Philly Mafia, nothing more than a hangout for Luca’s older brothers who help run the organization along with their father. They serve food as banging as the girls, but tonight, the club is hosting a private party for some hotshot hockey players, forcing us to actually pay for our own drinks for a change.

  Luca taps me on the shoulder, but I ignore him, my eyes still fixed on the smoking-hot teacher in front of me. Luca’s girlfriend, Izzie, is hanging on his arm and kissing his neck, the two of them making obnoxious noises next to me. After a flask of bourbon on the car ride over and three beers, Izzie might look like a drunk, but she’s still an insanely beautiful mess with her blonde curls tangled and framing her Kate Hudsonesque face.

  Luca lucked out when Izzie finally gave him the time of day after years of not speaking to him.

  “Why don’t you stop being a pussy and go talk to her?” Luca screams into my ear so that I can hear him over the music.

  He’s referring to the sexy teacher. I had to wait thirty minutes for her shift to change and for her fine ass to get back up onto the bar.

  When it comes to fantasies, I have always wanted to hook up with a teacher, but I never had one hot or young enough to pursue.

  But, now, I’m staring up at a gorgeous woman with silky black hair cropped below her chin, long lashes that accentuate her bright blue eyes, and nice full lips that part expectantly as I stand beneath her, admiring her beauty.

  “Go!” Izzie yells as she pushes me. With my athletic build and height, she barely nudges me.

  Luca had been in love with Izzie since they were kids. We have a bro code that I only threatened to break because I was trying to protect my friend. Part of me also wanted to hang on to my wingman a little bit longer because being single and having no one to pick up women with sucks. Everything with us has always been a competition—even women. And, now, I’m stuck with resorting to some of our newer brothers and, on rare occasions, even the repulsive ones, like Dirty Dan.

  “I got this,” I tell Izzie and Luca, confident. “She’s coming home with me. That much, I can guarantee.”

  The teacher might be eye-fucking me hard, but I know the club pays these girls to dance and flir
t with customers. Club Rave is not much different from a strip club. Except these dancers keep their clothes on and don’t offer hand jobs with the lap dances in the private rooms.

  For the past three months, I’ve had to watch Luca and Izzie together. Add that to the fact that my other friend and fraternity brother, Hunter Sterling, is dating Silvia Barker, Izzie’s best friend and roommate, and my life has been filled with weekends on the couch, watching them fall in love and make googly eyes.

  I needed this night out more than the rest of my brothers. I was pledge master this year for our new recruits—left with the task of turning new fraternity pledges into men. The pledge master is the brother responsible for mind-fucking the pledges, the one who pushes them to the brink to see if they have what it takes to join the brotherhood.

  Now that we’re back from winter break and the pledges are, to some extent, our equals, I thought things would be different. Our entire dynamic had shifted in the house the day Izzie ran into Luca in the Quad. She’d literally knocked him on his ass and fallen on top of him, and things have only gotten more serious since. Both Hunter and Luca have turned into pussy-whipped bitches. Getting them to agree to come to Club Rave tonight was like pulling teeth. But, as our president, Luca is down with whatever I think is in the best interest of promoting brotherly love.

  I look over my shoulder at Izzie, who is still hanging on Luca and now sucking on his ear. Silvia and Hunter are in the same lip-lock they’ve been in for the last ten minutes. This is my life now. I never thought I would be the fifth wheel. Granted, I never expected Luca, of all people, to settle down. He shocked me more than Hunter did. For a football player, Hunter has always had a soft side that doesn’t match his meaty exterior. But Luca turned into a mush ball once he got together with Izzie.

  Some days, I can hardly stomach the sight of the four of them together, sprawled out on the couches in our fraternity house and whispering shit in each other’s ears. Instead of the place looking like a scene from Animal House, it’s like a bunch of pussies have moved in and swapped our Jack Daniel’s for wine coolers. The house is too feminine, and the guys now look to me since Luca and Hunter have misplaced their balls. Their girlfriends probably have them hidden inside their purses.

  I lay my palms flat on the bar in front of the teacher, and she bends down to meet my gaze.

  What’s your name? I mouth.

  She leans into my ear. Her breath sends a chill through me. “Teach. What’s yours?”

  “Mark, but you can call me God.”

  She chuckles. “And why is that?”

  “Because that’s the name you’ll be screaming later.”

  “I doubt that,” she counters, toying with me.

  I smirk at her comment. “I don’t. How about you let me buy you a drink, Teach?”

  “My shift is over in twenty. Meet me at the bar on the back deck.”

  Works every time.

  After three drinks and an hour of Teach rubbing her pussy on my leg, I had a hard-on that would not quit. I wanted to take her back to my house, but she insisted we go to her place. That worked for me since I lived in a fraternity house with sixty dudes. Not exactly a classy place to take a woman.

  She peels her ass from the leather bucket seat of my Mustang. Struggling and stumbling in five-inch heels, she almost falls onto the sidewalk. Trying to dance and drink at the same time wasn’t one of her strong suits. Teach spilled most of her martini on the floor as she moved her hips. I doubt she’s even drunk, as it must be stuck to the bottoms of her shoes.

  After I switch off the ignition and push open the door, the ice-cold winter chill smacks me in the face. Winters in Philly suck, the air so cold I can see my breath. I help myself out of the car, careful not to fall on the black ice forming on the ground, and then I shut the door. I lean on the hood as I watch Teach on the sidewalk, swaying to an imaginary beat in her head. She hasn’t told me her first name yet, and since she seems to prefer Teach, that’s what I’m rolling with. I’m guessing that’s her dancer name, which suits me just fine.

  “Mark, c’mon,” she whines, holding up her finger and moving it toward her chest, beckoning me to follow her into the brownstone. “I’m freezing my ass off.”

  “And what a fine ass you have.” I walk around the front of the car, pull her against my chest, and run my hands down her arms to warm them up. “I can’t have you catching a cold.”

  She giggles. “Well, if that happens, you’d better take care of me.”

  “Break out the stethoscope, baby.” I cup her breast and pretend to listen to her heart. “Because I would love to nurse you back to health.”

  Teach smacks my hand away, an evil grin on her girl-next-door face. In a barely there plaid skirt and a North Face jacket, as her teeth chatter loudly, she sticks the key into the front door. Her thighs are starting to turn a shade of pink, and even though I’m in a lined coat and jeans, the cold settles deep in my bones.

  Inside the building, a narrow hallway to the left leads to a set of doors. Painted stark white, the walls are so bright, I feel as if I just stepped into a hospital. Unlike most apartment buildings around here, her place is in perfect condition with hardwood floors and crown molding that give it a fancy appearance.

  Straight ahead, a long staircase leads to the second floor, the amount of steps presenting a possible challenge in our condition. She places one of her legs on the first step and holds on to the railing. Despite my drunken state, I wrap my arm around her, hoist her over my shoulder, and take the steps two at a time until I reach the top landing.

  “Give me your keys,” I growl. “I need to get you out of these clothes.”

  She hands them over, and I fumble with the lock for a few seconds before the key turns. With her tits pressed into my back and my hand on her ass, I open the door and kick it shut before making my way toward the kitchen. I set her down on the counter and rub her thighs, the cold causing them to tremble.

  Her lips crash against mine as I warm her icy skin. Our tongues work in harmony, and the remnants of the apple martinis she drank taste good in my mouth. She smells sweet and delicious, and I want to devour every inch of her beautiful body.

  Working on the buttons of my coat, she flips them open one at a time. I shake it off and let it fall to the floor with a thud, not giving a fuck that my phone sounded like it just shattered in the pocket.

  She strips off her jacket, revealing perky tits shoved into a tight bra top with a bow in the front. This outfit is so fucking hot, my dick grows harder against my jeans, and the physical agony makes me work faster. I tug at the clasp holding her top together, pulling hard enough that her breasts spring free and the straps inch down her arms.

  “Mmm…” I bend down to suck on her nipple, taking it between my teeth and nibbling on it, while massaging her other breast.

  Kissing my way to her mouth, I move her booty shorts and panties to the side and push two fingers inside her wetness.

  “Mark,” she purrs against my lips. “Yes, just like that.”

  “I want you to come for me”—I add another finger, my pace quickening—“and scream my fucking name.”

  She moans in response, her mouth opening wide and her head tilting up to the ceiling. I feel her body tighten and then tremble, her hips rocking against me, and my fingers push further, harder, and faster.

  “I’m…” Her words die off in her throat, replaced by the sexiest sounds I have ever heard. Taking a chunk of my hair in her hand, she arches her hips and does as I commanded, screaming my name as she comes for me.

  With her juices coating my fingers, I raise them to my mouth to taste her before I pull down her bottom lip and smear what’s left of her across it. She sticks out her tongue and licks her lips with a seductive look in her bright blue eyes.

  “Good girl.” I want to spread her legs and eat her pussy as if it were my last meal, but I’m so hard, I need to be inside her right this second.

  I peel off my shirt first and then try to be quick about
removing the rest of my clothes when she stops me. Her hand covers mine as I attempt to take off my belt.

  “Let me do it.” She hops off the counter, and with her bare tits pressed against my chest, she slips my belt through the loops and cracks it like a whip before throwing it on the floor behind me.

  Damn, this chick is killing me.

  Ever since I laid eyes on her in the club, I knew there was something special about this one.

  I press my palms to the back of my head, flash a satisfied grin, and wait for her to finish. “Undress away, Teach.”

  She gives me a mischievous grin and flips open the button on my jeans. I pluck a condom from my pocket before she pulls down the zipper and slides them over my hips and to the floor along with my boxers. I kick off my shoes and step out of my clothes, impatient and too fucking hard to wait another minute.

  “Turn around,” I tell her, my voice coming off like a growl.

  Without hesitation, she leans her forearms onto the counter and lifts her ass up in offering, her skirt so short that it covers nothing, giving me a perfect view.

  “Good girl,” I say. Then, I rip open the foil packet and roll the latex down my length.

  Looking over her shoulder at me as I enter her, she parts her lips and gives me a look so sexy, I could come on the spot. She feels amazing, soaking wet and tight—just the way I like it. When I grip her hips tight enough to leave marks, she lets out a series of screams, taking it as I fuck her harder and faster.

  “Oh God,” she moans.

  “Told you,” I say into her ear, laughing to myself because I was right about what I said to her in the club.

  I love the sight of her as she completely unravels beneath me before we both lose control.

  I’ve just fucked a teacher—or at least, a woman dressed like one—fulfilling my childhood fantasy. After all those years of wishing I could bend a hot teacher over her desk, this came pretty damn close to what I had imagined.