See Me After Class(68)

“You don’t have to reason with me, just wondering if you’re ready.”

“I am.” He smiles and takes a seat on a desk. “Dude, I really like her. And Dylan, fuck, he’s amazing. Sweet and funny. And smart. So freaking smart.”

“Does Dylan know about you being his dad yet?”

“Not yet.” He looks downcast. “Lindsay isn’t ready. She wants to make sure we’re in a solid spot before she tells him. Bringing her to hang out on Sunday could be a good next step.”

“Then bring her.”

“You don’t mind the extra people?”

“Have I ever?” I ask, raising a brow at my friend who is notorious for bringing extra people to my parties.

“You’ve gotten butthurt before.”

“Don’t fucking use the term butthurt.”

Gunner chuckles. “You know what I mean. But if you’re cool with it, then I’ll bring her along. And Jason is a lot of fun. He’s ready to take some people out in badminton.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to hit up the teachers’ lounge, see if anyone knows any info about the thong. I really want to bust Caleb. He’s such a little bitch.”

“Is a seventeen-year-old really getting the best of you?” I ask.

Gunner stands and stretches his arms over his head. “He is, the little fucker. He’s really getting to me.”





“Dear Mr. Darcy, it was a pleasure—”

“What are you doing?” I ask from the doorway of Greer’s classroom.

Her head snaps up, and when she sees me, her eyes narrow and she lays the paper in her hands flat on the desk.

“None of your business.”

“Ah, still mad about the other day?”

“No.” She turns away from me.

“Liar.” I walk into her classroom and shut the door.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says, holding up her finger to me. “I’ve got news for you—whatever is going on in that thick head of yours isn’t going to happen.”

“What do you think is going on in my head?” I approach her desk.

“Sexual things.” She turns back to her paper, reading it over.

I slip the paper from under her and bring it to my eyes to read.

“Hey, give that back.”

I scan it and then ask, with a confused brow, “Did you write a love letter to Mr. Darcy?”

Head held high, she says, “I did. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, I’m just wondering why.”

“We’re writing letters to fictional characters next week and I wanted to use this as an example.”

“Love letters? Are you going to bring out the construction paper and markers as well?”

“Hey.” She snaps the paper out of my hands. “Don’t be rude. This is a great way to help the readers connect with the characters.”

“Bet you they hate it.”

“Bet you they think I’m fun and exciting and always creating new, interesting ways for them to learn, unlike your stodgy approach on the other side of the wall.”

“Not getting into that debate with you again,” I say. I have other things on my mind.

“Okay, then why are you here?”

“I wanted to check something under your desk. I’m looking for a symbol to see if it’s an original.”

“Seriously?” she asks. “That’s what you’re doing on your lunch break? Checking the authenticity of the desks?” Shaking her head, she pushes away from her desk and motions to the large opening. “Have at it.”

God, that was far too easy.

Moving around the desk, I get on all fours and crawl under the spacious opening. I haven’t seen many desks likes ours that offer so much room, but when I was sitting in my classroom looking at it, I knew it’d be perfect. Especially since the sides of the desk are flush with the floor.

“What’s that pink thing in your back pocket?”

“A flashlight,” I lie, then turn around and pull at her chair, bringing her closer to me.

“What on earth?”

My hands find her thighs, and I switch on the vibrator I stole from her apartment and rub it against her inner thigh, grateful for the skirt she’s wearing today.

“Oh my God,” she says. “Arlo, you can’t be—”

I press it against her pussy for a second and then run it down her other leg.

“Oh Jesus. Oh God, this is not happening.” She says the words but spreads her legs at the same time. I smile to myself. She’s way too fucking easy.

What I can’t believe though, is that I’m doing this to her in the first place. This is so out of character for me, and yet, I can’t seem to stay away. I’ve had fucking partners, women who knew that there would never be intimacy between us. Mildly satisfying. But Greer is so expressive. Volatile in every way.

And although I could be noble and say that my sexual attacks on her are solely for her pleasure, they’re not. I like the control. I like causing her to buckle. Perhaps, to push her beyond her normal boundaries. She’s addictive, but I know I won’t let it go any further than this.