Extra Credit Page 2

  “I’ve been waiting for this—”

  I slap the stick across his desk, cutting him off. Troy’s eyes widen, and he drops back in his chair with his hands up in surrender. The smirk stays, though.

  “This is my classroom. Don’t be a rude boy, Mr. Murillo. Raise your hand if you have something to say.” I lean forward, exposing my cleavage to him. Once he’s had an eyeful, I back away and pick up my stick and press the tip of it to his chest. “You won’t learn a thing if you don’t and watch and listen. If you want to get the most out of our sessions to better help your future, you need to first learn how to shut up.”

  Troy vibrates with anticipation. There’s fire in his eyes, and warmth reddens the tips of his ears and his cheeks. He licks his lips and straightens his posture, gripping the edge of the desk.

  The way he wants me has me delirious with excitement. He’s putty in the palm of my hand, willing to be kneaded, pulled, and shaped any way I want. Troy’s caught me off guard during our last two interactions, but I’m calling the shots this time.

  Dropping the pointer stick, it hits the floor and rolls away. I have Troy’s undivided attention as I reach under my dress and hook my thumbs under the waistband of my panties. His knees widen as I slowly glide red lace down my thighs. I kick my delicates off, and they land at Troy’s feet.

  He raises his hand.

  I sit on the edge of my desk and cross my legs. “Do you have a question, Mr. Murillo?”

  He nods, lowering his hand.

  Pushing my hair off my shoulder, I say, “Go ahead.”

  “Can I touch you?”

  Hitching the skirt of my dress around my waist, I uncross my legs and open my knees wide open. Troy inhales a sharp breath at the sight of my bare pussy, tightening his grip on the desk. A dose of adrenaline pumps through my veins, and it gives me the courage to let him stare at me with unabandoned confidence.

  “Where do you want to touch me?” I ask.

  He scrubs the palms of his hands down his face, blinking once, twice, three times as to make sure this isn’t a dream.

  “I want to kiss your mouth,” he answers breathlessly.

  I press my lips together before I ask, “Anywhere else?”

  His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths. “Your breasts.”

  Even though I’m exposed to him in the most intimate way, Troy tries to keep eye contact with me. A man amongst boys, he does a decent job until he catches my fingers trailing up my thigh, inching closer to my center.

  “What about here?” I ask, slipping a finger between my slits. “Do you want to kiss me here?”

  I spread myself open, sliding my fingers up and down tender skin, spreading wet arousal for his viewing pleasure. The high school girls Troy’s accustomed to have sex with the lights off and their shirts on, giggly and embarrassed in their youth. The craziest sexual position they’ll experiment with is getting clumsily on top, not knowing what to do once they’re there.

  I used to be that girl.

  Not anymore.

  Troy Murillo gets a firsthand look at what it’s like to be with an experienced woman. I’m comfortable with my body, and I’m ready to blow his mind.

  “Can I get up now, Miss Gray?” Troy asks, halfway out of his seat.

  Sliding my fingers into my core, I drop my head back and moan. “You didn’t raise your hand.”

  Slowly working my fingers in and out of myself, I circle my hips and bite my bottom lip. The classroom melts away the slicker I become, and there’s nothing else to look at than the person sitting restlessly at the desk across from me.

  He groans when I add a second finger, and I nearly come at the rumble.

  I’ve masturbated enough to know where to rub and press for maximum pleasure. As I work two fingers inside of me, I push the pad of my thumb against my clit and exhale a long-drawn breath as a wave of warmth washes through me.

  But I’m not ready to end our session.

  “Stand in front of me, Troy,” I say.

  The legs of his desk screech across the tile floor as he pushes it away standing to his feet. His cock is hard under dark denim jeans, but he does nothing to hide it from me. When Troy’s within reach, I grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him between my legs. I have four years on him, but he towers above me like a damn Greek god.

  “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me exactly what you want to do with my body. Make it good or we’re done for the day.”

  Troy grips my hips and slides my bottom to the very edge of my metal desk, pushing his hardness into my softness. There’s a naive shakiness in his posture like he hasn't fully grasped what he's gotten himself into until now.

  I plan on fucking and sucking it out of him.

  The corner of his mouth lifts into a sideways smile, and he says, “I want to eat your pussy.”

  I take his face between my hands, slowing the moment down for a split second. “Have you ever done something like that before?”

  He shakes his head, lowering himself down to his knees. Troy rests my calves over his shoulders, and I lie back, allowing my hair to drape over the edge of the desk.

  “No,” he says. His breath is cool against my hot center. “But isn’t it your job to teach me?”

  Troy licks between my folds, and I hook my knees around his neck. I can’t hear myself breathe over the sound of my heart beating inside my chest. Squeezing my eyes closed, I concentrate on how soft his lips are and how slowly he moves them, taking his time to taste me. His curiosity is tantalizing, and I'm torn between letting this sweet torture continue and demanding he makes me come before I do it myself.

  “Put your fingers inside of me,” I say, running my hands through his dark hair. I arch my back away from the desk with the intrusion. “Suck on my clit.”

  He’s a great listener and a quick study, and I bite my wrist to keep from alerting the entire faculty about our naughty lessons.

  He’s forceful fingers and slow tongue and a little bit of teeth.

  “A little harder. A little deeper,” I whisper as fireworks explode inside of me. “You’re doing so good.”

  Spreading my thighs apart, he feasts on every quiver and every sweetness I have to offer him. Troy doesn’t stop until he’s drained every bit of pleasure from me, licking me clean like I’m the motherfucking fountain of youth.

  He wipes his mouth on my dress and climbs over my spent body. Holding himself up on each side of my head, he smiles with swollen lips and asks, “How did I do?”

  I slide my palm around the back of his neck. “I think its safe to say you passed the test.”

  It’s not until after he’s left and I’m straightening my classroom when I realize he’s taken my red lace panties with him.

  4

  I’ve never been particularly fond of Monday’s, but I haven’t seen or heard from Troy since he left my classroom late Friday afternoon with my panties in his pocket. Suddenly, Monday is my favorite day of the week.

  It’s not as if I obsessed over the green-eyed student in my sixth-period class all weekend long. I went about my normal business, grading papers, lunch with friends, and I got myself off with the showerhead four or five times. I did laundry, and I waxed my legs.

  I fantasized about fucking Troy Murillo in Mrs. Chopra’s office.

  Pulling my hair off my shoulder, I tie it in a bun on top of my head, leaving the length of my neck exposed. I choose a blue asymmetric dress and pair it with a set of wedges.

  I don’t put on underwear.

  Students won’t arrive on campus for another hour, but Mr. Henderson is already at the drop-off circle, dressed in a reflective orange safety vest. He waves to me after I’ve parked my car and start to make my way to the front of the school.

  “You’re here early, Samantha,” he comments.

  ‘Just making sure my classroom doesn’t smell like sex,’ I think to myself.

  “Getting a head start on the day, that’s all,” I say instead.

  �
��Atta girl,” he calls after me. “Making the world a better place.”

  My room is dark from having the blinds closed, and the air smells like dust and lead. The only indication that anything inappropriate happened in here is the off-center position of my desk. I knock it with my hip, setting it straight, and open the blinds. Sunlight pours into my room, and my dress sweeps across the tops of my thighs.

  One wrong move today and the entire classroom will know I’m not wearing anything under my dress. It’ll be a scandal. The number of calls the principle will receive from complaining parents will be outrageous.

  The thought makes me smile.

  I’m preparing for my first lesson of the day, enjoying the uncovered softness between my legs, when my classroom door opens. I don’t have to look up to know it’s Troy, but I do anyway, pleasantly surprised by the way my heartbeat quickens.

  “Do I need to raise my hand to speak?” he asks. Troy shoves his hands in his pockets and hovers in front of the door.

  Shaking my head, I say, “No. Class isn’t in session.”

  He lets out a breath and says, “Thank God.”

  Troy closes the gap between us, lifting me off my feet by my hips so I can wrap my legs around his waist. My back hits the wall, and our mouths collide. As far as first kisses go, this is by far the best I’ve ever had. He’s compelling enough to keep it interesting but easy enough not to seem frantic.

  He tastes like toothpaste and coconut Chapstick—my favorite.

  Our tongues touch and my hips automatically buckle. Troy returns the sentiment, thrusting against my naked center with so much force the wall shakes. I rake my fingers through his dark hair, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth until he groans.

  His mouth travels down my throat, and I’m so glad I wore my hair up. Troy cups my breasts and squeezes, still thrusting against me. His erection is hard beneath denim, and so fucking large I tremble at the thought of it being inside of me.

  “I want to fuck you, Miss Gray,” Troy says as he kisses along my collarbone.

  “We can’t,” I breathe out.

  “We can,” he insists. He reaches between us, freezing for a split second when he discovers I don’t have any underwear on.

  In one swift movement, he kicks my chair from under my desk and bends me over it. With the dress gathered around my waist, my wet core is exposed and throbbing for his doing. I rest my warm cheek against the cool desktop, so wound up and needy, the fact that we’re in my classroom and school starts in twenty minutes if forgotten.

  I need friction.

  I need pressure.

  I need force.

  Troy curves over me, kicking my feet apart. He exhales warm breath on the back of my neck. “How am I supposed to learn anything when I know you’re not wearing anything under your dress today?”

  I shiver.

  I squeeze my eyes closed.

  I whisper, “Please, Troy. Please.”

  “I won’t make it until the end of the day.” He slaps my ass, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

  With the imprint of his hand stinging my bottom’s tender skin, I arch my lower back, searching for connection—searching for relief.

  Then his fingers are inside of me again, and he isn’t careful. He’s the most delicious type of hurried, finger fucking me without abandon. The edge of the desk bites into the front of my thighs as Troy plunges his fingers into me over and over. I meet him stroke for stroke, pushing my hips into his hand until my lips tingle and my fingertips are numb.

  My knees buckle, but I hold onto the desk to keep from sinking. Troy hides his face in my shoulder, shuddering when my body starts to contract around his fingers.

  “Not yet,” he growls, turning me over. “I spent all weekend thinking about you coming on my cock.”

  Tears pool in my eyes at the loss of him from my body, but his words trigger a brand-new riot inside of me. I lie on my back atop the desk with my legs wide open for him as he works to unbuckle his leather belt. He doesn’t have his zipper all the way down when I sit up and sink my hand into the front of his pants and wrap it around his massive dick.

  Troy’s head falls back as I pump him, and his Adam’s apple moves up and down when he swallows.

  “I want you inside of me, Mr. Murillo,” I say, hooking my ankles around the back of his knees. “Make me come and I’ll forget about all your missing homework. Make me come and I’ll give you the answers to Friday’s test.”

  Troy cracks a sideways smile and reaches into his back pocket for a condom. Ripping the small package open with his teeth, he continues to slowly pump himself in my hand. I brush my thumb across the head of his cock, feeling the bead of moisture there.

  I’ve yet to release his length from his jeans to put the condom on when we hear voices from outside the door. We stop, and our heads snap in the direction of the commotion just on the other side of the wall. Ice cold fear freezes over the heat that lit my skin on fire, and my body doesn’t react as fast at the frenzy in my brain.

  “What time is it?” I ask, haphazardly jumping to my feet to correct my dress.

  “Shit,” Troy mumbles under his breath. He works to re-buckle his belt as he rushes to the door to lock it.

  He is a beautiful mess with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. His jeans are low on his hips, and his shirt is wrinkled at the hem. Troy couldn’t lose the smile if I tried to smack it off his face, and with the door securely locked, I find myself smiling, too.

  “That was reckless,” I say. I stand on shaky legs, still unable to take a normal breath.

  He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “We should start every school day this way.”

  I straighten my desk yet again. “My desk won’t survive this.”

  "I can come to your house," Troy offers. He lifts his backpack onto his shoulder. "If you give me your phone number—"

  Looking around the desks that will soon be filled with students and glancing outside where they’re slowly beginning to gather before class, I cut him off and say, “We need to be more careful, but you’re not coming to my place and I’m not giving you my phone number. The last thing we need is for one of your friends or your parents to see we’re talking outside of school.”

  “You’re right,” Troy agrees. He takes a step back toward the door. “I’ll take what I can get from you. For now.”

  I laugh at his ambition, pushing my chair back under my desk if only to help me stay upright. “For now? How long do you expect this to go on?”

  He shrugs. “How long do you have?”

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, I say, “You have nine minutes to make it to class.”

  With his hand on the door handle, Troy’s sideways smirk curves into a full-blown grin. “I remember when you were a student here, Miss Gray. You never noticed me because I was a freshman when you were a senior, but I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. Nothings changed since then.”

  “Everything has changed since then, Troy. I’m your teacher now.”

  “Not for much longer,” he says quietly. “I graduate in twelve weeks, and then we’ll just be two adults free to do whatever we want.”

  My heartbeat echoes in my ears, and I can’t look away from him. “You can’t be serious.”

  His smirk breaks the ice. “I plan on showing you exactly how serious I am.”

  5

  I teach my first class from the chair behind my desk, unable to recover from the onslaught Troy inflicted on my body. During my second period, I sit on the edge of my desk confidently, but I know my legs aren’t steady enough to walk around like I normally do.

  At this point in the school year, my students know the drill and the syllabus well enough to work without much instruction. Because of this, they don’t seem to notice I’m not entirely present today.

  By lunch, I’m determined to end this affair with Troy before it goes any further. We haven’t even had sex yet and I can’t concentrate enough to teach. How can I lea
d a lesson in that classroom when only hours ago he had me bent over my desk? It’s impossible to discuss Shakespeare with integrity while my own forbidden love story plays on repeat in my head.

  I don’t trust Troy not to sneak into my room to be alone with me during lunch hour, so I leave and lock the door to keep him from waiting for me to return too.

  My lack of delicates isn’t the only secret I keep as I walk the hallway toward the teacher’s lounge. Now that I’m solid on my feet again, I move with an extra dose of poise in my stride to hide any hint of my indiscretions. I am the epitome of composure as my wedges tap on the tile floors. As far as anyone is concerned, I’m a virgin wearing a chastity belt under my dress.

  Everyone but Troy Murillo.

  Our collision is unintentional. He’s heading one way, and I’m heading the other, but when we turn the corner, we come face to face.

  Not literally.

  My face hits his chest.

  His hard, muscular chest.

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “I swear I’m not stalking you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “I know you’re not.”

  Troy laughs, tilting my chin up to look at my face. “Did I hurt you?”

  I smack his hand away, looking around to make sure we’re alone. “No, I’m not hurt. Didn’t we just say that we needed to be more careful?

  “No one’s around.”

  “Anyone can walk out of these classrooms, Troy. We’re not alone here,” I fire back. “In fact, I did some thinking, and I don’t think—”

  Before I can pronounce my next word, Troy grips my elbow and leads me into a custodial closet occupied by gallon-sized bottles of window cleaner, racks of paper towels, and office supplies. It’s too clean and too organized to be the janitorial staff’s main storeroom.

  And the door locks from the inside.

  Troy cradles my face in his hands and arrests my eyes with his. “We’ll be careful. No phone calls. No texting. No fucking around before school.”

  “Or during school.” I press my hands into his chest and push him back.