Nash
NINE
She opened to me right away.
I noticed that. Made sure to indulge it. Thrust my tongue into her mouth and swept it deep, making sure she knew just how much I’d been thinking about this, how many nights I’d lay in bed and wished her perfume was on my sheets again, wished she was in my bed—
“You don’t even know,” I murmured against her lips. “You don’t even know how fucking sexy you are, sunshine—”
“Show me,” she breathed.
I did.
I dropped to my knees in front of her and yanked her skirt up, pressing a wet kiss to her inner thigh…tasting cider, sweat, her. I took my time with her…wanted to learn her again, remember what made her gasp or groan, what made her tick, what made her come.
She had her hands in my hair almost immediately, mussing it up.
“The door…” she gasped. “It’s—there’s a window—”
Shit, she was right; frosted glass, but someone walking by could see inside just enough if she was pressed up against it like this. I stood, pulled her into my arms, and went for the desk—for all those pens she’d just organized.
She didn’t care even a little bit—she swept them out of the way herself, laying back, and I didn’t waste time burying my face in her pussy.
“Fuck,” I cursed, tongue flicking out against her panties. “Fucking hell, you taste so fucking good.”
“We have a swear jar—oh gosh—”
“I’ll pay it later.”
She laughed, then abruptly stopped as I pulled her panties aside and got to work, no ceremony.
I dragged my tongue up her slit, pressed it against her clit, did it again.
She bucked, yanking hard on my hair, rocking her hips against me.
I drank her in, that flavor of cider, the way she moaned for me.
“I’m—I’m gonna—”
I pressed one finger inside her and she broke.
Coming on my mouth, my tongue, my fingers—perfect, mine.
I hadn’t wanted to say it, still didn’t want to admit it, but this girl was mine, I wanted to keep her mine.
Wanted to keep her riding this tongue, these fingers, this cock.
Wanted her on her back in my bed, bent over her own desk, pushed up against a wall at the bar.
“That’s right, baby…yes, yes, give it to me. Just like that.”
She was still shaking when I pulled back—just enough so she would feel the absence of my mouth, so she would complain. I was a giver, always had been, but right now I wanted to take. I wanted her to need it. Wanted her to beg.
She pressed up to her elbows, eyes bleary, chestnut hair spilling over her shoulders.
“Nash…”
“Mm.” I pressed a slow kiss to her inner thigh. Felt her muscles jump.
“You stopped,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Why’d you stop?”
Her hips shifted, trying to get me closer, faster, and I held her still. She groaned in frustration.
“We have to hurry if we don’t want to get caught—”
I laughed, then dragged my tongue up her slit again. She let her head fall back.
“Oh sunshine,” I murmured. “I am not…” I punctuated it with one finger sliding into her perfect pussy. “…ever…” —thrust— “…hurrying with you.”
“Please.”
“Say it again.”
She looked at me again, frowning now. “What?”
“Say it again,” I told her, continuing to slowly fuck her with my fingers. “Beg for it, gorgeous.”
She blinked. “You…”
“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you teach good manners in here? Say please, Miss Laine.”
“Are you serious?”
I pulled my fingers free and stood up.
Maggie sat up too, eyes wide. “Wait, stop—”
“You really want me to stop?” I asked.
She leaned closer to me, her hands going to my belt buckle.
Holy shit…she was a naughty thing, even though she played nice.
“Please, Nash,” she said. “I want…” Her eyelashes fluttered, her tongue darting out over her lips. “I want you to fuck me.”
I didn’t think I’d heard her curse before. I leaned in, looking at her as she unzipped my fly, reached in…pulled me free.
“Pretty please,” she added. “Please fuck me, Nash.”
I reached into my back pocket.
This hadn’t been the plan; it really hadn’t. I hadn’t been thinking about Maggie Laine when I put the damn condom in my pocket. It was habit. Maybe not usually at school events…but yeah, it was habit. Right?
“You always have those?” she asked.
“Anywhere you are,” I said, and it was more honest than any of the thoughts that preceded it.
But I didn’t have time to think about that now; her hand was wrapped around my shaft, stroking me, and I needed to bury myself inside her soon. I started to open the condom—
—but I paused.
“Please,” she said again, thinking it was still part of the game.
I laughed softly. “Oh…shit, sunshine, I just remembered something. You looking at my cock when you said you wanted kids.”
Her face was already flushed, but now it turned downright pink. “No—”
“You did,” I teased. I thrust just slightly into her hand, and her breath hitched. “You thinking about me putting a baby in you, Maggie?”
Every inhale was ragged now, desperate. Her fingers held me tighter, stroked me faster. “Maybe.”
I shook my head, finally opening the condom…rolling it on. “Not today,” I said, “but we can pretend.”
Then I hitched her legs around my waist and bottomed out inside her.
She let out a cry that I covered with a kiss, her legs locked around me, her arms clinging to me. I moved one hand to her upper back, the other to her ass, just feeling her as she clenched and fluttered and kissed me back.
Finally, I pulled back to look at her…and I said something I’d never, ever even thought of saying.
“You want me to put a baby in this sweet pussy?” I asked.
Condom or not, I wanted this. I wanted to play with the idea. Indulge in it.
She nodded desperately. “Yes.”
This was so fucking wrong, and I didn’t give a damn.
“Yeah?” I thrust deep, slow, watched her eyes flutter. “You want that?”
“Yes.” Breathless. “Yes, Nash—”
“Tell me.” Another slow thrust, all the way in, holding there. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want—” She clutched at my shoulders. “I want you to fill me up. I want—”
“You want my baby.” Not a question. Low, certain, right against her ear.
She shuddered. “Yes.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. Couldn’t take my time.
She had me wrapped around her little finger, and I needed to fuck her.
I started thrusting into her hard and fast, rattling the jars on the desk, sending a pen rolling onto the floor. Her legs tightened around me, her nails raking up my spine under my shirt.
“Look at you,” I breathed against her ear. “Taking me so good.”
“Nash—” Broken, desperate.
“You feel that?” I thrust deep, held there. She arched. “Feel how deep I am?”
“Yes—yes—”
“That’s where it happens, sunshine.” Low. Just for her. “That’s where I’d put it.”
She made a sound I felt in my spine.
“You’d let me, wouldn’t you.” Not a question. I already knew. “You’d let me fill you up. Keep you full of me.”
“God, yes—” Her hips rolled up to meet me. “Please, Nash, please—”
“Please what?” Steady. Deliberate. Making her say it.
“Give it to me,” she gasped. “I want—I want you to—”
“I know what you want.” I picked up the pace, felt her clench around me. “Wanna see you round with it. Want to know I did that.”
She came apart completely.
I thrust a few more times, but then I couldn’t help it; I followed her right over the edge, shaking with the pleasure of it, groaning into her ear. My hips moved on their own just a few more times—pushing it deeper, pretending anyway, knowing I’d just filled the damn condom.
We stayed like that for a moment…tangled. Spent.
I wanted her again.
Fuck me, I wanted her again and again and again. I didn’t want this to end.
I pulled back eventually. Shoved my cock back in my pants with the condom still on, because I absolutely wasn’t dealing with that in an elementary school. I straightened up while Maggie sat up, smoothed her skirt, and slid off the desk.
She looked around at the floor; there were pens everywhere, rolled under desks, scattered toward the reading corner, one lodged under the leg of a tiny chair.
She made a face.
I bent down and started picking them up.
She joined me.
Neither of us said anything through the whole process—me collecting the pens, her organizing them over again. When we were finished, I stood up and let out a long exhale.
“So…” she said.
“So indeed,” I muttered.
But I still needed to do something—I reached into my back pocket. Maggie’s eyes went wide and confused like she was certain I had more condoms in there, but I just pulled out my wallet, then a dollar bill.
“For the swear jar,” I said.
She gaped at me as I put it into the appropriately labeled jar, which had previously been empty. Then she finally got her wits about her and said, “I think you owe me closer to ten.”
I snorted. “For real?”
She nodded, looking shellshocked and well-fucked and perfect. “Yeah,” she said. “For the guinea pig.”
“You have a guinea pig?”
“Not yet,” she said. “We’ve been fundraising. The swear jar is part of it.” She looked at the dollar bill in the jar. “You’ve basically just single-handedly accelerated the guinea pig acquisition timeline.”
I pulled my wallet out again. Threw a ten into the jar too.
Then we both laughed.
She was still laughing when she pressed her hand over her mouth to muffle it, eyes bright, and I thought this is the problem with total clarity.
Not the sex. Not the breeding kink dirty talk in a kindergarten classroom.
This. Her laughing about a guinea pig with her hair wrecked and cider on her dress.
“I wanna see you again,” I said.
Her smile faded, just slightly. “You see me all the time at school.”
“Not like that,” I said. “Have dinner with me.”
She stared at me in shock. That was starting to feel like a pattern. And I already knew her answer before she said it, because the sex had me careless when I needed to remember I was too old for her and too much of a fucking failure—
“I can’t,” she said. “Not—not because of you—”
“It’s fine,” I shook my head, desperate to get out of here, already moving to the door. “Forget I asked.”
She caught my wrist, just like she had earlier this afternoon.
“Because I just got out of a five-year relationship,” she said. “Because I’m your daughter’s teacher.”
“I get it,” I said. “We’re good.”
She chewed on her lip. “Actually?”
“Yeah,” I said. Then I gently pulled my hand away. “I’ll see you on Monday, Miss Laine.”
She nodded. “See you Monday.”
Then I was walking out of her classroom, down the hall…well aware that I should have stuck to my own rules and that I should have known better.
I didn’t ask. I didn’t go to women. They came to me.
But this girl? She’d just proved me wrong.