AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When I’m done, I walk up to her desk and bend over it like I always do. And I know my parting words should be just as taunting as they always are, because that’s just who I am, and I’ll always love to watch her squirm.
“So, Ms. Richards,” I start, and she licks her plump lips.
“Yes, Nathaniel?” she prompts, and I lift my brow at her unhesitant use of my first name.
“Have you checked your texts today?” I ask, knowing the teachers keep their cells locked away in drawers of each of their desks per school policy.
“I have not,” she replies, shifting in her cute little leather flats, so different from the sky-high sexy stilettos she was wearing Friday night, and I find I love both versions of my woman just the same.
“You should do that soon,” I tell her, standing up from her desk and glancing around to make sure no one else is around to hear us. “Oh, and Ms. Richards?”
“Yes, Nathaniel?”
I give her my mischievous grin, looking at her from beneath my brow. “How’s that sweet little pussy today?”
I spin on my heel and walk to the door, laughing loudly at the look of shock on my little mouse’s face.Chapter 16Evie“Don’t be a dick pic. Don’t be a dick pic. Don’t be a dick pic,” I chant as I unlock the bottom drawer of my desk and pull it open to reach in my purse and grab my phone. No one has come into the library yet, so I sit down in my rolling chair and hold up my phone, ignoring all the notifications on my lock screen and closing my eyes after the facial recognition unlocks it.
I breathe out a cleansing breath and open them, touching the Messages app.
There’s only one, and it’s an image from Nate.
“Don’t be a dick pic. Don’t be a dick pic…” I whisper, and then I tap on the message.
And nearly drop my phone.
It’s not a dick pic. Of course it’s not. Nathaniel may be an eighteen-year-old male with a seemingly insatiable sexual appetite, but he’s also a classy and respectable man. I should’ve known he wouldn’t send me a dick pic. But what he did send me makes me wipe the drool from the corner of my lips.
The picture is of him lying in bed, shirtless, his white sheets pushed oh-so-low on his hips. He took it from his perspective, so I can see everything from the wide, smooth planes of his chest, over the ripple of his abdomen, past the V of those godlike muscles, and I can just make out the outline of his thick, long cock beneath the covers.
I close my eyes and blow air out through pursed lips, pulling the phone to my chest. Never in my life have I been with such a perfect specimen of masculinity. Never in my life has any man wanted me or treated me the way Nate does, much less one who looks like this. Is this fate rewarding me for dealing me such a shitty hand before?
The loud bang of the library door being pushed open startles me from my daydreaming, and I quickly toss my phone back in the drawer and lock it, standing from my seat and welcoming the last class of the day. Being Monday, I’ll still have to stay another hour and a half after school ends for those students who need the library to do their work, and I can’t help but wonder what Nathaniel will be doing once the day ends.
Two and a half hours later, I’m locking the library door behind me, and I make my way down the long hallway, the red and black lockers on either side of me making me pause once I reach the ones near the restroom. In the very center of them is the silhouette of a cougar, the school’s mascot, and I stop and stare. Pulling my leather planner up to my chest, I hug it as I realize something, and I start to giggle. Standing here and laughing like an idiot, I’m sure I’d look insane to anyone who came upon me, but I can’t help it.
Being twenty-two with an eighteen-year-old lover… does that make me a cougar?
I stop laughing and really think about it. I don’t know for sure. Is any woman with a younger man called a cougar? Or is there a certain number of years that has to span between them for it to count? There are only four between Nate and me, really just a blip of time if you think about it. It won’t seem like a big deal when I’m like… twenty-nine and he’s twenty-five. Even less when I’m thirty-seven and he’s thirty-three. Whatever the case, I find it hysterical that our school mascot just happens to be a cougar.
