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I almost choke on my own spit.
I doubt he would find it pretty, though.
I cough while half my class is appalled and the other half is laughing.
“That one won’t make it to the board, Mister Dumont,” I tell him, trying to stop my hands from shaking, and discreetly rubbing my thighs together to lighten the throbbing his words triggered.
I hate him. He’s infuriating.
But once again, my body didn’t get the memo.
“You’ll come to see me at the end of the class,” I add, knowing full well that I can’t let that go.
Now I hate myself, because I just forced more of his presence on myself again.
Fuck my life.
10
Louis
Iknow it was a bold attempt to say that sentence as one of the important ones one should know in another language.
I know it’ll most likely send me into the principal’s office, with some sort of detention—even if I don’t know if they give those to people who attend only one class—but it’s totally worth it.
For only one thing.
That sweet, sweet smell that emanates from her as soon as I say the words “good girl” and the small movement of her thighs rubbing against each other, so small no one should notice. No one, but me.
And oh, do I notice.
Okay, that’s actually two things, but who cares.
I had a feeling she would like praise, and I needed to make sure of it.
I have absolutely no doubt anymore.
Now, what should I do with this information?
Not that I can use it immediately, though.
It’s not like she’s going to let me shower her in praise here in this class.
I have to get her to see me outside of this damn school, and maybe then, I’ll be able to do something about it.
But for now, I have to see her at the end of the class, and maybe tease her some more.
Maybe not as blatantly as what I said during class, but I can pace myself.
I’ll get to do what I said in class, someday.
Just not today.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask her when everyone has left the room.
Yes, I’m purposefully playing dumb.
She looks at me from where she’s leaning against the back of her desk with a raised eyebrow.
