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Simon takes that moment to help our girl out, pressing himself up behind her and slipping his hand down the front of her shirt.
“Yes.” She cries out as he obviously makes contact with her nipple, her pussy slicking even more.
She’s thrusting her hips now, desperately trying to come, and I circle her clit with my thumb, applying more pressure.
“Kitten.” Bossi glues himself to her side, nipping at her ear, one hand wrapping around her throat while the other disappears behind her, under her skirt. As I work my fingers, I feel the pressure of his fingers nudging her panty clad back entrance, teasing her as she slicks even more.
“She’s close,” I grunt out, knowing I’m probably about to cum in my fucking jocks.
“Gar.” She pants, her eyes squeezed shut as she reaches out a hand to him. He doesn’t take it.
“Look at me, baby girl.”
Her lids fly open, darting to him instantly.
“Come. Now.”
She explodes.
23
Tyler
She’s late. I know for a fact that her interview session with the FP Police Department wrapped up before recess, so where the fuck is she? She’d better not ditch just because she’s pissed at me for telling her foster mum about the video and the messages. I’d like to think she’s more mature than that, but let’s face it, she’s only seventeen.
Fuck.
Trying to push all thoughts of Rhys George to the back of my mind, I mark the roll and instruct the class to revise for their exams, which start tomorrow. I have a double Health class right now, and all I’m really doing is babysitting these kids in the lead up to their exams. I’m surprised most of them even turned up to school.
Ten minutes into the class, Rhys walks in, head held high, cheeks flushed, and a knowing grin on her face. I know right away that my little brat has recently come. I’d know that look of hers anywhere. She’s late for my class because she was too busy fucking around with her little boy band.
“Sorry, I’m late, sir,” Rhys raises her voice, drawing the attention of the entire class. Little attention seeker.
I stand from my desk as she walks to the empty table at the front and drops her books down. “Why were you late, Miss George?”
Tilting her head to the side, she shoots me an innocent look, batting her lashes. “I just had to get myself out of a sticky situation. It’s all sorted now.” As she looks at me, she frowns, her eyes squinting a little as she focuses on my face. She sees the faint bruise in the corner of my right eye and the cut on my lip.
All I can think of is her response to my question. Fucking sticky situation. Did she fuck one of them in the toilets?
Fucking hell!
“You will stay behind after class to make up for the ten minutes you were late,” I advise before turning my back on her to retake my seat.
“Ugh. Teachers are so uptight.” She tips her head back dramatically, succeeding in her effort to make the other students laugh.
Her foster mum filled me in a little after the police interviewed her. I’m surprised she’s so calm right now, although it’s likely a cover. Rhys is good at trying to appear like it’s business as usual, which is sad. No seventeen-year-old should have to wear such a thick mask.
Her mum asked me to keep my eyes and ears open for anything that might come up about the video from the student body. The whole thing has me feeling guilty. I’m an adult in my early thirties. Rhys is a minor, only seventeen years old. Why am I doing this? Why am I seeking her out and telling her she means something to me?
I mean, yeah, she does mean something to me. It’s not a lie, but what can ever come of it? There’s always going to be fifteen fucking years between us. When she’s my age, I’ll be forty-seven, for fuck's sake.
And what do we even have in common besides a carnal need for sex? I don’t fucking know, yet I’m still drawn to her. Still desperate to take her in my arms and protect her, pleasure her. Love her.
As much as I try to ignore her, I can’t. The little brat is sitting with her legs wide and her skirt pulled high. Her panties are soaked. And now my dick is hard… in class with twenty-five seventeen-year-olds.
Fuck, I’m going to hell. That’s if prison doesn’t claim me first.
“Mr Foster.” Tillie Hall calls from the back row, my eyes moving to her and raising a brow in question. “I’m bored. Can Rhys give us another lesson on the levels of protein in semen?”
