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“Well, too bad,” I inform her stubbornly. “I still haven’t fully processed it yet. I need time to go over it in my head before I can talk about it more.”
“You’re no fun,” she says, and I can imagine the pout on her lips. “So, do you really think this Aleah girl won’t say anything?”
I get up and walk over to my dresser, picking out a pair of shorts and a tank top for my night clothes. Aleah and I have talked a couple more times since I took her home on Monday. The more I get to know her, the more I like her. She’s funny and reminds me a lot of Hannah.
“It’s been three days. If she were going to say something, I think she would have already. And she’s hinted she’s got her own problems to worry about. I get the feeling it might be similar to mine.”
“Jesus,” Hannah mutters over the phone. “How many fucking hot teachers do you have at that school? I might have to run away and come live with you.”
I go to the bathroom and pull out a bath bomb. “The only hot teacher I know of is Mr. Monroe, so I’m not sure who she’s talking about.”
We talk for a few more minutes before I let her go so I can get in the bath. The house is quiet as I step into the warm water. Mom and Dad are out and will be for a few more hours.
After tying my hair into a messy bun on top of my head, I get in the bath and settle back against the tub. Picking up my phone from the shelf beside me, I click on my reading app and the book I’ve been reading pops up on the screen. I’ve been on a biker romance kick lately. There’s nothing hotter than a hot possessive biker manhandling his woman.
Well, except maybe a hot teacher manhandling his student, my mind whispers.
I’ve just gotten to a particularly juicy part where the unreasonably hot biker is eating out his woman as she stands at the bar serving customers, when a text notification pops up on my screen. I swipe down to bring it up, and suck in a sharp breath at what it says. I know who it’s from, even though the number reads as unknown.
Unknown: I hope you’re ready to eat soon.
How did he get my number? The school has it, sure, but does he have access to those files?
I decide to ask him.
Me: How did you get my number?
The little dots start jumping seconds after my message displays as read.
Unknown: Don’t worry about it. I have my ways.
Before I can reply, another message pops up.
Unknown: Have you been thinking about me? About how I’m going to feed you my cock and fuck that pretty mouth of yours?
Those words have a shudder running through me and it makes the water in the tub ripple.
Me: Maybe.
I hit send, then immediately start a new message.
Me: Why weren’t you at school yesterday and today?
The little dots bounce, stop, then bounce again before his reply pops up.
Unknown: I had a family commitment yesterday and had an appointment this afternoon that I had to leave early for.
His reply is followed quickly by another.
Unknown: Did you touch yourself when you thought about what I’m going to do to you?
Yes, yes, I did. Monday afternoon I came home and told my parents I would be in my room for a while doing homework. I did not do homework. Instead, I laid on my bed with my hands in my panties and replayed what Mr. Monroe did to me as I sat on his desk over and over again. I finished the memory by adding more to it of how he would take my mouth with his dick.
I felt guilty afterward because I made myself come with my parents awake in the house. But that didn’t stop me from doing it again that night. Or last night.
Me: I did. I thought of all the different ways you would have me suck you off.
I hit send before I chicken out. This girl, this brazen and shameless girl, is not me. I’ve never been bold when it comes to guys, but I have to admit, I like the way it makes me feel.
