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He rummages around in the kitchen and offers me a few choices. Honestly, I’m not hungry, but I don’t think I can tell him that. He’s expecting me to eat, so I settle on a salad with grilled chicken.
“How many times have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?” I ask him between forkfuls of food.
He leans across the kitchen island, his arms spread wide, and his white dress shirt rolled up to reveal tanned, muscled forearms.
“None,” he says with a flash of white teeth.
“Because you pulled some Christian Grey shit in the classroom.”
“Avery, have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Every girl my age has.”
“And is Christian Grey who you fantasize about every night while you’re stuffing your pussy with your toys?”
“No. You know the answer to that,” I tell him softly.
“Say it,” he commands.
“You. I’ve always fantasized about you.”
“You said we met before you became my student, but I don’t remember. Tell me.”
He grabs his own plate and walks around the island to sit on the stool beside me. I chew silently before I begin.
“I was a pool attendant at a resort in Scottsdale. All I did was hand you a towel, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I went home that night and masturbated, thinking about you.”
He hums. “Scottsdale? Two years ago?”
He taps the fork against his lips.
“I was with Stephanie,” he says matter-of-factly. “She works here. Head of the English department.”
“What?” I turn and stare at him. “Your ex works here? Do you still sleep with her?”
He moves his head back and forth. “Sometimes. When I’m desperate.”
I narrow my eyes and growl, which makes him laugh.
“Don’t be jealous, little girl. You parade that boy under my nose all the time.”
“I’m not looking forward to breaking up with him.”
“Why? Because he loves you?”
“No, because he’s a good person.”
He frowns. “We all have our secrets, Avery. I bet even Mr. Perfect has a dark side.”
He leans toward me and places one arm on the back of my stool.
“Are you full?” His voice is low, and from the tone, I know we’re done with idle chit-chat.
“I’ll never be full,” I blurt out, which seems to please him.
“I neglected you last night,” he says. “Before I fuck you again, I need to take care of you.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he presses his finger against my lips.
“Don’t worry, little girl. I’ll take care of that ache in your pussy, too.”
