Schooled by a Senior by K. Webster

Author:K. Webster [Webster, K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 32026937
Publisher: K Webster
Published: 2017-01-09T00:00:00+00:00

Monday

The fog named Author Banks has lifted, after a weekend without his addicting presence, and I’m clearheaded enough now to realize I’m officially fucked. Literally and figuratively. Like majorly up a creek without a paddle. I let my—oh God, I can’t even think it—husband’s son have sex with me twice.

Sick. Sick. Sick.

And yet, here, as I sit at Mrs. Lovell’s desk waiting for class to arrive, I’m already craving more. More Author. More of his expert tongue. More of the dirty things he makes me do.

Twisted, Maise. You’re twisted.

My phone buzzes in my purse and dread washes over me. Every time Devon calls or texts, I think I’ll be ill. Friday, after I showered and made a quick dinner before he came home, I attempted to collect myself. To talk myself out of any more sexual encounters with Author. When Devon walked through the door, it was almost like he got a whiff of my guilt. He dragged me away from the stove by my hair and forced me to my knees to suck his cock. I gagged when it tasted like another woman. After he finished, we ate dinner like it never happened.

Another buzz.

With a sigh, I yank my phone out and stare.

Teacher’s Assistant: Do you miss my cock? It’s been a long fucking weekend.

I let out a shocked gasp and smile despite myself. Before he left Friday afternoon, he programmed himself into my phone. I made him swear he wouldn’t text me anything to get me in trouble. Luckily, he actually texted me about The Scarlett Letter and the quiz I had to prepare. It was nice to chat with him and not sit in silence while Devon does whatever it is he does in his office with the door closed.

Me: I’m deleting this. You’re such a bad boy…

Teacher’s Assistant: Only fifty more minutes until I’m deep inside you, Maze.

My cheeks are flaming when the first student walks in. Jerking my head toward the door, I attempt to compose myself. I’m thankful, I think, when it’s Author.

“Miss me, little turtle?”

I hit delete on his messages and turn to smile at him. “Actually, I missed that mouth. You say stuff that makes me crazy, but I like it.” So much for being free of the fog. I’m once again drunk off his presence three seconds into seeing his handsome face.

He saunters over to me all man in a navy-colored school uniform. It was meant for boys, but this guy fills it out in all the right places. Men like him don’t belong in school learning from the likes of me. He belongs somewhere where he can lead a crowd or a place where he can delegate duties. Author’s the kind of man people will flock to. I certainly have a hard time not flapping my wings every time he gets near.

His masculine scent envelops me a second before he swivels me in my seat to face him. Then, so boldly and so Author, he leans down and captures my lips in a kiss that said he missed me all weekend, too.

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