Our Dirty Little Secret

Tuli

The three months that followed that night were the most uneventful of my life. For a solid week, I was tempted to drive to Jayce’s house and give him a piece of my mind.

But I held back, my anxiety keeping me in check.

Scenario one: I show up only to find him in bed with another woman.

Scenario two: I fall prey to his charm and end up being the woman he’s in bed with.

But I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to confront him. I needed to tell him how much he hurt me, and I wanted him begging for my forgiveness.

And then I’d walk away, feeling more satisfied than I did after our first time together.

At least, that’s what I told myself would happen.

But there was also a part of me that craved his touch, to the point of agony. The taste and feel of him… No matter what I did, I longed for him every night.

It’s not like I spent all my time thinking about him. I was busy preparing for college. I was set to attend CSU. I had hoped for Metro State, but plans change, so CSU it was.

I was also working a lot, putting in overtime.

I didn’t want to drown in student loans, so the extra money for textbooks and other necessities was a good thing.

So if he ever crossed my mind, it was only during the little free time I had.

Still, after the morning we parted on bad terms, I dreamt about him every night. And they weren’t just any dreams.

Every single night, the setting would change; I’d dream of us on his breakfast table, in his bed, on the floor of his shower, with him on top of me, his hips moving against mine, making me moan and whimper until I reached climax.

And every night, I’d wake up to find my underwear soaked.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought confronting him would make the dreams stop.

So after about a week and a half of trying to ignore my need to see him, I finally drove to his house.

I was surprised to find a “For Sale” sign in the yard. When I peeked through one of the windows, I saw that the house was empty.

It was dark and dusty inside, showing that no one had lived there for a while. He was gone, and the feeling I had when he left me at my apartment became a reality.

Until now. I was sitting in my first class of the day, English Composition 101.

We were about halfway through the class, and Mr. Connor had started his lecture, basically introducing us to the course.

A typical, if dull, first day. I was doodling in my notebook when I heard the classroom door open.

And there he was.

He looked a little different. His hair was a darker brown and shorter, except for his bangs, which fell over his forehead in small, bouncy curls.

His skin was a bit tanner, as if he had been working outside for a few days.

His chocolate-brown eyes were framed by rectangular glasses, and stubble covered his jaw and chin.

His body was a bit bigger than when I last saw him. Even though it had only been two months, he looked a bit older.

It was as if his good looks had only improved.

When I realized it was Jayce, I jumped out of my chair, banged my knee on the underside of the desk, and cried out in pain.

“Shit!”

Everyone turned to look at me. His face mirrored mine, completely shocked.

Mr. Connor then spoke. “Miss D’Amore, do you have something you’d like to share?”

I mumbled in embarrassment, “No, Mr. Connor. I apologize.”

I could hear chuckles and giggles as I sat down and began rubbing my sore knee.

Jayce, or Mr. Mitchell, and Mr. Connor resumed their conversation, while I sat in silence, still feeling embarrassed by my outburst. I looked up as Mr. Mitchell was about to leave.

Our eyes met. I blushed a deep red, furious.

Fucking jerk!

After Jayce left, class continued, and I was relieved that it was almost over. I was tired of the whispers and giggles around me.

All these girls wouldn’t stop talking about how cute the new assistant professor was. It was so annoying.

Two girls sitting next to me started speculating about the size of his manhood.

“I heard Mr. Mitchell is hung like a racehorse, and he’s got one of those piercings at the base of his shaft,” one girl whispered.

“I bet he’s even bigger than Michael! And Michael is pretty big as it is!” the other girl exclaimed.

I interrupted, shooting them a menacing glare. “Can you save your sex talk for home? I didn’t pay to come to school and listen to your gossip.”

They glared back and fell silent. I sighed inwardly. Finally.

Not long after, class was finally over. I quickly gathered my things and rushed out, hoping to find “Mr. Mitchell.”

Luckily, he was down the hall, talking to a girl, who was giving him “fuck me” eyes.

Unaware of me approaching, he said something that made her giggle, and he laughed along with her. Annoyed, I snuck up behind him as he watched her walk away.

I grabbed his wrist, surprising him, and dragged him into his office.

He stared at me in disbelief as I closed and locked the door behind us.

“Miss D’Amore, it’s highly inappropriate to grab a professor like that.” Then he grinned. “But I can't say no to a woman who wants to take charge.”

I glared and slapped him across the face. “Assistant professor. And fucking jerk!”

He turned to look at me with his hand over his red cheek, the grin wiped off his face. “I deserve that,” he murmured.

I couldn’t help but think, He’s still so damn cute. I shook off the thought and started to give him a piece of my mind. “You left me high and dry two months ago, vanished without a trace. Now you just pop up at my school. What the hell are you doing here?”

He rubbed his cheek and rolled his eyes. “Clearly, I’m here to teach. And believe me,” he said, giving me a once-over, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I rolled my eyes and turned away, muttering under my breath. “This is unbelievable. This is going to come back to bite me, I just know it.”

“What?”

“The fact that the guy I had sex with three months ago is—God, I can’t believe I slept with a teacher!”

He turned me around to face him, his grin stretching wider. He took off his glasses and tossed them on the table. I was frozen in place by his captivating brown eyes.

He cornered me against the door, his hands on either side of my face, pressed against the door.

My breath started to quicken, and I felt a mix of nervousness and excitement from his proximity.

“Yes, you slept with your teacher. I slept with my student. And we both know we enjoyed every moment of it,” he whispered, lightly nipping at my ear.

I fell silent, except for the soft whimper that escaped my throat. My heart pounded in my chest, pleasure pooling deep in my belly. He pulled back from my ear, only to lean in and gently tug on my lower lip with his teeth.

I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating his kiss. Instead, he let go of my lip, and his warm voice was next to my ear again.

“I’m not one to bend the rules, but I might make an exception if it means I get to feel you wrapped around me again while you scream my name.”

Before I could respond with something I’d regret, I snapped back to reality. I opened my eyes.

“Oh, Mr. Mitchell,” I said sweetly, “I only came here to tell you to stay the fuck away from me.”

And with that, I unlocked the door and walked out of his office, head held high.