Page 7 of Teacher's Pet

“Come here, baby.” I sit down and drag her to me, settling her on my lap, her head buried in my chest and I suck in a startled breath when I realize how good she feels right now. My dick stirs and I ruthlessly shove that fucker down.

Now is not the time, buddy.

“I’m so stupid,” she mutters into my chest and I rub her back, feeling how fragile and tiny she is next to me. Feeling the way her curves mold to my hardness perfectly. The way she feels so damn right that I could sit like this forever.

“It’s not stupid. Everybody has something they’re terrified of. And usually it’s for a good reason. Don’t be ashamed of that, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she mutters and I grin to myself.

There she is.

“You know what I’m scared of?”

She stirs but she doesn’t lift her head. I sigh and rub her back absently, unable to quit touching her.

“What?”

I could tell her a million things that I’m terrified of. There are so damn many.

But there’s one big one.

“I’m scared that I’m gonna fuck up with Harley and she’s gonna grow up and hate me. Leave me behind and I’ll never see her again. She’s all I have.”

Her head lifts and I turn my eyes away so that she can’t see that fear.

“I may not like you much, Foster.” I snort and chuckle. “But I guarantee that you’re a great dad and Harley is a wonderful kid. She loves you. She talks about her dad all the time like you’re some kind of superhero. Honestly, when I saw you I expected to see a cape somewhere.”

Chuckling again, I glance back at her, entranced by the sparkle in her blue gaze. “I left my tights at home.”

She snorts and pats my chest. “Is that why you can’t just wish that damn door open? No tights?”

I shake my head and let my eyes drop. “Something like that,” I mutter. My dick is stirring again and I need to get her off my lap before she feels the fucker and realizes that I’m half-turned on just sitting with her.

I’m a sick fucker. She’s crying and terrified and I’m getting hard.

I set her aside lightly and stand, putting my hand on the door again, pushing against it experimentally. “How come this damn thing is so strong? And it closes automatically?”

“To keep kids from getting in it. We’ve had a few over the years that have managed to get trapped inside here so we’ve had to get it retrofitted to be a little more secure.”

She sounds better now and I grunt, running my hands up and down the door, searching for a less secure spot.

“You might as well not bother,” she sighs. “I don’t suppose you have your phone on you.”

I smack myself in the head. “Shit, yeah! Hang on a minute and I’ll get us out of here.”

She smiles and relaxes.

I pull my phone out and groan when I see that it’s almost dead and there are no bars in this damn closet.

Her smile slips. “That doesn’t sound like a happy groan.”

“Yeah. I don’t have any bars and it’s almost dead.”

She stares at the old flip phone in my hand. “You need a new phone. Don’t you have a smartphone?”

I shake my head and stare at it, pulling up my contacts and seeing Karen’s name on it.

She doesn’t have that phone anymore. It was in the accident. But I have saved all of her messages. Every single damn one of them. I run my finger over the screen, sighing and closing it.

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