Page 3 of My Tutor, My Stalker

No, only you.

Ronan: Only ones that send me nude pics at midnight.

Elsie: It’s called sexting. I’m sure people of your generation do it too.

I scoff. We’re only three years apart but she treats me like I’m forty because I don’t give in to her advances. It’s kinda cute.

Ronan: I’ll see you tomorrow. With all your clothes on. I hope you’ve done your homework.

Elsie: Did you have to ruin it with the mention of homework?

Ronan: Good night, Elsie.

And then, I turn over the phone and slump over my chair. It looks like it might be time to proceed to the next phase of my plan—Breeding Elsie.

CHAPTER 2

ELSIE

I’m tapping my pen on my deck when I hear the doorbell ring. Instantly, I’m on my feet, knowing he is here. My body instantly lights up, the thought of my tempting, older private math tutor sending flutters down my core. I glance out of the window, spying his mop of dark brown hair as it disappears inside the door.

Last night, I pushed the boundaries by sending him pictures of my tits. I know it is bad and naughty, and I know he’s never obviously expressed any interest in me, but he’s the only silver lining in my life. Mom got drunk last night and she loves using her leash on me when she’s violent, recounting how I ruined her figure and my parents’ marriage. It’s not my fault that Dad cheated on her because she gained weight, but it’s what we believe in this family. I know my parents care for me and Dad spoils me with so many luxurious things. Still, I wish they loved me too, loved me enough to get through their issues.

With George away at college, I am in a precarious position. After my brother failed to get into any prestigious institutions despite Dad giving them big donations, the expectations shifted to me. After I failed to get in despite my improved SAT score,Dad got serious. Last night, things got really awkward when my parents announced their plans for my future.

“You’re getting married as soon as you graduate school,” Mom said, half-drunk. I thought she was kidding, but then, I turned to Dad who looked utterly serious.

“Your brother has already disappointed us by not getting into an Ivy League school. I hope you’re not planning to follow in his footsteps.” I got admission letters from a bunch of universities last year and none of them were the ones my Dad wanted. Despite hiring a tutor for me, I’d failed to meet his expectations.

“But Dad, you said you wanted me to go to college.”

“Not anymore. The Kingstons, you know the family, Bill and you are classmates.” My heart stopped beating when he mentioned Bill because he was the most boring person I knew. Bill was a spoiled, rich kid just like my brother, and he only knew how to waste his life until his parents handed him the reins of their banking empire. I had no doubt he’d cheat on me as soon as he went to college and treat me like an accessory as soon as I delivered the prescribed 2.5 kids. I didn’t want that kind of life for myself, not after I’d grown up in a household where my parents barely tolerated each other and stuck together only for appearances. “Well, Bill is going to Yale next Fall and he wants to marry you.”

“What!? Dad, I’m only eighteen. I’m too young to get married.” I had planned on going to college and falling in love after I graduated high school. I wanted to find someone who loved me for who I was and not for my family connections.

“Your mother was nineteen when we got married. You’re not that young anymore. Bill wants to meet you next week so that his parents and I can come to an agreement. I hope you’ll show up in your best clothes.” Dad’s voice was harsh and I knew he’d hit me if I didn’t listen. Dad didn’t usually hit me, but it happened every once in a while when I failed to meet his expectations.After my disappointing admission letters, I stopped arguing with him. “And while we’re at it, I think it’s time you stopped getting private tuitions. Your math grades are up and you don’t need to study so hard anymore.”

My heart dropped like a stone. The thought of being stuck with my parents and never seeing Ronan again was the worst kind of punishment.

“No! Please. I promise I’ll behave but let me get private tuition until I graduate.” I never thought I’d be begging my parents to let me study. My hot tutor was the only ray of hope in my life. “You said that studying Ronan was having a positive effect on my grades.”

“I can’t believe vermin like him gets to study at a prestigious institution while my children bring nothing but disappointment to the Mulligan name.” Dad stands up. “Fine, you can have your math classes but don’t think that’s going to get you out of a marriage with Bill.”

With that, he left.

That’s why I sent Ronan those tit pics. I wanted to do something bad and naughty before I signed my life away to a lifetime of maintaining appearances. I want to be loved and desired by a hard-working, capable man like Ronan. I’ve been in love with him since the day he walked in through the door and said he’d be teaching me math. He was so serious, but he was stable and caring, something my parents had never been. With him, I felt like I wasn’t drowning. I could be myself, tease him, play with him, and he’d let me. But there is one line he never crosses.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.” My eyes are glued to the door that opens, revealing the tall, dark, and handsome form of my private tutor. He steps in, taking up space in the room, and making my heartspeed up. Ronan has been my tutor for two years, but I feel like this every time I see him.

“Good evening,” his voice is deep and sexy, seeping into my heart like medicine. The invisible pressure I’ve been feeling all day dissolves and my heart feels a little lighter.

Ronan Jackson is sexy AF. With those stormy, broody silver eyes, thick brown hair, a sharp jaw lined with stubble, and the hardest body I’ve seen, he’s my version of a porn video. At over six feet, he’s tall and athletic, his figure a mismatch to his intellectual personality. I still can’t believe he’s studying Math with a body like that when he could be using it to make women come instead. He should be a model or a football player.

“Good evening, Elsie.” He’s all formal in that crisp white shirt he insists on wearing to our tutoring sessions. I know he wears a t-shirt and hoodies like normal guys at college, but he acts like I’m a job when he’s here. I know Dad pays him to make sure I pass all my classes, but my feelings for my tutor are nowhere near professional. His gaze flickers over the books on the table, my bookshelf, and my bed with a crumpled pink bedsheet that was part of the pics I sent him last night. I’m wearing a half-sleeve V-neck t-shirt and a push-up bra that tries too hard to show off my assets. I know men like girls with big boobs, but no matter how many YouTube breast-enhancing massages I try, my tits won’t grow. Ronan’s gaze slides down my chest, taking in my miniskirt that barely covers my ass. I wear clothes like that to tempt him, but deep down, I just want him to love me. Ronan is the only person who listens to me, the only one who replies to my messages and gives me attention. I notice the slight difference in his breathing, feeling a sense of accomplishment when he turns his gaze away. “Shall we start today’s lesson?”

“I know you don’t speak like that to your friends.” I went to view Ronan’s college because Dad wanted me to go there butinstead of seeing the buildings, my eyes were fixed on my hot, older tutor.

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