Page 32 of The Teacher of Nothing
I pull my hand away from her pussy and tuck the blanket back around her. She’s still dazed from her orgasm, so she doesn’t seem disappointed at my retreat.
And I have to retreat.
Because if I keep going, I’ll end up fucking her against the side of her house. She deserves more than that for her first time. Willa is a treasure and needs to be treated like one. Her first time will be romantic and gentle. It’s the least I can offer her.
“I need to go,” I say with a sigh. “I’m meeting my brother for a drink.”
Her shoulders slouch, but she nods. “Oh. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Keep the door locked and check your email. I sent you the lecture notes so you don’t fall behind.”
I lean forward and kiss her pretty lips again. I’d spend hours worshiping her mouth if I could.
“When can I see you again?” she asks between kisses. “Besides class.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I promise. “We just have to be careful.”
“We will be.”
I kiss her once more, savoring her essence before pulling away. My dick is stone in my jeans, but I do my best to ignore it. “Go back inside and close the window. I want to make sure you’re safe before I go.”
She melts at my words, offering me a cute grin. “Yes, Mr. Park.”
“You’re not making it easy for me to leave. Go before I do something insane like kidnap you.”
An adorable laugh rumbles from her. She obeys, though, and slips back into the house. After she moves her milkshake off the ledge, she leans back out the window.
“One more kiss for the road?”
God, this girl is going to kill me.
“Yeah, sweetheart. One more kiss for the road.”
One turns into three more before I finally drag myself away from her addicting presence. It’s not until her window is down and the curtains are drawn do I finally breathe normally again.
The best bar in town is a little shithole called Knock It Off near PMU. Park Mountain University is one of the town’s historical landmarks. Every time the university tries to revamp the area surrounding the college and buy out Knock It Off to no doubt replace it with a bougie-ass coffee shop, the patrons of Knock It Off show up in droves, making it impossible for the owner, Kitty Robbins, to sell. She has a cash cow and knows it. No one can afford to make her move. You’d think with all the money rolling in, she’d update the eyesore.
Kitty calls it vintage.
Me and Hugo call it a dump.
But it’s our favorite dump, so we deal with it.
I push through the glass door and am met with a wall of heavy smoke. Neither me nor Hugo smokes, which is another reason why we should hate this place, but we don’t. I find him seated at a booth in the back, fiercely texting on his phone with two bottles of locally brewed beer on the table in front of him.
Rat or some other equally heinous ’80s metal band rages through the speakers. A woman with huge tits and bleached white hair wriggles her fingers at me as I pass. I give her a tight smile but don’t stop. I’m not in the mood to socialize with the locals.
“Hey, man,” I bark out, earning Hugo’s attention.
My brother, though older by two years, wears his age better than I do. Where I’m all scowls and frowns, giving me wrinkles on my brow, he’s always smiling, which gives him the appearance of being younger.
“What’s up, Cal? Why do you look sketchy as fuck?”
I snort out a laugh and shove my hood off my head and sit across from him. “Just prowling the neighborhoods, checking in to see if my students are doing their homework.”
“I feel like you’re not joking and that makes me worry for you.” He smirks. “How’ve you been, little bro? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Hugo is always dramatic. I see him every Sunday without fail.
