Page 9

I chortled loudly at his comment, slapping the banister. My Dad raised a brow at me in befuddlement over my strange reaction. The laughter quickly died in my throat.

Too much, Lucy.

I scrambled up the stairs before slamming my door shut and leaning against it, breathing hard.

A slow, calculating smile crossed my lips.

What was the perfect outfit to wear when you want your chem teacher - who was coming over for dinner - to lose his freakin' mind?

When the doorbell rang at six-thirty, I suddenly realized my plan was stupid. What the fuck was I thinking? Me? An eighteen-year-old virgin trying to seduce a thirty-something-year-old teacher from my school?

He was probably used to diverse, sophisticated, sexually experienced, and confident women. A heavy rock sank in my gut as I picked at my flowy, pink shirt. Initially, I had chosen a skimpy skirt with a low-cut top before I hurriedly took them off. I completely forgot for a moment that I was also having dinnerwith my Dad. He'd lose his shit if he saw his teenage daughter dressed like a street walker while his colleague was in the house.

It was inappropriate, I knew. And would rumble my plan. The plan, I now realized, was stupid.

I waited in the kitchen, sitting nervously at the table. I alternated between twisting my fingers on my lap and drumming them on the table. I heard voices at the door. The sound of my Dad greeting Mr. Drake and then a deep, husky laugh. A few indiscernible words were spoken before they got increasingly louder.

"Oh, she's in here. She made her signature chocolate cake for dessert. You'll love it."

My eyes raised as the doorway filled with two bodies. They were even in height and standing side by side. But there was only one frame I was interested in. Only one person whose eyes drew me in like a magnet.

His dark eyes assessed me, flaring slightly as they dragged down my body. Well, the part of my body that wasn't covered by the table. His nose flared, and I knew, I just knew that his gaze had landed on my breasts. I could feel my nipples pebble, and I shifted my thighs under the table, clenching my pussy against the moving friction.

I saw his chest breathe in deeply at my subtle movement. His throat worked, and his hands flexed beside him.

"Uh..." My Dad rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. "Lucy reminded me today that you're her teacher. Sorry if this is a little awkward."

Fuck. I had gotten so caught up in eye-fucking my fucking teacher that I forgot my Dad was literally standing beside him. Luckily he had mistaken our prolonged silence for something else.

Mr. Drake moved his heated stare from my breasts and raked them slowly up to search my face. He seemed in no hurry toplacate my Dad with his notion that we were embarrassed. "Do you feel awkward, Lucy?" He drawled.

I licked my lips and gave him a small smile. "No," I softly said. I rose on shaky legs. "It's nice to see you, Mr Drake. I'm enjoying your class."

That, I was honest about. His voice was mesmerizing, yes. And he was sexy as fuck; especially when he started to passionately explain hydrogen bonding or kinetic-molecular theory. He had a way of explaining his lectures by not dumbing them down but also teaching in layman's terms. He was strict with no-nonsense, but he was also patient, especially with those who weren't quite getting it.

"I'm enjoying having you, Lucy," he drawled.

Again, how he phrased it sounded dirty, just like when he asked me if I was his good girl.

I wiped my hands on my jeans and moved around the table to greet him. I held out my hand for a shake, attempting to appear grown-up.

His eyes dropped down to my hand before cascading slowly down the rest of my body. My groin heated with need; his eyes felt like a gentle caress, a slow kiss against my skin.

His big hand engulfed mine. Tingles shot up my arm, and my breathing labored. Instead of shaking my hand, he squeezed it gently for a lingering moment. He slid his hand, unhurriedly, from mine as if he was savoring my touch for as long as possible before just our tips brushed each other, then gradually separated.

"Dinner's almost ready," my Dad said. "Did you want to -"

"Bathroom," Mr. Drake hastily interrupted. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, may I use the bathroom? To wash up."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Use the one upstairs. We still have a lot of boxes in the downstairs bathroom."

Mr. Drake nodded at my Dad in thanks. He glanced at me again before leaving the room and heading upstairs.

"See." Dad clasped me on the shoulders, giving me an affectionate squeeze. "It's not so bad."

My damp panties said otherwise.

I needed to keep busy, to stop myself from rushing up to my room and masturbating with my hairbrush to dirty thoughts of my teacher. I just had to get through this dinner; then I could escape and stuff my fingers up my cunt to the sound of his voice carrying up the stairs.