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“You still trust me, sugar?”
“With my life,” I had answered.
The dip in the bed eased and I sensed his presence leaving the room. I only he knew was back by the sound of ice cubes rolling around in an empty glass.
“What the fuck?” I had screamed as I felt the ice burning on my clit at the same time hot drops of wax dripped on my skin.
The dueling sensations had me yearning so good. He removed the ice, grabbed my legs, pulling them apart entering me in one full thrust. He didn’t ease in like he normally does but stuffed me good and full, easing the ache he created with the ice.
I gasped as one hand held an ice cube and trailed it over my skin where the wax landed, before he placed it on my clit letting it melt from the heat of our bodies.
“You kinky old man,” I had moaned.
“Come for Poppa, sugar,” he replied taking my mouth captive and thrusting in again.
And I did, boy, did Icomefor Poppa.
“Ms. St. John?”
“Hmmmm?”
“Uh, the bell rang five minutes ago…,” my student shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
Shit.
I was lost in remembering that night with Rog, staring out the window drinking coffee like a lovesick idiot, not even noticing the class filling in behind me.
“I was just thinking about what your first essay of the year will be. I’ve decided it’s going to be the history of Springdale and it’ll be due next Friday. Now open up your laptops, it’s time we start talking about one of the greatest most tragic wars of all time: The Civil War. Brother fought against brother; father against son. Can any of you find a topic or subject in today’s time where you can imagine killing your own family over?”
Hands shoot up in the air. “Yes, Rachel?”
“I’d kill my brother over deleting my picks on NETFLIX.”
The class snickers and I roll my eyes, “Very funny. I just moved the due date of your essays to Monday.”
The class groans and I hide my smile behind my coffee cup. That’ll teach them to raz me again.