Page 7 of Hot Four Teacher (The Lawson’s #4)

Chapter seven

Let's Go

Dane

W hen I decided to come have a beer with Tim at Giddy Ups, I had no idea the night would end with me sitting across from a beautiful woman who is asking me if I want to make her come. I was getting ready to leave when Tim did, but seeing Michelle looking my way convinced me to stay a little longer.

I’m sure glad I did.

I look at her as she sips her fruity drink.

She’s gorgeous. Her caramel-colored eyes gaze back at me, and her cheeks blush a little.

She takes a strand of her dark brown hair and pushes it behind her ear.

I try to focus my attention on her face and not on her low-cut top or how great her ass looks in her jeans. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.

Her little proposition took me by surprise.

I’ve been asked out by women in bars before…

recently even. Let’s not forget the belly button girl.

But Michelle is the first woman I’ve been really attracted to.

Now that I’m older, I’m not the kid with a constant hard-on who is looking to hook up with anyone with a vagina and a pulse. Now, I try to be a bit more respectful.

Michelle seems different, though. It’s obvious that she really never does this. It was cute watching her get all embarrassed and flustered when telling me she hasn’t been laid in years and needed some orgasms.

While I’d love to be the one who makes that happen, I don't want to do anything that will ultimately make her feel uncomfortable.

I decide to ask, “So, Michelle, are you from around here?”

“Yeah. Born and raised in Lilly Leaf Falls.”

“That’s nice. I’m new in town.”

She nods. “I figured.”

“How did you know? Do I have a sign on my forehead or something?”

“No.” She smiles and plays with her straw. “This is a pretty small town, and most people know each other. I think I would’ve remembered you. Do you live in town, or are you in one of the neighboring ones?”

“I’m just outside of town. I moved here to take a job at one of the schools.”

Michelle randomly sneezes, and her hand accidentally knocks over her drink. We both quickly reach toward the glass to turn it right-side-up.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m a total klutz.”

“No worries,” I say, wiping up the little that spilled.

“So, what brings you out tonight?” She asks. “Were you just hoping that a crazy woman would proposition you?”

“Uh, duh,” I joke. “No, I was just having dinner with my buddy who was in town.”

“I hope all my weird staring didn’t scare him off.”

I smile. “Not at all. He has an early flight tomorrow and wanted to get some sleep. What about you? Why’d you come out tonight? Do you love country and western themed bars?”

“Not even a little bit.” She laughs. “But the only other bar close to here is Andre’s, and that one is owned by my parents. I hardly ever go out, so when I finally decide to let loose, I don’t want to have my mom staring at me.”

“Fair enough.” As I look at her, I decide to say, “I have to ask you something. Why is that a woman as pretty as you hasn’t gotten laid in so long?”

“Honestly?” She asks, eating the pineapple out of her drink.

I nod.

“I’ve sort of given up on the whole idea of men. They just continually let me down. No offense.”

I jump in to say, “None taken. We can be a real problem.”

“When I used to date, the sex stuff was never anything to write home about, so it wasn’t worth all the heartache.”

“I get it,” I tell her. “I apologize for my gender. And I’d like you to know that not all men are like that. Some of us actually believe that sex should be enjoyable for both parties.”

Before wrapping her lips around the straw, she says, “I may need you to prove that to me.”

She quickly sucks down the rest of the liquid before saying, “And look at that. I just finished my drink.”

Joking, I ask, “Do you want another one?”

“No. Uh, I mean no thank you. I was thinking we could just…”

Her voice trails off as she second-guesses her words.

“I’m just kidding, Michelle.”

Relief washes over her features. “Oh, okay. So, do you want to get out of here? Maybe go back to my place?”

I mull it over a little. Do I want to take her home and make her come?

Fuck, yes. But I also can’t help but feel like I would be taking advantage of the situation.

I’m not sure how much she’s had to drink, but I’d imagine it’s quite a lot.

I don’t want to be something that she regrets in the morning.

Then again, my cock would still be happy even if I was a regret.

At this point, I’m unsure of how this night is going to end, but one thing I do know is that I want to make sure that Michelle gets home safely.

“Let’s go,” I tell her.

Standing from the table, I hold out my hand for hers. She looks at it like she’s confused before reaching out to grab it. Gently, pulling her to her feet, I begin to lead her through the crowded bar.

When we get to the front door, I hold it open, so she can walk through. With her in front of me, I can see how great her ass is. I love all parts of a woman, but one with some hips I can grab ahold of drives me absolutely insane.

As we walk toward my truck, she asks, “Should I be worried that I’m going to be the next subject of a true crime documentary?”

“I promise I’m not creepy or a killer. But to put your mind at ease, feel free to send your location to whoever you want. I promise to get you home safely.”

We reach my truck, and I open the door and help her step inside.

Once I am settled in beside her, I ask for her address and plug it in to my GPS. As we start driving, I can tell she’s nervous, so I reach over to hold her hand. That seems to get her to relax a little.

“You really do look gorgeous tonight,” I tell her.

“Thank you. I feel a little out of sorts because I’m not usually this dolled up.”

I bet she looks gorgeous either way.

The drive to her house is short, but during it, I try to keep the pleasant conversation going to keep her calm. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in any way.

We pull into her driveway, and I quickly get out so that I can help her once again. Holding her hand, I lead her up the walkway to her cute little house.

When we get to her porch, I pause.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Michelle, I don't want to come inside if you’re not really sober enough to agree to it.”

Her forehead creases in confusion. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask.

‘No. Not a bad thing. Just not used to it.”

“I just…well, I kind of like you, and I don’t want you to think of me as just a regret in the morning.”

She thinks for a second, lightly tapping her finger on her chin. “Dane, I would really like if you came inside. Maybe we can just hang out and see what happens.”

The words she says don’t match the look on her face. That look shows exactly what she wants to happen.

Against my better judgement, I say, “Alright. Let’s go inside.”

She smiles and sticks the key into the lock.

As we walk inside, she says, “Sorry. It’s a little bit of a mess.”

I look around and see it’s not really messy at all. And that’s coming from a guy with a Type A personality.

“No worries,” I tell her. “My place is still covered in moving boxes.”

She throws her purse on a small table by the door and tries to hang her keys on a hook. She completely misses, though, and watches them fall to the floor. With a small shrug, she walks away.

I lean down to pick them up. I know she’ll probably be looking for them tomorrow when the alcohol wears off.

She kicks off her shoes and heads further into the house. “Do you want something to drink?” She asks. “I don’t know how much I’ve got in the way of booze.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll take whatever you got.”

When she reaches the kitchen, she spends a moment peering into her fridge. And I spend a moment peering at her ass.

After she shuts the door, she says, “I only have Peach Schnapps.” Staring at the bottle, she adds, “You know what? I have absolutely no idea when I bought this.”

I laugh. “I’ll just take water if you have it.”

She grabs two bottles of water and hands one to me before chugging down half of hers.

“Damn,” she says. “Drinking makes you thirsty. How ironic.”

Setting her bottle down on the counter, she walks over to stand in front of me. “Now, I believe you were saying something about some orgasms.”

I can’t help but smile. “I did say that.”

“Unless you aren’t a man of your word.” She gives a wicked little grin.

“Oh, I have no doubt that I could. I wouldn’t stop until the job got done. But I don't want to do anything that you don’t really want.”

She looks up at me. “Dane, I am going to do something that I literally never do.”

Before I can ask what that is, she stands on her tiptoes and pushes her lips to mine.

It’s obvious that she doesn’t often do this. It’s not bad. In fact, I love it. But even with her being tipsy, I can feel her apprehension.

When she pulls away, I waste no time in bringing her back. I hold her face in one hand and the small of her back with the other. I can feel her instantly relax against me.

I should stop this.

She’s drunk.

I should just go home. But when she moans into my mouth, it’s like my feet are suddenly stuck in cement. I don't want to go anywhere.

I run my tongue along her lips, and she instantly opens for me. I take total control, commanding the kiss. It’s amazing.

We are both lost in the moment until she suddenly pulls back.

Before I can ask if she’s okay, she says, “I’m going to be sick.”

I figure she’s going to run to the bathroom, but there’s not enough time. Instead, she rushes to the sink and starts to hurl. Wanting to help, I stand behind her and gather her hair in my hands. To make things flow down smoother, I turn on the water.

“I am so sorry,” she says between heaves.

“You don't need to be sorry,” I assure her .

When she’s been quiet for about a minute, I grab a rag off the counter and dampen it so that she can wipe her mouth.

“I am so embarrassed,” she says.

“Don’t be.”

“That kiss was…perfect. I don’t want you to think me throwing up in any way was caused by you.”

“I know,” I tell her. “It was the rum.”

“And the Jello shots.”

Jello shots?

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed,” I say. “Where’s the bedroom?”

“Just take me to the couch,” she replies.

I begin to lead her to the living room, but she stops on the way to say, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Before I can ask what she means, I look over to see her taking off her pants. I try not to stare because I’ll seem like a pervert.

“I fucking hate jeans,” she says.

When she’s free of them, she continues walking to the couch. With her in front of me, I can’t help but sneak a peek. Her long shirt covers most of her backside, but I still get the basic idea. Her hips and ass have my cock swelling in my jeans.

But I quickly look away and try to think of something else.

She flops down on the couch, and while she gets comfortable, I go to grab her water and a trash can. She’s probably going to need it.

When I come back, I stop dead in my tracks when I see that now, she’s lost her top. And she’s undoing her bra. I quickly avert my eyes–even though I don’t want to.

“Can I get you anything else?” I ask.

All I get is a grunt in response followed by a soft snore. Still careful not to see anything I shouldn’t, I walk around the back of the couch and head for the door. While I’m a little bummed that our night was cut short, I know that this won’t be the last time I see Michelle.