“YOU’VE BEEN A VERY BAD, bad girl,” he huskily spoke into my neck, and the goose bumps that covered my skin suddenly had goose bumps. One of his hands wrapped around my waist while the other stroked my arm up and down. Slowly. Deliberately and sweetly torturing my senses as he drove me out of my mind with lust.
“Chase,” I whispered into the silence of his darkened classroom. His nose was in my hair, and I could hear how off his breathing was. All shallow breaths and heavy exhales warmed the back of my head as we stood there. Me facing his desk while his strong, hard—and when I say hard, I mean HARD—body stood behind me.
“Uh uh,” he scolded, and I swear to the buddha, my panties disintegrated. “Bad girl.” He tugged on my hair. “Not using my name.” Shit. Why was that so hot?
“Mr. Tucker,” I moaned and was rewarded with a swipe of his tongue on just the right spot on my neck. The man was a sexual master.
“Much better.” He nipped at my neck. Just a little bite that made me crave so much more. “Now, are you going to take your punishment like a good girl?” he asked and moaned.
Hold the phone.
How the hell did I get here, you might ask? Well, it started a week ago. No. Not really. If I had to be honest—and I have found that’s best, not only because I’m a mom and I’m supposed to lead by example, but because lying gives you tons of things to keep track of, and as a divorcee of well, a liar, I honestly didn’t have the time or inclination for lies.
I shouldn’t even be here.
I should be at home.
Like a good mom, working on making some kind of dent on the mountain of laundry I had waiting on the floor of my bathroom while my boys were with their dad and his new wife this weekend. Instead, I was here. Being oh-so bad with my oldest son’s teacher. Right about to, hopefully, get fucked seven ways to Sunday.
All because, like Mr. Tucker said, I was a very naughty girl.
A Week Earlier
“Jim!” I called out and watched my son’s toothy grin as he turned away from his teacher and looked over at me before saying good-bye to Mrs. Peterson.
“Hey, Mom!” my little guy said before giving me a hug.
“Hey, baby. How was your day?” I asked my second grader right after waving good-bye to his teacher.
“Good. Mystie Kendrick got detention for sending notes to her friends,” he shared. For only being a second grader, he had been taking notice a lot lately about everything the new girl in his class did.
“Yeah. Girls, right?” He shook his head, and I stifled a giggle. I wasn’t sure if she annoyed him or if he was having his first crush.
“Girls, sheesh,” I responded with a smile as I held his hand and we walked to the door my oldest came out of. Standing there as Jim talked endlessly about Legos and cartoons and baseball practice, I kept an eye out for Jack.
I spotted him and gave a little wave. He was in fourth grade now, after all. He didn’t need his mommy to do a big to do over the end of his day. At his side walked his classmates and his teacher, this mom’s real life man-candy.
Kids chattered away around me as parents got them and went to their cars, but all I could see was his smile. The easy gait in his step with subtle swagger and the easy way he smiled boyishly. And damn, as if that wasn’t enough, there was the way the man was all put together in dress slacks and a buttoned-up dress shirt with a tie, the sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms that made me want to melt into a puddle at his feet like some googly-eyed school girl with a crush.
Eye candy and walking mommy porn for every single woman and probably a couple of the men there, too. Tall, built in a way you knew by looking at him he spent time and care on his body, he was the definition of masculinity. And not to mention the deep timbre of his voice and his manly hands that ran through soft, closely-cropped brown hair I swear to god shined under the California almost summer sun.
“Hey Jack.” I was slightly caught off guard by the way he hugged me, but I quickly reacted and squeezed him back. “Good day?”
“The best! Mr. Tucker rocks!”
“I don’t know about all that,” a deep voice chuckled, startling me as I looked up at him, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.
“Hi, Mr. Tucker.”
“Call me Chase, Kenzie. I’ve told you before. Being called Mr. Tucker by my students is one thing, by their parents, it just makes me feel old.” He smiled.
“You’re not old,” I mumbled quickly.
He wasn’t. Sure, he was older than me, but by no means was he on his way toward Beech Grove’s retirement home. If I would have guessed, he was in his forties, and the early ones at that. Probably only six to eight years older than my thirty-six.
“Mom, Mr. Tucker needs help on a project, and I told him you would probably love to help.”
“What?” My cheeks burned. Geez, this kid. He liked to volunteer me out right and left. Especially this year and with Mr. Tucker.
“It would help a lot. I have some stuff I need to get together in the classroom, but I understand if you can’t.”
“Tim said his mom might be able to help,” Jack added. I bet she would. Tim’s mom was not subtle with how she volunteered her services to Mr. Tucker and any of the other male teachers in the school.
“He did,” Chase repeated and mouthed help to me. My cheeks flared up, and something about his gaze softened sexily as I bit the inside of my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud.
“When do you need me?” Damn. Talk about asking a loaded question. His eyes glittered as if he followed the same line of thinking before he smirked and responded.
“When can I have you?” he inquired, and I was tempted to answer, ‘Anytime and twice on Sundays.’
“Umm…” I coughed to clear my head from the dirty innuendo that was choking me. “I can help today.”
“I gotta run a couple of errands. Mind if we meet back up in say, three hours?” he suggested, and I narrowed my eyes.
“Will the office still be open?” I asked, mentally trying to figure out how to shift our routine around at home and what was on the boys’ schedule for tonight.
“They might. But worst case, I have a key. I’ll get us in.”
“What about baseball practice, Mom?” Jim reminded me, and I winced. Baseball!
“Shit, I mean crap, uh, dang, I’m so sorry.” I shook my head. I was so flustered at the idea of being alone with him in his classroom, I was swearing in front of the kids and their teacher. Great job, Kens! “I forgot we have baseball practice.”
“Aunt Lena said she can take us,” Jack shared, and I turned to look at him. His bright blue eyes were looking right at me as he showed me my phone.
“I texted and asked her. She said she can take us,” he explained gallantly, and I sighed. Of course, my sister would. She had seen Mr. Tucker more than once and swore up and down he seemed interested in me. I just didn’t see it. He was nice to everyone.
“Well, I guess you found yourself a helper.”
“Great.” His voice deepened. “I’ll bring us dinner.” His eyes sparkled, and I cleared my throat.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I want to. Least I can do.”
“Oh, okay.” I shrugged. It didn’t mean anything. It was just dinner. Like the way you bought pizza to help your buddies when they helped you move.
“It’s a date, then.” He winked, catching me off guard.
“Da-date,” I found myself stuttering, but he didn’t acknowledge me. He simply waved before turning around.
Damn, I hated to see him leave, but he was a sight to watch go.
“Mom, let’s go!” Jim whined, and I shook my head.
Date? He was joking. Such a kidder…