Page 7 of Tempting Teacher

“I’m too old for you.” My voice firm.

“But experience is what I need, so you being older is perfect.” She places a hand on my head and tilts my face into the light. “How old can you be anyway? You don’t look older than thirty. And you’re very attractive. You’re the perfect person to teach me.”

“No.” I rise out of my chair, strolling several feet away from her, my heart racing at her proposal. Is she crazy? I’m not a sex instructor. I fuck. For money. And I’m good at it. I don’t have to show or teach anyone what to do. I just do it. I spin to look at her. She’s beautiful. Long blonde hair, a small petite frame, but with curves firm and tight due to her age. And her lips, fuck me if they aren’t the first natural pair of puffy lips I’ve seen in years. They look soft as pillows instead of hard from endless shots of filler. Yes, if she had been any other socialite in the city, I would have already been on my way to her bedroom.

“Why?” She stands and takes a few steps closer to me. “Am I not attractive enough to be your client?”

“You might be too attractive.” I mumble under my breath, and then say louder, “you’re beautiful. This just isn’t what I do.”

She gets bolder and moves until she’s right in front of me. “Do you know how to kiss someone?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what turns you on, what you like to do and what you like to have done to you?”

“Summer, I would destroy you.” I invade her space now, wrapping a hand around her waist to haul her to my body, making sure she can feel my cock against her. I grab one of her hands to press it against my length, a gasp coming from her as I do. “Do you feel that? Do you know what I could do to you with this? How good it would feel for me to stick this into every hole in your body? Because that’s what I want to do right now.” I wrench her even closer, bring my lips just a breath away from hers. “Is that what you want?”

She nods her head, lifting her eyes to peek up at me, her lips brushing against mine when she answers. “Yes.”

“Fuck!” I release her with a soft push, not expecting that reaction. “Why? Why not wait for the right guy to come along? Someone you love that will show you all these things. The right way. Not the dirty way you’d learn with me.”

“I’m twenty-three years old, Xander.” She lifts her shoulders, dropping them as she sighs. “A quarter of my life is over. I’m tired of waiting for the right guy. I want to take things into my own hands. And you can show me these things. Teach me. I don’t want to find the right guy and then lose him because I don’t even know how to give him a blow job.”

“The right guy will show and tell you exactly what he needs.”

“Right now, you’re that guy. You can show me and tell me exactly what to do. I don’t want to be this innocent little girl anymore.”

I shake my head, not believing when I hear the words coming out of my own mouth. “You can’t afford me.”

Her head snaps up, hope blooming across her face. “I’ve got a ten-million-dollar trust fund that says I can.”

Fuck. I’m out of options. I glare at her, unable to deny the idea is actually appealing to me. She’s gorgeous. And I can’t lie, her innocence is part of her appeal. To be able to know my cock would be the first she’s ever sucked, or even better, to know my tongue would be the first one to taste her. My cock stirs at the thought, and I know I’ve already made up my mind, even if I haven’t said it out loud yet.

“Five lessons. Two hours each. Two thousand a lesson.”

Her mouth drops open, which does nothing to help my cock relax, instead thickening further. She jumps up and down, squeals in delight, then claps her hands before launching herself against my chest. “Thank you! Thank you!”

I pry her off of me before I decide to give her the first lesson right here on the beach. “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your friend. This is a job. I’ll show you what you want, and then we’re done. Okay?”

“Okay.” She bobs her head.

“And Summer, I won’t fuck you. That privilege should go to the right guy, not someone you pay.”

“Oh.” She frowns as if disappointed, but nods her understanding. “Okay.”

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and open a new contact. “Give me your number.”

“Uh, sure.” She tells me the number and I enter it.

“What’s your last name?” I shift my eyes to her.

“Knight. Summer Knight.”

I stare back at her, a thousand thoughts running through my mind about her name, the irony of our entire situation in relation to it, but decide to keep them to myself. “I’ll text you with a date and an address. You’re going to have to come to the city. I don’t have a place in the Hamptons.”

“Oh, sure. That’s fine.” She continues to nod. “I can stay at my aunt and uncle’s apartment.”

“You pay the ten grand up front, at the beginning of the first lesson.” God, why did I feel like such an ass dictating these terms to her? It’s never bothered me before.

---