Page 18 of Hot For Teacher
“Blair...I love you. I love you, I should not have let you doubt it for even a second. I won’t ever let you doubt it again. I have always loved you,” I roll us so she is pinned beneath my, my hands working at getting her naked. “I loved you when I was a geek freshie and you were the hottest chick in school. I loved you when my sister brought you home for sleepovers and I snuck a glimpse at you in your little jammies. And I loved you the day you said I do to the wrong man,” I whisper this against her jaw, kissing her there, down her throat, and between her breasts.
“I know, baby,” she hums, arching beneath my hungry assault, fingers tangling in my damp hair. “I loved you for so long. I just need...”
Pulling off her nipple with a pop, I grin down at her. I know what she needs. She needs the words. She needs the actions. She needs to see that I love her, to hear it, to feel it. And I want to be the man who gives her what she needs.
“I love you, Blair. Ihavealways, and Iwillalways,” I whisper, brushing her hair back from her face. “I should have said it a thousand times. But now, I will say it a thousand times. A million times. As many times as I can for the rest of forever.”
Reaching down to the bag I dropped by the bed, I pull the shirt out. Might be a bit nerdy but it’s the 80s and I'm embracing my softer side, man. I want to be a geek for her the way I am with my movies. I want to give her everything, be her everything. And if that means I do something a bit cute, so what?
Kneeling between her thighs, I take a deep breath as I flash the shirt. Her eyes go wide as her hands fly to her cover her mouth. I smile, nodding my head when her eyes come to mine. My heart pounds in my chest as her eyes skim over the shirt, taking all of it in.
“Bren...baby,” her voice kind of squeaks and we both laugh, but Tears sting my eyes.
Sliding off the bed, I kneel beside it. Holding up the shirt between us, I take a deep breath. Behind the connected hearts is a Heart Harbor sunset scene in pinks and oranges. Beneath that, in dark, standout black, the wordsMarry Mesit on the shores of the beach.
“Blair, I love you more than anything in this world. More than a night at the movies, even a night at the drive-in,” I tease her because she knows how much I love a night watching movies under the stars. “I said I have always loved you. And I will always love you, Blair. Marry me? Say yes to me this time.”
“Yess! Yes! Totally, yes, yes, I love you!” Throwing her naked body at me, she rips the shirt out of my hand as we fall back on the fuzzy pink carpet.
Her mouth fuses to mine, taking my breath away as she kisses me hard. Without breaking the kiss, I move us back to the bed, lifting her astride me. We both laugh when we see the mirrors hanging over us, more neon flamingo lights lighting us up in bright pink.
Blair plants her hands on my chest, watching us in the mirrors. Lifting her hips, she slowly takes me inside her, both of us moaning. I sit up, burrowing my face in her tits, letting her ride me fast and hard. Her cries echo in the room as she takes me deeper and deeper and harder.
Slowing down, she cradles my face in gentle hands, gazing down at me. Softly, she brushes her mouth over mine as she starts to come. “I love you, baby. I love you so much. I want to marry you. I want to be your wife. Now. Tonight. Tomorrow. Yes, yes, don’t stop,” she pleads as I start to pound up into her, so turned on by how hot she feels wrapped around me.
“Tomorrow,” I promise as I watch her move on top of me. “Whatever you want. I am going to marry the fuck out of you, Blair.”
We laugh together as we collapse in a tangle of limbs, both of us sated the way only real love can sate you.
Chapter Ten
Blair
I am going to be a teacher. First, I am going to be a bride.
For the very first time, I am excited about my future. Certain of what I am doing and how I am doing it. And never more certain of who I am doing it with. Grinning as I fix the silly veil in my hair, I note the flush of my cheeks, the glow of my skin, and the light in my eyes.
Getting married now feels much better than the first go. This time I cannot wait to sayI Do. I cannot wait to get my life started with my husband. With our futures line up, me with just a few more months left of school before I start teaching, and him talking with Bobbi’s fiancé Bishop about opening a small theater of their won, our life could not be better.
We talked about getting married the day after he proposed but decided against it. He wants us to have a real wedding, with the people we love there, the flowers, the pretty songs, the whole thing. I decided I still wanted to get married where he proposed, back in Heart Harbor.
When he proposed, I had just gotten done being pissed at him. I told him I loved him, and he said nothing back. I knew better, even though I threw a fit because I was hurt. He loved me—he had always loved me.
Brenden showed me how it felt to be loved.
“I love it. I love that it’s not traditional,” Bobbi declares as she fusses with my dress as Mandi works on my makeup.
Standing before the big oval floor to ceiling mirror, I cannot shake the smile off my face. The tiara veil with a burst of bright pink is not at all traditional. Neither is the strapless dress with the glittering bodice and bright pink drape of gauze. I saw it at the mall and just had to have it.
Brenden proposed right here in this room, full of bright pink flamingos, sealing our future in the cutest, most charming way possible. The adorable airbrushed shirt he proposed to me with is my night shirt—if he lets me wear something to bed.
“Well nothing about us is traditional, is it? Brenden joked people will write about romance like ours someday. Stepfathers falling for their stepdaughters. Hot moms being the hottest ticket in town. I told him he ought to make Mandi write a movie about it first,” I tease with a laugh.
Mandi rolls her eyes but grins, fussing with her glasses as she steps back to look at her work. Blinking at the reflection looking back at me, I let out a small gasp. My blonde hair is pulled back, pinned up in curls. My makeup is soft, mature, making me look like a model in a bridal magazine.
“Holy buckets,” I gasp, rushing toward the mirror, dragging the pink gauze that hangs over my hip with me. “Mandi…oh, babes, I look…”
“Like a woman about to wed the man of her dreams.”
