Page 4 of Marked By The Kings

None of the homes in Valleywood are particularly large. Mine is on the smaller side with three bedrooms and one and a half baths, a modest 1200 square feet. Most of the homes in the neighborhood are an additional 200-400 square feet larger, but I don’t need all that space. When the Kings come to my place, it’s the right amount of space for a meeting.

I park my bike in the overly crowded garage and slam the door shut behind me as I race inside. The throbbing in my khakis is almost more than I can bear. My bedroom is on the second floor, but I’m not going to make it. I burst into the kitchen, five feet from the garage door, and lean against the counter as I unbuckle and unbutton. I fumble with my pants until my dick is in my hand, and all I can see behind my closed eyes are Danielle Fulton’s beautifully shaped legs.

This is wrong. You’re sick for this,the little voice in my head tells me. But I pump my cock and imagine I’m inside the beautiful brunette. We’d make pretty babies, her and I. They’d have her blue eyes and athletic build. They’d all look like her, if I’m being honest. There’s nothing beautiful about me. I’m an ugly thug; just ask the woman that was disgusted by my tattoos on the road.

With my ass pressed against the countertop, I rub one out. I can feel my climax building as I recreate the image of Danielle in my mind, from her perfect, delicate features to the fit of her dress. She was so insistent on being my assistant. I couldn’t turn her down.

That’s just what you’re telling yourself;my conscience reminds me.Just think about what you’re getting yourself into.

I’m already in too deep. I wouldn’t be spewing my load all over the kitchen floor if I wasn’t in too deep. I curse because now I have to clean this shit up.

I’ve known Danielle Fulton for four years now. I don’t know if she remembers, but her father introduced us when she was fourteen. I knew back then that she was going to be trouble, but I figured I’d probably never see her anyway. No one ever takes statistics unless they want to go into a mathematics field or engineering. She never struck me as the type.

But then, as the years passed, I kept hearing through the grapevine that Danielle was the epitome of the perfect student. She took AP classes, she always did her homework, and she managed to juggle extracurriculars in the mix, too. All of us were terrified when Danielle showed up, but she proved us wrong. Being the Principal’s daughter didn’t automatically make her a rebellious troublemaker. If anything, she worked her ass off to prove otherwise.

That’s precisely why I need to leave her alone. I need to call the secretary tomorrow and tell her in no uncertain terms that Danielle Fulton cannot be placed with me. I don’t care how good of a teacher’s assistant she is; if she’s in my classroom every afternoon, something bad is going to happen.

I clean up my mess and repeat over and over to myself that I’m making the right choice; I’m doing the right thing. I’m a teacher. Hell, I’m forty years old. I have no business fooling around with a high school girl. “Oh, Christ,” I swear. Did I just masturbate to the image of a minor?

I chuck the soiled paper towels in the trash and grab my laptop. It doesn’t take long to find Danielle on social media. All of her accounts are wide open; she wants to be seen.

Her Facebook feed is full of pool parties and trips to the lake. In one photo, she’s dressed in a barely there bikini, and it makes me hard again. Her perfect little body is on display, and it’s like I’m looking at porn.

“Get out of here,” I mumble to myself. “Click away.”

But then I see it, my get-out-of-jail-free card. Just over a month ago, she turned eighteen. There’s an entire album dedicated to her birthday party, complete with a beautiful tiered cake and dozens of pictures of her with friends. I breathe a sigh of relief because it’s one thing to have an image of someone in your head that’s eighteen; it’s something completely different when they’re younger. I’ve done some fucked up shit in my day, but I have standards. I would never touch a minor.

Does that mean you’ll touch Dani now that she’s eighteen?“No,” I respond aloud to myself. “I want nothing to do with Danielle.”

I’m lying to myself. Because I can’t even keep my hands out of my pants. With the laptop on the pillow beside me, I scroll through her photos and stop on the bikini shot. With Danielle’s smiling face staring at me, I jerk off again. This time I spill my seed all over my work pants. “Damn it.” I’d throw the laptop across the room if I didn’t need it so badly.

I leave the screen open on Danielle’s picture as I head upstairs and start the cleanup process. After a quick shower, I feel better, as if I’ve been baptized by God himself. I am pure now; I am not remotely interested in a woman half my age. In fact, I don’t know what came over me.

But when I come back to the laptop to block Danielle’s profile and pretend none of this ever happened, I see that she’s updated her status.

Starting now: the best year ever.

It’s an innocuous post, hardly worth mentioning, but a picture of her schedule is attached. Her last three hours have a block that’s labeledTA—Pelham. It probably means nothing to the hundreds of friends she has rapidly liking her status, but to me, it means I’m too late. Danielle’s already changed her schedule. She spoke to her guidance counselor and got herself placed in my classroom for half the day.

Just then, a comment pops up. Football player Elliot Graham saysI can’t wait to have the best year ever with my favorite girl.

I don’t feel the urge to whip out my dick and massage it until I come again. Instead, I feel like going to Elliot’s house and beating the shit out of him. Some would say it’s jealousy.

I slam the laptop closed and swear I’ll never touch Danielle Fulton. Whatever I felt or did today was a one-time slip-up. I’m a teacher. I’m a professional. I can ignore a pretty girl, especially when she’s the Principal’s daughter.

4

DANIELLE

Ihave to break things off with Elliot; his possessive nature is wearing me down. He can flirt with every fourteen-year-old he meets, but God forbid I smile at another man. We aren’t dating, though, so I’m not sure how to tell him that whatever this is, needs to end.

I text him the night before school starts to ask if he’s interested in seeing other people this year. Three dots appear in a bubble, and I know he’s typing, but it takes a while for the text to come through.

You mean we’ll see each other, but we can fool around with other people?

I’m not even sure why Elliot likes me if I’m being honest. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to him since we met. Cameron thinks he’s into me because girls typically throw themselves at his feet, and he’s turned on by me being the only girl that won’t give him what he wants.

You can definitely hook up with other people.

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