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Encouraged and emboldened by my words, she climbs between my legs, keeping my dick in her shaking hand. With a few more strokes, I’m dripping all over her hand. “You’re so big, one hand barely does anything.” Adding the other only pushes me closer to the edge.

“Grace,” I growl her name, biting my lip. “I can’t take much more. Your hands. Oh, fuck . . .”

“So then I better stop,” she teases, rearing up on her knees. “I mean, if I want this to last and all.”

With one hand lazily stroking over my ready-to-explode dick, she moves the other over her body. Up her stomach. Between her breast. Through her hair.

Pinching a nipple, her hips roll, near shaking. She slides her legs open, making room as her hand moves back down her stomach. Watching her fingers disappear into her slick pussy, I lose another piece of my restraint.

For someone who was told they didn’t know what they were doing, Grace is proving right here and now that she’s a master of seduction. Moving her fingers over her clit, she grinds against her hand, letting the one on my dick slow.

And thank fucking God she does because if she keeps touching me while she touches herself, I’d shoot my load all over my stomach.

“Oh, God,” she groans, rocking back and forth on her shaking legs. Abandoning my cock all together, she toys with her nipples with one hand as she rubs furious circles over her clit with the other.

Sitting up in front of her, I wrap an arm around her waist. Nudging her hand out of the way, I lick across her nipple before pulling it into my mouth. “David, oh, God, I’m . . . oh, my God . . .”

The steady pace of her hand turns frantic. The only sounds in the room are those of her panting with need and her fingers plunging in and out of her wet pussy. “I’m coming . . . oh, fuck . . . I can’t hold on . . .”

“Then let go,” I murmur against her breast before pulling her nipple back into my mouth.

And when she does, it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. Her back arches. Her legs quake. Her skin flushes.

The world stops spinning as Grace comes with wild abandon in my arms. Slack and loose, her body moves from rigid to pliable. Kissing her neck, I move my lips to her ear, whispering, “Beautiful. You’re absolutely beautiful when you come.”

Pulling my face to hers, she captures my lips in a hot kiss. “And now I want to see what you look like when you come.”

A feather light touch pushes me down to the bed. The hunger that was in her eyes before is now amplified by the power of her orgasm. My dick is aching with a need so powerful, it’s literally throbbing against my stomach.

Without holding anything back, flattening her tongue, she licks from base to tip, coating me in one broad stroke. “Oh, fuck.”

When she wraps her mouth around the broad head of my dick, I have to physically restrain myself from pushing in further. Inch by painstaking fucking inch, she takes more and more of my cock into her sweet mouth. What I first thought to be unsure timidity is nothing more than lust-filled torture. Looking up at me with hooded eyes, my dick halfway in her mouth, she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her hair falls over her face, a red veil concealing her devilish ways.

Pushing it out of the way, I gather what I can and fist it in my hand. Just as my fingers knot securely at her scalp, she takes the full length of my dick into her throat. Her hand on the base holds me steady for a second as she struggles to catch a rhythm with her mouth. Not wanting her to feel anything but hot as fuck, I move my other hand to the side of her face. “Like this, sweetheart.” With a motion meant to guide and not to force, I guide her mouth over my cock, feeling it press against her cheek from the outside on every movement.

Her hand moves in time with her mouth, effortlessly flying over my throbbing dick. “Gracie, I’m . . . you might want to move, sweetheart.”

Shaking her head, she pushes my hand away from her jaw. Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she hollows her cheeks, taking me further and further into her throat. “Oh, fuck! Fucking hell. I’m coming . . . Grace . . . I’m . . . Oh, God!”

Her eyes widen as the first of my orgasm spurts into her mouth, but she swallows every last drop of everything I give her. Licking me clean, she holds my softening dick in her hand. Breathing wildly, I watch as she kisses up the length of my body. Nuzzling into the crook of my neck, she curls against my body, wrapping around me like a vine.

Silence settles around us as her fingers dance through the hair on my chest. “Did that, um, was it–”

“The best blow job I’ve ever had?” I question rhetorically.

A shy smile pulls at her lips before she worries her lower lip with her teeth. Looking up at me, she’s being serious in wanting to know how she did.

“Sweetheart, that was the best thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.” Stroking my thumb along her lip, she nibbles on it, smiling up at me. “Every single thing you did was perfect. But this,”—I tug her closer to my body even though there’s no space between us—“right now, with you next to me, wrapped in my arms, smiling at me, this is what takes the cake.” Words too significant to give voice to die on my lips, but they vibrate in my heart.

With her head on my chest and my fingers in her hair, we drift to sleep in a bubble of complete and utter contentment.

Day one of a new job is never easy for anyone, I’m assuming. But today might just be the most nervous I’ve ever been in my life. Of course, everyone has assured me I’ll be fine—more than fine actually. But there’s something about walking into a room filled with teachers whose collective experience adds up to more than twice your age that’s overwhelmingly daunting.

And these are the teachers who sign up to work in July. Who does that?

Needless to say, when my new boss, Principal Gallagher, asked me to be a member of the curriculum writing team, I couldn’t say no. Yet now, as I pull into the parking lot, I’m wishing I could have come up with some kind of excuse.

Yeah, yeah, I already know I need to put on my big girl panties and be confident, but holy crap am I intimidated. Looking to the two cars parked on each side of me—a black Mercedes and a grey B.M.W., I already feel way out of my league. My used Toyota Camry brings down the gross income of the parking lot by far more than I’d like to admit.

I wave my new I.D. badge over the card reader at the entrance and breathe a sigh of relief when it actually works. Last week when I came up to fill out some more paperwork and take the hideous picture for the badge in my hand, the security guard told me the system was usually on the fritz. He laughed when he told me he let a teacher in who’d been stuck outside for over thirty minutes because the one secretary in the main office was on her lunch break.

Draping the badge around my neck—on the school issued lanyard—I walk down the main hallway at the end of which is the library. Straightening my navy blue jacket, I take a deep breath before pushing the doors open.

You can do this, Grace.

The icy blast of the air conditioning is a welcome respite to the near broiling heat of the rest of the building. The main room of the library is huge¸ shelves of books lining every inch of the walls. There’s a computer station and a bank of laptops. And despite it being a library, it feels open and airy, not stuffy and archaic. Like the true nerd I am, I smile thinking of all the learning that must go on in here.

Chatter from one of the side classrooms pulls my attention away from my dorky musings. The classroom is separated from the main room by large windows, allowing me to see inside before anyone catches sight of me. Stopping dead in my tracks, embarrassment washes over me. Even though they’re some of the most experienced teachers in the building, and they make more money than I can fathom, they’re all dressed far more casually than I am. From what I can see, everyone is wearing T-shirts and shorts. Sitting around a large table, they’re watching one of those silly cat videos on the large projector screen at the front of the room. Laughter bubbles in my chest watching a kitten fall off a table as it chases its tail.

Looking down at my freshly pressed suit and briefcase in hand, I realize I’m about to be the laughing stock of this summer’s curriculum writing project. With a quick look at the clock, I realize I might have enough time to race home and change. I can simply claim I got lost and that’s why I’m late.

Yep, that’s what I’m going to do.

Turning away from the room, I somehow manage to trip over my own two feet as my heel gets caught in the carpet. My briefcase flies from my hands, crashing into a cart of books in need of re-shelving. Books tumble to the floor and catches the attention of my waiting colleagues.

Sprawled out on the floor, I can’t do anything but laugh at my own clumsiness. Sitting up, I look down at my legs. My pantyhose are torn at the knees and blood drips down my shins.

Stellar first impression.

Gingerly, I brace myself on all fours, trying to stand as gracefully as possible. That’s when I see a pair of muscled legs standing before me. Looking up, he’s holding my briefcase and wearing a huge smile. “You okay?” he asks, stifling a laugh.

Taking his out-stretched hand, I pull myself up and stand before him. “Fine, thank you,” I answer, trying to look as composed as possible.

“Tim,” he introduces himself, handing me my briefcase. “And you must be Grace.” Laughing at my name, he looks me over. “Rather ironic, huh?” he jokes. “Falling on your ass like that with a name like Grace.”

Losing himself to a silly fit of laughter, it’s easy not to be mad at him. He’s not much older than me, his face young and carefree. “My parents clearly didn’t think that one through, huh?” I laugh with him.

“Clearly,” he agrees, running his hand through his light blond hair. “Well, Grace,” he emphasizes my name, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. June mentioned we’d be sharing a room this year,” he explains, walking us into the classroom.

As I step in front of him, he puts his hand on my lower back ushering me into the room. An unsettled feeling brews in my gut as he introduces me to the group as his new roommate. I know he means well, and that he’s just trying to be friendly, but the combination of the casual friendliness in his voice and the ease with which he’s putting his hand on me, it’s throwing me off.

The rest of the teachers introduce themselves and we share a collective laugh at my entrance. Tim pulls out a seat next to him for me to sit in. Seeing as it’s the only free spot, I take it and try to push back the feeling of unease. “Grace, this is Kathy, Lauren, Doug, and Mike.” Shaking hands with each of them, I thank them for allowing me to be a part of their team.

“Nice to meet you, Grace.” Lauren smiles at me from across the table. “Are you okay?” she asks, tipping her head out to where I fell on my ass.

“Yeah, I’ll live.” Laughing about it is the only way to make the embarrassment go away.

“I’ve got an even better one for you,” Doug chimes in. “I was walking up the stairs, piles of papers in my hands and of course, I figured I could carry my coffee as well. I actually tripped
up
the stairs.”

“Oh no,” I gasp, laughing.

“Oh yes,” he continues. “Papers and coffee went everywhere. I had to lay the papers out on the windowsill so they could dry off. My room smelled like coffee for days after that.”

“Well, at least you didn’t trip over your own shoelaces and fly face first into a couple making out,” Tim adds to the horror stories.

“That’s . . . wow, that’s just awful.”

“You’re telling me.” Tim laughs along with everyone else. “I was face-to-face with pretty much the worst threesome you could ever imagine.”

After a few more horror stories, some their own, and some belonging to their fellow co-workers, we’re all laughed out. With the focus off my less-than-graceful entrance, I feel much more relaxed with this group of new people.

Half an hour into the first task, I feel even more at ease. Mixing work with funny stories about the students and teachers of the building, I realize just how lucky I am to be a part of this group. They really do seem to be nice people. Even Tim, who I must admit is really easy on the eyes, has proven to be funny and smart and not at all creepy like I thought he’d turn out to be.

As the hours move on, I’m in awe of the group’s collective intelligence. In complete contrast to their casual appearance, every teacher here is articulate and creative. My brain hurts by the end of the day. Their ideas and enthusiasm are almost too much to take in. Whatever apprehension I was feeling earlier is completely erased as they embrace and encourage my participation. By the end of the day, my mind is racing with a million different ideas for lessons in the upcoming school year. At the end of the session, we share some ideas about what we’ll work on tomorrow and I offer to bring in some muffins for breakfast.

“I’ll walk you to your car, Grace,” Tim offers, holding the door open for me as I walk out of the library.

“Okay,” I accept, suddenly nervous.

“So what did you think of today?”

“It was good. I learned a lot. How do you think it went?” Of course he agrees. It really was a good day. As we walk to the car, the conversation is filled with talk of who will use which side of the room and how we’ll divide the bulletin board.