Extra Attention Ch. 02

"Listen you little tease, I broke up with Taylor because it was your hot little mouth I was picturing when she was sucking me off, and you I imagined beneath me when I fucked her. I don't appreciate you traipsing around in practically nothing teasing the hell out of me, when we both know what you want- and it isn't those frat boys outside." He growled at me.

I shook my head, keeping my gaze away from him.

"Well then you should have done something about it when you had the chance." I petulantly responded.

He actually laughed in my face. I wanted to fucking punch him.

"Baby, you say that like your body isn't craving its owner, like I couldn't just pull this flimsy piece of fabric aside and fuck you like we both know you need."

I scoffed. "If you actually wanted me, we wouldn't be here right now."

"Is that a joke?" he spat out, "you think I don't want you? Seriously Ashton, how can you even say that? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Oh yeah? Did I miss a phone call? An e-mail? Some divine intervention? A fucking bat signal?" I challenged.

His expression softened only slightly.

"This isn't something to take lightly, you're my student for Christ's sake! I could lose my career, my life, everything that I've worked for. That's not something I can just dive in to without some serious thought!"

I finally found the strength and frame of mind to push him off me. I'd fucking HAD IT.

"Well that's super great that figured all that out in all the time you so generously gave yourself, but it was an actual person that you dropped like a bad habit. Not one word, not one letter, NOTHING. Did you think three fucking months would pass and you could just pick me back up? That I would still be falling over myself for you?" I spat. "I didn't deserve that, and I sure as hell don't deserve this."

-:-

I woke up the next morning with a hangover. After my run in with Mr. Christiansen, Jessica and I started drinking pretty early. With Ian and Alec present, I drank almost twice as much the night before. But in their presence, the alcohol ironically gave me moments of clarity. What happened really sucked, and he handled it fucking HORRIBLY, but he had a point. It was his career and essentially his life that he was gambling with. To a certain extent, I understood that.

I got out of bed and went straight for the shower, wanting to wash the smell of booze off me. But much to my dismay, my shower decided to only spew freezing cold water. Sarah told me to use the guest room at the end of the hall, the only one that wasn't being used, so I gathered all my shower stuff and a towel, then made a bee-line for the shower.

I shut the door behind me, and turned the TV on to a music channel, making the volume loud enough for me to hear in the bathroom. I hummed along to the song playing as I stripped down and wrapped my towel around me, then opened the door to the bathroom, only to be met by a cloud of steam. I looked up, and someone was obviously in there.

But more importantly; someone had just said my name.

I could only get a glimpse of a vanity mirror and the sink from where I was, but I could hear the shower running and the sounds of skin rubbing against skin.

Oh God, what if it's Jessica's oldest uncle, Mark? Ugh, he's so creepy...

I made a conscious decision to back out of the room and book it the fuck out of there, but when I heard a groaned "fuck", I recognized the voice and my body made an unconscious decision to walk forward until I was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Mr. Christiansen was in the shower, and his body alone was worth whatever angst the man wanted to send my way.

Want to shamelessly use me and then drop me without remorse?

You go for it, Sir. Just be naked while you're doing it.

Shit. I had already been worked up from my relentless dreams, but that was nothing to the way a hot flush swept over my skin, to the way my lower body clenched and then throbbed, to the way my breathing suddenly became labored, or to the way my nipples peaked under my towel.

I bit my lip to keep from whimpering, and the throbbing in my lower body increased instantly and dramatically.

Mr. Christiansen was leaning his weight on his left leg, and the long but firm muscles in his thighs were clenched. The indentations of his hip bones were in stark relief because of his stance, and the light but defined muscles of his torso and chest were moving rapidly as he breathed heavily. The wry and sculpted strength of his arm was evident as he moved it, while the other was used to brace himself with a palm flat against the glass. His head was bowed, his eyes tightly shut, his honey blonde hair going every which way. His face looked like he was in raging agony.

All of that alone would have been enough for me to die a happy girl, but it got even better. With that hand that wasn't bracing him against the glass, Mr. Christiansen was stroking the length of his erection in a quick and desperate rhythm. And I know I was face to face with the thing for a good amount of time, but I couldn't for the life of me imagine the semantics of something so thick and fucking long fitting inside a woman, let alone me. I mean sure, we had to give birth and stuff, but that involved your lady parts widening for the damn thing. This just looked like a mathematical impossibility.

Like, okay. Picture an Escalade trying to park in a space that's just big enough for a Miata. That's what I was working with.

He was groaning under his breath, the water beating down on his shoulders, but when he gave a particularly vicious tug and twisted his fingers around the thickhead, he moaned.

"Fuck, Ashton."

I thought I'd heard him say my name before I came in, but seeing him as he abused himself while moaning it increased the wetness I already had to the point where I thought I could feel it on the inside of my hips.

I wanted to announce my presence by getting into the shower with him as equally as I wanted to run from the room and pretend I'd never been here. But I couldn't do either; my feet were frozen in place, my hands clutching my towel as I watched, enraptured.

The pace of his hand was picking up, as was his breathing. He was biting his lip, like he didn't want to say anything, but the next second his mouth opened raggedly and he growled, "So fucking tight...wet..."

Jesus Christ, what was he imagining? Putting that cock inside ME?

I knew I needed to leave before I forgot the reasons I shouldn't let him bring both of our fantasies into reality -- but it was very quickly too late for that.

He switched the motion of his hand, so he was twisting it around his shaft. When he did that, his whole body quivered and he thrust his hips into his hand, my name ripped from his mouth again.

Then, I whimpered.

Loudly.

Mr. Christiansen's eyes cracked open, his head snapped up, and his hand shot away from his bobbing erection and up to the glass, wiping away the fog to see who it was.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw me standing not four feet away, white knuckling my towel. I tried to coherently explain that I had accidentally walked in, but it wouldn't come out. All I could do was open and close my mouth like a goldfish. My brain so clogged with excitement that I couldn't even attempt to pry my eyes away to flee.

He seemed to be having similar issues of coherency, but my traitorous eyes also noted that when he spotted me there, his cock twitched. He broke eye contact with me and his aroused gaze lowered to notice I was in only a towel, and then swept down to my legs, where the slit exposed the skin up to my hips, which were crossed against the throbbing between them.

For a minute the only sounds were the rushing water and the music from the TV. I think he was waiting for me to leave, which I was incapable of, and I was waiting for him to say something.

He locked eyes with me again, cocking his head slightly just like he had when we danced together at Cotillion; judging my reactions.

Then, incredibly slowly, watching me the entire time, he trailed his hand from the glass and back down to his cock. He let out a low growl, somewhere between pleasure and pain, as his hand wrapped around the base again.

OH. MY. GOD.

Was he really going to touch himself in front of me? Was there any possible way I could be more turned-on?

Mr. Christiansen looked up at me from under his eyelashes, nervous, but still in control. The way he was tilting his head like that and the look he was giving me would have been coy, if it wasn't for what was happening for the neck down.

I didn't move an inch, though I think I may have licked my lips, which apparently was all he needed to start pumping his fist again.

"Yes..." he hissed, eyes still fixed on me.

He was going slower than he had been before, trying to prolong things now. I tried to keep my eyes locked with his, but it was only half a minute before my eyes dropped to his hands movements. As soon as Mr. Christiansen saw I was looking at him he growled, his other hand clawing at the glass as if trying to break through it.

"You know what I'm thinking about? How good it would feel to bury myself in you." He panted, beginning to shift his hips towards his hand, "to stretch you...to fill you..." the hand sped up again, " to pleasure you, to own you..."

If he was trying to kill me, he was doing a fantastic job. I let out a moan, and then my feet, which had been glued to the ground, carried me forward, until I was standing in front of the glass.

At my actions, his eyes automatically clenched shut while his cock twitched in his hand, but he forced them half open, so he looked sleepy and menacing. I proudly recognized it as his I'm-about-to-cum face.

"Closer...." he breathed.

I moved forward until I was basically pressed against the glass, my hand coming up so it was flat on the other side of his.

He was breathing as if he had just run a marathon now, his whole body moving as he touched his length.

"So fucking beautiful, Ashton..." he muttered as he stared into my eyes, and then his body went rigid and I look down to see his cum spurting out of his tip and against the glass. The water washed it away as soon as it appeared, while Mr. Christiansen kept pumping until the last drop.

His head came heavily against the glass as his hand dropped wearily. Mine dropped too, though that was all I was capable of moving.

I watched greedily as he caught his breath, turned the shower off, and then reached for the towel he had hanging over the top of the glass partition, all without looking at me. He made a half assed attempt at drying himself off before he slung the towel around his hips, thus denying me any future view of his behind.

He stepped out of the shower, and I could see him now eyeing me warily out of my peripheral vision. Possibly wondering why I was playing the living statue. I didn't even know properly, except that I hadn't been this aroused since he fucked my mouth, and that I had just seriously realized I was willing to take any manner of ill or idle treatment if it meant I got him in the bargain.

I felt his fingers graze my shoulder cautiously, then I whimpered again, which I blame completely on the dirty images that were burned onto my retinas.

Mr. Christiansen sucked in a breath when the involuntary sound left my throat and quickly retracted his fingers.

"They'll be expecting me downstairs soon." He said quietly, and then he added in a rush, "but I can help you, give you release. Please you, if you want me to."

I'd love to deny how turned on I was, but it would have been the most barefaced lie in history, and I'm pretty certain my nose would grow, Pinocchio style. I'd also love to take him up on his offer, but in my few hours of sleep I had managed to garner some perspective, and I knew I would regret letting anything happen believing what I currently did about him. If Mr. Christiansen was certain he hadn't meant to hurt me, then he'd man up and prove it to me.

And then I'd attack him like a fucking she-cat.

I took a deep breath, though I wasn't capable of turning to look at him yet.

"I'm fine, thank you. But I would like to, um, take a shower."

From his low moan, I think he knew exactly what I would be doing in that shower.

-:-

I toned down my teasing considerably. As much as I loved the way my pussy throbbed and ached when shamelessly teasing the boys, and Mr. Christiansen; I was beyond frustrated, and ultimately, only making it harder on myself. Jessica had talked about how much we loved the rush it sent through us, like being drunk. But at that point I needed to get fucked hard, I needed my little teen hole abused by a big cock. I wanted to lie back in my chair, spread my legs and let him just pound away at my needy pussy, letting everyone know I belonged to him.

If Mr. Christiansen didn't come around soon, I was going to make Ian slam the fuck out of me. I needed release, and I needed it soon. I was sure he would be the better of the two, always saying dirty things, and putting his hands around my hips.

It seemed like we both kept a watchful eye on each other, less voyeuristic, more waiting for the other to make a move. We didn't get the chance to really talk until everyone had gone to bed.

I was sitting at the table on the deck with another bottle of wine and my glass in front of me, but instead of my bathing suit, I was still dressed from dinner at the Riviera. I actually enjoy wearing dresses a lot, so I opted to keep on my flowy little navy blue strapless get-up. The bottle was half empty, and all my doing. I was just sick of the drama, it was exhausting. I downed the last of my glass and promptly refilled it. The silence was broken by the sliding glass door behind me and moments later, Mr. Christiansen sat adjacent from me, setting an empty wine glass down, silently asking me to fill it.

I poured him a glass and slid it to his side of the table before I sat back.

"Ashton, we really should talk about this," he finally spoke.

After another large gulp, I chose my words carefully.

"I don't hate you, I'm just mad that I miss you and I don't want to."

"I realize how badly I've handled this, and I cannot convey how sorry I actually am. I spent a lot of time working it out alone when I should have been looking at the bigger picture, and all I can say is that it won't happen again."

"Are you sure?" I raised my eyes to meet his.

"Extremely sure." he groaned.

I weighed the situation. Could I get over this? Could I work on trusting him again?

"Okay..." I said, slowly.

"Yeah?" his eyes lit up.

I nodded with a small smile.

"Come here," he motioned for me to move to sit on his lap.

I complied, standing in front of him and then straddling him, situating so that it would be comfortable for both of us. As soon as we found the position that worked, I rested my head on his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around me, and sighed. After all of the stressing, all of the drama, all of the energy it took to get here, we were finally (sort of) at peace. There were still things to work out, but those were details that could be discussed later. All that mattered then was that it felt right again; no more resisting him, pretending like I didn't want him.

"This feels good." I admitted quietly, breaking the silence.

"Yes, it does." Mr. Christiansen confirmed.

He turned his head to look down at me and put his hand behind my head to pull me in for a kiss, our first kiss, technically. I gave a small sigh when our lips met, which fueled him to be a little more aggressive. My fingers clutched his shirt while his tounge slipped past my lips, creating a dull ache right in that lower part of my stomach.

"How hot would it be to go at it right here?" I asked, breaking the kiss and effectively ruining the moment.

"That would be dangerous, little one," he warned with mischevious eyes.

"The idea makes me feel sexy," I said as I rubbed my pussy over his cock. "Like when I fantasize about getting bent over your desk in your classroom, is that bad?"

"You fantasize about me a lot?" he asked with a cocky grin.

I sat up-right so that we were facing each other and nodded my head furiously.

"Oh yeah, I dream about you fucking me, a lot." I bit my lip, trying not to start dry humping him on the spot.

"When was the last time that happened?"

"The first day of school... I dreamt about you fucking me so hard, sir."

Mr. Christiansen lifted the hem on the front of my dress, holding a fist full just above my panty line. He used the other to start teasing my pussy through my panties. I bit my lip hard, trying to suppress any noise I was making, but it was so hot. He pushed my panties to the side so that my pussy was on display and he ran his thumb steadily over my clit as he spoke again.

"Tell me everything about it," he demanded. "What was I doing that had you so hot and bothered?"

I could barely think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence. I closed my eyes as I moved my hips against his thumb, still biting my lip, until he very abruptly stopped what he was doing. My eyes popped back open, pleading for attention.

"Out with it, little one," he said with a knowing smile. "Or I'll just stop touching you altogether. And keep your eyes open. Now tell me about your dream."

As soon as I began to speak, he returned his thumb to torturing me.

"You were mad that, oohh, that you could see me practicing while you were at school over the summer, wearing just my sports bra and shorts," I shakily got out.

"Yes, well, I certainly didn't appreciate you hosing yourselves down with waterbottles, you belonged on late night HBO," he said, accusingly. "What else did I do?"

"You bent me over your desk and said you needed to teach me a lesson so you spanked me with a ruler." I continued, while his thumb still slowly ran over my aching clit.

"That does sound like me," he mused.

"And then you pushed up my skirt and pulled my panties aside, and fingered me until, fuuckk, I came all over your hand." I said, my breathing turned heavy. "You were about to fuck me, but then my alarm went off."

"Such a shame," Mr. Christiansen chuckled, "I bet you'd love getting fucked while you're bent over my desk. You like being on display, don't you?"

I was embarrassed, but there was no point in denying it, so I just nodded.

"Look down," he instructed. "Look at me touch you."

I did as I was told.

Holy fuck, that's hot.

If it was even a possibility, I got even more turned on watching him run his fingers over me. Then without warning, he sank two fingers completely inside of me.

"Fuuckk!" we both said at the same time.

Mine was more of a squeak, his was more of a growl.

"This makes me hard," he growled out. "Watching my fingers slide inside your impossibly tight little cunt makes me so fucking hard."

Still I kept my eyes on him now finger fucking me.

"You like it, don't you?" he knowingly asked. "I can feel how turned on you are."

"I love it..." I mindlessly said.

"I love it too, little one. This is, bar none, the sexiest thing ever." he said, slamming his fingers inside me once again.

Ohhh.

I was super turned on, but not enough to where I couldn't smell bullshit.

"Really?" I gave an accusing look, "out of all the things you've done in your life, this is the sexiest thing ever? Come ON."

"I have a sexy little teenager sitting on my lap, who tells me it would be hot to go at it where we could get caught, and that she quite the little exhibitionist. She tells me all about how she fantasizes about me fucking her in risky places and getting punished for being naughty, all the while I'm playing with her super-fucking-tight pussy when all it would take is someone coming downstairs to see us and get in a lot of trouble."