Mr. Sterling's Dilemma

I pick her up, and she yelps, but I just glare at her to shut her up. I place her on my desk and spread her legs, earning a sharp gasp. I sit down in front of her and lean back, steepling my hands across my stomach as I gaze between her legs. She's wearing black lace panties, like she'd been planning for me to see her today. And of course, those fucking garters are still present. They are completely visible to me, what with her ridden-up skirt. I want to rip them off and keep them in my pocket. I'm sure she's been driving everyone mad today, just like she is doing to me, although no one seems to notice her like I do.

"Is this for me?" I ask, gesturing to the stockings, garters, and panties she's wearing. She nods, spreading her legs a little wider.

"If I ever see you wearing these again," I say lowly, sliding my fingers beneath her garters, "I will put you over my knee and spank the living daylights out of you. Every time you walk, your sweet little ass will sting, as a reminder of what I did to you."

She whimpers and spreads her legs, keeping my hands on her thighs as she attempts to grind down into my desk. She's drenched, I can tell, and I wonder if there will be a wet spot on my desk when she stands up. I fucking hope so.

"Your behavior has been absurdly inappropriate," I tell her, standing to my full height. She cowers, and I chuckle. "Now you're scared, sweetheart? I fucking told you why I need to avoid you, and what do you do? You come flouncing around in these slutty little panties, practically begging for it. And that fucking note? I should report you."

"Oh, please don't, I'm so sorry," she gushes, her eyes wide with real fear now. I curl my arms around her waist to keep her in place, dipping my head to nuzzle her neck.

"I couldn't, angel, not without completely implicating myself. No one would believe that I didn't return your advances. No red-blooded man could turn you down," I mutter into the side of her throat, grinning when goosebumps emerge there.

"P-plenty of men can turn me down," she protests, arching her back as I let my hands wander down to her sweet ass. I cup both cheeks in my hand, imagining her in this position with anyone else. Fury glides through me, and I grip her tighter, until she groans.

"How many men have you propositioned?" I ask, my voice low and as neutral as I can make it.

"None. Boys don't l-like me... oh gosh," she murmurs as I lift her sweater up and peel it off of her. I remember what she'd said about her breasts previously, and I'm eager to see them. The thought of her being ignored or rejected by the boys in her class pisses me off and simultaneously fills me with relief. They're fucking blind.

"They're fucking blind," I tell her, voicing my thoughts as I rip her blouse open. The buttons pop off, and she giggles as I dip my head to mouth at her cleavage. Her tits are big and round, encased in a matching black lace bra. I suck her nipple through the fabric, drawing out a moan. "Did you have plans this evening, honey?"

"Yeah, you," she says, grinning in satisfaction as she watches me pull her breasts out of her bra. I play with her sweet tits until she can't grin anymore, until she's a mewling mess on my desk, and then I back away. She sits up immediately and scowls, looking freshly-fucked with her hair a mess and her creamy breasts fully exposed to me. I wish I could take a picture, especially since I know this is as far as things can go between us. I will never fuck her; I can't. After today, I fully intend to leave her alone. Any future notes and garters will be ignored, despite my previous threats. I'm not losing my job because of a cheeky schoolgirl.

"Janie," I say. "I want to fuck you to pieces. But I won't, not while you're my student. Maybe when you graduate."

I picture Janie showing up at my apartment in her graduation robe and nothing else, a gift for me to unwrap. The Janie in front of me pouts and throws her hands in the air, making her tits bounce. I watch, entranced, and clear my throat awkwardly. I ease the cups of her bra back over her breasts, covering them, and pull her sweater over her head once more. The blouse is ruined, much to my chagrin.

"It's okay," she assures me, "I have plenty of these."

"I can pay you for a replacement, if you'd like," I offer, rubbing my jaw as I survey the scattered buttons on my desk.

"That would make me feel like a prostitute," she says, wrinkling her nose and waving a dismissive hand. "It's really not a problem. And...I'm sorry about the note. I know it's not appropriate. I tried to be discreet, could you tell?"

"Yes, sweetheart, it was very vague, thank you," I concede, grinning down at her. I hook my thumbs in her garters. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I will understand completely if you feel like you need to switch to a different class." She shakes her head emphatically, so I continue. "If you are to remain in this class, however, I need you to know that I was serious about these garters. Do not wear them in front of me again."

She nods, looking chastened, but I don't want her to feel bad for my own foolishness. I cup her cheek, even though I hadn't planned on putting my hands on her again, and tug her face closer to mine so that I can kiss her forehead.

"Do you need a ride home?" I ask, lifting her off of my desk and back onto her feet. She grips my biceps for balance and shakes her head.

"No, my friend Jack finishes basketball practice in five minutes, I can catch a ride with him," she tells me.

"Jack Harris?" I ask casually, picturing the floppy-haired jock in my third-period class. He's a shitty writer, and it's clear he uses SparkNotes instead of reading the chapters I assign. I eye Janie out of the corner of my eye as I straighten up my desk, watching her tug at her skirt until it covers those garters.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just wondering," I say, shrugging, but I'm picturing her in Jack's car. Her skirt will ride up when she sits down, and he will get to see those fucking garters. The garters she wore for me. My resolve to leave her alone nearly breaks, but I just clear my throat. "Be safe. And if he can't give you a ride for some reason, let me know."

"Yes, sir," she says, a mocking smile on her face as I shoot her a warning glare. When she finally leaves, I watch her go, and I stay at the school until 5, just in case she needs me.

***

"Mr. Sterling?"

I glance up as my students file into the room, finding Sarah Jones standing in front of my desk. I offer her a smile and gesture for her to say what she needs to say. She gives me a nervous look and then pulls a gift from behind her back, shoving it into my arms with a blush.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Sterling," she says, clasping her hands in front of her as she waits for my reaction.

Lots of students get their teachers gifts around Christmas, and this is the last day before break, so I'm not surprised. I grin to let Sarah know I'm pleased and carefully open the present. It's a bar of chocolate and a Starbucks gift card.

"Thanks, Sarah, this is very kind," I tell her, placing the gift off to the side of my desk. She nods, still bright red, and goes to her seat.

The rest of the class has settled in, and I notice Janie's normally serene face is twisted into a scowl. Her eyes are locked on Sarah, who is whispering rapidly to one of her friends, and her arms are folded over her ample chest. I furrow my brows and clear my throat, drawing everyone's attention to me.

Janie meets my gaze, and she still looks upset. I'm itching to ask her what's wrong, but I don't. Things have been normal between us for a month now, and while I still want to bend her over the nearest surface every time I see her, I haven't felt the need to avoid her. The grimace on her face unnerves me. I don't want to lose my progress with her.

"Your Inferno exam is today," I remind the class, earning a few muted groans. They had been informed of this, however, so the backlash is not much. "Once you're finished with both parts of the exam, you can feel free to leave early, but you're also welcome to stay until the period ends."

I hand out the multiple choice section of the exam and tell them to begin. Janie plows through her test just like she always does and walks to the front of the room to hand in her multiple choice section. When she's reaching for the essay prompt, I put my hand onto the stack of papers to get her attention. She glances up, gaze guarded.

"What's wrong?" I murmur, searching her face.

"Nothing," she says immediately, offering me a bland smile.

"I don't believe you."

"Okay."

"Talk to me after class."

She pouts. "But you said we could leave once we're done."

"Everyone else can leave. You will not," I order, taking my hand off the prompts and handing her one of them once I notice there's another student behind her. "Write slow."

She blows out an exasperated breath and stomps back to her seat, whispering a grumpy "Excuse me" to the student behind her. I bite back a grin and start grading the multiple choice tests that have been handed in.

By the end of the period, there are two students left in my classroom: Marcus, who is an avid proofreader, and Janie, who is tapping her pencil on the desk and glaring at me. When the bell rings, Marcus stands and hands me his essay along with a "Merry Christmas." I nod to him and watch as he packs his bag.

He shoots Janie a glance and then whispers, "Hey, you know he said we could leave, right?"

She smiles, incapable of being impolite, and says, "Yeah, I just love it here, you know? I can't bring myself to leave."

"You're so sweet, Janie," Marcus says to her, grinning. "I'm always the last to leave on exam day. It's nice to not be alone. Do you need a ride home?"

I sit up a little straighter, done watching, and clear my throat.

"I actually needed to talk to her, Marcus. Have a nice break, kid," I tell him, hoping against hope that he can tell I'm dismissing him.

"Oh, okay, sorry, Mr. Sterling. Merry Christmas, guys," he says to Janie and me, tossing a backwards wave over his shoulder as he strolls out of the room.

"I thought you said boys didn't like you," I grumble when he's gone, placing the essays and multiple choice tests into my bag to grade over break. I've already graded Janie's, and she--unsurprisingly--made a 96. Nerd.

"They don't. Sometimes people are nice without sexual motives," she says, rolling her eyes.

"He wanted to drive you home," I argue, scowling.

"So did you," is her retort, but then it seems to dawn on her that I'd groped her on the way home, and she sighs. "Well, at least I didn't gush over his Christmas gift to me."

"That's why you're upset?" I exclaim, gesturing to the chocolate bar on the side of my desk. "Because students got me presents? That's normal, you know."

"I'm mad because Sarah Jones got you a present, and you smiled at her," she accuses, leaning forward in her desk to glower at me from beneath her lashes. "Everybody knows she's got a thing for you, and you're encouraging her, after you made me back off. You know, if you're gonna fuck a student, you should fuck me because at least I'm discreet!"

"Jesus Christ, keep your voice down," I mutter, standing and locking the door. I turn the lights off like I did last time, and I close the blinds, too. I hear Janie's breathing pick up, and I shoot her a warning glance over my shoulder. "That's not what this is, calm down."

She sighs and stands up, raking her fingers through her soft brown curls. She slings her bag over her shoulder and attempts to walk past me, but I grab her waist and pull her back against me, her back to my front.

"Do you really think I want her, honey?" I murmur, running my thumb along the curve of her waist as I hold her. I haven't touched her in a month, and it shouldn't have bothered me as much as it has. Still, the relief I feel at having her back in my arms is tangible.

"You smiled at her," she says again, her voice quieter now. I tug on her bag until she lets go of it, and then I place it on the desk closest to us before walking backwards until we reach my chair. I sit and pull her into my lap, enjoying the nervous beat of her heart against my chest. I bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply. She smells like chai tea and clementines.

"It is incredibly rude to frown at someone who gets you a gift, pretty girl," I explain quietly, tucking her soft curls behind her ears as she lifts her head to meet my gaze. "I have never been interested in a student until you, and I suspect I won't be interested in any more students after you. I do not make a habit of this. And even if you two weren't my students, it is insane for you to believe that I would choose her when I could have you."

To prove my point, I curl my hand around her hip and squeeze, enjoying its softness, before traveling along the curve of her waist to her breasts. I fill my hand with one of them, leaning down to kiss along the slope of her neck until her contented sigh fills my ears.

"I don't like that she likes you," she grumbles into my chest once I pull away. "I don't want anybody to look at you, but everyone does. They all think you're very very handsome, you know?"

"Do you think I'm handsome, sweetheart?" I inquire, letting my voice drop an octave lower as her nipple hardens in my hand. She shivers and bites her lip, nodding. "That's all I care about. I guess now you know how I feel when all these boys drive you home from school."

"That's not the same," she dismisses, smiling serenely up at me. I tip my head.

"It's not? I would argue it's worse. They actually have a chance with you. None of the girls you're jealous of would ever get to touch me, not in a million years. Those fuckers who are clamoring to drive you home get to have your thighs pressed against their passenger seats," I manage through gritted teeth, tucking her closer to my chest. "Who's your ride today, sweetheart?"

She trembles in my grip, but when I look down, she doesn't seem afraid, just excited.

"Jack."

I clench my jaw and glower at the clock beside the door.

"I'm driving you home," I say, expecting her to argue. She doesn't, just nods and nestles closer to me.

"Are you taking back what you said last month, about nothing happening between us?" she asks, a hopeful gleam in her soft dark eyes. I inhale sharply, thinking it through.

We've made so much progress. Sure, she's grappling with some jealousy, and last week during a Socratic Seminar, I wanted to kill the boy who said he completely agreed with Janie's point--but it didn't show, and I didn't keep her after class to show her how much I completely agreed with her point. Progress.

If I kiss her now, I will destroy all of that. Suddenly, I realize I've never kissed her, and the shock must register on my face because she sits up taller in my arms and pats my cheek to get my attention.

"What, is somebody there?" She twists in my lap to peer through the closed blinds, but she can't see anything.

"No, I just... I've never kissed you," I remark, baffled. "I dry-humped you on my desk, but I never even kissed you?"

She relaxes and shrugs, giving me a wan smile.

"It's never too late, you know," she teases, giving me a warm peck on the cheek. "Me and my lips are yours for the taking." She's giggly and soft in my arms. I lean back in my chair to smile at her better.

"Please tell me you've been kissed," I say, suddenly concerned. Her cheeks flush, and I groan, even though the caveman part of me that wants to kill Jack and Marcus is grinning at the thought of being her first kiss. And only, if I have any say in it.

"Jack kissed my hand once," she offers, shrugging apologetically. The thought of Jack kissing her hand makes my jaw clench, and she gives me an incredulous look. "Dear lord, Mr. Sterling, calm down."

"Richard," I order.

"Richard." My name sounds wonderful on her tongue, and she likes it, too. Her smile widens. "That's an old man's name."

"I'm an old man," I say, earning a laugh from the angel in my lap. I return to the matter at hand. "I can't believe I nearly gave you your first orgasm without even kissing you."

"Oh, no, I've had orgasms," she says, waving a dismissive hand. I tense and lock my eyes on hers until she realizes my mood shift and grins at me. "You know that women can come by themselves, don't you, Richard?"

My irritation disappears immediately, replaced by bone-deep lust. I think she can feel my cock stirring beneath her because her eyes become hooded, and she inhales slowly, shifting her hips.

"Don't fucking do that," I scold, grabbing her hips to keep her in place, "unless you want me to do something very very inappropriate."

She meets my eyes and smirks as she deliberately rolls her hips into mine once more, making herself moan a little bit in the process. I grit my teeth and shut my eyes, attempting to refocus, but she does it again, and there's a coquettish smile on her pretty face when I open my eyes.

"I need to kiss you first," I tell her, brushing my thumb over the curve of her bottom lip as I reach for her face. She nods and shuts her eyes as I lean in, brushing my lips against hers briefly. When I pull away, she gives me a look, and, chuckling, I press my mouth to hers once more, this time with more force.

It's obvious she's inexperienced, and her tongue is clumsy against mine when I make my way inside her sweet mouth, but she tastes delicious, like coffee and cherries. She presses closer to me, twining her fingers through my hair, and grinds her hips into my prominent erection, moaning into my mouth as she does so. Jesus fucking Christ.

I growl under my breath and place her on my desk once more, spreading her pretty legs for me. Her eyes light up, and she reaches for me, but I slide back until I'm out of her reach.

"Show me what you do when you're alone," I tell her, locking my gaze with hers as her eyes widen and her breathing catches. Her lips are swollen from my kiss, red and parted.

"W-what do you mean?" she asks, but I can tell she knows what I mean because her legs spread a little wider.

"Show me what you do when you are alone and your sweet little pussy needs some attention," I murmur, watching her thighs tremble. "Lay back, take your tights off, and show me how you touch yourself, pretty girl."

"In front of you?" she whispers, wide-eyed and flushed. Her eyes are glowing, though, and she follows my instructions, laying back on my desk and hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her tights beneath her skirt. She peels them off and tosses them on the floor, exposing the length of her bare legs to me. She's rosy and deliciously curvy. I resist the urge to sink my teeth into her thigh and leave a mark.

Her small hand is trembling as it comes to rest on her damp panties. Her feet are on the desk, keeping her legs open, and she inhales shakily as she slips her hand into her panties and begins rubbing small circles over her pussy. She grinds her hips to move herself along, a soft moan slipping from her perfect mouth. I want to pull her hands away and shove my cock into her sweet pussy, feel her tight walls around me.

Instead, I palm my erection and tell her she's doing a good job.

After a few moments, she whimpers and lifts herself onto her elbows to give me a pleading look. Her fingers are damp with her own juices, but I can tell she needs my help to finish. Without thought, I slide forward in my chair and grab her hips, hauling her back into my lap. She gasps and moans as I position her so she's straddling one of my thighs.

"Take your panties off," I demand gruffly, feeling her wet pussy against my leg. She stands and follows my instructions. I notice she's barefoot, and a smile tugs at my mouth before I tug her back onto my thigh. I tense my legs so that there is a thick, corded muscle protruding beneath her, and she groans, grinding her hips against my thigh.