Tessa Teevan - Inflame

When I dig out my phone, I see that I’m right. Signaling one second and mouthing, “I’m sorry,” I walk to the edge of the porch.

“Hello?” I whisper, hushed, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Lucy? I can barely hear you. Why the hell are you whispering?” Charlie asks, not sounding worried at all.

To be fair, she’s been my go-to emergency date-breaker ever since Noah, my college boyfriend, and I broke up and I decided to sow my wild oats. I was twenty-four when he unceremoniously dumped me, something we’d both known was coming. I’ve been relationshipless ever since. Poor girl has gotten me out of quite a few predicaments, and I start to feel slightly embarrassed that she’s probably expecting this one to be a failure.

“I’m fine. I just don’t want him to hear me,” I tell her, raising my voice just a little. Looking back, I see Kale leaning against his house, watching me curiously. “Hey, I have a question.”

She completely ignores that last little bit. “Him who? You never did tell me his name. Is he hot? Is he notch worthy? Possible boyfriend material?”

I laugh on that last one. She knows I have no interest in that, but ever since she and her boyfriend Drew starting talking about marriage, she’s been relentless in trying to set me up with husband-worthy men. Not a single one of them has panned out.

“You tell me what you think, Charlie,” I say cryptically, curious to know what she thinks about Kale Montgomery.

“What the hell does that mean? Do you need me to pick you up or something? I thought I warned you to always drive yourself to these first meetings? It’s not safe, Lucy,” she lectures, but I cut her off.

“First of all, this is the third time we’ve been together. Second, yes, Mom, I drove myself, and no, I don’t need a ride. Apparently, you and mystery boy are already acquainted.”

Her voice rises in pitch upon learning that news. “What? Who? Is it someone from the University? I don’t think Drew has any more friends I could possibly introduce you to, so I’m at a loss. Spill it, Luce,” she begs.

“Kale. Kale Montgomery. Please, dear God, tell me you know him and he’s not just some creep who knew exactly who you were the moment I mentioned my boxing friend Charlie.”

She starts laughing, and I have no idea why. I turn towards Kale, who’s looking at me in amusement.

“Why the hell are you laughing?” Rolling my eyes, I can only imagine her face right now. Bright red and probably wiping away tears as she chuckles at my expense.

“Yeah, Lucy, I know Kale. That makes me feel so much better about your being with him. You know, I don’t know why I never thought of it before, because you two would be absolutely perfect for each other. Seriously. He’s so much better suited for you than any of Drew’s stuffy university friends.”

Scoffing, I shake my head, lowering my voice again. “Charlie, you know it’s not like that,” I say through gritted teeth. “I just figured I’d get the scoop. So he’s a safe one?”

“I don’t know that I’d say that, but as far as you ending up in a hole in the basement? That won’t happen with Kale. Unless, you know, you’re into that kind of kink.” Snickering, she gives me a few words of encouragement before getting off the phone. As much as I want to flip off my phone, I’m grateful to know that he really isn’t some creep job I was preparing to have hot, sweaty, teacher-fantasy sex with.

When I walk back towards him, he lifts his eyebrows up at me. Leaning down, his lips find my ear. “Do I pass the test, Ms. Dawson?” I shudder as his breath tickles my ear but silently miss the closeness when he pulls away, his eyes watching mine.

Standing up straight, I square my shoulders and look directly at him. “As with any challenging test worth a damn, there are multiple parts, each with a different format. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve successfully completed part one.”

I’ve never done the whole role-play thing, and it feels really sexy pretending to be something I’m not. Come to think of it, can this really be role-play since I am a teacher? I tell myself that I’ll allow it, knowing I’m definitely not like this in a real classroom.

Taking my hand, he leads me into the house, and this time, I don’t hesitate. He closes the door behind me, and suddenly my back’s pushed up against it. Kale’s hands are on the door behind me, and he’s staring down at me, the playboy grin gone from his face and is replaced with a hungry look. He presses his body up against mine, and I feel it. I know what he’s doing, and it’s working. He’s hard—unbelievably, undeniably hard—pushed against my belly, and my pussy is on fire, chanting loudly, “Insert here, Insert here, Insert here!” Unfortunately, his dick doesn’t seem to understand pussy mind speak. He still hasn’t impaled me yet and it's driving me and my impatient lady parts crazy—and hopefully him, too.

Slow the fuck down, Lucy. At least let the guy kiss you first before you start ripping his clothes off.

I’m trying to calm myself down when I notice that he’s moving in for the kill. I’d say about freaking time, but in reality, we’ve been together a whole five minutes. My breathing changes, quickening as I watch his lips come towards mine, and my eyes instinctively close the moment I feel them press against my mouth. The kiss is hungry, hot, and it’s not long before I feel my lips part, my tongue darting out to demand entrance. I can feel a slow smile spread over his face, and instead of playing an adult version of tonsil hockey with me, he pulls away, leaving me panting, wanting more, so much more. All of a sudden, my favorite BOB is looking pretty damn lacking right about now.

Instead of looking up at him, I stare straight at his chest, trying to calm my racing heart. Call me whatever you want. Slut. Whore. Hooker. Harlot. Tramp. Floozy. Skank. Hussy. Whatever. I seriously couldn’t care less what moniker you want to give me if it means I’m in bed with this guy in two minutes flat. Call me Loosie freaking Lou if you want. Because right now, I want nothing more than to wrap my legs around his waist, pull his dick out of his jeans, and drive myself down on him, riding him wildly.

A hand cups my cheek, drawing my face up so that I’m looking at him. His deep brown eyes are liquid pools of chocolate, waiting to erupt, devouring me in the process. Without saying a word, he brings a hand down from the door and wastes no time cupping my breast. I silently hope he’s not one of those ‘I want a handful’ types of guys, because that’s definitely not what he’s going to get. He doesn’t seem to mind, and I watch as he moves from one breast to the other before he settles in between my cleavage, a lone finger making a trail across my skin. I’m frozen solid, not moving save for my chest as I take in deep breaths, trying not to overheat from how much he’s turning me on. Slowly, his finger slides over my breasts, down my stomach, and past my waist. His eyes are on mine the entire time his hand makes its exploration, and he pauses momentarily when his hand lands on my thigh, millimeters below the bottom of my skirt.

Seeing as how we’ve spent all of sixty minutes together total, I should probably stop him, but I don’t want to. He seems to notice, and slowly, his hand slides up my thigh, under my skirt, up, up, up, until he’s cupping my sex. My bare, soaking-freaking-wet sex. His eyes widen when he realizes I’m sans panties, and for a moment, I swear the heavens are singing, ready for me to finally reach climax. With one quick swipe on my clit, he teases me then pulls his hand out of my skirt. Standing up straight, he smooths down my clothes.

“And that, Ms. Dawson? How was part two?” He’s grinning down at me, and it’s cocky as hell. As much as I want him to throw me over his shoulder and have his way with me, I find my wits and draw up every part of wannabe sex vixen Lucy Dawson.

“Part two? Oh, you’re getting ahead of yourself, Montgomery. You came extremely close, but in the end, you didn’t successfully fill a single bubble. Better luck next time.”

With that, I pat him on the cheek, move around him, and walk down the hall, knowing he’s watching my ass the whole entire time.

Kale

DIDN’T EVEN fill a fucking bubble. I want to laugh at her, loving how much she’s fulfilling my teacher fantasy, but not a single bubble? I know it’s not exactly a hole, but shouldn’t the clit count for at least five points? I’ve received A pluses with all my clit play, and I’ll be damned if Lucy Dawson hurts my perfect record.

I’m not sure where she thinks she’s going, so I follow her down the hall. Finding her in my kitchen, I watch as she rummages through my refrigerator just making herself at home. She’s bent over, and I can see her ass sticking out. My cock spasms at the memory of feeling her bare pussy under that sexy-as-hell skirt.

“What are you doing, Lucy?” I ask, reverting back to normal, knowing we might as well get to know each other a little before jumping right into the sack. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all about come and dump, but something about Lucy lets me know that she’s worthy of a little more than that. She’s sassy, sweet, sarcastic. Exactly the kind of chick I like to hang out with.

She almost breaks my heart when she stands up, her skirt covering her sweet ass. “Well, I’m assuming we’re not going out, and I just worked my ass off dancing to Latin songs in my living room. My stomach’s about to eat itself, and I assure you, that won’t be a pleasant experience. Therefore, I’m raiding your fridge, seeing what I can make.”

To be honest, I planned on us going out to grab a bite to eat before hitting the sheets, but when she showed up on my porch wearing that sexy outfit, I knew there was no way I was taking her out in public.

“We’ll order takeout,” I tell her, keeping it plain and simple.

“Maybe I don’t want takeout,” she replies, challenging me. She places a small hand on her hip, jutting it out, waiting for me to respond. I can see the cute, brown freckle on the tip of her nose, and she bites her lower lip as she tries to suppress a grin.

“Maybe you’re in my home and we’ll do what I damn well please,” I growl, trying to gauge just how far I can push her buttons.

Her eyes grow wide, and I don’t miss the way she shifts and clamps her thighs together. Oh yeah, Ms. Lucy Dawson seems to love a little bit of ordering around. This could be fun.

After crossing the kitchen, I grip her hips, pushing her back until she’s pressed up against the counter. Her wet, pink tongue darts out of her mouth as she licks her lips. It takes every ounce of strength not to lean down and caress it with my own. When she tried to pry my lips open earlier, I didn’t allow it, knowing that I should at least feed her before throwing her into my bed. If I’d let her deepen the kiss, all bets would’ve been off, so instead, I’ve been rocking a hard dick for the last five minutes. Her eyes haven’t moved from mine, and I know she’s waiting to see what I’m going to do. In the end, I surprise her by doing nothing.

I let the moment pass and head to the freezer, pulling out a bottle of cinnamon whiskey. Lucy watches as I grab two double shot glasses, filling each to the brim. When I hand one to her, she cocks an eyebrow at me.

“You know there’s no need to liquor me up, Kale. We’re both adults here, and well, my coming over here dressed like this? Pretty much means I’m a sure thing.”

Shaking my head, I’m beginning to realize she’s not one to hold back. I like that in a woman. I’ve never been a mind reader, and it’s refreshing to have someone be boldly honest.

“As much as I’d love to take advantage of a sexy teacher, I’m not trying to liquor you up. Scout’s honor.”

She eyes me suspiciously when she sees that I can’t figure out the proper Scout’s salute. “Why do I find it hard to believe that you were ever a Boy Scout?”

I grin back at her and shrug. “Boy Scouts, badass Army soldier? Either way, I promise. I just want to toast. To new friendships.”

A wicked smile crosses her lips, and I want to kiss it right off her face. “Friendships, eh? Okay, Kale. To new…umm, friendships.”

She raises her glass, and we clink them together, the chime sounding loudly in the otherwise silent room. We watch each other as we down our shots, and she winces at the burn rolling down her throat. I grab both glasses and set them on the kitchen counter, enjoying the same burning sensation in my chest as the whiskey flows through me. I meant what I said. I’m not trying to liquor her up by any means, but in my experience, a little bit of alcohol can take the edge off a one-night stand. My stomach grumbles, and I decide to get back to the matter at hand.