Inflame (Explosive) (6 page)

The end of the school year is right around the corner, and after Eric, a good old-fashioned summer fling sounds like the perfect way to spend my time off. I usually pack up and head to Florida to work in the family restaurant my mom and stepdad, Steve, own, but earlier this spring, they had a massive hurricane blow through. Their place received so much damage that they had to close, and they don’t think they’ll be back open until mid-summer. Mom told me not to worry about it, to just spend my summer back up here. I think she basically knew I’d get in the way, and I understand that. Still, Mom and I are close, and I hate that she’s going through this stress, but if anyone can get her through it, it’s Steve.

Checking my Garmin, I realize I’m at my destination. I study the house as I pull into the driveway. It’s a one-story ranch, a light tan color with dark green shutters. It’s cute and nothing like my small, cramped, two-bedroom apartment with a living room barely big enough for me to do my exercise videos in.

I flip down the visor to make sure that my eyeliner isn’t smudged, and that my lip gloss is fresh. Once I’m satisfied, I slip out of my car, smooth out my plaid skirt, and make my way up to the front door. I’m about to ring the bell when the door swings open and Kale leans against the doorjamb, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s checking me out. Try not to judge me, but while I love the buzz Channing gives me, I’m longing for something hard and thick to get me off, preferably with the ability to thrust on its own.

I realize I chose this outfit perfectly because Kale’s licking his lips as his eyes sweep down my body. Okay, so I may be playing on his fantasy with my black-and-white plaid skirt. I have my best push-up bra on because I’m definitely not blessed in the breast department, and Victoria Secret’s been my best friend since I graduated high school. My black blouse is buttoned up just to the bottom of my breasts, and the lace of my camisole I’m wearing underneath is barely covering my chest. My black boots cover my legs all the way up to my lower thighs, making it so there are only a few inches of skin you can see. That doesn’t seem to bother him though, seeing as how he can’t take his eyes off them.

You’re probably thinking I look a little more like a sexy student, right? I used to think the same thing until I Googled dirty teacher porn. It’s practically the same thing, except for the teacher, you throw on a pair of rimmed glasses and forget the pigtails, and if you’re feeling extra frisky, you add a ruler. I figure Kale and I need a few nights together before we get to the whole spanking thing.

While he’s taking me in, I decide to check him out just as shamelessly. I wasn’t wrong when I assumed that he has a hard body. Dark, stone-washed jeans lie low on his hips, and a gray muscle t-shirt hugs every single ridge and outline of his toned torso. His arms, while ripped, aren’t huge, and I’m a-okay with that. Overly muscular guys give me the heebies. Nope, Kale’s the perfect amount of tone and tightness, and when I look up at his face, the hot look of desire in his eyes has wet heat flooding in between my legs.
Thank principals for Bring Your Daddy to School Day.
He has a slight five-o’clock shadow that’s extremely sexy, and for a split second, I think about his face between my legs, the roughness pressed up against me.

Suddenly he breaks out into a wide smile, and those dimples deepen. “Come on in, Ms. Dawson. I’ve been waiting for you,” he confesses, and while I’d normally think that phrase would sound creepy, it has the opposite effect coming from Kale. Like he’s Dracula and he’s hypnotizing me, forcing my legs to move towards him. Before I cross the threshold, I catch my bearings and remember that Dracula was a creep. Definitely not of the Salvatore variety. I take a step back, and he frowns at me.

“My best friend Charlie knows exactly where I am. I texted her your address and told her to check in. If I don’t answer, she’ll know something’s up and come kick your ass. She can do that. I’ve seen her do that whole kickboxing thing and take men down,” I say quickly, realizing I probably sound like a paranoid lunatic.

Kale laughs as he crosses his arms, staring at me. “Charlie? Charlie Davenport, Charlie?”

I feel my eyes widen. She knows this guy? Screw her for keeping him a secret. “Yes, Charlie Davenport. You know her? She’s one of my best friends. We were roommates in college and both ended up in Clarksville.”

He steps out onto the porch, not stopping until he’s directly in front of me. Even with my boots, I have to look up at him. “If you know Charlie and Charlie knows you’re here, then you definitely don’t have anything to worry about. She’s knocked me flat on my ass more times than I can count,” he informs me, his eyes dancing at the memory.

There’s something extremely sexy about a guy who can admit that a girl can take him down, and I’m starting to feel more than comfortable staying in tonight. Truth be told, I figured this would be the case. I’m not really dressed for a night on the town. Before I can respond, I can hear my phone ringing. Charlie’s first check-in, I’m sure.

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.