Teach Me Something Dirty, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Alex Grayson.
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Cover Design by Cover Me Darling
Formatted by Alex Grayson
Edited by Edits by Erin
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Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Thank you!
Also by Alex Grayson
About the Author
To anyone who has ever had a crush on a teacher…
Blurb
“Teach me something dirty.”
That’s what my student, Luna Hendrix, whispered to me the night I rescued her from a handsy boy from school.
Despite her filthy words and the way my body begged to take hers, she screamed innocence.
I really shouldn’t. It was wrong to want to stain her purity.
But I did. I gave her lessons no teacher should give their student.
She wanted dirty, so I laid my hands on her and gave her raw. I made her mine.
She screamed my name so prettily, and in doing so, she made me hers.
Chapter One
LUNA
I sit, both anxious and nervous, as Mr. Monroe hands out our graded essays. I worked hard all week on that paper and feel it could be my best work yet.
English is one of my favorite subjects. Writing, in any form, is my passion. Has been since I was a child. Every day before I go to bed, I write in a journal about my day. When I’m bored at home or have time to spare, I write short stories. For years, I’ve carried around a small notebook in my purse for when inspiration hits.
Mr. Monroe approaches my desk, and I drop my eyes away from him. As much as I love looking at my teacher, I also hate doing so, because he makes my body feel things. Things I shouldn’t feel for a man his age, especially my English teacher.
On the back of his left ring finger is a tattoo, which I find very interesting. He has the sleeves of his white, button-up shirt rolled haphazardly to his elbows, revealing a few tattoos, and the first button is undone. There’s still a couple hours of school left, but he’s already loosened his tie. And his hair, a little longer on the top than it is on the sides, has that crazy good look men have sometimes where it appears as if they’ve just run their fingers through it.
As unfortunate as my attraction is to the man, he obviously hates me. Within five minutes of walking into his classroom on my first day a couple of months ago, Mr. Monroe took a disliking to me. I mean, I don’t know for sure if he doesn’t like me, but if the constant scowl on his face anytime he looks at me is any indication, then he for sure doesn’t care for me.
I just don’t know why. I’m nice, I’m quiet, my grades are excellent, and I’m a good girl. What did I do to put myself on his bad side? I don’t see him giving any of the other students the evil eye, so it’s plainly just me.
“See me after school, Miss Hendrix,” he says in a low voice and the same glowering look in his eye that almost has me shrinking in my seat.
Why does he want to see me after school? Is it about my paper? Did I do that terrible?
Forcing myself to not back down from his intense stare, I slowly nod my head.
As he walks away, I purposely drop my eyes to my paper. It’s not wise to watch your teacher’s butt as he walks away.
I’m confused for a moment as I look over my written assignment. It doesn’t look like the paper I submitted, and there’s no grade. There is, however, a comment written in red ink at the top.
I find it very interesting you would submit this for your assignment.
Horror fills me when I read the first sentence.
I want my teacher to teach me dirty things.
Oh no, no no! my mind screams at me.
I quickly scan down the rest of the paper.
This can not be happening to me!
This was supposed to be my thoughts and opinion of the book A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman. What this is, is definitely not that.
I started reading romance novels when I was fifteen. At first I was shocked at the descriptive ways authors described sexual encounters between the main characters. It didn’t take long for the surprise to wear off, and I became intrigued. I started writing sexy scenes in my own stories, because I liked the way they made me feel.
One day last week, I woke in the middle of the night from a dream I had of Mr. Monroe. My body was covered in sweat, and I had a terribly delicious ache between my legs. I wanted to get the dream down so I could analyze it later and maybe use it in one of my stories. I ended up writing three full pages and added more to the dream. You know how you always wake up from a dream right when it gets to the good part? Yep, you guessed it. That’s what happened to me. I couldn’t leave it unfulfilled. I finished the story to the very end. And boy did it end good.
Heat floods my face, and I want to sink through the floor and never resurface.
I obviously picked up the wrong paper from my desk when I was running late for school yesterday morning.
I close my eyes and pray, no I beg, God to please let this be some terrible mistake.
Please, please don’t tell me I submitted my dirty little dream-slash-completed fantasy to my teacher. Not just my teacher, but my too-hot-to-be-a-teacher teacher.
God must ignore my plea because when I open my eyes and they meet Mr. Monroe’s at the front of the room, his face tells me I did, in fact, do exactly that.
His gaze flickers away from me a second later and he addresses the room.
“Most of you passed with flying colors. Anyone with a ninety-two and above can skip the next assignment.” A round of hoots and cat calls shout throughout the room. He waits for everyone to quiet down to continue. “Those with grades lower than that,” his eyes skitter to me again for a fraction of a second before he moves them away, “obviously need more incentive. I want you to write a five-page essay on what you want to do with your life after you graduate high school and how you can accomplish reaching that goal. You have until next Friday to hand it in.”
Now it’s groans and whining complaints that fill the room. I’m still mortified by what I’ve done to pay anyone any attention.
When the bell rings a few minutes later, I scramble up from my desk and quickly gather my things. I want out of this room now before I hyperventilate. I’m almost to the door and have managed to not look at Mr. Monroe sitting at his desk when he suddenly calls my name.
“Miss Hendrix.”
My shoulders stiffen when he calls my name, and I’m tempted to ignore him. The good girl that I am doesn’t let me though. I turn around slowly, my face surely beet red. He’s leaning back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee and his laced fingers laying on his flat stomach. He’s eye candy that I can almost never resist looking at.
“I’ll be speaking with your track coach today, so he knows you’ll be late for practice.” He pauses. “Just in case you were planning to use that as an excuse.”
I inwardly groan. That’s exactly what I was going to do. The last thing I want to do is be alone with him. Even if I didn’t make an utter fool of myself by handing in the wrong paper, he still makes me nervous to be around. No, I never used our names in the paper, but I did use descriptions of him. He’d have to be stupid to not know it’s about him, and one thing Mr. Monroe is not, is stupid.
Looks like I’ve got no choice but to see him after school.
What a wonderful time that shall be.
I give him a jerky nod and a muttered, “Yes, sir.”
His eyes darken for a moment and the muscle in his jaw twitches. Before he can say anything else, I turn and hurry out of the room.
The hallways are already mostly clear. One thing you don’t do is get in the middle of a high schooler and their lunch period. It’s the only time they can gossip without fear of a teacher overhearing.
“Hey, Hendrix!”
I look up from watching my shoes squeak across the linoleum floor and find Aaron at his locker.
I slow my steps, but I don’t stop. Something about Aaron gives me the heebie jeebies, and I don’t want to be alone with him in the hallway.
“There’s a bonfire out by the lake after the baseball game this Friday. You in?”
Even if he didn’t give me the creeps, I still wouldn’t be in. I have no desire to be... whatever Aaron wants me to be.
“Sorry. Can’t,” I t
Lies. I have no plans. Well, unless you count going home, hanging out in my room and writing until Hannah, my best friend back home, gets off work so we can FaceTime.
“One of these days I’m going to drag you to a party,” Aaron says.
His words send shivers down my spine because it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if he meant that literally.
I give him a tight smile. “Maybe next time.”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but I feel his eyes lingering on me as I walk away.
I stop just inside the door of the lunch room. Hearing the loud chatter and seeing so many faces I have no wish to see has me spinning on my heel and walking back out. I go to the bathroom instead, deciding I’ll spend the next twenty-five minutes sitting in one of the stalls and hope no one comes inside.
My wish is ignored when ten minutes into my peaceful reprieve the door opens, and I hear the clack of heeled shoes.
Heeled shoes. What teenager wears freaking heels to school?
The rich, the pretty, and the popular, that’s who.
I’m in the far stall so I can’t see who it is through the crack in the door, but it doesn’t take me long to figure it out. I barely suppress a groan.
“Aaron’s taking me out Saturday,” Brooklyn gushes, and I can just imagine her leaning over the sink to swipe her peachy lip gloss across her lips.
“Thought you two were taking a break?” Audrey, Brooklyn’s best friend, asks.
I carefully shift on the closed toilet seat.
“It wasn’t really a break. I was just pissed at him for a while. I’m over it now.”
“What about…?”
“Don’t you dare say her name!” Brooklyn says heatedly, cutting Audrey off. “If that bitch knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay the hell away from my man. And Aaron’s interest in her will fade.”
Tension rolls off of me in waves because I know she’s talking about me. Like Mr. Monroe, Brooklyn hated me on sight. But at least I know why. The first time we met, Aaron was standing at my locker talking to me. Even if you couldn’t hear his words, which were flirtatious as he grilled me on who I was, it wasn’t hard to figure out from his body language that he was interested. Brooklyn walked up to us and practically climbed his body like a tree, staking her claim at the same time she sent me a withering look that said he’s mine.
I’ve tried to avoid Aaron since then. Not because I’m afraid of what Brooklyn would do, but because I have no interest in him. Unfortunately, Aaron either hasn’t gotten the memo I’m not into him or he’s ignoring the not interested vibes I’ve been sending his way. Either way, it’s not my fault Brooklyn’s boyfriend is straying.
“I don’t know, Brook.” Audrey’s voice is filled with doubt. “It seems to me his interest is only growing. I’ve seen the way he looks at her during lunch.”
“After this weekend, he’ll forget all about her. I plan to make sure of it.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Audrey asks.
“Then I’ll make the bitch too ugly to draw his attention anymore.”
I’ve heard enough evil come out of Brooklyn’s mouth. In general, I’m a good person, avoiding any and all conflict, but hearing her threats, knowing it’s not my fault her boyfriend won’t leave me alone, sets something off inside me.
I get up from the toilet and flush it, even though I didn’t use the bathroom. Grabbing the latch, I swing the door open. Satisfaction thrills me at the split-second look of fear on Brooklyn’s face when she realizes someone overheard her threats. The look is gone as soon as she realizes it’s me, and loathing replaces it.
“Good. I’m glad you’re here,” she sneers, her nose wrinkling in revulsion. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Aaron is mine, and it would be wise of you to stay away from him.”
I walk to the sink and squirt soap on my hands without sparing her another glance.
“I think you should be telling your boyfriend that. I have no interest in him. He’s the one who keeps approaching me.”
“Only because you keep giving him fuck me eyes.”
I snort as I rinse my hands. “You’re delusional.” I look at her through the mirror. “Aaron is the last man I’d want to touch me.”
Her stance against the sink stiffens. “Now look here, bitch, you—”
“No, you listen.” I cut her off, turning away from the sink and snatching out a paper towel from the holder. “I don’t want your creepy boyfriend anywhere near me. You got a problem with his behavior, take it up with him and leave me out of it.”
I leave Brooklyn and her friend behind before either of them can say anything else. I’m tempted to leave school early because I’m so over today and just want to be away from this place. But I don’t want to push my luck with Mr. Monroe. The last thing I need is for him to call my parents and tell them I missed a meeting with him. I hate letting down my parents.
With only five minutes left until my next class starts, I grab my chemistry book from my locker and go stand outside the classroom door.
Leaning my head back against the wall, I send up a mental wish that my next two classes don’t go by too fast.
Chapter Two
AUGUST
Moving my eyes away from my laptop screen when there’s a light tap on the door, I glance over and see Luna Hendrix hovering outside the door, like she’s hoping I didn’t hear her knock. From the look on her face, she’s not happy to be here. If I was honest, I’m not ecstatic she’s here either. Being around this girl makes my life complicated.
I get up from my desk and walk around to the front, leaning my ass on the edge.
“Have a seat, Miss Hendrix.”
Averting my eyes from her ass when she drops several books on one desk and walks to the one I gestured to, I cross my arms and look down at the floor until I know she’s seated.
“I’m surprised you actually showed today,” I say.
With a shrug, she avoids my eyes as she begins tracing imaginary circles on the desk “I didn’t want to, but I don’t want to be in any more trouble than I already am.”
I reach back to my desk and pick up a piece of paper. “You want to explain this to me?” I hold up a copy of her essay.”
“Not really. Can we just pretend I never submitted my work, and I can redo it?”
“No, we can’t,” I say flatly. “What you can do is explain to me why you handed this in as your assignment.” She doesn’t say anything, and she still refuses to look at me. “Miss Hendrix? I’m waiting.”
Finally, she lifts her eyes, a pretty crystal blue, and if the situation wasn’t what it was, the look on her face would be amusing. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen anyone look so embarrassed.
“It was an accident, okay?” she says in exasperation. “I must have picked up the wrong paper yesterday morning.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, looking down at the paper. “I can understand how that could happen.”
“Can you not read that with me right here? Actually,” she gets up from her chair and comes forward, reaching for the paper, “can I have it back, please? What did you do? Make a copy of it?”
“Sit!” The word comes out as a loud command. Luna freezes for a moment before she backs her ass toward the chair and plops down in it.
I take a calming breath before I continue. “I make copies of all of my students’ work before I give them back. As for me reading it with you sitting right here,” I pause, “we both already know what’s on this paper, so you being here shouldn’t make a difference.”
“It sure makes a difference to me,” she mutters, nearly too low for me to hear.
“Now let’s talk about why you wrote it in the first place.”
Her eyes jerk to me, and her blush renews. She lets out a nervous giggle. “I’d rather not.”
“Let’s do it anyway.”
Again, her blue eyes fall away.
