Bad Teacher

By: Clarissa Wild

Chapter 1





Thomas





The music isn’t the only thing in this club that’s hard.

What, too much?

Deal with it.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get laid. It’s a good way to blow off steam.

Talking about steam … God, just looking at all these girls glistening with sweat as they shake their asses makes me horny. Time to find what I came here for.

I slide through the people across the dance floor, tapping my foot a few times because the music is so damn catchy. They’re playing a good old 90’s song called “My Love” by Route 94, and I can feel the bass vibe through my skin. As I check out all the girls around me, I let myself go with the music, dancing to the beat.

I glance around the room and spot a girl with a drink in her hand, dancing on her own.

And not just any girl.

That girl.

The girl with the smoking hot body, barely hidden in a pink knee-length skirt and crop top, dancing on black leather wedges. Her bob cut hair, all shades of red, sways while she shuffles on her feet, casually sipping from her drink. Her eyes are focused on the floor, like she’s not even aware of the fact that she’s being watched. And oh … do I love watching her.

After a few seconds, she sits down at the bar, taking a quick sip of her drink, while I sit down at the other end and watch her from the corner of my eye.

She turns her head, and in an instant, our eyes connect.

Smoldering heat.

That’s all there is as the people around us dance, but I don’t even see them anymore. All I see is her. That girl … the girl I’m going to bang tonight.

That’s what I came here for.

Is it shallow?

Maybe, but then again … nothing wrong with just wanting a fuck.

And by the looks of it, so does she.

Her eyes glimmer in the dark, a curious smile on her face. A green and purple flash of light reflects from her nose where a tiny crystal bud rests. I can’t help but wonder where else she has those.

She sets her empty glass down, gets up, and turns around, but not before throwing a final glance at me. I get up too and follow her through the dancing crowd. She disappears behind a column, and I lose sight of her.

No fucking way she’s getting away.

I follow her trail through the club, passing through the crowd like they don’t even matter. I’ve seen many girls come and go, but this one, in particular, catches my eye more than any of the other girls here do. I don’t know. All I know is I have to find her.

So I keep looking until I finally do.

There, in the middle of the dance floor alone, she dances. Her fingers brush through her hair as she sways her hips, her eyes closed, focused on the sound of the music drowning out whatever needs to be silenced.

Just the way I like it.

I step closer until she finally raises her head and sees me.

Her eyes, hidden under thick lashes, sparkle with enthusiasm as she looks up at me. She playfully bites her lip as I approach, and I reciprocate with an added tongue swipe.

Her brow rises as I place my hand on her hip, pulling her closer toward me.

She hesitates a second, but when the beat drops, her hands slide up to my shoulders, and she starts to dance. The friction between us is undeniable, her ass swaying side to side against my hands. I cop a feel, which she doesn’t seem to mind. We inch closer and closer, her eyes irresistible, but her mouth even more so. When our lips almost touch, her lips part.

“Who are you?” she whispers.

“Call me John …” I murmur.

“John who?”

“John Doe.”

She smirks. “Your real name.”

I twirl her around in my arm and lean on her shoulder, my lips dangerously close to her neck. She takes in a sharp breath of air as my teeth graze her skin, my breath probably already setting her on fire.

“Do you really want to know?”

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