Forbidden Extras

Ms. Harrington

Warning: Graphic adult content ahead. Ye be warned.
This was pulled from Forbidden Literature. I felt like we could do without Jasper's POV although it was very interesting. I feel that it does not add to the plot line and I've had other authors tell me the same so it will remain in here!

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J A S P E R

My head was absolutely throbbing. I wasn't sure how much I drank last night, but all I know is that after seeing her with him, I crossed my limit quickly.

Blurred memories kept resurfacing that I couldn't decipher properly as real or a dream. All I knew is that they all had her face. That beautiful brunette from Bulfort with a sharp tongue and playful personality. One second I was watching her roll her tight body against another man making my temper flare for some unknown reason and then I was on my way to the elevator.

The more I wake up the more the images fill my mind: her plump breast under my hands, her grinding her wet core of my face, her desperate moans making my member ache with desire even now. Christ, it was all too much. I'm going to have to sit down the remainder of the class.

Just then the door opened to reveal the subject of my thoughts hurrying in and plopping down. I tried to avoid any contact with her but I slipped once she bent over to dig around her back pack giving me an excellent view of her chest.

Her sun-kissed skin contrasted against the light green shirt which interestingly is the same shade of her eyes. Her hair was wound up messily exposing her sharp collarbone that was very much a feature in my memories. I frowned noticing she hid her long legs in a pair of jeans although they weren't bad to look at covered or uncovered.

Once she bent up from her backpack journal in hand I went back to the boy's god-awful excuse of a poem. I bet a fifth grader could write better than him.

He was trying too hard to make the poem revolved around raunchy sex. It was clear he was very inexperienced. Before I decided to gauche my eyes out with a rusty fork I snapped the book shut looking at him. His face turned completely white at my advice. I, too, had received the same advice I am giving him now when I first began writing. It stuck with me even to this day. Maybe I could do that for him.

My focus then shifted onto a particular brunette squirming in her seat. She looked completely unfocused, her mind clearly not in the class. I smirked thinking of where it could possibly be.

Slowly I made my way to her seat plucking her journal out from her. Her green eyes widened at the action.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

I didn't realize how much I enjoyed the sound of her voice. I shouldn't, I kept reminding myself, but I really did.

After a bit of teasing I turned to the classroom reading her entries aloud. I knew it was a low-blow, but I would do just about anything to get a reaction out of her. It was very enjoyable.

I began reading the poem with mock confidence until I realized the truth behind the poem. It wasn't a poem at all. It was a memory. A very filthy, expletive memory of what I was trying to figure out all morning.

With every sentence I read the images kept filtering in getting more and more clear. The way her face looked when my mouth sucked her clit, the feel of her fingers digging in scalp, the way her chest would bounce with every thrust of my digits, it was all crystal clear now.

I hooked up with my student in the elevator

I sat down at my desk and crossed my legs trying to hide the hard-on I was getting. Suddenly my teasing wasn't so funny anymore.