Teacher's Pet (A Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

Teacher's Pet..17..

Shave and a haircut, I knock twice on Professor Jackson's office door when I arrive.

I feel bad ass Jenna coming back.

The Jenna I was before I moved to Lincoln to attend college.

I've been too much of a goody-goody.

It's about time for me to kick up some dust and act a little devilish.

Shave and a haircut, I knock on the office door again smiling.

"Who is it?!" Professor Jackson shouts and I clear my throat. He knows it's me. I hear him scoff before he grunts. "It's open."

"Obviously," I scoff as I walk into the office and close the door behind me. "I was just being polite, bro."

"Miss Toussaint," Professor Jackson's tone is warning but calm. "I'd advise you to keep the "bros" to a minimum and to yourself."

"Oh, you'd advise me?" I smirk. "I'm not sure you should be advising me on a damn thing, Professor Jackson."

Michael's head pops up and he glares at me. "Watch your mouth, Miss Toussaint."

The way his fiery dark brown eyes penetrate me sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end.

And I hate to admit it... in a sexual way.

His anger is turning me on.

No, no, Jenna.

Don't let him disturb you.

Remember the titty fuck?

Anger encapsulates me as I walk closer to his desk.

I purposely sway my hips then stand behind the chair placed before his desk.

"Aight, br-dude." I smile, watching his jaw clench, as I stand in one of my hips. "No need to get all butt hurt. Chill."

"What the fuck is your problem, Jenna?" He growls, standing up from his desk, as I flip my hair. "What the fuck was that back there? Your behavior was deplorable. Were you trying to get kicked out of my class?"

"Mostly out of your life." I mumble, moving to the side, as he walks to his office door and clicks the lock.

"What was that, Miss Toussaint?" He asks behind me.

"I said I don't have a fucking problem, Professor." I state, absently, staring at my nails.

"It seems you do." He blinks, pulling at my back belt loop. "What happened last night? What was with those texts?"

I move from his touch, turning around to face him, as I fold my arms.

"Please, don't touch me."

"Why not?" He licks his lips and studies my face. "Why can't I touch you?" I arch a brow, close-mouthed, as he sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Jenna, why didn't you just text me the directions to your job?" He asks again, in a softer voice, as he walks around me to lean against the edge of his desk. "I really wanted to see you."

"Why would I text you the directions to my job, Professor?" I ask, pursing my lips. "You didn't need them. I do believe you were well occupied."

"Why do you say that?" He frowns, genuinely, as I scoff. I look away from his clueless eyes as he continues. "Jenna, I needed to see you. I owed you, and I wanted to apologized to you..." He reaches out to touch me, but I recoil. "and your body."

He frowns as I purse my lips, again, and look down at my nails.

"There was no reason to text you, sir."