teacher x student | wlw | age gap Emily had to take a year off from school because of her mental health, and now she's 18 and ready to start fresh. She's always been a straight-A student and plans to keep it that way by focusing on her studies this year. But then she meets the new English teacher, who she realizes she's seen before, although this time she seems different, more strict. Will Emily be able to stay focused, or will she find herself falling for the charms of her strict teacher? • Slow burn • Teacher x student • Age gap (24 years) ~Highest rankings~ #1 in lgbt #1 in womensfiction #1 in teacherstudent #1 in englishteacher #1 wlwteacherxstudent #2 in teacherspet #2 in women #2 in girlxwoman #2 in lesbian #3 in gxg #4 in wlw

"I'm going to fuck you until you're trembling beneath me Isa, until the only thing you can say is my name." Isa shifted, grinding against my slick, leaking cock, feeling her pulse under my hand, every twitch driving me crazier. My own cock was hard, straining, every nerve on fire. The guilt, sharp and insistent, clawed at my chest. I shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong. I shouldn't want it. But wanting it, needing it, made everything hotter, sharper, more unbearable. Every forbidden touch, every gasp, every press of our bodies together was sin incarnate, and it made me ache to keep going. "Miss Cross, please." She begged, voice trembling. "I need you inside me." "You're mine." I whispered as I slipped the tip in, fingers stroking her fucking perfect breasts, teasing, letting her feel the full weight of my dominance. - At Saint Therésè Academy for Girls, Miss Evelyn Cross is untouchable. Black button ups. Steel eyes. A voice that could slice through glass. She's the guidance counselor girls fear, the faculty respects, and no one dares cross. Rumors follow her like perfume of a ruined past, a war behind her eyes, and a heart made of rusted steel. Then Isadora 'Isa' Mercer walks in. Eighteen. Reckless. Dripping with sin and sunshine. Her skirt's too short. Her tongue's too sharp. And her eyes say she came here to ruin something. Evelyn tells herself she can handle it; the late night counseling sessions. The giggles behind closed doors. The lipstick stains that start showing up on her skin. But Isa doesn't want help. She wants control. And she's not afraid to beg for it. Now they're breaking rules, breaking each other, and baptizing themselves in every filthy secret they swore they'd never touch. Guilt becomes foreplay. Power becomes pleasure. And every whispered "Miss" turns into a moan she can't ignore. She was supposed to guide her. She ended up taking her apart, one touch at a time.