Chapter 118

Fig’s POV

Monday morning dawns with a restless heat in my veins, my body still wired from the reckless, intoxicating night with Alison Blake.

My bed is empty, the sheets cold, but her presence lingers—her jasmine-musk scent on my pillow, the memory of her skin under my hands, her moans echoing in my skull.

I’m a teacher, a man who’s crossed lines before with girls like June, but Alison’s different—wild, untamed, a siren who matched my hunger and left me craving more.

I grab my phone on Sunday morning, my thumb hovering, the need to reach her overwhelming. I type a quick text: “You okay, Alison? Can’t get you out of my head. Still dying to bang you again.” I hit send, my pulse spiking, imagining her reading it, her lips curving, her body responding.

But minutes pass, and there’s no reply, no dots signaling she’s typing. I frown, sending another: “Thinking about you. Friday was unreal. Are you there?” Still nothing.

My jaw tightens, irritation mingling with desire, but I keep texting, each unanswered message fueling a mix of frustration and obsession. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging. I need you again.” Silence.

She’s ignoring me, and it stings, but it also sharpens my hunger. Alison’s a wild thing, a storm of seduction who stormed into my office Friday, her skirt teasing her thighs, her eyes daring me to take her. I knew she was trouble—but I didn’t expect her to consume me like this.

Friday night replays in vivid, searing detail, each moment a pulse of heat that makes my cock stir. I’d snuck her out, her silhouette slipping into my car, her skirt riding up, her thighs begging to be touched.

At my house,when she emerged from my bedroom in a black dress, the neckline plunging, her full cleavage like a fucking invitation. I’d kissed her hard, my tongue claiming her, her moans vibrating against my lips, her body yielding but fierce, a challenge I couldn’t resist.

The club was a blur of pounding bass and writhing bodies, but Alison was the center of my focus, her hips swaying, her eyes locked on mine, teasing, taunting. I couldn’t take it—her lips on that straw, her dress riding higher—and I dragged her to the bathroom, the stall a cramped altar for our lust. I’d hiked her dress, found her bare—no panties, just wet, ready heat—and growled, “You’re a fucking tease,” before thrusting into her, hard and deep, her pussy tight, her moans loud over the music.

She clawed my back, her orgasm fast, her walls clenching, pulling me over the edge, my release a roar as I spilled on her laps.In my car later, she’d climbed onto me, her cleavage in my face, her hands freeing my cock. I gripped her ass, let her ride me, her breasts bouncing, my mouth sucking her nipple, biting, until we came together, her moans filling the fogged-up car, her power as intoxicating as her body.

Now, as I rise from bed, my phone still silent, I’m torn between anger and need. She’s playing me, this wild girl who fucked me like she owned me, and I hate how much I want her, how her silence only makes me harder. I'm always in control. They're all bitches who are desperate for approval and attention and Alison is no difference. I'll fuck her again and make sure she becomes obsessed with me and my dick.

I shower, the hot water doing nothing to cool the fire in my blood, my mind fixed on her—her golden hair, her sultry laugh, the way she took me apart. I dress for work, my tie tight, my thoughts are anything but professional.

Monday’s a shortened day, first period with Alison in my class, and I’m already plotting—cornering her after, dragging her to my office, fucking her silly until she’s screaming my name, her defiance shattered. I want to claim her, make her mine, not just a fleeting fuck but something more, something I can control, even if she’s a flame that could burn me alive.

I know she’s wild, untouchable, probably still chasing Crew, that Manchester kid who’s got her twisted up. I saw her watching him in class, her eyes hungry, and it pissed me off, knowing I’m a pawn in her game.

But I don’t care—she’s under my skin, her body is a drug I’m addicted to, and I’ll have her again, feelings or not. I check my phone one last time—no reply, just my string of texts, desperate and unanswered. It fuels me, the rejection a challenge, my cock half-hard as I imagine bending her over my desk, her skirt up, her pussy wet, my dick punishing her for ignoring me.

She thinks she can play me, but I’m a predator too, and she’s my prey, her wildness a lure I’ll tame.

I grab my keys, my mind racing as I head to campus, the school day a mere obstacle to my goal. Alison will be in my class, her eyes taunting, her body a promise, and I’ll watch her, let her feel my stare, let her know I’m not done. After class, I’ll find a way—lure her to my office, maybe hint at a grade boost, anything to get her alone. I picture it: her against the wall, my hands ripping her panties, my cock slamming into her pussy, her moans begging for more. I’ll make her come, make her mine, erase Crew from her mind, claim every inch of her until she’s trembling, owned.

The drive to school is a blur, my thoughts consumed by her—the bathroom, the car, the way she fucked me back, fearless, fierce. She’s dangerous, a line I shouldn’t cross again, but I’m too far gone, my body aching, my mind plotting. Her silence is a game, but I’ll win, corner her, fuck her until she can’t ignore me, until she’s as obsessed as I am. I park, my heart pounding, my resolve steel. Alison Blake is a wildfire, but I’m ready to burn, to claim her as mine, no matter the cost, no matter who gets hurt.