Bad Teacher: A Sexy Teacher Alpha Student Hot Romance (GLM Steamy Shots)

  Bad Teacher Draft

  Steamy Shots

  Gina L. Maxwell

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Gina L. Maxwell. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  Created with Vellum

  OTHER BOOKS BY GINA L. MAXWELL

  Neverland Novels

  Pan, a Neverland Novel #1

  Hook, a Neverland Novel #2

  Tink, a Neverland Novel #3 (Coming Soon)

  Fighting for Love series

  Seducing Cinderella

  Rules of Entanglement

  Fighting for Irish

  Sweet Victory

  Playboys in Love series

  Shameless

  Ruthless

  Merciless

  Stand-Alones

  Hot for the Fireman

  Ask Me Again

  Tempting her Best Friend

  GLM Steamy Shots*

  (Kindle Unlimited Erotic Novellas)

  Bad Teacher: Education Duet, book 1

  Wicked Student: Education Duet, book 2 (June 2020)

  * I’ll be dropping these novellas LIVE at random times throughout the year with little to no advance warning. If you want to be notified when they release, make sure you sign up for the Steamy Shots newsletter!

  Contents

  1. Miriam

  2. Devin

  3. Miriam

  4. Devin

  5. Miriam

  6. Miriam

  7. Miriam

  8. Devin

  Epilogue

  Wicked Teacher Coming Soon

  More from Gina L. Maxwell

  PAN

  Other Books by Gina L. Maxwell

  About the Author

  1

  Miriam

  How in the hell is it so hot outside? The Midwestern sun isn’t supposed to bake you like a potato in mere seconds, but here I am, properly baked after the short trip from my car to the house. Pushing open the heavy oak door to my two-story Tudor home, I sigh with relief as the blast of cool air hits me.

  “Thank God for air con.”

  How people can work in this heat is beyond me. As a teacher, I get to enjoy temperature controlled rooms and I’m on summer break just as the A/C units start struggling to keep up. Not that I don’t enjoy warm weather, because I definitely do. I love summer, even when it’s baked-potato-hot. I just don’t love it when I’m wearing a dress, nylons, and heels.

  Pausing to kick off my favorite pair of Steve Madden pumps, I revel in the feel of the cold tile under my stockinged feet as I make my way into the kitchen. I love my house. It’s exactly what I pictured living in when I decided to move to this mid-size Midwestern town for a teaching job. Granted, it was only a substitute gig, but I just spent all morning interviewing for a full-time position and crossing all my fingers and toes that I get it so I don’t have to live off my savings until something else comes along.

  I wrinkle my nose as I pull the material of my black sheath dress away from my stomach, trying to get it to unstick. A shower is definitely on the top of my to-do list after I grab some lemonade. Talking about myself and my goals for hours completely dehydrated me.

  After downing half a glass, I sigh and peer out my back window...and see a muscular shirtless man leaned over the edge of my pool, using his hands to cup water and dump it on his head. A spike of adrenaline hits me, afraid some vagrant has broken into my backyard. But then I notice the design on the T-shirt hanging from the back pocket of his very worn--very tight in the ass--jeans. It’s the logo for ABC Landscaping, the company I hired to spruce up my yard. Shit! I completely forgot they were supposed to be starting today.

  Smiling, I lean against the counter and enjoy my lemonade along with the show. It’s been two years since my last relationship and I’ve never been comfortable with using apps for hookups or even finding another boyfriend. Students like to Google their teachers or stalk their social media for any gossipy tidbits, so it’s safer to rely on meeting people the old fashioned way. As if anyone has time for that. All of which means it’s also been a good two years since I’ve had sex. My libido is practically screaming at me to pounce on the fine specimen in my yard.

  Apparently the hand-cupping just isn’t doing enough because Mr. Sensational Back (I haven’t seen the front yet, but that goal now ranks above taking a shower) plunged his entire head into the water. I hold my breath right along with him, absently biting my lip as I watch the muscles in his back ripple. Then, like a GQ model in a poolside photoshoot, he whips his head back, and I swear to God, it happens in super slo-mo. A thick line of water arcs in the air from the ends of his dark brown hair, then he runs a hand through it, slicking it back before dunking his T-shirt in the water and squeezing it out over his shoulders.

  I have no idea how long I stand in my kitchen perving on my landscaper, but it’s long enough for the waistband on his low-slung jeans to turn dark from his efforts to cool down. And now I feel like a huge jerk because it’s hotter than Hades and the poor guy is just trying to avoid heat stroke, not give a live peep show to his sex-starved client.

  Shaking myself out of my stupor, I pour another glass of lemonade, then head out the French doors onto the patio.

  “I am so sorry. I had an appointment this morning that went longer than expected. Not that that mattered because I also forgot you were coming today, but if I’d been here earlier I could’ve offered you--”

  The man rises to his full height--damn, he’s tall--turns around...and my jaw drops. Because the man isn’t a man at all. He’s a boy. More specifically, one of my students.

  Devin “All-American” Adler.

  Valedictorian for his graduating class, captain of the football and men’s swim teams, devilishly handsome, gorgeous brown eyes, and a smile that drops panties within a hundred-yard radius.

  He also made sure to use an innuendo with me at least once a day for the entire second semester I taught his Economics class. Innuendos that kept me up some nights, wondering...

  Stop that train of thought right now, Miriam. He. Is. A. BOY.

  Except there’s nothing about Devin Adler that says “boy.” Everything about him screams “I’m man enough to know exactly what to do with you and make you beg for more.”

  He aims that single-dimple, killer smile in my direction--and of course the front of his body is even more amazing, complete with a sexy dusting of hair on his chest and abs--and it does things to my belly it has no business doing.

  “Hey there, Ms. Fox.” Somehow he makes a casual greeting sound like he’s undressing me with his words. “I’m here to take care of your needs.”

  “My n-needs?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  “Yeah, you know, your landscaping needs.” He smirks in that cocky way of his that he probably patented by the time he was five. “But if there’s anything else you can think of that’s not on the original quote, I’d be happy to accommodate whatever needs you have.”

  Oh, holy shit. I’m in so much trouble.

  2

  Devin

  Miriam Fox. Substitue teacher and harbinger of wet dreams for every male--and a few female--second semester economics students. I, for one, had multiple daily jerkoff sessions imagining fucking her tight body six ways from Sunday.

  The kicker was, I knew she was interested in me,
too. She never said or did anything inappropriate, but I was about as subtle as a jackhammer. I blatantly flirted, no matter if we were surrounded by people or I managed to steal a few minutes alone with her. And every time, desire would flash in her gray eyes right before she averted her gaze and pushed her black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose in that nervous way of hers that drove me crazy.

  The day Ms. Fox stepped in as our sub for the rest of the year, none of the girls in my class held any interest for me. All I wanted was her, and I made it my mission to have her before I left for college. When I learned my dad’s landscaping company was scheduled to work on her yard towards the end of July, I had my mission date.

  “You look the same,” I say, raking my eyes down her body appreciatively.

  “Pardon?”

  Miriam’s only twenty-six but sometimes when she’s in her role as teacher, she speaks like she’s twice that. And I’ll be damned if I know why, but her prim-and-proper demeanor wakes the animal inside me.

  Since she appears to be rooted to her spot, I take slow steps in her direction. “It’s the middle of summer break, Ms. Fox. I thought you’d look different, more...casual. But you look like you just stepped out of a classroom.”

  Raising a hand, she self-consciously tucks a strand of blond hair back into her bun. She wore her hair up in some style or another every day. It made my fingers itch to plow through it until it fell around her shoulders.

  “I don’t dress like this at home.” She pauses like she’s not sure if she wants to explain further, then says, “I had an interview today.”

  “Interview, huh? I suppose that’s as good a story as any.”

  Miriam visibly bristles. “It’s not a story. Why else would I be dressed like this?”

  “I think maybe you were hoping to do some role playing.”

  “Role playing?”

  I stop in front of her, and realize for the first time just how much bigger I am. She always wore sexy-as-fuck high heels as school, but flat-footed she’s probably only five-five to my six-three. She has to tip her head all the way back just to maintain eye contact with me this close.

  Smirking, I say, “Yeah, role playing. You be the bad teacher and I’ll pretend to be your wicked student.”

  “Devin, you are my student.”

  “Not anymore. I graduated.” I give my abs a lazy scratch and pretend not to notice that her eyes follow the movement and her cheeks turn pink. “Got the diploma, the gold cords, and an acceptance letter to Notre Dame to prove it.”

  She huffs in that adorable way that means she’s hit her limit with me. I heard it a lot this past semester. “It’s a moot point, Devin. I was your teacher. I will not now, nor will I ever, role play or anything else with you.”

  Turning away from me, she notices the glass in her hand, which she then thrusts in my direction. I purposely graze her fingers with mine and internally puff up with male pride when goosebumps appear on her arm despite the ninety-degree heat.

  “Just drink your lemonade and do...” She looks around her yard helplessly. “Whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing. Which is not rinsing your sweat off in my pool. If you want to cool off, use the garden hose.”

  I don’t bother to hide the huge grin on my face as I answer in a husky voice, “Yes, ma’am.”

  She gives me a prim nod, then she spins around and walks briskly toward the house. Before she shuts the French door, I call out to her. “Ms. Fox.” When she looks back at me over her shoulder, I ask, “Did you get the job?”

  I know she was hoping to land a permanent position at the high school. I haven’t heard of any teachers retiring, but I stopped caring about Daley High as soon as I threw my cap in the air.

  Her features soften and I’m rewarded with the smallest upward curve of her lips. “I won’t know for a couple of weeks, but...” She shrugs. “I think it went well.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I say sincerely. “Thanks for the lemonade, Ms. Fox.”

  “My pleasure, Devin.”

  Not yet, it’s not, but it will be.

  I convinced my parents to go on vacation and let me handle this job myself so that I had an entire week of uninterrupted time with the insanely sexy Miriam Fox. Now it’s my turn to teach her a thing or two, and I have a feeling she’s going to be a very, very good student.

  3

  Miriam

  For having my Masters in Education, I can be really stupid. Case in point: telling Devin to use the hose if he needed to cool off. I didn’t care about his sweat in the pool; I just made it up so I wouldn’t be subjected to any more super tempting slo-mo poolside photoshoots. But I didn’t think my plan through. Because if Devin dunking his head in the water was super tempting, Devin drenching himself with a garden hose is goddamn torture.

  I saw him do it yesterday--Day Two of Operation: Don’t Fuck Your Student--from between the blinds of my bedroom window. It started out innocent enough. He spent the morning planting lilac bushes along the back line of the privacy fence that encloses my backyard, then watered them to finish it off. As one does.

  But then he angled his body to the side and started to drink directly from the hose, which then turned into him intentionally soaking his white ABC Landscaping shirt until it was see-through and plastered to every hard ridge, which then turned into him slowly peeling it off before running the water directly onto his god-like body. Seriously, what kind of teenager looks like that? It’s completely unfair.

  As Devin got wetter, so did I. To my lust-fogged brain, the fact that he’ll be nineteen next month (yes, I checked) was enough to justify slipping a hand into my panties to touch my aching clit. It felt dirty and shameful and...so damn hot. I came on my fingers in less than a minute.

  When my breathing finally started to slow, Devin turned the hose off and peered up at my window with a hint of a smirk. I gasped and plastered my back against the wall, breathing heavy for whole new reasons--shock, embarrassment, guilt.

  It took me a good hour to talk myself into leaving my bedroom. I needed to act like an adult and confront him about being a Peeping Pervert, or at the very least, lie my ass off and tell him that I have trust issues and wanted to make sure he was doing the job he was hired for.

  But when I approached him where he was weeding the flower beds, he acted like nothing had happened. There was no smug looks, no obnoxious innuendos or calling me out for spying on him, regarless of my reason. Nothing. In fact, he immediately greeted me with a friendly smile and jumped right into talking landscaping, double-checking I hadn’t made any changes to the original plan drawn up by his father.

  Since he didn’t bring up my indescretion, I did the mature thing--I chickened out and stayed in the house until it was time for him to leave for the day. Yep. Super mature.

  Today, I decided to plant the flowers that hang from the lanai on the back patio. I refuse to hide in my house all week because of Devin. It’s ridiculous. I was around him almost every day for six months at school; I didn’t feel the need to avoid him then. He’s just a student. Which is what I’ve been chanting in my head for the past hour as we worked within twenty feet of each other.

  “Goddamn, it’s hot out here.”

  On auto-pilot, I say, “Language, Mr. Adler,” before I catch myself and wince. “Sorry, habit. Forget I said that.”

  Ten feet away from me, he picks up the hose and turns the water on. “Now why would I want to forget something I like so much?”

  “You like being scolded?”

  Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I like you in teacher mode. Everything you say sounds like a collegiate lecture instead of casual conversation.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Why would you like that?”

  “Because I like the idea of stripping you out of your Ms. Fox the Prim outer shell to get to your Miriam the Needy Vixen creamy center.”

  My lips part on a silent gasp, words completely failing me. As he leans forward to take a drink from the hose, his piercing gaze tells me the water isn’t
quenching his real thirst. I swear he projects an image straight into my brain of his face between my legs, drinking every last drop I give him and still wanting more. A fire sparks in my belly and sinks lower to dampen the denim crotch of my cut-offs.

  Something wicked possessed me to forego panties today. I told myself that with the extreme heat, the less layers I wore, the better, so I slipped on a pair of faded Daisy Dukes and a pale pink tank with a bikini top underneath. In case I need to remove another layer. Because of the heat. Not because of Devin.

  Liar, liar, cut-offs on fire.

  Okay, fine, it might have been a teensy-weensy bit because of Devin, but I can’t help myself. It feels like ages since I’ve been looked at the way he looks at me. Like I’m a decadent dessert he can’t wait to devour. So maybe I’m encouraging the flirting a bit. It’s not like I would ever in a million years act on it.

  Clearing my throat, I decide it’s best not to respond to that last comment he made and refocus my attention on my [flower/plant]. Remembering that it’s time for me to water the ones I’ve already planted, I pick up the watering can and stand up.

  “Can you fill this up so I can...” My words trail off at the sight of him leaned all the way over, dousing his head with the water. Next will be the shirt. Then his naked torso... Oh, God. “Devin, would you please knock that off?”

  He kinks the hose to stop the flow of water and shakes his soaked hair back from his forehead. “Knock what off?”

  “That thing you do where you hose yourself down in slow motion like you’re a sexy lifeguard on Baywatch.”