Whenever Rachel sang, she would always find herself lost in the song. It was her own stress reliever. It was funny that way. Most people were stressed being on stage. Her? The complete opposite. She was right at home there.
So she was barely aware of her surroundings as she finished the lyric and lifted her head up to look at him. He was staring at her with this look she just could not describe. And then he did it…licked his lips. She barely noticed as she started to rub her thighs together, noticing a tingle she tended to ignore most of the time.
That was when she noticed, his heavy, more than likely muscular leg pressed against hers. Her breath caught in her chest and she was sure she was going to explode.
All she could do was mutely nod and avert her eyes. She needed to mentally get away. She was being a crazy, horny teenage girl. He probably had a girlfriend or at least desired older gi…women, not a simple girl like her.
So she zoned out, went to her comfort zone and closed her eyes as she continued. ”Just a city boy…born and raised in South Detroit, he took the midnight train going anywhere…” Just then, she couldn’t help but open her eyes and look up. Her body acted on its own as she glanced into his eyes. She felt sick but this felt so right even if it was incredibly wrong.
“A singer in a smokey room…the smell of wine and cheap perfume, for a smile they can share the night. It goes on and on and on and on….” She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and mentally screamed at herself to stop, to look away. But she couldn’t, she was stuck. She knew this was wrong and knew it would only end with her being broken by his impending rejection but she just couldn’t draw herself away. She would just keep this to herself…as long as she didn’t act on it, it couldn’t hurt, right? It was like having a crush on George Clooney…sure they were older but unobtainable and there was no harm in liking someone you weren’t going for. Or so she hoped.
Finn classed himself as a good guy. He paid his taxes on time, he tipped generously wherever he went, he held doors open for little old ladies and people with push chairs.
Which was why this new surge of electricity through his body scared the crap out of him. He was a good, respectable man, a decent teacher and friend, but this wasn’t part of his plan.
He was attracted to one of his fucking students, for God’s sake. He’d always found her pretty, but at the same time, a lot of the girls in his class were; occupational hazard. Kids had flirted with him in the past, but he’d always reminded them (kindly) that it was inappropriate, and that was that.
But Rachel. It wasn’t as if it was only her tight little body that was driving him crazy, but he’d never heard a voice so strong and emotional before. He wasn’t shallow. He knew personality was a big part of what he found attractive, and Rachel had plenty of that. She had fire in her belly, a determination he’d never seen before, and God damn, that was so sexy, she was so sexy.
The more she sang, and the more she stared at him with her large, soulful eyes, the more he wanted to pull her out of the shop and fuck her against the wall so he could hear her pretty little voice crying his name.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Licking his lips again (the image of biting Rachel’s lip, of taking it between his teeth and sucking until she moaned and begged him to stop wouldn’t leave him alone), he cleared his throat, trying to ignore the fact that he was supporting a full-blown erection under the table.
"I think that’s enough for now," he said, voice breaking a few times. "That was… Your voice is something else, and I never thought you’d sound so good."
Without thinking, his eyes gazed down at her breasts. He imagined palming them roughly in his large hands while she writhed around on his bed. He imagined plucking her nipples one, two, three times, whispering dirty words against her innocent ear. He imagined tasting her, the slight sheen of sweat covering her naked body, desperate for release.
He gulped again and pretended to be interested in his hands.