But the brunette was nobody’s fool. She shook her head resolutely.
“Mr. Phillips, you’ll lose your job if they catch you with a student,” she said firmly. “I mean, this is definitely grounds for getting fired, haven’t you heard of Mary Kay Letourneau?”
And I snorted immediately. This was nothing like the sordid story of Letourneau, I wasn’t a pedophile. Or was I?
“You’re eighteen, aren’t you?” I demanded suddenly, my breath catching in my throat. Oh shit. What if she wasn’t? I had no idea what I was going to do, what would happen next. I was already addicted to her body, that sweet pussy, I didn’t have the self-control to walk away just like that.
And the brunette smiled sweetly, sensing my alarm.
“What if I wasn’t?” she teased. “What if I said, ‘Oh Mr. Phillips, I’ll be eighteen next year?’”
And I groaned, dread rolling in waves through my stomach. Fuck, the thought of a year waiting for this beauty would kill me, my dick would literally shrivel up and die in my pants, I’d become a walking zombie.
“Baby girl, there’s nothing that’s gonna keep me away from you except this,” I said roughly, taking her by the shoulders and looking deep into her eyes to show how serious I was. “You’ve got to be legal. Tell me you are.”
And sensing the depths of my alarm, how this really got under my skin, the brunette took pity and laughed throatily.
“Oh Stone, I’m already eighteen,” she murmured, shooting me a knowing smile. “Turned eighteen last month.”
And I collapsed onto the mattress again, an arm shielding my eyes, my big body going limp. The relief was palpable, my tense muscles finally relaxing.
“You’re gonna kill me, you know that?” I groaned. “I’m gonna be a dead man because of you.”
“Oh, poor baby,” the brunette pouted. “And just when I was going to go over to your place for dinner. Because the invitation was for dinner, wasn’t it Stone?”
And I sat up then suddenly, grabbing her onto my lap for a sweet kiss before staring deeply into her eyes.
“You bet it is,” I murmured, my arms tightening possessively. “Girlie, you got yourself a dinner date.”
And Evie giggled in my lap, boobs bouncing, that round ass jouncing against my hard thighs. And whaddya know but I couldn’t wait to take her again, couldn’t wait to show this amazing woman a special time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Evie
I walked into the lobby of a nondescript building on the Upper West Side. The big grey block was mere blocks from Spencer Prep, within walking distance actually. I strode in, surprised to see a doorman waiting just inside the foyer, natty in a blue and red uniform. My brows scrunching, I frowned. That was weird, I didn’t know teachers could afford doorman buildings in NYC.
Nonetheless, I nodded at the old man, friendly and unassuming.
“Hi,” I said, “I’m Evie, here to see Stone Phillips.”
He automatically turned to a phone on the wall, picking up the receiver with a gloved hand.
“Mr. Phillips, an Evie in the lobby,” he spoke into the phone before listening intently.
That sounded off. “An Evie in the lobby?” Were there Amandas, Claires, Maggies and Joannes waiting in the lobby as well? But I brushed it off. The old dude was probably just cranky and tired from working all day, it was nothing.
“Go right up,” he said, his wrinkled face inscrutable and I nodded, walking to the gleaming metal doors. The lift itself was nothing, a little worn around the edges, a bit of dirt caked in the corners.
But when I arrived on the eighth floor, I gaped a little. Because the hallway to Stone’s apartment was really nicely done with gleaming parquet floors and a chandelier, facets of light sparkling everywhere. A little fancy for an anonymous building on the Upper West, especially someone on a teacher’s budget. Spencer Prep is a ritzy private school but I didn’t think they paid that well.
Plus, there were no other doors on the floor, Stone’s front door was the only one. How weird, where did his neighbors live? Or did they have hidden entrances? Shrugging, I shot one last look around, too excited to much pay attention.
And when Mr. Phillips answered the door, his dark hair ruffled, blue eyes gleaming, I almost melted because he was so cute. Like gorgeous, hot, sexy cute. The big man wore an apron over a grey t-shirt that hugged his chest and jeans that emphasized the length of his legs, his muscular thighs. My internal temp immediately zoomed up ten degrees, my cunt growing moist, knees feeling a little weak. But I made myself stay calm and smiled brightly.
“Nice apron,” I complimented sassily, looking him up and down.