His Taste Of Christmas (Forbidden Tastes #1)

16. Angel

Chapter sixteen

Angel

January

A s I type on my laptop, a smile remains on my face while the words effortlessly pour out. I thought this story wouldn't happen or be good enough for the grade I needed, but ever since Christmas and New Year with Mr Hayes, I've been unable to stop writing. The short story was a minimum of 15,000 words, but I had already surpassed 28,000, and there was still so much more left to tell. I focused on editing it for the majority of last night. I think it has enough substance to become a complete novel.

And for the first time since I can remember, I love Christmas.

Or maybe I love Mr Hayes’s taste of Christmas.

It's our first day returning to college. The deadline for our story is at the end of the week, but I was so engrossed in writing last night that I couldn't bring myself to sleep until I completed it. But when I woke up this morning, I had the idea to include more. I wrote the notes in a different Word document because I couldn't add anything else to the current version due to the word count for our assignment.

While I wait for my classmates to settle after catching up with each other about what they did at Christmas, I keep my head down, hoping I don’t have to engage in conversation. Normally I would be happy too, but I need to read over my work and make my final edits.

Mr Hayes sent me a text this morning, wishing me a good first day back and teasing a surprise later. The butterflies engulfed me as soon as I read it; of course, after everything we did, my mind instantly went to his dick, but we shall see later what he meant. All I know is when he’s not around, I feel sick; like I’m anxious and something is missing, and then the minute he’s around, or on the phone with me, I feel myself again. This is a completely new feeling for me.

My desire for Mr Hayes started when I first understood the feeling of wanting someone. Feeling like this is expected, given that no one has ever come close to him. I never anticipated these emotions to intensify so rapidly.

“Class,” Mrs Finch says, walking into the classroom. “How was everyone's Christmas?” she asks cheerfully, clapping her hands and smiling at us. Mrs Finch isn’t our normal English teacher; she teaches business, but maybe she’s covering today. Everyone murmurs ‘good’ and ‘it was great’

“We have a minor adjustment this New Year. Miss Cody has been moved to another college, but we have a new teacher joining us today." I let out a sigh and slump further into my chair. Miss Cody was great, and we connected really well.

My story is a bit out there. I won’t describe in detail what Mr Hayes and I did because, well, this is toward my overall grade, and I don’t know how my teacher would have felt if I wrote her a play-by-play of what some people may think is a disturbing porno. That being said, Miss Cody would have been okay with certain portions.

I followed her advice and expressed myself, just as she told me to. Damn it, I'll have to review it again and remove more content. I don't have the energy for this today.

“Your new teacher is incredible and has experience teaching at other schools. Although this is his first college, rest assured that his teaching and ideas are flawless, and I'm confident you will all get along splendidly.” Mrs Finch is excessively excited, gushing more than necessary. Oh, but did I miss something? It’s a man. Great. I have nothing against men, but I don't think they would enjoy reading a Christmas romance.

“Let's give a warm welcome to your new teacher, Mr Hayes.” With a jolt, I turn my head towards the classroom door, and my eyes widen. Everything disappears around me except him.

There is no way; Carter Hayes is my new English teacher.

Oh fuck. Could this be the surprise he was referring to? While I'm freaking out inside, Mr Hayes enters the classroom with ease, flashing a smile that illuminates the room. As he approaches the front, his gaze doesn't meet mine, which makes me feel somewhat sad. Why am I not the first person he looks at when entering a room?

“Hi all.” He gestures with nods throughout the classroom. Despite his lack of attention towards me, I'm now undecided about whether I want him to acknowledge me. My mum always told me that my face is a window to my emotions, and right now, it's displaying a thousand different feelings. “I'm Mr Hayes, your new teacher. Trust me, I'm laid back and encourage open communication," he says, a stern look softened by a small smirk. "As long as you behave like adults, you'll be treated as such.” Mrs Finch, still grinning, stands by his side, and now I understand her excitement.

It would be wise for this woman to keep her married hands off my man.

My man, I think again . Who am I?

“I thought it would be a good idea to go around and introduce ourselves and maybe tell me the title of the short story you wrote. I am very excited to read each and every one.” He smiles again, my insides melting slightly because he has a smile that will have any woman on her knees. It's evident that Mrs Finch shares my thoughts.

While he begins his rounds in the classroom, I'm a bit frustrated that my English teacher, who I lost my virginity to nine days ago, hasn't even glanced in my direction, leaving me in a state of internal turmoil. I understand it is intentional, but what is the reason behind it? Is he annoyed? Was he aware that I enrolled in this course? No, he did. I shared the news about the college with him. He had been aware the entire time and never even—

“It's nice to have you as my student again, Ms O'Sullivan.” Oh, you want to play it like that . Breaking through is the smile that has captured my heart, and his intense gaze, which I know all too well, overwhelms me as his once golden eyes transform into a deeper shade, as if visualising me in a vulnerable state, bound to my bed with the Christmas lights from Mace's tree. This thought is causing me to fidget in my chair. I'm tempted to respond flirtatiously, but I have to keep in mind that I'm in a classroom with other students and he's my teacher. It's unbelievable that he chose not to inform me. I respond with a sweet smile.

“Mr Hayes, I assure you, it's my pleasure.” I blink twice innocently, appearing harmless. If he wants to play, then let's play. I am aware of how much he enjoys being addressed as Mr Hayes by me. “Your teaching is exceptional. You taught me everything I needed to know, so I look forward to the year ahead.” I almost say Daddy , but I stop myself. Instead, I release the word gradually from my mouth, with a slight drop in my voice. “Sir.”

With unbroken eye contact, I feel a sense of isolation from the rest of the world, as if it's just him and me, my heart pounding in my chest and an ache in my core, craving his presence. I crave every single inch of him; how am I meant to get through this school year, seeing him every day looking like the absolute snack he is?

How can I avoid imagining myself bent over the desk with Mr Hayes, brutally fucking me while addressing him as sir or daddy? I observe his nostrils widening as he inhales deeply. He adjusts his position to stand in front of the desk, crossing his legs and leaning back. Gripping the desk, he clenches it so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and his veins protrude on his arms. I'm too turned on to handle being around him for the rest of the day. Fuck. It seems like everyone is oblivious to the constant exchange happening within us. Slowly, I lick my lips as his gaze shifts from my eyes to my mouth. His expression shifts from a half-smile to a half-wince, followed by a raised eyebrow and a subtle nod towards me.

“Ms O'Sullivan, I am eagerly anticipating the year ahead as well. What is the title of your story?” I don a sweet smile, eagerly awaiting his reaction to the title.

“His Taste of Christmas, sir,” I add the ‘sir’ in, just to rub salt in the wound that bit more. Running his hand along the edge of the desk, he glances at it before turning his gaze to me. His eyes have transformed into a dark shade of brown, and his jaw is clenched.

“I look forward to reading it,” he bluntly states before his attention returns to the class as people begin introducing themselves. I lower my chin and smile at the captivating story in front of me. Just one simple look and I can gather all the information I need.

He won’t have me bent over that desk by the end of the year; he will have me bent over that desk by the end of the day.

The End? … Naaa