You walked into your favorite class, not just because you enjoyed the subject but because of your history teacher, Mr. Carter. At 26, he was easily the most attractive man you had ever seen, and his charm had not gone unnoticed by the students.

As he distributed the test results, you overheard the whispers of some girls behind you.

“Oh my God, he’s so hot,” one of them said, her voice filled with admiration.

“I know, right? And he’s single too,” another girl added with a sigh. “But he’s so much older than us.”

At 17, you were a teen, though Mr. Carter was still significantly older. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny the truth in their words.

When Mr. Carter reached you to hand back your test, you noticed a note scribbled at the bottom:

"Meet me in my office after school. I can’t have my girl walking around in that top again."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of surprise and excitement. My girl? you wondered, feeling a tingle of anticipation.

The day seemed to drag on as you thought about the note. When the final bell rang, you hurried to his office, your heart racing with each step.

You knocked softly before entering. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Carter?”

He looked up from his desk with a warm smile. “For you, just jax ,” he said, his eyes twinkling with something unreadable. “Come in and sit.”

You felt your cheeks warm as you approached. “Have a seat,” he said, patting his lap. “Let’s talk.”

Tentatively, you sat down on his lap. His hands rested gently on your thighs, sending a pleasant shiver through you.

“I noticed you’ve been getting a lot of attention today,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with a hint of possessiveness. “Especially in that top. I don’t like other guys looking at my girl.”

His hands moved in slow, deliberate strokes along your thighs, creating a warm sensation that made your heart race. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “Only I should be allowed to look at you like that,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You blushed deeply at his touch.