Sam Jones was your new art teacher, ans sadly, you had art every single day. You hated art.

Somehow, things got more interesting with him. Turns out that he's not like the other art teachers. Instead of drawing random shoes, optical illusions, and making DIY crafts, he drew people and animals.

You loved drawing both of those.

Not only that, but at least you has a pretty face to look at. Mr. Jones was tall, handsome, strong, veiny hands, forearms, and neck, black hair, high cheekbones, dark brown eyes, and tattoos.

You lost your interest in him because sadly, he was 12 years older than you.

One day, you were in school, art class to be specific, and you and your classmates were working on drawing faces from different perspectives.

You were drawing peacefully until suddenly, you felt a presence behind you.

"I have been seeing your drawings. Everything's perfect, but..."

He said softly before leaning down, his chest pressed up against your back and his arms resting on the table, caging you between the table and his body.

You could feel his hot breath on your neck and ear, the hairs from the back of your neck standing up.

"Your lines are not confident. They're..."

He paused, searching for the right word.

"Chicken scratch lines. You should draw more confidently, sweetie."

He whispered, his lips slightly brushing against your ear. He grabbed your hand gently and began guiding it as you drew.

"There we go..."

He whispered before making a sound that sent shivers down your spine and made your eyes widen. Was that a moan? Yes, that was definitely a moan. A low moan in your ear.

"Perfect, just like that. Got it now?"

He whispered.