CHAPTER THREE: What Dreams May Come
I knew it was a dream, but I didn't want to wake up. Zack was kissing me, the kind of kiss that you only read about in romance novels. I had just eaten a 3 Musketeers, and the sensual chocolate flavor mixed with the delicious sensation of his mouth on mine. I realized dimly that even in real life, my toes were curling and I was moaning softly. The dream was slipping away, and the more desperately I tried to cling to it, the mistier it became. He cupped his hand over my breast. My breath quickened as he stopped kissing me and gave me the smoldering glance I had always craved. He started lowering his head, and the jolt of anticipation that went through me finally pulled me out of the dream altogether.
I stared at the black ceiling as my alarm chose that moment to blare into the silence. I seriously considered smashing it. I still wanted Zack with all the passion he had awakened in me in my dream. My heart raced, and an insistent throbbing pulse resounded through my body. Barely conscious of what I was doing, I rubbed my thumbs over my painfully erect nipples. It felt unbelievably good. Being a single girl, there are times when I need to relieve my own sexual frustration, but usually touching my own breasts doesn't do much for me. I was shocked at the fire that darted to my groin.
I dropped my right hand to massage my clit. I couldn't believe how wet I was. I blushed as I remembered the dream that woke me up, but the blush was accompanied by a quick flutter of my heart as I remembered the look on Dream Zack's face. God I wanted him, I thought, rotating my finger a little faster. I wanted him, but part of me held back from the idea of thinking about him while I touched myself. Normally I stuck to very generic fantasies, ones about doctors or pool boys or even, sometimes, principals. I had fantasized about students fucking me before, but never my ACTUAL students, always some Imaginary Faceless Students. I groped for one of these fantasies and managed to find one about being a stewardess seduced by a passenger.
Zack flashed into my mind again, though, and then I remembered his lips wrapping around that Blowpop. It had been almost two months since he did that, but I couldn't seem to stop thinking of it. That was when I forgot to care about the awkwardness of it, the dubious morality of it. I didn't care. I just wanted him, and I let myself have him in my fantasy. He was hiking up my skirt, pushing aside my panties, and driving me back onto my desk. The golden sound of his fly unzipping made me shiver, and then my fingers were plunging into my pussy along with Fantasy Zack. I tilted my pelvis up so I could press more deeply inside, but I knew that Real Zack could go so much deeper. I gasped his name even though he couldn't hear me, and then I came. His name reverberated through my body for what seemed like hours.
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I had expected it to be awkward seeing Zack after I had fingerfucked myself to visions of him ravaging my body. It turned out to be surprisingly easy, even though there was an added undercurrent of something like an afterglow for me. He wandered down the hall with drowsy eyes, bedroom eyes, eyes that made me shiver, but I was surprised that I wasn't too embarrassed about my explicit fantasy to look him in the face.
He perked up a little when he saw me. "I studied my vocabulary last night," he said.
"Oh my God, it's the Apocalypse," I said.
"Not until I actually read a book."
Rayanne snorted. "That won't be any time soon."
"Probably before you can make a free throw."
She shrugged and smiled. "Actually, you have a point."
They meandered in, and I leaned against the wall in an attempt to collect myself before starting class. Instead of the brutal onslaught of hormones he had been inundating me with, there was a strangely mellow fascination. It was like the lightning before the thunderclap. In a lot of ways, it was more manageable, but it was also more inescapable.
He was sprawled casually in his chair when I went in, the kind of posture that incredibly good-looking guys make so tempting. He wasn't looking at me, though, so he didn't see the slow burn of the longing he kindled in me.
"Quiz time," I announced brightly, shuffling the papers in my hands. The students groaned in mock annoyance, but they had long ago resigned themselves to the inevitable Thursday vocabulary quiz. Even though this was two days before Christmas Break, they expected it. I passed the papers out and went to observe from the table at the front of the room.
As I scanned the room for signs of cheating, I felt a sudden undercurrent of tension in my body. Zack was staring at me with an odd, glazed expression. I took quick inventory of my outfit to make sure nothing was unbuttoned or stained, but my shirt was intact and the skirt I had paired it with was falling neatly around the middle of my calves. He was still staring. The silky light blue shirt was definitely not low-cut, although it did have a slight dip to it, and the sleeves were ¾-length. What was he looking at?
He noticed me looking at him, and he blushed and shook himself with a rueful grin. Then he went back to work on his test. In about five more minutes, everyone had finished.
Zack looked at me with the impish face that meant trouble.
"I really don't want to know whatever it is," I said before he could open his mouth.
He raised an eyebrow. "It's nothing, Miss Martin. I was just wondering how many guys you've gone down on."
