The Classmate – Steamy Shorts Read Online Lena Little

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Novella Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)

Tess is supposed to be just my classmate. Just someone I sit behind in three classes. Someone I pass by without a second glance. Someone I shouldn’t give a rat’s ass about.But … she has taken over my life.Every waking hour of every day.Her face is burned into my retinas. Her voice is etched into my brain.Her laughter—in particular—plays in a loop in my head.She doesn’t know it, but she’s burrowed herself into my life.I look at her and feel a longing so desperate and deep.I can stare at her all day long and still not get my fill. But everyone has impossible dreams, right?Mine is Tess.While I walk around with a visible reminder of my past and the filth I carried for the past few years, she’s there in all her perfect glory.Beautiful. Witty. Funny. Kind. Sweet. Bright future ahead.All the things I’m not. All the things I’ll never be.Tess is out of my league, but she’s the fire in my otherwise dank, colorless life.And if I’m being completely honest, I’ll gladly burn in her presence.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



“One cosmopolitan please.”

I raise my head from the row of cocktail glasses I’ve been cleaning and feel like someone sucker punched me, the ground suddenly swaying beneath my feet.

Tess. Tess Ward.

Holy shit. She’s here. She’s really here. In the flesh, smiling that smile that makes my whole body taut with longing.

She slides on the wooden bar stool across from me, elbows resting on the counter, cocking her head to the side. Her cheeks are pink and so is the tip of her nose. At first, I think it’s because of the crisp air outside, but her eyes are also glassy, her mascara smudging under one eye and its streak extending to her cheekbone.

My hands involuntarily clench, itching to do damage to whoever hurt her and made her upset. I don’t know who they are, but anyone who makes Tess cry is an instant enemy of mine.

The weird thing is … along with that surge of protectiveness is the awareness that I’ve never been this close to her. Ever.

At 23, I’m a grown man who’s generally great at keeping a good head on my shoulders, even when I’m at the height of my emotions.

But the sight of her in a glittering pink dress, one strap sliding down her shoulder, robs me of words. My knees almost buckle to the ground. Desire courses through my veins, wrapping itself around me. Choking the life out of me. And I let it. I’ll throw myself into the scorching pit of this maddening obsession for her. Anything for her.

After almost a year of sitting behind her in classes, one would think I’ve developed some kind of immunity against her. But no.

Her beauty still knocks me off my feet. Every single time.

Eyes that remind me of emeralds and are framed by dark, long eyelashes. Silky, lush brown hair cut just below her ear. Plump lips that beg to be tasted.

Tess leans forward, unknowingly pressing her tits together, the creamy globes almost spilling out of her dress. I mentally count from one to ten, and when that doesn’t work out, I think about all the ingredients of my favorite drinks, how much percentage of alcohol they contain, and the accurate description of their taste.

But no. The beast inside me doesn’t just wake up. It’s thrashing, begging for release, which only ever happens when she’s around. Dammit. I try to rein it in, but every part of my body screams for me to just drape her over my shoulder, take her home, and convince her she’s mine.

Because she is.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” I ask, pretending this is nothing but a typical night for me. But fuck, if she only knows how perilously close I am to losing control.

Tess gives me a soft smile, reaches into the small bag she’s set on the surface, and takes out her ID.

“Yep.” Her glossy lips make a popping sound on the “p”. “Just turned 21 today.”

“It’s your birthday?” I finish cleaning the glasses but wipe them all a second time because I need to keep my hands busy. If not, I might reach across and touch her just to know if she’s real. If she’s actually here. Talking to me. Smiling at me. More importantly, not glancing or looking disgusted at the three-inch raised ridge of scar tissue extending from my left jaw to just below my left cheekbone.

Tess nods.

“Happy birthday, then. You’re not celebrating it with your family or friends?”

Tess lets out a bitter laugh and starts tracing circles on the counter with her red fingernail. “Thank you, and no, all my friends are busy. As for family … They’re celebrating alright … just without me.”

I furrow my forehead, gathering the vodka, cranberry juice, Triple Sec, and lime. She’s quiet while she watches me prepare her drink, and I welcome the distraction, trying to ignore how her nearness steels my cock.

After adding ice to the shaker, I shake it vigorously and eye her over the top of my horn-rimmed glasses before pushing it back up my nose bridge. “What do you mean they’re celebrating without you?”

“Exactly that. I left even before the main course was served.”

Her eyes don’t leave my hands as I pour her drink through a strainer and into a chilled martini glass. Then, I slide it towards her and wipe my hands on a small towel.

Tess takes a sip and smiles at her drink. When she finds me watching her closely, she raises the glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to being 21—the most exciting milestone for me because I’m closer to leaving home.”

She finishes her drink and hands it to me. I automatically reach for it and accidentally brush my fingers against hers.

Jesus Christ.

Time slows down. So slow I think I can see the flutter of her eyelids.

Patrons are starting to filter through the door, but I barely notice them. I barely notice anything else around me. The music, the loud conversations, the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor—they’re all muffled like I’m hearing them beyond a veil around me and Tess.