I Fell For My Teacher// A Jelena Fan-fiction

chapter two

Not edited*

"To get to you."
~~~

Selena's POV

His bare chest spread across mine, wearing slim amounts of fabric. Our lips played to the hum of the bass, music engulfing the room in a pleasant turn.

"Early in the mornings when I think about you."

My hands grasp onto the blonde strands of hair to flake down his face. The lights were dimmed with each movement played in slow motion. His heavy breath only fell down my neck and his hands he strong onto my waist. My legs straddled his lap as the couch lays underneath us.

"I- I- I- I could fuck you all the time." The slow in the rhythm allowed me to grind against Justin. His lips were hungry for more and I couldn't deny his pleasures and desires were a mutual plead.

I wanted us well he needed me.

He snapped my bra to collapse against the corners of my elbows, my breasts exposed. His eyes opened and his lips peeled from mine. His orbs of hazel never swung low to my body, they stayed centred on mine.

He pulled my hair to roll my head to fall back onto my shoulder, exploiting my neck in the vulnerable bite line. His lips clashed to my neck, my body grasped the flesh of his back well his lips showed no mercy.

"Justin I want you."

My tone was quivering for him to leave the teasing play for another day. I toss my bra to the coffee table and my ass isn't left unpleased as he grips it with his free hand.

"You've got me."

>>>

His hair fell to a curl over the brows of him, he was sculpted from an ideal beauty. I ached the plead of his eyes to outline the figure of my body, to silk my own eyes in a manner of lust and charm.

Though the lids of his eyes were painted to conceal and his bulky body warmed me in ways eyes could melt too. The stretch of his arms to lay a cushion on my back. My head resting on his bare chest with the ink of illustrations to entertain me.

His soft breaths exhales and inhaled to a calming pace, soothing to me as I listen to the beat of his heart.

Each morning same to my delight, does he see it. Doesn't he see that this could happen. It's basically already set in motion, us. We compliment each-other in more than ways to be physical.

I always trace my mind to the roots of where he couldn't allow himself to open up to me. He's spoken never to his past or his family life. Most I can know is the psychotic interest of women he dabbled in during his highschool years.

I never bothered to bring it up as I never felt the comfort in being pressured to speak on my family history. Yet in the end he knows and he has the upper hand of my own vulnerability.

His lips part as my eyes soak the polish of his refinement. I allow the temptations of my hands to smooth through his hair to be fulfilled, smoking the flames of his dirty blonde hair in the clench of my hands.

My leg swore to the other side of him, straddling his solid figure. Skin on skin, what a wonderful guilt.

The waves of sun to peak the mornings awakening were delayed drastically as the snow to mount December's name laid the cities streets.

His face was speckled with the pricks of hair, sculpting a savouring new look. My lips skim the tanned biceps to the warmth of his neck. Drunk on his essence of safety, I couldn't bare to leave my hands to myself. Once, I felt comfort in the most shaken period in my life.