Buried Deep ✔️

Chapter Three [School]

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces of people I had been in class with since I was six years old: the people who I should have been friends with, but instead had always made me feel like an outcast.

After a minute, my mind began to wander. The hot new girl was all I wanted to think about. Her body was athletic and toned. My pulse quickened at the thought of her stamina in the bedroom. I bet it was insane. The sound of her voice echoed in my ears, and I could imagine her moaning my name as she reached an orgasm. She would be the perfect trophy to add to my shelf of sexual conquests. My eyes closed as I relaxed into my seat at the back of the classroom.

She was stretched across my bed, my white button-up shirt barely clinging to her small form. As she lifted her arms, it exposed her bare stomach. The only other article of clothing she wore was a pair of red lace panties. My mouth went dry. Blood rushed to my dick.

I strolled over to her. My hand wrapped around her throat as I forced her eyes up to mine.

"Do not tease me like this . . . ," I whispered, my fingers trailing across her lips. Her breath hitched.

My body was filled with excitement and hers was, too.

My eyes flashed open. I sat up straight in my seat. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I let out a deep breath after realizing it was a dream.

My eyes met Mrs. West's, who was staring at me as she stood in front of my desk. "I'm glad you decided to join us, Spencer." She rolled her eyes.

I smiled at the scowl on her face. "I'm honored you want my attention, Mrs. W," I replied, folding my arms across my chest.

She wasn't amused with the game I was playing. There were a few people staring at me, and some were laughing. My other classmates whispered to each other before they turned back to the front of the room. My eyes watched Mrs. West's ass as she made her way back up to the front.

She was a hot teacher, and I would have tried to sleep with her if she wasn't married. Hell, if she asked me to, I would fuck her anyway.

She turned around at the front of the room and held up some papers. "Okay, guys and girls. I have a zero-tolerance policy for being late to class, texting in class, and sleeping in class," she said her eyes focusing on me. "And I have some assigned seats for this year."

I groaned, not wanting to leave the comfort of the back of the room.

She ordered students to move as she motioned to their new spots. Then she looked at me. Her green eyes were thoughtful for a moment.

"Mr. King. You can stay where you are," she said.

I smirked and leaned back into my seat, relaxing. I spaced out for the rest of class. Instead of dreaming about the random girl, I focused on the looming turf war tonight.

Cayden wanted vengeance on the Eastside. The death of the boss would be news throughout the streets of Chicago. The murderers must pay. They had inflicted damage on the Southside, but the retaliation would be brutal.

Finally, the bell rang, and I flew out of my seat, grabbing my bag as I did. Everyone let me pass because they feared me. Since I had fallen in with the Southside, people had begun to respect me, and all the drama associated with high school had seemed to disappear.

I was the first one out into the hallway, turning the corner and bumping into a hard body. Not realizing who it was, my hand twitched toward the gun hidden in my pants. My muscles tightened for a fight as I assessed the person in front of me.

"Whoa, Spencer. Calm down! It's just me, brother. No need to get jumpy," he said with a worried look on his face.

It was only Mason. I relaxed my shoulders and took a deep breath. I'd been on edge since my meeting with Cayden. I was trying my best to control the emotional river bubbling inside my chest. During my time with the Southside gang, I had been taught that emotions made you weak. Cayden had spent many nights ingraining that into my mind.