A/N- OK, lemon warning- if that sort of thing offends you, don't read this chapter, or quite a few of the ones that will follow. If that sort of thing doesn't offend you, well, then, yay! Enjoy!

Disclaimer- Property of CH- I'm just playin'

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Chapter 2

This day couldn't have been any longer. I got my ass chewed by Coach Stackhouse- yes, he is related to the lovely, Miss Stackhouse. Apparently, my "fat ass" wasn't running drills fast enough for the Nazi.

My fourth and fifth periods of the day were filled with mindless cheerleaders, who assumed I would fuck them simply because their name made the roster. Alright, I wasn't terribly picky about the 'slot' to my 'tab', but… these girls were just… So. Damn. Boring!

They never had a unique thought rattle out of their acrylic-laced brains. If one of them actually managed to say something witty, or challenge me in some way, it was because they happened across the Daily Show or The Office while looking for another episode of Girls Next Door.

This past week, though, there was something more. I kept feeling anxious. Today was the worst. Knowing I'd be seeing Miss Stackhouse again made my dick quiver.

Yeah, I said 'quiver.' You can tell the fucker stop but I ain't going to.

When I wasn't fucking it up in the "kitchen", I was totally immersed in what she was talking about.

Miss Stackhouse would throw in commentary about growing up in a farmhouse with her Gran, or, stupid, off-color, jokes about food in general.

She never made us feel that student/teacher distinction. It was more like master and apprentice.

Hmm… that brought out a whole new imagery… Miss Stackhouse as the master, in black leather…

Fuck! Ok, down boy, it was still 10 minutes until we'd get to see her again. Plus, I didn't think we'd want to introduce her to you from 15 feet away (alright, that may have been a slight exaggeration).

I was perfecting my swagger as I entered the 'Extra's building. This building was separate from the rest of the school. This is where most of the elective courses were held- industrial tech, multicultural ed., sewing and 2D/3D art.

This was the reason I had never seen Miss Stackhouse before this last week. She had only started teaching here last year and was isolated in this building. I haven't taken classes out here since my freshman year.

Walking in, I spotted my vixen across the cooking area… Oh God! She was talking to Miss Broadway. What a nutcase!

If I had to sum up Miss Broadway in two words, they'd be, Hippie Chic.

She was drenched in beads, filmy skirts, and was all about the "aura" surrounding shit… whatever!

My confidence flew right out the door when I heard the tender laughter floating out of my would-be mentor. It was so disarming. I hadn't realized I was gaping at the sight of her perched on a stool, legs crossed.

Her dress had ridden up her thigh allowing a fantastic view from my vantage point.

That was…until it was interrupted.

"Mr. Northman, you're early. Thank you for taking my warning seriously." Miss Stackhouse rotated on the stool so her hands were on the prep table behind her.

Miss Broadway slid off her stool and eyed me warily as she practically glided out of the room, "Bye Ames."

"See ya, Sook!" Sook? That can't be her name, can it?

"Eric, please have a seat." She patted the stool that was dangerously close to her.

Yep, too close. As I sat down, my leg inadvertently rubbed against hers. She quickly looked down and away from me.

Turning to face me, she'd regained her composure, "Ok, we're not going to do any cooking today." Oh really? Whatever will we do Miss Stackhouse? Hmm… I could always work on my dessert prep skills.

Raised eyebrows let her know that I was curious as to our specific activities this afternoon.

"We need to discuss why people cook and figure out some goals for you in my class." Alright, goal number 1- get in your panties!

Yep, I was pretty much past the fact that she was my teacher. She was hot, there's no way I was passing up this opportunity.

My moral compass seemed to be getting hazier and hazier.

Holy Shit! Her hand was on my arm- no I'm not a preteen girl, but the woman of my dreams (at least lately) was in direct contact with my skin.

Ok, she didn't grab my bicep seductively, she just placed her hand on my forearm.

The kind of way you touch someone to get their attention…

Oh, yeah!

"Eric? Are you ok?" I nodded, afraid I'd start licking her hand like an over stimulated puppy. "Alright, why do you want to learn to cook?"

Easy. "I don't."

Her smile dropped just a tiny bit, enough that I noticed and vaguely regretted my brusque answer. "Well… I… then why did you take my class." She looked 'honest to God' flustered with my answer, brow furrowed, slowly clicking the pen in her left hand.

Shit, well… honesty was the best policy…I hoped.

"Coach Stackhouse told me that Mr. Burnham screwed up my schedule and left off an elective. So, Dr. LeClerq forced me to choose between your class, multi cultural ed, and home finances. I chose this class." Simple enough.

"Oh… ok. Well, let's pretend you actually wanted to take my class." Oooh, sore spot. I guess I did unintentionally insult her class. I'm sorry, I have a very precarious filter between my brain and my mouth- not my fault, blame it on biology.

"Why would someone want to learn to cook?"

"I don't know, usually the girl offers to cook for me." My eyebrow waggled to punctuate my insinuation… oh yeah, that only works in the locker room… around guys… oops!

"Look Eric," Yep, she's pissed. "I am not wasting my plan period just so you can make fun of my career choice. I love food, I love making food. If you're not going to take this seriously, then there's no way that I'm going to spend my free time helping a spoiled football player pass a class just so he can keep tossing around a little ball." Damn, take a breath, I get it! I was a dick!

"Miss Stackhouse, I'm sorry," yum… I do love me a big helping of crow, "I wasn't trying to make fun of your career. I guess I'm still a little pissed that I had to take another class my senior year that is mostly a freshman course. Mr. Burnham screwed me over and Coach Stackhouse has been all over my ass that I have to keep up my grades to play. And, in case you didn't notice, I suck at this class." Not to mention, my focus is shit when you're within my line of sight.

"Eric, when we're working one on one, please call me Sookie. 'Stackhouse' is my brother, I've never been that hung up on students calling me by my last name. Unfortunately, Dr. LeClerq would have a fit if I didn't make my classes call me that." I chuckled and her eyes, finally, connected with mine.

"Jase needs to lighten up, football isn't everything." What?! Blasphemy! "Don't give me that look! It isn't. Eventually, you'll have to survive without it, and when that time comes- you'll need to cook for yourself." The smile hiding on her lips told me she was teasing.

"So, what kinds of things do you like to eat?" Watching her glossy, pink lips form the words had me thinking of an entirely different answer than what she was expecting…

Focus, Northman!

"I don't know. I guess I'm a meat and potatoes guy." I stretched my arms above my head (yeah, I was showing off exactly what those meat and potatoes did for me). She nodded as she let her eyes slide down my frame.

She caught herself and snapped her eyes back down to the notebook in front of her. My ever-present smirk reached a little higher.

"Well, then I guess we'll start with a few entrees that should be simple enough. Once you get those mastered, we can move on to the more complicated dishes."

For the next hour, Sookie wrote down and explained the items she'd have me prepare. She walked me through the ins and outs of a kitchen- she was able to gloss over the microwave, we've already met.

There was the occasional (and I do mean 'occasional', she was doing her damndest to stay at a professional distance from me) flirtatious touch. Nothing major and definitely not intentional.

She was reaching into the cabinet over the microwave for a misplaced set of measuring cups. Even on her toes, she was still just out of reach. Being the gentleman that I was (yeah right!), I stepped forward and grabbed the cups. However, they were in the back of the cabinet, which meant I had to lean against Sookie to get them.

My constant hard-on (well, constant now that I was near Sookie) pressed lightly into her back. And, I swear I felt her arch ever so slightly against me.

When I handed her the utensils, she was looking at my hands but the blush was creeping into her hairline.

By the time the bell rang, I was so engrossed in my non-flirting with Sookie that I completely forgot I needed to hustle to football practice.

"Hey, Sookie," that was the first time I'd used her name since she told me I could, "I have to get to practice, otherwise Coach'll make me run 'suicide drills'."

"No problem, Eric. I'll finish putting away the utensils. Tomorrow, we'll get started on beef stroganoff. It should be easy enough for your first entrée. See you in class tomorrow." I almost forgot about practice as I stared at her beautiful smile and the bounce of her golden curls.

The next two weeks involved Miss Stackhouse and me in my home ec. class, teacher and student.

At the end of each day, though, it was, Sookie and Eric, and "follow the leader."

I didn't mind though. Every day, I learned a little more about Sookie. While we cooked together, she told me more about growing up with her Gran and Jason. Her parents were killed in a car accident when she was little.

She took the job here in Shreveport, away from the small town she grew up in (still not sure where), because her Gran needed to go into a nursing home here. Sookie, as owner of the old farmhouse, is renting the house and living in an apartment nearby.

Gran broke her hip on the first day Sookie was at school this year, so, she went to help take care of her for three weeks. Apparently, Sookie didn't trust that the trained nurses would do as good a job at taking care of her Gran as she could.

The subtle flirting continued. It was probably wrong, but she didn't feel like a teacher anymore. Plus, she wasn't that much older than me.

This was her second year teaching. She said that her 24th birthday was in July. That would only make her five years older than me.

After revealing her birth date and age, she asked, "So, how is it that you're 19 and still in high school? Your file doesn't indicate that you had to repeat a grade here."

"Why Miss Stackhouse, have you been checking up on me?" She was so easy to tease, not to mention the incredibly sexy color she turned when embarrassed. "No, I haven't failed a grade, yet (her class was my closest attempt at failing). When I was in kindergarten, my parents moved us a couple times. By the time we were settled, I hadn't had enough kindergarten "experience" or whatever, so they re-enrolled me and I got two years instead of one."

It was the first day of October, I was finishing up a typical practice. Coach Herveaux was doing double duty. Coach Stackhouse was gone, so the defensive coordinator was standing in.

After showering and changing, I was about to take off when I remembered I left my backpack in the Home Ec. room.

Hmm… Sookie usually stays late, I bet I could catch her in there.

I jogged the length of the empty parking lot, towards the dark school. Sure enough, there was a light on in the 'extra's building.

I practically skipped through the door. I dropped and my eyes went wide when I took in the scene before me.

Sookie was on a stool, slumped over the table with her face in her hands. She was still in the white sundress with cap sleeves from earlier, but her hair looked like it had been pulled and shoved out of the way.

By the shake of her shoulders, I could tell she was quietly sobbing.

I was by her in a flash, arm around her shoulders. "Sook," hey if "Ames" can call her that, then so can I, "What's wrong?"

She twisted on her stool and immediately wrapped her arms around my waist. With her face buried into my chest, I could barely make out what she was saying, "M-my… Gran…. Sh-sh-she's dead."

Shit!

Just from the short time I knew Sookie, I could tell that her Gran meant the world to her.

I nuzzled my face into her hair, "I'm so sorry, Sookie. So sorry." I held her as tight as I could without crushing her.

The gentle nudging of her head tilting made me pull back fractionally and look at her. The deep blue of her eyes flooded my senses with her vulnerability.

"Eric…"

We were on each other instantly. She gripped my waist tightly, while my hands cupped her face to pull her into the deepest kiss of my life.

The urgency of our groping led to me grabbing her ass and setting her on the countertop. Delicate fingers threaded into my, now tangled hair, she tugged on it.

"Fuck!" My growl died on her neck as I bit and licked my way to her collarbone.

Roughly pulling her center to my strained erection, her flimsy cotton panties and my nylon pants allowed the heat emanating from her to sink into me.

I kept her firmly attached to me with my left hand, my right pushed its way up her side. I unbuttoned the front of her dress as quickly as I could.

Her white lace bra, almost virginal, was too much stimulation for my eyes. I lunged for her nipple, the rough lace felt fantastic on my tongue.

"Ungh, Eric!" She arched into my mouth and started rocking her hips against my groin.

Her hands released my hair (ouch!) and tugged on my shirt collar. I got the hint and yanked it over my head. Sookie's eyes darkened, probably matching
my own.

She leaned towards me, biting and sucking on my chest as her hands made their way to my cock-confining pants. I took her momentary distraction to slide my hands up her trembling thighs towards her lace-covered sanctuary.

When my fingers grazed the edge of her panties, Sookie bit my nipple.

"Yesss," it came out more as an animalistic hiss than a word.

Overcome with lust, I slipped my right hand under the band of elastic on her panties and ripped!

She gasped, recovered, and shoved my pants (no underwear!) down past my butt- which she groped shamelessly.

My fingers teased her lips open and flicked her nub a few times. When she started humping my fingers, I knew she was ready.

Sookie wrapped her fingers around my dick. Pulling up slowly and yanking down quickly, I was ready to bust in her hand. She firmly pulled me between her
legs.

"Awww…" a heavy sigh escaped my lips as my tip brushed against her moist lips.

I touched her chin, lifted it to bring her eyes in line with mine. "Please," she whimpered out while gently tugging on me.

At least she was polite about it.

My eyes held her in place as I slowly pushed into her smooth cavern. I went deeper and she leaned back slowly, pulling on my shoulders to bring me down over her.

I pulled back gently, watching her forehead crinkle in disproval. I smiled at her impatience and dipped my face to kiss her slowly.

Just as my tip was about to slip out, I slammed back in with a vengeance.

"Eric! Fuck!" Her nails sank into my shoulders and I started pumping in furiously. I kept my eyes on hers, I didn't want to break the bubble we had created.

She felt incredible. I wasn't a man-whore, but I've sampled my fair share of partners. Sookie was, by far, the best. She was innocent but feisty. Sweet and spicy. A constant paradox.

"Eric, please… I'm close…" the desperation in her voice pulled me out of my trance. I pumped in a little harder each time. Just barely shifting my back away, she cried out as I stroked her sweet spot with each thrust.

"Shit, Sookie… cum for me… now!" The moment I said the words, her legs tightened around my waist and her pussy clenched around me yanking my own orgasm out of me.

We shouted each other's names simultaneously as we shuddered together. I kept moving in her until her entire body relaxed. I gathered her up against my chest and sat back on the stool behind me.

Her ragged breathing started evening out.

It was amazing.

I've never cum like that- ever!

As I started rubbing her back to keep her warm, she stiffened and pulled back.

"Oh. My. God." She barely whispered the words, but the slam to my gut was the same.

She nearly jumped off my lap and scurried around the room. If I wasn't so shocked, I would have been laughing at her frantic movements.

"Oh my God! Eric! You're a… and I'm a… oh, shit! I can't believe we just… Damn it, stop looking at me." My eyes dropped to my slowly sagging penis. Time to go to bed, boy. I stood and tucked him back in my pants, found my shirt and was clothed in about thirty seconds.

"What's the matter?" I stepped towards her and she backed away immediately. "I like you, and I'm pretty sure, you like me." She rolled her eyes and huffed at the same time.

"Eric… this can never, EVER, happen again. I'm so sorry I took advantage of you. You're my student, this can't happen. I could lose my job, you could be labeled as a liability and lose your chance at a scholarship (wow! She really had done her research on me.). I was just upset by my… oh god, Gran!" A new wave of tears spilled out and she wrapped her arms around herself as she slid to the floor.

I leaned down to help her up, "No! You can't touch me. I'm sorry." She straightened up, not looking at me. Strode across the room and grabbed her purse.

Eyes on the ground, she took in a deep breath to steady herself, "I'll be gone for the next few days, possibly a week. You need to go to study hall during our independent study time." With that, she was out the door.

Fuck!

What the hell was that?!

Wait a minute…

I started frantically patting down my body as my eyes scanned the room. I already knew the answer to my unspoken (and un-thought-of) question.

I hadn't used a condom!

Shit!

A/N- Uh-oh! What's gonna happen? I already know, but you can guess ;o) So, let me know what you thought.

Up next… Sookie's point of view!