A/N: I want to say sorry again for my indecisiveness earlier this week! This will, 100%, remain here as the second chapter of this story and I won't be taking it down anytime soon lol
I also can't believe there are so many of you following along with this little story already - I am truly flattered, you don't understand :D
SIN
"Arguably, Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter is one of the most notable historic works produced in the mid-Nineteenth Century." Mr. Cullen says as he commands the front of the classroom. "And, fortunately for you guys, it's our focus for the semester."
A symphony of sighing and groaning resonates around me, and even Rosalie pulls a face at his statement.
"Alright, alright, I hear you all." He chuckles, holding up his hands to calm the rowdy audience. His hands are sizeable, with long fingers and darkened callouses that protrude from the skin.
I wonder how they would feel inside of me.
"Can't we do something like Fifty Shades of Grey?" Mike Newton asks from his desk at the front. "I've heard that one's a great read."
His friend, Tyler Crowley, agrees loudly from the desk next to him and the two erupt into laughter. Rolling my eyes at their immaturity, I can't deny that my interest has peaked. I definitely wouldn't mind listening to the Adonis before me read out such filthy literature.
Just the thought makes me throb between my legs.
"Now, Mr. Newton, The Scarlet Letter was actually quite scandalous at the time that it was published and focuses on the hidden affair of two lovers in seventeenth-century Boston. If that doesn't turn you on, I don't know what will."
As Mike and Tyler high-five one another, Mr. Cullen's gaze flicks back to meet mine, causing me to bite down on the lip caught between my teeth. I groan as the taste of iron fills my mouth, and I swear the corner of his lips pull upwards slightly.
Are you flirting with me, Sir?
"Are there sex scenes in it then?" Tyler asks, making Mr. Cullen look away again. He chuckles, a husky sound, and goosebumps rise along the surface of my skin.
"You'll have to read and find out, Mr. Crawley," He says, walking behind his desk and lifting up a blue plastic box from behind it. "Can I have a volunteer to hand these out for me?"
Without hesitation, my hand flies into the air and Mr. Cullen smirks once again.
"Ah, thank you, Miss…"
"Swan, but I wouldn't mind if you wanted to change it to Cullen."
Thirty pairs of eyes turn to look at me, wolf-whistling at my comment. I arch one of my sculpted eyebrows.
Your turn, Sir.
"That's not on the syllabus, Miss Swan, but I'll be sure to pass on your recommendation to the headmistress." He mocks, and I narrow my eyes at him.
Oh, so you want to play that game.
He uses a manly hand to pat the books that rest at the top of the box, an indication that I need to fulfill my obligation. Pushing myself up from my seat, I make sure to put on a show for the man in front of me.
As I approach, I allow my hips to sway seductively, the skimpy length of my school skirt displaying an impressive stretch of my thighs. I notice his gaze plunge, fixating on the socks that stretch to my knees, and the ballet pumps that grace my feet.
He licks his lips.
In my school uniform, I am an older man's wet dream.
If handing out books is what he wanted me to do, Mr. Cullen certainly got more than he bargained for.
Placing a copy onto every desk around me, I make sure to push out my hips in his direction, the curves of my ass visible with every bow. Taking my time, I sashay slowly across the classroom. I want to tease him, punish him slightly for trying to undermine me in front of everyone, and, when I slide back into my seat, I am certain that I have been successful.
Sitting behind his desk, his eyes are hooded, dark with hunger. He holds his own copy of The Scarlet Letter in his hands, and his knuckles are almost translucent from the vicelike strength of his grip. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat.
Mission complete.
"Alright, everyone," Mr. Cullen clears his throat, glancing down at his book, flicking through the slightly-stained pages. "Can we turn to page fifty-five? Today's lesson is going to be an interesting one, introducing you all to the landscape of the novel. Now, our protagonist, Hester-"
"Isn't that a boy's name, Sir?" Eric Yorkie calls out from the back of the classroom.
"Not for Hawthorne," Mr. Cullen states, continuing on before anyone else has a chance to interrupt him. "You see, Hester Prynne is publicly shamed in the book for her femininity, specifically her sexuality; the intensity of her sin."
He looks up and our gazes meet once again, scorching, wholly captivating. Everyone around us dissipates, leaving just him and I in the company of our swelling temptation.
"You see, The Scarlet Letter is less a commentary of the act of sex itself, and instead focuses on the social connotation of female sexuality."
He speaks with purposeful intensity, eyes darkening with every word. He is speaking only to me, warm brown orbs decimated by fervent green.
"It is the collective fear of a woman, suffocated by her seductiveness."
My head is spinning, and my breathing is growing shallow, heavy.
I cross my legs beneath the table.
"The only way society can control her sin is by removing her from it completely."
"So," Mike's voice interjects Mr. Cullen's monologue, much to my dismay, and pulls me back to reality, reminding me of the other bodies that fill the room. "She just has sex with a guy, and she gets kicked outta town? That's a bit much?"
"Indeed, Mr. Newton, it is a 'bit much'," Mr. Cullen states. "Which is why it warrants such incredible analytical depth."
I raise my hand once again, my heart thumping beneath my shirt.
"Yes, Miss Swan?"
"Have you ever been tempted to sin, Sir?" The words are heavy in my mouth, unfaltering.
He chuckles again, and my skin prickles in response.
"Yes, I believe we all have the temptation to, at one point or another. Society is wholly encompassed by the desire to sin, don't you agree?"
I inhale sharply as I nod.
"It's simply how much strength one has within themselves to resist. Most people don't."
"Did you, Sir?" I ask. "Resist?"
He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw.
"That's not something I'm willing to disclose, Miss Swan. I'll leave that one up to your imagination."
As Mr. Cullen turns away and grabs a black marker to write something on the board behind him, I say a silent prayer that he isn't able to resist my temptation for very long.
"I was desperate for him to bend me over his desk."
"Rose, you can't say that: he's our teacher!" Alice exclaims, slapping her lightly on the sleeve of her blazer.
"So?" Rosalie primps her hair in the mirror that hangs in her open locker, pouting her lips at her reflection. She shuts the door loudly. "Mom and Dad are paying enough for me to study here; I might as well make the most of its resources."
I snigger at my blonde friend as we start walking towards the double-doors at the end of the corridor, where the rest of our classmates loiter.
Most people like to socialize at the end of the school day in the parking lot outside, sharing gossip with one another and bitching about the uselessness of our teachers. Various groups huddle together – the jocks, the goths, the nerds. You could really find someone of every caliber on the expansive concrete.
Mike and his group of friends stand near some railings, taking drags from a cigarette that they are passing around. They whistle as we walk past, looking us up and down, calling out things that I wouldn't repeat in front of my parents.
Rosalie and I play up to their attention, wiggling our fingers at them and shaking our chests. Alice simply flips them off. They groan collectively, playfully throwing a can in her direction.
"Come on, Brandon, lighten up a little!" Eric shouts, blowing her a kiss.
"When we're the last two people on Earth, then give me a call!" She yells back and throws the can back in their direction; unfortunately for him, it bounces directly off of the Yorkie boy's head.
The group of boys start to screech, shoving Eric and clapping one another on the back. Alice smirks finally and runs a hand through her short, spikey hair.
"You're too harsh on him, Al," I tease, nudging her. "You never know, he might be spectacular in the bedroom."
"If you're so interested, Bells, why don't you find out for me and let me know? I'm sure you'd love a piece of Yorkie's porky." She says as she unlocks the yellow Porsche before her, throwing her designer handbag onto one of the leather seats.
Attending a prestigious school like Forks Academy, cars like Alice's were not uncommon in the parking lot; that was one of the many benefits of Mommy and Daddy's hefty bank accounts. Next to her flashy vehicle sat my own, a flame-red Mercedes that Renee and Charlie had surprised me with for my birthday last year. They were ostentatious, much their owners. Rosalie's parents had opted for something more subtle – a glistening white G-Wagon.
Alice Brandon, Rosalie Hale, and I had been friends since the days that we all styled our hair in pigtails and secured them in place with fluffy scrunchies. We had met on the first day of kindergarten when they had complimented my shoes, and we had been inseparable ever since. I trusted them with my life, and I knew they held the same affection for me; we were more like sisters, life-long partners, 'til death do us part.
While we shared the same level of fondness for one another, so did those around us. We were the group at school, turning heads anywhere that we went, and breaking the hearts of girls and boys alike.
The three of us are devils, shrouded in the disguise of angels.
Using my own set of keys, I unlock my Mercedes with an audible beep and shimmy myself between its red body and a black Volvo that I do not recognize. I pause briefly, rummaging through my own handbag to locate my phone, mentally contemplating what kind of music I would play on the way home.
I locate it resting at the bottom and I pull it out, brushing off a few crumbs that cling to it. Just as I am about to open the door to the driver's side, I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Do you usually ask questions of that nature in your English lessons, Miss Swan?"
Even without noticing the blush that has crept onto Alice and Rosalie's cheeks, I would notice that husky tone anywhere.
"Why? Was it inappropriate?" I inquire as I turn around, pleasantly taking in Mr. Cullen's enchanting appearance.
He holds his leather briefcase in one of his hands and a set of car keys in the other. A pair of darkened sunglasses rest upon the bridge of his nose. I didn't think he could get more attractive than he did in that English classroom, but I was clearly mistaken.
"Not at all, I appreciated your engagement," He nods behind me at my friends. "Hello Miss Hale, Miss Brandon."
"Hello, Sir," The girls sing in unison; I cross my arms across my chest.
"I suppose we'll leave you to it, Bells," Alice continues, sliding into her car. "See you tomorrow!"
Their two vehicles speed off and their tires kick up a flurry of stones in their wake. When we are alone, Mr. Cullen smirks at me again.
"Have you ever read The Scarlet Letter before?" He asks, opening the back door of his Volvo and placing his briefcase onto the leather seat.
Never in my life had I been so jealous of an inanimate object, held so close on a daily basis to such an enigmatic man.
I nibble at the skin of my lip before I answer his question.
"No, Sir. Is it one of your favorites?"
He shakes his head. "I read it once or twice in my youth. I'm not a big reader usually."
"But you're an English teacher?" I bring my eyebrows together in confusion. "How can you teach English if you don't like reading?"
"There's a lot you don't know about me yet, Isabella." The use of my first name makes my stomach dip.
"Oh yeah?"
"Definitely. I'm more of a fan of other pastimes."
When he smirks once more, my body grows hot.
"What ones?"
I hold my breath.
"I'll leave that one up to your imagination." Repeating his words from earlier, he climbs into the front seat of his car, rolling down the passenger window slightly. He leans across, looking up at me through dark eyelashes. "I hope you give it some thought."
Then, he is gone, speeding out of the gates.
When my body finally collapses into the front seat of my Mercedes, I release the breath I had been withholding, focusing intensely on regulating the rise and fall of my chest. Shaking my head, I try to wrap my thoughts around what just happened, try to understand the irrefutable magnetism between the two of us.
He can't have been flirting with me today - he's my English teacher, a man significantly older than me. He must just appreciate my interest in his teaching style, my eagerness to learn, the way I clung to his every word with a fierce fascination.
Then, I think back to the way his eyes watched me, drank me up, exposing every depth of my soul in a single hour.
Nestled in the solitude of my car, I have an overwhelming inclination that Mr. Cullen is going to completely destroy me – mind, body, and soul.
I also have a feeling he's not exactly going to be kind about it.
Leave me a review and let me know what you think about this Bella and Edward!
Happy reading :D