Lost in Light

By: Kat Kingsley

A Teacher’s Pet Novella


I’d like to thank Panda for his patience and constant encouragement, my amazing photographer Bryan Lott for the beautiful cover photography he did – who knew I’d make such a good photographers assistant? Also, many thanks to my wonderful beta readers, especially Stick, Meta, Greg, Teresa, and Heidi!

Chapter One

My heart lodged in my throat as his fingers clawed at the buttons of my shirt. His breath, hot and cloying against my neck, was almost as jarring as his teeth clacking against the small rings in my ear. The lingering smell of chemicals in the photo lab made my head swim, or maybe it was my nervousness at finally letting Jake, my first college boyfriend, do more than kiss me.

We had spent a couple of weeks shooting shy, flirty glances at each other. Me, the awkward, quiet girl from suburbia and he, the dazzling, confident ex-football star. Destined for a stellar football career, he had blown out his ACL in his senior year of high school and had come to the University of Denver to major in Business instead.

Never in a million years had I thought that someone like Jake Green, with his sky blue eyes, shaggy mop of sun-bleached hair, and roguish smile would have been attracted to someone like me. His easy going attitude and quick smile had soothed my nervousness during our first date and here we were, three months later, taking the next step.

Despite the calming aura that he always seemed to radiate I couldn’t help the sickening ball of nervousness that sat like lead in the pit of my stomach. I could feel my pulse echoing through my body, pounding in my chest like a caged bird to finally flutter down into my palms that lay anxiously on Jake’s muscled shoulders.

“Oh baby, you’re so hot…” he whispered as several buttons gave way under his fingers, a jolt of uneasy electricity running through me as his knuckles grazed the skin of my belly.

“I want you so bad,” he added in an almost pained voice.

“Jake, I… I want you too, but I’m not sure,” my voice sounded so small and weak in the dark photography room. His aggrieved sigh washed over me, snaking down into my open shirt, tickling the sensitive skin of my breasts.

“Come on, Rachel, you know what you do to me,” he moaned, pressing his erection, so evident through his jeans, into my hip. I felt a nauseating flutter in my stomach at his obvious sign of arousal, a deep flush heating my cheeks, making the small room feel even closer and hotter.

“Just let me touch you a little,” he continued to plead, once more nipping and nibbling my ear lobe while his fingers trailed lazy patterns on my skin just beneath my bra.

I loved him, or at least I thought I did. So why did the thought of him touching me so intimately make my muscles scream with the desire to run? He’d been so patient with me, so understanding of my hesitation, wasn’t this the least I could do to show my appreciation of his patience?

Swallowing audibly and biting my lip, I pushed the anxiety to the back of my mind, squeezed my eyes shut, and nodded my head stiffly.

His hands, hot and rougher than I had anticipated, brought a startled “Oh!” to my lips as he cupped my breasts, his fingers quickly finding and pinching my nipples. Liquid heat rippled through my body but a dark trail of unease followed quickly in its wake.

“Not so hard,” I whispered against hair that smelled of sunshine and the outdoors, his fingers becoming more demanding, almost painful, in their ministrations.

“Hush, baby. Don’t you like me touching you?” His hands continued to knead my breasts through the thin cotton of my bra while his erection rubbed suggestively against me, pressing me painfully into the counter.

“Yes, but… you’re hurting me,” I said, my small voice was almost lost in the echoes of his heavy breaths.

“And you’re hurting me, baby,” he said hotly, once again pressing against my hip, letting me feel the stiff heat of his arousal. “I’ve waited so long for you. I don’t know how much more I take,” he groaned.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered guiltily, daring a quick glance up at his face, startled by the raw and burning passion I found there, and the hint of anger that glinted in his eyes.

Grunting roughly at my apology, he leaned harder into me, pressing his lips against mine in a hot and savage kiss, his tongue demanding entrance to my mouth as his hands resumed their rough handling of my breasts. Although my eyes burned with sudden unshed tears I made no move to stop him, after all, if I had let him do this sooner he would have been more gentle with me, right?

It was my fault that he was being so rough, I had made him wait too long. Yes, I needed to let him do this, needed to show him with my body that I was sorry for being so cruel and hurting him.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured again through his kiss. My hands, which had until now lay unmoving on his shoulders, running gently through his silken hair, brushing against the tanned skin of his neck.

His only response was to kiss me harder, his lips pressing against mine with bruising force as he pulled at the fabric of my bra, revealing my breasts. No one had ever seen me shirtless, let alone naked, since I was a little girl. Even in the locker room in high school I had been shy and hesitant about revealing my body to others. I always felt that I didn’t measure up to the other girls, that my hips were too wide, my breasts too heavy.