nueve

TW: R18

Ms. Hontiveros’ POV

I don’t think.

I don’t question.

I just move.

Alice doesn’t resist as I pull her out of the café, past the curious glances, past Migs’ infuriating smirk. She follows, her wrist warm beneath my grip, her breath uneven as we step into the night.

It’s reckless. It’s dangerous. It’s everything I swore I wouldn’t do.

But I can’t stop myself.

I unlock my car with shaking hands, pushing her inside, slamming the door shut behind me. The silence is thick, heavy with something unspoken. The air conditioner hums, but it does nothing to cool the heat rising between us.

She’s watching me. Wide-eyed, breathless. Expectant.

"Alice."

Her name leaves my lips like a confession, like a prayer.

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to.

Because when I reach for her, she meets me halfway.

Her fingers tangle in my blouse, pulling me closer. Our mouths crash together, all teeth and desperation, and I swear I can feel my restraint snapping like a thread stretched too thin.

Her lips are warm, soft, but there’s nothing gentle about this. It’s messy, uncoordinated—she’s just as impatient as I am. Her hands roam, restless, nails dragging against the back of my neck, against my waist, against anywhere she can reach.

I shouldn’t let this happen.

But when she shifts in her seat, legs parting just enough for me to slot between them, I forget why I ever wanted to stop.

I press against her, one hand gripping her thigh, the other bracing against the seat beside her head. The smell of her—faint perfume, sweat, something uniquely Alice—fills my lungs, makes my head spin.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmurs against my lips, but her hands tell a different story, slipping under my blouse, fingertips ghosting over my ribs.

I shudder. "Neither should you."

Her laugh is breathless, almost wicked. "Then stop me."

I don’t.

Instead, I drag my lips down the column of her throat, biting, sucking, marking. Her breath stutters, fingers tightening in my hair.

Outside, the world keeps moving. People pass, cars drive by, life continues as if nothing is happening. As if I’m not in my car with my student pressed beneath me, gasping, trembling, falling apart with every touch.

And god help me—

I don’t want to stop.

The moment my teeth graze her neck, Alice shudders beneath me, fingers tightening in my blouse. Her body reacts before her mind can catch up—hips arching, lips parting, a quiet gasp slipping free.

I don’t give her time to think.

I press against her, pushing her further into the seat, my hands roaming—greedy, desperate. The air between us is thick, heavy with something we both refuse to name.

“Alice,” I murmur against her skin, tasting the faint hint of coffee and something sweet.

She exhales sharply. “Ma’am…”

Something about the way she says it—half a plea, half a challenge—sends heat pooling low in my stomach.

I shouldn’t want this.

But I do.

And from the way Alice pulls me closer, nails dragging across my back, thighs parting ever so slightly—I know she wants this too.

I reach between us, fingers trailing up her bare thigh beneath her skirt. She sucks in a breath, anticipation making her shiver. I take my time, teasing, ghosting my fingertips along the sensitive skin just to hear her whimper.

“Don’t tease,” she mutters, frustration laced in her voice.

I smirk against her collarbone. “You think you’re in charge here, Ms. Guo?”

She glares at me, but it’s useless when she’s already melting beneath my touch.

I slip my hand higher, past the hem of her underwear, finding her warm and slick with need. A strangled sound escapes her throat, and I swallow it with a kiss, deep and slow, as my fingers work their way between her folds.

Her breath stutters, her hips jerking instinctively.

I circle her clit, light and teasing, until she’s squirming, breathless, her hands clutching at me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Ma’am—”

“I’ve barely touched you,” I whisper against her lips, voice thick with amusement.

She glares again, but it crumbles into a moan when I slide a finger inside her, slow, deliberate.

She’s tight. Warm.

Perfect.

Her head falls back against the seat, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. I don’t stop. I add another finger, curling just right, drawing out sounds that send heat pooling between my own legs.

The car is filled with her quiet moans, her gasps, the soft, wet sounds of my fingers working her open. She’s falling apart so easily, so beautifully.

I press my thumb against her clit, circling slow, and she bites down on her lip, trying to keep quiet.

“Don’t,” I murmur, breath hot against her ear. “I want to hear you.”

She doesn’t hold back after that.

Her moans are quiet but needy, her body shifting, grinding against my hand as if she’s desperate for more.

She’s close—I can feel it in the way she tenses, the way her nails dig into my shoulders.

“Come for me,” I whisper, voice softer now, coaxing.

And she does.

Her body trembles, thighs clenching around my hand as she falls apart, a soft cry spilling from her lips. I watch her ride it out, watch the way pleasure washes over her, leaving her breathless and wrecked.

God, she’s beautiful like this.

As her breathing steadies, I press one last lingering kiss against her lips before pulling my fingers away, wiping them on a napkin from the dashboard.

She’s still dazed when she looks at me, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from our kisses.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

Then—

“…Did we just—”

“Yes,” I say before she can finish.

She stares at me, then covers her face with both hands. “Oh my god.”

I chuckle, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Regrets?”

She peeks at me between her fingers. “No.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Then what’s wrong?”

She sighs, dropping her hands. “This… this is insane.”

I nod, because I can’t argue with that.

For a long moment, silence stretches between us.

Then, she shifts in her seat, glancing at me hesitantly. “…Are we okay?”

The weight behind her words is heavy.

I know what she’s asking.

I exhale, leaning back against the car door, fingers tapping against my knee. “Alice…” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

She flinches, but I reach for her hand before she can pull away.

“But,” I continue, squeezing her fingers gently, “I don’t regret it.”

She blinks at me, searching my face for so

mething—reassurance, maybe.

I sigh, shaking my head. “I don’t know what this is, Alice. I don’t know what to do about it.”

She swallows. “I just… I don’t want to fight anymore.”

My chest tightens.

Neither do I.

I squeeze her hand again, offering her the smallest smile. “Then let’s stop fighting.”

She stares at me for a beat longer before nodding. “Okay.”

And just like that, something shifts.

The tension, the jealousy, the uncertainty—it doesn’t disappear, but it no longer feels like something that will break us apart.

I lift her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Let’s get out of here.”

She smiles. “Where to?”

I smirk. “Somewhere more comfortable.”

Alice laughs, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”