Texting My Hot Tutor – Text Me You Love Me Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
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I hope I didn’t give you any signs otherwise. I was horny as hell, I won’t deny it. You drive me completely crazy. But yeah, I was fine with it. I’ve waited forty-one years for the perfect woman, never thinking I’d find her, find you…I can wait a little longer.

I don’t want to wait forever, she replies. But that would’ve been the riskiest first time ever.

I chuckle. Outside, Second Chance students laugh and talk loudly, but they might as well be in a different universe.

All that exists as I stare down at my phone is my woman.

I know. When I take you, I want you to be able to moan.

And you, she replies. That was so hot, when you were you-know-where, the way you were groaning like you enjoyed it as much as me.

That’s because I did, I text. But if we start talking about that, I’m going to lose it again. What are you up to today?

I’ve got the restaurant later. They were short-staffed.

I sigh. You don’t have to work there anymore, Della.

I kind of do. I need to pay rent.

I set my jaw firmly.

We’ve brought out true wants out into the open. There’s no reason to stifle this.

You never have to work, Della, not unless you want to. I’ve got enough money so you wouldn’t have to work for the rest of your life.

Are you serious? she texts.

Do you think I’d make my future wife work as a dishwasher? Why would I? And why would you think you have to, Della? Because of pride? No, screw that. I’m your man and I’m going to provide for you, and when your perfect body gifts me with children, I’m going to provide for them too. You can focus on college full time.

It takes her a while to respond.

I resist the urge to do push ups. It’s far easier than it was before I met my woman, far easier than when thoughts of childhood were constantly tugging me back.

It’s like I can let it go, or at least try to.

I understand this is no impressive feat for a forty-one-year-old man, but the thought has me smiling.

My woman is healing me. Just by being who she is, she’s making it easier to forget, to move on.

Finally, my phone lights up on my desk.

I honestly don’t know what to say. I’m almost crying on the bus, Eli. I’m sitting here staring down at my cracked hands, and I’m nearly crying. Do you really mean it?

Yes, I mean it. Completely. You never have to work there again. But what do you mean, your cracked hands?

I wouldn’t do that. I hate it there, but I don’t want to leave them in the lurch. But I can tell my boss today? You mean it?

Yes, Della. You know I won’t lie to you. But you didn’t answer my question….

Outside, somebody plays music loudly. I turn to find a group of jock types there. It’s unusual for Second Chance. I wonder if they’re students, or friends of a student who have wandered onto campus.

Then my phone vibrates, and I stop caring.

You didn’t notice last night?

Notice what? You’re not making any sense.

I always thought it was so obvious to everybody else. My skin’s all cracked from the dishwashing. My boss is so cheap and doesn’t like replacing the gloves. And even when he does, they’re cheap, too, so the water gets in. I thought you were just being polite.

I wish she was here so I could pull her into my arms and hold her tenderly, whisper that she never has to worry about things like that. Whisper passionately in her ear that….

Your beauty couldn’t even be touched by something so trivial. I was too busy enjoying simply being close to you, savoring your warmth, scent, and everything to care about that. Even if I had noticed, it wouldn’t have made a tiny bit of difference to me. Plus…those days are over, Della.

You’ve found your man. You’ve found your protector. You never have to worry about things like that again.

The music outside gets louder. I wander over to the window, watching as a tall, wide-shouldered young man leans down to fiddle with a Bluetooth speaker. He’s got dark black hair and a sleeved tribal tattoo.

Around four of his friends bob their heads, with a few students…women I recognize as Second Chancers.

If security doesn’t handle it, I will.

My phone goes off again. I return to it, picking it up.

Okay, now I am crying on the bus. I know it seems like a silly thing, but it honestly means so much to me.

I want you, Della. Not some ideal of what a woman should be. If you rolled out of bed sweaty from the night before, with bedhead, with the skin of your fingers burned from hot dishwater, if you’d forgotten to brush your teeth, I’d still want you.



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