Make Me Bad: Private Lessons by W.H. Vega Read Free Book Online Page A

but by then, my mother didn’t want to uproot me and
take me back to France and we stayed in San Diego, living among a small
community of artists. My mother worked various odd jobs to support us and
afford my music lessons.
    My attention shifts from to the mediocre guitar player and I
look around at all the people wondering if any of them could be my family.
    Doubtful.
    My family wouldn’t be wasting their time with tourist
attractions.
    I know I probably have a lot of family left in France but I
don’t remember who any of them are.
    Becoming annoyed by the musicians awful chord strumming, I
stand up and stretch my stiff legs. I've been sitting longer than I realized. I
make my way back down the steps and wind my way along the steep, cobblestone
streets, enjoying the history. I pass the famous windmill of the Moulin Rouge,
as well as a number of sex shops. There are also plenty of gift shops, filled
with gaudy knick-knacks and bad chocolates.
    It’s beginning to get chilly, and I’ve had enough excitement
for one day. I hurry back home, my mind focused on Madison’s visit. I shouldn’t
be as excited as I am, but I keep picturing having her all to myself for hours
at a time, and the thought is intoxicating.
    I get home and jump in the shower, and when I get out, I see
that Madison has sent a text.
    Can be there a little after six. What is your address?
    It’s just after five now, so I text her my address and
straighten up my apartment. I don’t really intend on us spending a lot of time
eating, but I feel better knowing that I have groceries in the house.
    Sure enough, there’s a knock at the door just after six. I
take my time answering the door, and when I pull it open, Madison is standing
there breathless, as if she ran all the way up the steps.
    “Hi.” I say huskily, holding the door open for her.
    “Hi.” she says shyly, tentatively stepping into my
apartment.
    “It’s not much.” I find myself saying, unsure as to why I’m
explaining my rented apartment to her. I guess now that I know Madison’s
background, I feel like I’m at a little bit of a disadvantage. She may be
worldlier than I had expected, though I do remember her saying her parents had
raised her to be pretty down-to-Earth.
    “No, it’s great.” She steps into my living room, clutching
at her black purse.
    “Want to put that down?” I motion to the bag.
    “Oh, right. Sure.” She pulls the bag off, and unbuttons her
long black coat. She slides the coat off and drapes it over my couch, resting
her purse on top.
    I’m standing a few feet behind her, staring at her. She’s
dressed in dark-wash skinny jeans, with thigh-high riding boots. The boots
would be too much if they were black, but they’re brown, and it’s incredibly
sexy and understated. She’s wearing a loose sheer white top, and I can make out
a lace-trimmed camisole beneath it.
    I’m so screwed.
    “I’m surprised you came.” I can’t help but say.
    “I’m surprised I came too. But I told you last night. I
don’t want to stay away from you.”
    Yes, she did tell me that last night.
    “Don’t you think that you’re a little young to be speaking
so boldly?” I ask softly, moving carefully towards her.
    “I’m not that young at all.”
    “You are to me.”
    She shrugs. “Not my problem.”
    Oh, she’s toying with me now.
    “I think you’re messing with me.”
    She raises her eyebrows. “And what if I am?”
    “Haven’t you been taught to respect your elders?” I am mere
inches from her now, and my hand slides to her arm.
    “I don’t think you’d like me as much if I were being
respectful.” she teases.
    And then, to my complete shock, she drops to her knees in
the middle of my living room floor, and begins to unbutton my pants.
    “What are you doing?” I gasp.
    “Something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.” she
murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes.
    My cock hardens.
    “Still want me to be respectful?” she breathes, freeing