“Of course,” I manage, feeling myself unravel in front of her. “Yes, hook up to the Bluetooth and play whatever you want.”
She smiles and my teeth grind together. I should leave. I need to leave. She settles herself in the soft velvet chair at the top of the stairs, where the light filters in just right from the window above. This art room was custom built for the way the skylights have been positioned. Her leg lifts and drapes over one arm of the chair as she leans onto the opposite arm. The class hums behind me, as the chorus of supplies being readied begins its symphony. I stand like a fool, studying her every move. So, when the sheet drops just slightly and her dusky pink nipples spear in the cool room of the studio, my mouth salivates.
Fuck.
I know I should look away. I know I should run. I know I can’t control myself around her. She’s too damn perfect. I imagine dismissing the class and stalking up toward her, sailing my tongue across her chest.
Fuck, I need her.
Restless energy spreads under my skin like a virus, infecting my mind and my soul until my fists clench and I storm from the room, leaving heat behind me as I head toward my office, locking the door after entering.
I sit back in my chair and unzip my pants, pulling out my hard, swollen cock.
This is wrong. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help myself.I grip my dick hard and jerk fast, trying not to think of what an asshole I am.
She’s young. She’s innocent. I can see it in her eyes. Yet here I am, jerking off to the sight of her nipple.What the hell is wrong with me?
Her nipple. That hard, speared, pink, flesh that was desperate to be warmed. More devious thoughts ravage my mind as I pull at my cock. The thought of burying my face between her thighs, making her cry out in pleasure is too much.
My dick tightens and my balls draw up, as my muscles tense. Soon I’m warming my own hand with what I’d hoped to be painting her insides with.
I’m sick. I need help. Who does this?
I slink up from the chair and button my slacks, wiping my hand on a Clorox wipe from my desk. The chemicals burn my skin, but I deserve it. I’m not making good choices. Maybe it’s good I’m leaving the college. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to scrub this shame off me.
I contemplate going back into the room, hoping that my release will be enough to quell the urges I’m having, but I decide to stay put. It’s better for me and it’s better for her. I can feel myself on the edge of saying something dumb and I don’t want to mess with her head, especially not this close to graduation.
So instead, I file through paperwork and distract myself with words and numbers until the bell rings and I’m safe from all that haunts me.
____________________________________
A wave of relaxation presses over me as class ends. I know Raven will be heading back to her dorm and I have another class of students mooring in soon. This one, I may be able to stand in front of. Thank God, because I’m pretty sure I’m being paid to teach, not sit in my office, and jerk off.
Standing from the chair, I unlock the door and grab a file off my desk that I need to deliver to the front office.
“Professor Hill,” a soft voice says from next to the door. My heart pauses all essential functioning, and my mouth goes dry.How long has she been here? She’s dressed again. I’m thankful for that, or maybe unthankful depending on how you look at it. Either way, she’s standing there, with those big doe eyes and amazing breasts, staring up at me like she’s feeling bad about something.
“Raven… is everything okay?”
She nods. “Oh, yeah. Everything is fine. I just…” Her eyes twist down toward the ground. “I worried that I’d upset you somehow. You rushed out of the room so quickly after I undressed. I thought maybe I’d gone too far with the sheet. I pulled it back up after you left.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure the class appreciates your willingness to,” I swallow hard, thinking of everyone’s eyes on her and I’m uncomfortable all over again, “be free with your body.”
Her gaze rolls to the side. “I’m hardly free with my body. I was,” she draws in a sharp breath and wraps her arms tight around her books, “just pretending to be, for a few minutes. This is the crazy thing I’m doing before college is over. And now that I’ve done it, I’m pretty sure it was not worth the twelve canvases with my nipple drawn all over them.” Her eyes trail to the side and downward as though she’s embarrassed. God, if I made her feel embarrassed or unworthy of an audience, I should get on my knees right now and repent because that’s not what’s happening.
“Well, you did good at pretending. I had no clue you were feeling shy.”
She looks up at me, those big round eyes like globes of innocence. “Why did you leave then?”
I look toward my desk. “I had work to do.”
She nods. “Are you sure I didn’t—” She stops mid-sentence and twists her hair for a moment before clutching the books tight again.
She’s picked up on something and I need to give her more than the breadcrumbs I’m throwing, but it can’t be so much that she thinks I’m interested or coming onto her in some way. I’ve built a nearly twenty-year career. I can’t go out in some dumpster fire and take an innocent, hardworking student with me. This is my darkness, my burden to bear.
“It was uncomfortable,” I finally say, arranging my face to some new expression that’s somewhere between a half smile and worry. I’m not sure it’s been named yet.
“Oh, God.” She looks away. “It’s my body, isn’t it? You’re embarrassed for me. I made a fool of myself.” She spins in a full circle as though looking for an exit, then pauses long enough to stare at me in the eye. Damn it! That wasn’t the right thing to say.