Page 56 of Until We Meet Again

After engaging in a class discussion during the first half of the lesson, the students have now switched to working on a writing assignment. Meanwhile, I'm seated at my desk, lost in a sea of papers piled up on my desk, ready for me to grade.

I try my damn hardest not to look up at Tessa, but the constant temptation to fix my eyes on her is nearly impossible to resist. It feels as if she has an invisible hold on my throat, urging me to lift my head and direct my attention to her, but I don't and won't because my hunger for her needs to be controlled in moments like these.

My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket, and when I pull it out, I see her name.

T: Eyes on me, Zane.

Despite my hesitation, I find myself unable to ignore her demands, and while I enjoy being in control, she has the power to bring me to my fucking knees.

My eyes slowly raise as she brings the edge of her pen between her lips, and the fact that she doesn't make eye contact with me means she knew I'd cave and give her what she wanted. As her tongue dances over the tip of her pen, all I can think about is how badly I need her mouth wrapped around my cock again, which is now throbbing in my pants.

Finally, her eyes lock onto mine, and a smirk spreads across her face. She deliberately spreads her legs, offering me a view of her panties. I shake my head at her, sending a clear warning before typing a message.

Z:If you continue, you won't getmy cock.

T: Liar.

Brat.

Z: Keep pushing me, sweetheart. I fucking dare you.

She tucks her phone awayand crosses one leg over the other. I won this round, but knowing how desperate she is for me to stretch her out and sinkmyself inside her feels more like a punishment for me.

Class is almost at an end, and I couldn't be more relieved. Being around Tessa is torture, especially when all I can think about is bending her over my desk, pulling her panties to the side, and fucking the soul right out of her.

"Miss Johnson, a word, please?" Ideally, I would've done this when the room was empty, but being alone with her isn't something I'm prepared to risk. It feels safer this way.

As soon as she approaches me, I stand up and offer her my chair, allowing me to face away from the rest of the class and engage in a discreet conversation with her.

"What can I help you with, Professor?"

"This morning, I spokewith another teacher who mentioned the poem that you wrote. Now I need to be sure that, while the piece you wrote was very good, there was no hidden intentbehind it."

"You enjoyed it?"

"It was good work, Ashlee, and I was impressed with how tasteful it was."

"I could've been super distasteful. The temptation was totally there."

"I'm your teacher, Miss Johnson, and there's a clear line between what's appropriate and what isn't."

"Have you ever stepped over that line?" she whispers as she clutches the arms of my chair.

Yes.

"No, and I have no intention of doing so." The lie slips away so effortlessly, but the situation with Tessa is different. I planned towreck her from the moment I met her in that coffee shop, long before I realized she was my student.

"You sure about that?"

"I don't want to take this further, Miss Johnson, but I will if I have to."

"I'm just playing with you. I totally thought you were more chill than that. My bad."

"As I previously stated, there's a line, and you're starting to cross it. Please return to your seat."

I never want to do that again.

Class is finally over, and everyone, including my girl, leaves. When I find myself alone and surrounded by silence, I take a moment to relax back in my chair. I tilt my head back, releasing a little tension in my neck, and exhale deeply before closing my eyes.

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