Page 33 of Tempt Me

The whole time, I couldn’t avert my gaze from the front of the class.

And he was looking at me too. Our eyes never broke contact, a tether invisible to others but no less strong, forcing me to keep his eyes locked with mine.

He was sitting at his desk, which may as well have been a thousand miles away from how far back I was. Everyone was busy doing classwork or screwing around on their laptop or phones.

His hand was running over his lips again, a sparkly black ring catching the light with his movements. I glared at him, not wavering with his teasing. His smile was slow, lazy, and dangerous. I quirked an eyebrow when he moved his hand from his lips and slowly dropped it behind the desk.

My eyes widened.

He wouldn’t fucking dare.

Even through the chattering oblivion of the students around, I heard that belt buckle clattering as it hit his metal seat. Anyone could look over and see what he was doing. His arm was hidden behind the desk, but his biceps were visible, and they were moving in a bunched, slow, forward motion.

My mouth fell open, disbelief that he was so blatantly touching himself in the middle of fucking class! I blinked rapidly, trying to keep my focus on his face, ignoring my peripherals and his hand increasing in speed.

He bit his bottom lip, sinking back into his chair and letting his mouth fall open slightly. His gaze felt too intense. His eyes were practically glowing a light green. I couldn’t breathe, my body feeling so damn heated in my seat. Awareness of the coldmetal under my pussy whipped through my core. The cool touch reminded me of that chilly water in the shower.

Why had I run off without fucking underwear?

Internally chastising myself, I looked around at the other students. Not a single person was looking anywhere near the professor, but he was mouthing two words.

I wasn’t versed all that well in ASL. I had taken a few classes in the summer, and I felt like that was why I was able to read his lips perfectly as his hand became a blur behind his desk.

He mouthed the words, ‘Little Voyeur.’

Thirteen

Gift: An object of value to be given to a loved one.

Life was the greatest gift.

I wasn’t surprised to see the strawberry blonde bolt out of her chair like she was on fire when the timer on my desk went off, indicating class was over.

The students reminded me of mindless drones leaving the classroom. Mechanically, they collected their shit and milled out the door, not even giving me a passing glance.

Fallon, on the other hand…

She froze at the front by my desk, the door just a short walk away. I knew the path out of the classroom required her to pass me, and I kept my hand firmly gripped around my cock, the come slippery on my fingers and soiling my button-up shirt.

“Have pleasant dreams, Miss Summers,” I said, warming my tone, hoping to snap her out of her frozen state.

My words seemed to break the spell. Fallon straightened her backpack, and her little skirt was sticking to her soaked cunt. She ignored me, looking down at the ground and marching out the door, slamming it shut on her way out.

I chuckled, letting go of my spent dick and pulling off my shirt without bothering to unbutton it. Staring at my come on the material I thought about leaving Fallon a gift when she engorged on my surprise.

There is nothing better than her anger. I want to see her cheeks redden with her delicious rage.

Scrawling a note down, I shoved it in my pocket. Glancing at the balled-up shirt in my fist, I sighed.

Was I being ridiculous here?

“Nah.” I reached down into my bag and grabbed another shirt.

It was the one I wore yesterday and the one I changed out of this morning after watching Fallon’s naughty little shower session.

This girl made me ravenous, more heated than I ever had felt. Fuck…she created an unquenchable thirst to fucking take her.

Break her.

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