Page 47 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
That is, assuming she'd ever contemplate the idea of wanting to be with me. Because it’s all I’ve been thinking of ever since I met her.
But being with her?
Not an option.
She's already mad about the promotion. She’s already hurting and me being in her life will only complicate things further.
“Arla suggested I get this anger out of me. She thinks I need to have it fucked out of me.”
I almost choke at her words. “She said what?” My dick springs to life, and I flinch. Those lips... they give me ideas I hate myself for entertaining. I fidget uneasily, feeling uncomfortable and preyed upon as she comes towards me. She kicks off her shoes and eyes me like a hungry jaguar, her movements slow and stealthy, her eyes all lit up and fiery. I swallow, and my stomach muscles harden as I attempt to put my hands over my cock.
Offering a sly smile, she kneels on the floor.
“Wh-what are you doing?” My voice is uncharacteristically weak. She stares up at me before placing her hands on my inner thighs. I hold back a growl. My thigh muscles quiver.
“Don’t … don’t d-do th-that … “I try to tell her, even though my mind has other ideas. She leans forward, the open buttons of her blouse make it gape allowing me to see down her bra and the tempting flesh spilling out above the cups. I wriggle uncomfortably. “You need to … to … to … meet someone,” I say.
What a stupid thing to say.
She licks her lower lip. “I have met someone. I've rekindled a connection from my past.”
Rekindled?
Is that what this is—a rekindling?
“How are you with your students now, Mr. Turner?” She slides her hands slowly along my thighs and I jerk. She's a provocateur and she knows exactly what she's doing to me. Her gaze falls to my cock—or rather, my hands covering it. It throbs and engorges under her heated gaze.
“Wh-what are you doing, Megan?” I manage to bite out as I fight for composure. I don't understand the shifting dynamics. I don't understand what's happening, but the appendage between my legs approves.
“Do your students flirt with you, Mr. Turner? I imagine you're still a fantasy for them, a good-looking math professor like you.”
“I don't prey on my students. That's not what we had.”
Her eyes well up in tears, and it’s like cold water pours over me. I sober up and lean forward. “You’re upset.” It’s the last thing I want. “Why?” I place my hands over hers and try to shift them away from my hardness but she doesn't yield easily.
“You haven't answered my question,” she whispers.
My brain has ceased to think. “What question?”
“How are you with your students now?”
“What do you mean exactly?” I despise the insinuation.
“Are you nice to them? Like you were to me? Are you concerned and caring?”
“What I felt for you was genuine concern. I wasn’t preying on you, Megan. What is this?” I shift as far back into the couch as I can, which is not much, but I’m cornered by this woman on her knees who’s trying to imply that I am some sort of philanderer when it comes to young female students.
“All the girls had the hots for you. You haven’t changed much, even all these years later. It makes me wonder what your students think of you. The Hot Young Sexy Professor.”
There are some who seek me out. Like Heidi did. She’s not been coming to the lectures much lately. She’s been having counseling. The dean of the college wants me to have counseling as well. He says I need to because of my position. I can’t be seen to be ‘messed up’ when I’m teaching.
I’m not ‘messed up’. Not so much by the shooting. I still can’t sleep easily, and I do wake up, but what I’m messed up about is staring up at me.
Maybe I messed her up, leaving her without explanation. I wonder if that’s why she doesn’t respect boundaries. She’s kissed her work colleague one drunken party evening, and now she wants to pleasure me.
It’s not what I expected of her. I cup her face with my hand and stroke her cheek, my finger resisting the urge to shift down and stroke her lips. “I want to help you, Megan. I want to set things right.”
But this beautiful, fragile but feisty creature lays the flat of her hand over my hardness. I gasp because it feels so good.
