by Ally Vance
And then you take a step, and that’s all that is needed for me to empty out all over my hand. Hard breaths come out as I slow the pace until every drop is out of me.
“Fuck.”
Cleaning myself off and making myself presentable, I glance over at your window one last time before starting the engine and leaving.
Come judgment day, if I’m sent straight to hell for this moment, I’ll take it gladly. Because any moment I get to experience you is worth all the punishment in the world.
Chapter Five
Ian
“Remember, your written assessment is due in a week. You are to submit it via the online portal. Failure to do this will result in you losing a mark per day it’s late. You have five days from the due date to hand it in. At the end of the fifth date, it is noted as a failing grade.”
Each student nods their head in understanding. It’s a sea of varying expressions. I can tell which students have already completed their assessments to the ones that haven’t even begun. It’s not an easy assessment, so the ones that have yet to start are stupidly overconfident. I can even pick out the ones that don’t want to come off as unprepared, but are just that. I see it year after year. I’m just grateful that most of the class are on track. Maybe they won’t be as insufferable as last year’s.
Of course, as expected, you are one of my students that has already completed their assessment. I would have expected nothing less from you. Because despite my original doubts, you’ve shown me you can handle all that I have to give and the full load of your studies. The class has ended and the students begin to flow out of the lecture hall. I wipe off the notes on the board, and when I turn around, the sight that greets me makes my lips twitch with annoyance and wanting to walk over to you and tell the guy that is standing there to leave you alone. To tell him you’re mine and mine only. Except I can’t. I can’t make it obvious, my affections toward you, even though I know I’ve probably blown that when you spilled the coffee on yourself.
I watch as I gather my things at the interaction between you two, and the beautifully genuine smile that appears on your face. The one that says you’re flattered with the attention and that you don’t mind him talking to you. You don’t mind talking to him. I can eventually get over the fact that he had the audacity to approach you, but seeing your reaction to his presence. Well, that is not something I can stand for.
“Hey,” he says, running his hand through his hair, and casting his eyes to the floor. I shut off the low growl that comes from the back of my throat at his obvious act of anxiousness.
I’ve seen this ploy acted out countless times between students. It’s the whole, I’ve wanted to say hi to you for so long but you’re so beautiful, routine. The one I had hoped you would see past. Why can’t you see through it? You’re a smart girl. No, instead, you say hi back. You give him more than he deserves. He doesn’t deserve to get your attention, no matter how much he’s been vying for it.
“I’m Trevor,” he says.
“Viola,” you respond in that sweet delicate voice that has every nerve in me awakening. The one that has the blood pumping straight to my dick. It’s the sweetest song you’ve ever heard. It’s a light whispering breeze on a beautiful spring day. It’s life and light and everything that is pure in a world so dark and full of monsters.
“I-I know,” he stammers. He fucking stammers. Like he’s some prepubescent boy talking to a girl for the very first time. I don’t know who he is, but I’m sure going to find out who. If she’s going to be friends with this pathetic loser, I have every right to know the kind of person they are. Don’t do it. I have to keep reminding myself that I can’t fall down the rabbit hole. That there’s an entire volume of my history that should never be re-read. “I’ve been wanting to say hi to you for some time, but I’ve… I’ve been too nervous to,” he admits shyly.
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes and return my focus on gathering my things, which is taking a rather long time to do because of you.
“Well, I’m glad you found the courage to finally come say hi,” you say sweetly. I look at you, even though I shouldn’t. I look at you and what I see has me seeing red. Your hand is on his arm. Stroking it. It’s comforting and playful. It’s inviting and soothing.
It makes me want to rip your hand off his arm and snap his neck so you never do it again. Anger whorls inside of me and I grip my briefcase tightly, attempting to push down the rage that has overcome me. The rage that leads to dangerous thoughts and dangerous actions. The ones that had me uprooting my life to begin with. I finally do the smart thing. I quickly pack up and leave the lecture hall. But unfortunately not quick enough to not hear the words that have me slamming the door shut behind me.
“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
“Sure, I’d love that.”
With my body shaking, and my skin becoming clammy, I angrily gather my things and charge through the throng of students to leave the humanities building and walk toward my office.
You have no idea what you’ve just done, little one. And when I get my hands on you, I’m going to have to punish you for doing this to me.
I shouldn’t be here. How many times have I said that to myself? I’ve lost count. Words of wisdom I’m failing to do because of the way you make me feel. The way you’ve crawled under my skin. I’ve lost myself to my darker side. Really, I’m not entirely sure why I fought it for so long. The moment I locked my eyes on you, it was inevitable. I could berate myself over and over again. I could attempt to divert my attention and thoughts in another direction. To my lessons. Not to a student who could and will only get me into trouble.
It’s why I find myself slipping into the shadows and traveling up the soft grassy front lawn of your house. Why I waited for the lights to switch off and cover the house in darkness. Your housemate is working at the restaurant tonight and she won’t be back until late. From what I could gather from her social media accounts, she owns a restaurant in a neighboring city. It seems to be hugely popular and is a place I could see myself eating at.
Creeping around toward the side, I make my way to the back where I know there’s a rear door. If I’m correct in my assumption, it won’t be locked and I’ll be able to go straight in without having to pick the lock. Most people around here will, ninety percent of the time, lock the front door of their home, but rarely give any thought to the rear. It’s spectacular, ignorant stupidity at its finest. The assumption they’re safe and secure if the front door is locked, when any thief with the smallest ounce of experience would attempt the rear door where possible. Fortunately for me, I have the opportunity, and gingerly test out the wooden steps of the porch to ensure that there’s no squeaking. The last thing I need is for you to hear something, come investigating and find me in this precarious situation. There is nothing on Earth that would warrant my presence.
Taking the same precautions, I make my way to the back door and jiggle the handle lightly. I’m relieved to find it’s not locked and enter the home, walking straight into the laundry room, which I notice from the strong scent of washing powder and fabric softener. Instantly, I feel the cool air of air-conditioning as it circulates. A stark difference to the heat of summer outside.
I take the moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness so as to navigate my way a little easier. Leaving the laundry room, I notice a faint dim glow and stop. I’m most certain that your housemate, Rose, isn’t here, but one can never be too careful. She could have come home early. Seconds tick past, and after a few moments, take the silence as an indicator she’s not here. I have a rough idea where your bedroom is. Yours is to the left. Rose’s to the right. Reaching the top landing of the steps, I see your bedroom door is closed, as I would expect. I grip the cool handle and slowly twist it, pushing the door open.
The sensible and rational side of me screams to stop and leave the house. If I hadn’t listened to it when I decided I would come here, there’s no way I’m going to listen to it now. I ste
p in and instantly the smell of you floods my senses. Like flowers coming into bloom in spring. I take a moment to wrap my head around where I’m standing and why I’m here. Driven by insanity and madness, I was pushed here by the irrational need to see you. Because regardless of my annoyance with you, nothing can keep me away from you, and I can no longer ignore the need to be near you again.
Soft sounds of sleep escape you, and it makes me smile. With the moonlight, I can just make out where your bed is, and position myself to lean against the wall. You look so beautiful tonight. So innocent and peaceful. You’re not the kind of person I should be attracted to, because you’re too perfect to destroy. And it’s already been established that is exactly what I would do to you. Because that’s what people like me do to flowers still in blossom. I could watch you for hours. You shuffle slightly, and my breath hitches, as I wait to see if you’re going to wake up or not. I watch as you roll onto your back, and I swear I can make out a smile on your beautiful face. Kicking the blankets off, you murmur a little as your hand travels south. I watch with extreme interest as you wiggle around on your bed. Your hand stopping on your panty-clad pussy.
The taste of copper lands on my lips as a little bit of blood flows into my mouth. The sight of you slipping your hand into your panties has me growing hard and my head hazy with lust as I use all the strength I have in me to restrain myself from pushing your hand aside and feasting on your sweet pussy. I’m enthralled by the way you so casually dip your finger into your pussy. I’m transfixed by all this and curious what you’re dreaming of. Is it me? Am I consuming your dreams at night and having you pleasure yourself? Or is it him? I grind my teeth a little at the possibility. I move to the foot of the bed, kneeling down to watch.
“Mm-hmm. Oh, fuck. Right there, baby.” You moan, moving your hips with the motion of your hand as you pull yourself closer to orgasm.
I inch closer and take in the scent of you. Musky and sweet, I feel the pressure of my hard cock pushing against my pants. Pushing my pants down, I free my erection from the confines of the material and stroke myself. Long strokes in time with yours. If only I can taste you. Just a little to satiate my need. Would you be as sweet as you smell? Would you come hard on my tongue? I close my eyes as I place myself in your dream and picture how we would be together. Your body quivering with the force of your own pleasure as I push myself deep inside of you, relishing in the sound of your echoing screams of delight.
Your body shakes and your hips lift off of the bed and I know you’re close. My body moves forward of its own accord and I surge forward, gently move your hand away. You whimper softly, and I don’t care to check to see if you’re awake. A groan leaves me as I taste you, and you’re just as sweet as I had imagined. I make a long languid stroke up your slit, capturing your swollen clit in between my teeth and biting down a little. You yelp and I suck away the sting. I continue my attention on it as I return my hand to my erection, stroking myself as I kiss and suck, eating you as I had dreamed. Your hands fly to my hair and you grip tightly, pulling at it.
Your short, labored breaths spur on my orgasm, and a warm spray of liquid lands on my hand, dripping off the end. As if igniting the spark, your body comes alight and you writhe underneath me. I made you get here. I did this. It’s me that has you crying out in your sleep. Even if it wasn’t me you were dreaming of, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because now, the reality is worth so much more than any sleeping fantasy you have. It’s that knowledge I will hold on to forever until I grow frail and old.
I made you come.
I made you feel pleasure.
I made your body come alive.
I.
Me.
Chapter Six
Viola
I observe myself in the mirror. It’s a hot night tonight. The news has stated this is the hottest summer day we’ve had in years, and I believe that. Cocking my head to each side, I take in my outfit. It needs to send the right message. Too sexy gives off the impression that I’m interested in having breakfast at his the next day. Too casual, says that I think we’re just friends.
When Trevor asked me out at the end of our last class, I was surprised. He’s not the most academic guy, and I can tell he’s one of those people that is purely coasting. He’s going to get the marks to pass, but not enough to actually become a psychologist. He is… not someone who would ever be classified as a jock, but the closest thing to it in the class. I’ve noticed him flirting with other girls. He already has a reputation for being a bit of a playboy. When I had agreed to go on a date with him, my friend Dana had asked why. I told her it was because I wasn’t going to let some rumors stop me from going out with him.
“But he’s a total sleaze. He only wants to go out with you to have coitus. Do you want that?” Dana asked.
I raised my brows. “Coitus? What is this, the eighteen-hundreds?” I giggled. “I don’t know. Maybe… maybe not. I can’t say for sure.”
“I wouldn’t. You’ll just end up in his little black book,” she argued.
“I’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s a serial killer.”
“No, he’s a serial dater. That’s worse.”
I shake my head at the memory. In reality, the reason I had accepted his invite was because ever since a certain incident happened between a certain professor and me, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. And judging by the way he had slammed the door shut on his way out, showed that it had got to him as well. We have already overstepped. There’s no way that a student can date her professor. It’s unethical. Trevor is the hottest guy in our class and he is the only guy to take an interest in me. I need a distraction. And he came at the most perfect time. If I can just get over these unwarranted feelings toward the professor, my boss, then I’ll be able to function and not think about him. Think about how the heat of his gaze scorched into my skin and sent shivers down my spine. How every movement of his hand as he gently wiped at the coffee that had stained my top had me wanting him to take things further. Sure, I had always thought that he was attractive. You’d have to be dead not to see how sexy he is. Most of the female students in the class loved him. He’s an asshole, but that doesn’t seem to matter. If anything, it has made him more attractive to them.
“Ooh, someone’s out to impress,” Rose says from the doorway.
I look at her in my mirror and smile. “Is it too much?” I ask.
“Not at all. You look beautiful and classy. That’s the sweet spot. You can’t look sexy, otherwise he’ll expect something. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for as well.” She waggles her brows at me and I roll my eyes.
“Not expecting anything. Just wanting to look nice.”
“I’d say looking nice is not the problem. If you didn’t look nice, then Trevor would never have asked you out.”
True.
“Okay then, well I guess I should get going,” I announce.
“He’s not picking you up?” Rose frowns.
“He wanted to, but I told him not to bother. He lives in a frat house on the opposite direction of the campus, and the restaurant is in town. He would be going out of his way.”
“Okay then. He should still pick you up, but whatever. It’s your date. Have fun.”
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, collecting my purse.
She moves away from the door as I exit and follows me through the house. “Oh, you know me. The usual.”
“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “You need to stop being so predictable.”
“You won’t be saying that when I’ve gone missing. You’ll be grateful for how predictable I am,” she retorts with a smirk, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “If you do decide to screw him, just don’t be too loud, I have an early morning,” she says, shutting the door behind her.
Trevor is already at Valentina’s by the time I arrive. With a smile on my face, I walk up to him at the front of the restaurant. I love punctuality. It promotes respect and is indicative of good time management. This quality is hard to fi
nd these days. People have become lazy and uncaring of proper decorum. He pulls me in for a hug and kisses me lightly on the cheek. His lips are soft and smooth, and I appreciate his clean-shaven look. There’s nothing worse than being kissed by someone and having their stubble rub against your skin. It’s annoying and causes irritation.
“I’m so glad you came. I’ll admit, I was scared you wouldn’t show,” he says with a nervous chuckle. Lie. He knew I would come, because he’s just arrogant enough to believe that women don’t deny him. Which is fair, considering women probably never have in the past. We aren’t born with inflated egos, they are created. Yes, it stems from the parts that make you up on a base level, but without the constant appraisal of one’s efforts or proof, egotism would not be present in one’s behavioral makeup.
“What made you think I wouldn’t turn up? Is that really how you think of me?” I ask with a frown and a fake tone of offense. Trevor’s eyes go wide and he trips over himself beautifully at explaining exactly what it was he meant. I let out a giggle at seeing such a spectacularly weak moment in him. “I’m messing with you,” I reassure, placing my hand on his arm for good measure.