Chapter 5 #2
“That’s what I’m here for, Rose,” he smiles.
Before I can respond, a figure approaches us. It’s Cassandra Vane. Her blonde hair is gleaming, and her uniform accentuates her curves.
“Professor Thorn,” she addresses, pausing at our table. “I was hoping to discuss my essay.”
Gabriel’s expression remains polite but distant.
“Miss Vane, I’m with a student now. Schedule a meeting through my office.”
Cassandra pauses, and her lips slightly part. She’s definitely expecting more.
“Surely you must have a moment, Professor Thorn. My essay could benefit from your… personal insight.”
“I’m occupied, Miss Vane. My office hours are posted for a reason.”
Gabriel’s eyes flick back to me, unwavering.
Her smile tightens, and she steps closer, undeterred.
“I’ve heard you’re running for Senate. A man like you must value bold initiative. I’d love to discuss your campaign privately.”
“My campaign is public knowledge,” Gabriel replies. “If you have questions, submit them through my assistant.”
Cassandra looks less confident than when she walked up to our table.
“You’re brushing me off? I’m offering to engage with your work, Professor. Most men would appreciate that.”
“I’m not most men,” Gabriel says, his gaze steady, cold. “My focus is on my students’ education, not personal engagements.”
“You’re serious? You’d rather sit here with her than talk to me?”
“Miss Devereaux is my priority right now,” Gabriel says, his words final. “I suggest you respect that.”
Cassandra’s shock is almost palpable. “You’re making a mistake, Professor. I don’t get refused.”
“Then consider this a first,” Gabriel replies, and turns back to his book and me, dismissing her entirely. “Good day, Miss Vane.”
She hesitates, showing a mix of disbelief and fury on her face. But then she does indeed leave us alone, like Gabriel asked her.
He focuses back on me as if Cassandra’s presence was a meaningless interruption.
“I’m glad we met in the library today, Rose, because I want to show you something,” he says, and slides his book toward me. “This passage on the Devereaux trusts is key. Read it.”
I nod, opening the book, but I can’t truly focus. Gabriel’s nearness is overwhelming. I begin to read, nonetheless. Gabriel gets up from his chair. I continue to read, stumbling over a legal term, and he moves behind me.
“Here,” he says, and leans over my shoulder. Calmly, points to a line on the page. I can feel his breath brushing my neck, so warm and so intimate. My body ignites, and my heart beats faster than before.
My pussy clenches, and sudden, aching swell leaves me wet.
I feel my panties damp against my skin. I shift in my seat, my thighs press together, desperate to ease the piercing need.
His closeness is electric, and his scent is dizzying.
He smells like tobacco, vanilla, and pralines—an incredible scent that makes my mouth water.
If this is how his skin smells, then I want to lick every inch of him.
I want him, I desire him badly, not just his mind or his kindness, but his body, his hands, his everything. My clit pulses, begging for his touch, and I imagine his fingers there, teasing, claiming me.
His hands rest lightly on my shoulders, and this gentle pressure sends a shiver down my spine. His fingers brush the nape of my neck—it’s a fleeting touch, deliberate yet restrained as if he’s testing the same boundary I’m craving to cross.
My nipples harden, straining against my sweater, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan. Can he see? From his position above me, leaning in over my shoulder, can he see my nipples hardening for him? I want him to see!
My pussy is soaked now, swollen with want, every nerve alive with the need for him to take me, to press himself against me, to fill me. Yet he remains composed. His touch is a promise of control, not possession. And it only makes me want him more.
“Focus, Rose,” he says. His words are soft but commanding, and they pull me back to the page.
Oh, God, he can see. He knows what he’s doing to me. To my body, to my pussy.
I nod, and my face is burning. I’m trying to read, and my body screams for him. His hands linger a moment longer before he steps back. He returns to his seat, and his eyes meet mine with a knowing intensity. He’s restrained, but I see the hunger in him. It mirrors my own.
We continue reading, but the words are blurry now. My mind is consumed by the heat between my legs and by the reminiscence of his touch. I want to climb into his lap, and feel his cock hard against me, I want to let him teach me everything.
But he’s my professor, and I’m his student. And the line between us is a tightrope we both walk.
“I… I think I need a break, Professor,” I manage to moan. My mouth is dry, and my pussy is salivating.
He smiles and nods.
“Then you may go.”
Without another word, I get up and gather my books. I am conscious of the fact that my pussy is dripping like a wet and creamy mess. All I want is to take a shower and pleasure myself if I can’t have him.
“You smell so good, Rose…” he adds lazily.
Does he mean my perfume or my…