Chapter 6
Gabriel
I sit at a wrought-iron table in the Institute’s old conservatory, facing Alistair Crane, my senatorial campaign advisor. He has a thick portfolio open before him.
“The alumni are generous,” he says, sliding a list of donors across the table. “Wolfswood’s elite, plus discreet contributors. Your Senate run is well-funded, Gabriel, but precarious.”
I scan the names on the list. They come from old money families and are all betting on my potential.
“Precarious, how?” I ask. I try to remain calm, even though there is a lot of weight to his words.
“A scandal. Gabriel, if your contributors find out about the smallest news of bad behavior, your chances will vanish. The public loves a rising star. But they’ll tear you down faster if they believe you’ve done something… wrong.”
His warning is heavy with implication.
“Then I’m going to try my best and avoid any type of scandal.”
I know what he’s referring to. But all I can think about is Rose Devereaux, her soft smile, and her deep eyes.
If I were ever to do something… wrong, she would be the wrong I was doing.
“Keep your nose clean, Gabriel. We’re close.”
“I understand, Alistair. My focus is the campaign.”
“Good. Because you’re surrounded by temptation here—beautiful students, young, eager, all in their twenties, practically at your command. Don’t do anything stupid, Gabriel. A misstep with one of them could end everything.”
“I know my responsibilities, and I won’t cross that line.”
Alistair looks like he doesn’t trust me. “You say that, Gabriel, but I know about Meg, the waitress from the cafe. She’s been telling everyone who’ll listen how she gave you a blow job behind the counter in the cafe.”
I try not to show it, but I do feel surprised that he’s even heard about that. “Meg’s exaggerating her story. It was a mere mistake.”
The fact that the waitress told people about the time we had sex surprises me. But I shouldn’t talk about it anymore with Alistair.
“Mistake or not, she’s loud about it. Imagine this situation with a student, Gabriel. Wolfswood would dismiss you in a heartbeat. And the Senate race would be over before it even began. Voters don’t forgive professors who sleep with their students.”
“I understand the stakes,” I say. “It won’t happen. My students are my priority, nothing more.”
“Make sure that it stays that way. We’re too close to a Senate seat to risk it.”
He stands up and gathers his portfolio, then leaves me alone with the weight of his warning. Evidently, this is all about Rose. A student I am not allowed to pursue.
If I fall for her, I risk it all. So, I have to decide. Is she worth it?
***
The question is still at the back of my mind, like a repetitive tune that you can’t shake. I’m waiting for Rose in the institute’s music hall, a cavernous space with polished wood floors and a grand piano at the center.
I’ve chosen this room for Rose’s second private lesson. The acoustics here are perfect for teaching public speaking. This is a skill she’ll need to wield the Devereaux legacy with confidence.
Feeling restless, I arrange a single chair on the small stage, with a podium beside it. I prepared a speech about her family’s history, and the thought of Rose standing there is exciting me. I want to be close to her again, like we were in my study.
I’m eager to see her progress, to command attention as effortlessly as she commands mine. But what I truly feel is beyond professional. It’s personal, intimate, and forbidden.
Rose walks in a few moments later, dressed in her pristine Wolfswood uniform. She’s also wearing a cream scarf draped loosely around her shoulders, perhaps because of the cold weather, or just because she knows how good this accessory makes her look.
“Good afternoon, Professor,” she smiles sweetly.
“Miss Devereaux,” I say, gesturing to the stage. “Today, we are going to focus on public speaking. The lesson you need to learn is that confidence is power. Are you ready?”
She nods, brushes her scarf with her fingers, and clasps them.
“I’m ready, Professor Thorn.”
Rose is clearly determined, but her posture also tells that she’s nervous.
“Please begin reciting this speech,” I say, handing her the pages. “It’s about the Devereaux legacy. Read it aloud, and project your voice. I want you to own the room.”
Rose steps onto the stage and takes the podium, scanning the text with her eyes. After clearing her throat, she starts to read the speech, but makes a few mistakes. In response, she hunches her shoulders a little and starts to fidget with the paper.
I approach and stand just below the stage.
“Stand straight, Rose. Pull back your shoulders, please.” My words are firm but gentle, and she adjusts immediately. She aligns her posture, looking more elegant yet vulnerable. “Now, again. From the top.”
She tries again. This time, her delivery is steadier but still hesitant. I climb the steps to the stage and position myself in front of her.
“Please keep your eyes on mine, Rose.”
She obeys me and clasps her hands behind her. Without speaking, she locks her eyes onto mine. I can feel the intimacy between us now, all alone in here, with no one to see us.
“Good. You’re doing well, Rose.”
She blushes, but continues, and recites the speech with growing confidence. I circle her slowly and watch her every move.
“Emphasize the 1923 merger,” I say, pausing behind her. “It’s the cornerstone of their empire.”
She nods and repeats the phrase, using a much sharper delivery now. The tension between us is growing. Each command I give her is drawing us closer. And I know that her obedience is a silent agreement that leaves me shaken.
After a few more phrases, I pause beside her because I notice her wrist twisting nervously. I reach out, and my fingers brush her skin to adjust her stance. The contact is brief but electric, and her body tenses under my touch.
“You like being told what to do,” I tell her. This is a statement, not a question. I want to test the boundary.
She doesn’t deny it, but does look down just for a second before answering me.
“I want to get this right,” she says, and her words are steady despite the tremor in her hands. I step back to give her space to continue. But every part of me wants to stay close, to feel her warmth again.
“Please repeat the final paragraph.”
She recites it out loud, with a nearly flawless delivery now.
“Perfect, Rose. You’re learning quickly.”
My praise is sincere, and her smile, almost unnoticeable but radiant, makes me feel proud of her. I want to see that smile again, to be the one who draws it out.
“I’m finished. What’s next, Professor?” she asks me.
For just a moment, we stand together on the stage, like two actors with no more lines to say.
I stop in front of her, closer now, my fingers itching to touch her. A lock of her hair has fallen across her cheek. I brush it back with deliberate care and enjoy the feeling of my fingers caressing her skin.
“Do you trust me?” I whisper, and the question carries more weight than I wanted.
“Yes,” she says.
But I notice that she is still trembling slightly like she did a moment ago when she was reading the speech.
“Why aren’t you more confident, Rose? You’re a great student, your essay was written well, and you have a degree from King’s College. What stops you from acting accordingly?”
“I don’t feel like I belong here,” she admits. “Wolfswood… Devereaux… It’s all so overwhelming. All other students seem so confident, so entitled.”
Her vulnerability makes me feel bad. I want to erase her doubts, make her see the strength I see in her.
“You’re not just anything, though. You’re Rose Devereaux, the heir to an empire. But more than that, you’re more than capable. This place doesn’t define you. You define it. Stand tall and claim your place with confidence. You belong here just like the rest of the students.”
“Thank you. I would really like to believe that.”
“You will. And I can help you with that. Here, let’s work on your composure. Confidence starts with control of your body and your breath.”
I move behind her, and my hands are hovering near her shoulders.
“May I?”
She nods, and I rest my hands lightly on her shoulders. I can feel the warmth of her body through her sweater.
“I need you to relax your upper body. This is the part that most people look at,” I say, and gently press to ease her tension. Her body softens under my touch, and my pulse quickens. The contact between us is electrifying.
“Breathe deeply,” I instruct her, and then slide my fingers to her upper arms. “Please try to rest your arms naturally by your sides…”
Her skin is warm, even through the fabric, and I feel how anxious she is. Is her body responding to my touch? Or is she just nervous about public speaking?
“Inhale while I count to four, and exhale while I count to six, please.”
“Yes, Professor.”
I count softly, and she follows my advice. Her chest rises and falls, each breath drawing us closer in this charged space.
“Chin up, Rose. Always keep your chin up.”
I graze the soft skin just below her hairline with my thumb, and she shivers. Her eyes meet mine.
Silently, I pray that this is true. She wants me too. I can feel it in her reaction to my touch.
I slide my hand to the back of her head and thread my fingers gently through her hair to tilt her face upward.
“Look forward to project authority,” I say.
But I’m losing focus, tool. All I can see is the delicate curve of her neck. I wrap my fingers around it and keep them there. Her lips part just a little. I can feel her pulse, and the idea alone makes me hard.
“I want you to try the speech again, this time with my fingers around your neck,” I tell her.
She has turned bright red now, and my cock feels supremely powerful.
Look at what I can incite in this beautiful girl, just with my touch.
I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Her breasts, full and round under the sweater, are responding to my fingers, to the sweet pressure, and the eroticism of it all.
“The history of the family started a few centuries ago when…” she begins again.
But I’m barely listening. Right now, I am consumed by the need to touch her.
I circle her again, and this time, position myself behind Rose. I slide my hands down her back and then return to her shoulders.
“Perfect,” I murmur, and my lips are close to her ear. She closes her eyes, leaning her body into my touch.
The silence that follows is electric, and the music hall seems to shrink to just us.
I can’t resist any longer. I turn her to face mine and lean in.
My lips capture hers in a soft but firm kiss.
Her gasp melts into the kiss, and her warmth is flooding me.
For a spark of a moment, I’m lost in her—in her softness, in her trust.
I press my lips harder, claiming hers, and she opens her mouth, yielding to me. Our tongues meet, slick and warm, hers tentative at first, then eager, dancing against mine. Her taste—sweet, like ripe fruit with a hint of mint—floods my senses, and drives me wild.
She moans softly, and the vibration sends the heat straight to my cock, which is already hard, and straining against my trousers.
I guide her closer, and savor the wet heat of her mouth, the way her tongue curls around mine, hungry yet shy. My body aches, and every nerve in it is alive with need. Inside my pants, my erection throbs with the urge to take her fully, to feel her pussy wet and tight around me.
Her lips are soft, swollen from our kiss, and I pull back slightly. My saliva is glistening on her mouth, and her eyes are dazed with want. I’m consumed, lost in her taste, her surrender, and I know that this forbidden kiss is only the beginning.
“That,” I say, “was a mistake I’ll make again.”
I pull away, and my chest is tight with desire and regret. Then I step back, forcing distance between us, though every part of me wants to close it again. She needs a moment to process all this, I know it.
“Tell me how you feel about this, Rose…”
“I… I’ve been dreaming about kissing you since I first arrived at Wolfswood. And now it’s actually happened. I feel like I’m in a fantasy,” she giggles softly, and covers her mouth with her hand.
“Good, I’m happy you feel that way,” I reply, feeling relieved. “You did well today, Rose.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“Tomorrow, wear your hair up. I want to see your neck.”
My words command, but also promise something more. The nod she gives me shows that she feels it too.