Chapter 10
Gabriel
It’s late afternoon, and the classroom is pleasantly quiet. The last students are long gone, no doubt off to something more fun. I sit at my desk and begin reviewing my notes for tomorrow’s lecture.
The notes are thorough, but I can’t focus. What we did in my office the other day was beyond exciting. I imagine Rose’s flushed cheeks, her body trembling under my touch. The sight of her pussy gushing on my desk gets me hard, even if it’s only my imagination.
I stop writing and look up when the door creaks open. For a moment, I hope that it’s Rose. That, somehow, she heard me thinking about her and decided to meet me in this deserted classroom.
But, no.
Instead, Cassandra Vane slips into the classroom, even though I didn’t invite her. I have no idea how she knew I would be here, not in my office.
By the way she’s looking at me, I can tell she’s not here for a lesson.
“Professor Thorn,” she murmurs and walks right up to my desk. “Are you working late again? You really are dedicated.”
I set my pen down, but try to keep my expression neutral. I don’t want to encourage her.
“Miss Vane, office hours are over. Do you have a question about the coursework?”
She leans against the desk beside me. I don’t like that she’s too close to me now. And I especially don’t like her perfume. It’s stinging my nose and making my eyes water. The smell is too sweet and artificial.
“Not exactly. I was thinking we could discuss… other things. You must get lonely, with all this work.”
She brushes the sleeve of my sweater with her fingers, flirting with me. I stand up. I want to create a visible distance between us.
“Cassandra. My focus is on teaching, nothing more.”
She pouts. I can tell that she doesn’t like my rejection. But she’s still trying to entice me.
“Come on, Gabriel. I’m not like the others. I know what I want, and I see how you look at me.”
“I look at you as a student. I have no idea what you think you’re seeing. And please, don’t call me Gabriel. It is Professor Thorn. There is nothing else to discuss. You should go.”
Cassandra hesitates. Her confidence is cracking, but she refuses to take my “no” for an answer.
“You’re too quick to dismiss me, Gabriel. Think about it. The Thorns and the Vanes are two of the oldest and richest families in America. We’d be unstoppable together.”
“I’m not looking for a wife, Cassandra. And definitely not one who is interested in such superficial things like family names.”
“Come on, Gabriel... Our families align perfectly. We have wealth, influence, and a long history. I’d complement you, in every way that matters.”
“My family’s history doesn’t dictate my choices, Cassandra. I’m not interested in alliances, personal or otherwise.”
Her eyes narrow, showing a flicker of frustration.
“You cannot be serious, Gabriel! Most men would jump at the chance of being with me. The Vanes are a legacy, just like the Thorns. We belong together.”
I can feel my patience thinning.
“I decide who belongs in my life, Miss Vane. And it’s definitely not you.”
She crosses her arms and pouts again like a little girl.
“You’re making a mistake. I’m offering you power, status, everything a man like you deserves. Plus, I’m offering you—me. Don’t you know who I am? Or what do I look like? Are you blind??” she says, rudely.
“I don’t need what you’re offering. And I am not interested in what you look like. My ambitions don’t include you, Cassandra.”
“Right… Look, Gabriel, I have no idea why you’re holding out on me. Maybe you’re tired or… who knows? But I know for a fact that you want me. All the men want me. All of them.”
“Well, then, you’re a very lucky girl,” I reply sarcastically, and turn back to my notes. “Leave, Cassandra. Now.”
She lingers for just a moment longer and then, without another word, leaves.
God, maybe Rose is right after all. Our world is much weirder than it seems.
***
The costume room of the theatre department at Wolfswood Institute is a cavernous space filled with racks of capes and satin gowns. There are hundreds of dresses lined up against the walls, like ghosts or spectres.
This is the place I chose for tonight’s lesson with Rose. A lesson about control, vulnerability, and power. Although I know it’s a risk, my need to be with her is stronger than my caution.
I walk toward the light panel at the back of the room and turn on just a few spotlights.
As if on cue in a theatre play, Rose comes in.
She’s dressed in a dark blue woolen dress, shorter and tighter than anything I’ve seen her wear before.
Her generous breasts sway as she walks toward me, and I can see that she’s not wearing a bra.
It’s making her tits jiggle invitingly. Her nipples are hard and very visible as they rub against the wool of the dress. The sight makes my mouth water.
Her eyes are nervous but determined, and I see the flush of arousal in her cheeks. It’s mirroring my own desire.
“I came, Professor, like you wanted,” she smiles at me.
“Not yet, Rose,” I reply, and she blushes. She understood what I meant. “But, if you’re a good girl, this evening I might let you cum.”
She pulls her dress down a little and tries to cover her thighs better. But it only serves to make the dress tighter and accentuates her incredible breasts.
“What do you want to teach me, Professor?” she asks.
“Tonight, we explore control, Rose. Are you ready?”
“Yes. I’m ready for… whatever you have planned for me. For us.”
I guide her to a cleared space among the mannequins and racks of costumes.
“Take off your clothes.”
She seems surprised, but obeys me. I watch as she slips off her dress. She’s not wearing any lingerie at all, and the sight of her glistening pussy is driving me wild. My cock hardens, straining against my trousers. I can barely control myself now.
“I want to read you a poem, Rose. Come here.”
She steps closer, and I direct her to a cushioned bench. It was used in a Romeo and Juliet play years ago, and the dark red lining is still glossy and sleek. It’s the perfect setting for our encounter tonight.
“Lie down, Rose. And open your legs. Show me your perfect pussy.”
“Yes, Professor.”
She does as I instruct. Not only that, but she spreads her pussy for me, and opens it up completely. She’s offering it to me. To my mouth, to my cock.
I begin reading the poem and try to focus on the lines. Even though I can barely wait to fuck her.
In shadows deep, your body calls,
A siren’s curve, where passion falls.
My hands would trace your secret fire,
Your pussy wet, my heart’s desire.
She shivers, and her nipples harden. I kneel in between her legs, and take her clit in my mouth, sucking it hard.
“Mmm… Yes, Professor. Yes…” she moans, and I continue to read her the erotic poem while sucking her wet pussy.
Your pussy lips, a sin I long to taste,
Your clit, a pulse I’ll not outpace.
I’ll fuck you slow, with tender might,
Until our forbidden love burns in the night.
She clasps her hands at the back of my head and pulls me even closer. Silently, she is begging me to pleasure her pussy. I slide my tongue inside her, and can feel the incredible heat, the slick oil, the smooth walls of her pussy pulsing around it.
“You can cum, Rose,” I tell her. My mouth is full, and my tongue is desperate for her.
She obeys my command, of course, and lets go as I keep her legs open and my tongue buried inside her. And she rides out the orgasm, guiding her body through it.
A few moments later, when she opens her eyes, wild and satisfied, I smile up at her with content. I pull out my tongue from inside her pussy and lick it all clean, gently nursing her clit.
“Thank you, Professor,” she smiles as I get up and unzip my pants.
“It’s what you deserve,” I reply, feeling like an immortal among men after the pleasure I was able to create in her.
She holds up her hands, begging for me, and I cave.
“Please, Professor… I’ve been wanting you for so long. It’s time. Please… I need to feel you inside me now.”
I press my cock against her pussy, slick and swollen, and slide it inside.
Her warmth envelops me immediately. She gasps and holds tightly to the bench while I thrust slowly.
Each pump matches the rhythm of the poem.
Her pussy clenches around me, wet and tight, and I groan. The sensation is overwhelming.
“Oh, God… You feel like a dream,” I manage to say. My reason is completely clouded over.
It’s done. I’ve done it. Everything else was a game until now. But we have crossed the line. I fucked her. I am fucking her right now, and there is no going back.
Your body yields, so soft, so mine,
Each thrust a vow, our souls entwine.
Your wetness drips, my cock’s delight,
We break the rules in secret light.
Her moans fill the air as her pussy is soaking my cock. Her clit is swollen as I grind against her. My tongue flicks across her neck, tasting her skin—sweet, intoxicating, as I thrust deeper. The poem’s rhythm is guiding me.
“Rose, you are my forbidden fruit,” I say, and she arches her back while her orgasm is building. I read on:
In shadows, love, we claim our sin,
Your pussy—fire I’m lost within.
Cum for me now, let passion soar,
My heart, my cock, forever yours.
She shatters, and her pussy is pulsing. Her climax is drenching me as she cries out.
I thrust harder. My cock is throbbing, but I hold back, wanting to pleasure her first. Her body trembles, her eyes locked on mine, and I kiss her, slowly and deeply.
Our tongues tangle, and I feel how sweet her saliva is against mine.
I pull out, my cock glistening with her wetness, and stroke myself briefly. The sight of her spent and radiant is pushing me to the edge.
“God, this is so wrong…” I moan, feeling my chest tighten with desire and guilt. “But I can’t stop…”
I cum all over her, painting her pussy, her breasts and her face, marking her, declaring her mine. The feeling of power and pleasure is at its max inside me now, and it’s all because of her.
How could I possibly give this up now?