8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Noah
W hoever said drinking on a work night is reckless clearly hasn’t savored the satisfaction of four cold beers after hours of relentless grading.
I swing the keys to my motorcycle casually on my finger, enjoying the slight buzz that lingers from the hoppy ales I just finished. The feeling is a welcome release, a brief respite after staring at papers for so long my eyes were starting to see red ink even when I blinked. I’ve done more than enough for the night.
My work here is finished.
Leaving my ride at Spokehaven feels like the smarter choice, especially when I think about how hard it would be to convince the bartender that I’m perfectly capable of riding a motorcycle after a few beers. No need to test my limits tonight.
Ready to end the night with a quick tug to myself and some much-needed sleep, the way my mind chooses to handle my daily frustrations always ends sexually in one way or another. It’s always the easiest way to shut off the noise, to clear the fog that lingers in my head. The need always bubbles up, inevitably.
At first, I thought there was something wrong with me. How could I be the only one who finds solace in the act of release, who turns every bit of irritation into a desperate need to feel some physical satisfaction? It’s not like I know anyone else whose immediate solution to the weight of their day is to fuck a woman so hard she looks as if she just survived a cage match, her body battered, but in some twisted way, satisfied.
During the work week, it’s harder to justify staying up late and doing all the things I want to do to a woman, knowing full well I’ll be exhausted for the next day’s grind. There’s no way to properly balance it all, to get the release without paying the price in the classroom the next morning. But tonight felt different. This was the first time I went to the bar, my frustration growing, knowing I couldn't have the one woman I craved.
A woman who just so happens to be my student.
I can’t even explain what came over me in the library with Ana. The tension between us, the way she looked at me, it made something dark and primal stir inside me. In that moment, I craved the way she feared my control more than I feared the consequences of my actions.
The thought of making her realize I held all the power, that I could dominate her every move, consumed me.
Even worse, I wanted her to yearn for the need to feel my touch. To ache for it as much as I did. The idea that she might crave me as much as I craved her was twisted, and I can’t deny it.
It’s fucked up. I know that.
Never in my career have I had an interaction like that with a student.
Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of students who catch your eye, make you take a second glance, but Ana... this is the first time I’ve found myself nearly turning around to get another look, unable to tear my gaze away. The encounter with Ana was a one-time thing. A slip, a lapse in judgment, something I can’t afford to repeat.
The last thing I need is to compromise my job, my career, just for the sake of getting my dick wet. Moving forward, I’ll keep my head down, focus on my work, and avoid her at all costs.
I’ll-
I stop dead in my tracks. My heart skips a beat as I freeze when I see her. The fiery red of her hair, the way it cascades down her back like a silken wave, and her cat-like green-blue eyes locked onto mine. She’s leaning casually against my classroom’s door, a bottle in her hand, dressed in what most would consider nighttime attire. Loose, barely-there clothes that leave little to the imagination.
In small plaid shorts that barely cover her thighs and a tight-fitting tank top that leaves little to the imagination, her curves are impossible to ignore. The way her breasts press against the fabric is hard to look away from, no matter how hard I try to focus. She looks disheveled, like she’s been through a storm, her hair tousled and her skin flushed. She grips a large, empty bottle of wine with a white-knuckled fist, her fingers trembling slightly, as though she’s barely holding herself together.
"Hey, Mr. Ackerman," she slurs, her voice rasping in a way that sends a chill down my spine. "Ready to give me some extra credit?"
It’s settled. There’s no denying it now. God really must hate me.
Anastasia
Regretting my words well after they’ve already left my mouth, the alcohol coursing through my veins makes it impossible to find the usual restraint I’d have in a situation like this. The filter I’d normally rely on is completely gone.
I drop the wine bottle in my hand, watching it roll until it comes to a stop by his feet.
He looks a little less orderly than when I saw him earlier. His cheeks are flushed with color, his eyes hazy and distant, as though he’s been drinking too.
"Did you hear me?" I ask, my voice a little unsteady.
He blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off the fog in his head, and slowly closes his mouth, which had been hanging open. Then he steps toward me, his gaze intense but unsure.
"Ana, what are you doing?" His voice is low, a hint of concern creeping in as he grabs my arm, ready to yank me away from the door.
"I’m enjoying my night," I slur, the words tumbling out in a haze. Shoving him back with more force than I expect, I fight off a cough threatening to erupt from my swollen throat. "The alcohol dulls the pain," I add with a wicked smile, pointing to my throat with a malicious grin.
"What pain?" His expression turns into a deep frown, confusion and concern playing across his features.
"I’ll tell you all about it if you open that door and let me sit down for a few," I grin, pushing my luck with a wink.
Before I can stumble any further, he catches me, his strong hands gripping my arms to keep me upright. The warmth of his body against mine sends a wave of heat through me, awakening a desire I can’t suppress, one that feels entirely wrong.
Fuck, not now.
The smell of alcohol on his breath hits me before his eyes lock onto mine, the look in them dark and predatory.
"You've been drinking too, Mr. Ackerman," I beam, the words escaping before I can stop them. Grabbing his chin, I force him to meet my gaze, stopping him from looking away. "Naughty. What would your colleagues think..."
Watching something shift in his expression, his eyes narrow with intensity. My back slams against the door of his room before I even realize what’s happening. He holds me in place with a firm grip around my neck, his touch anything but gentle.
Already struggling to catch my breath after Walker’s outburst, Noah’s hand around my throat makes it harder to breathe, the pressure pushing the air from my lungs.
So why is it, despite the panic clawing at my chest, that I can feel my underwear dampening the longer his hands stay on me?
"What the hell are you doing?" Noah whispers, his voice dangerously close to my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "What the hell do you hope to accomplish, drunk off your ass, dressed like that outside my door? What if it hadn’t been me who found you like this? What do you think one of these college guys would have done to you-"
"Did to me," the words slip out before I can stop them. The moment they leave my lips, Noah eases up on his grip around my neck, but his hands settle firmly on either side of my head. His gaze locks onto mine, filled with a quiet, commanding authority that sends a shiver through me. An authority that could drop me to my knees without a second thought.
"What did you say?" His voice is low, controlled, but there's a tension there, waiting to snap.
"Did to me. One of those college guys already found me. Why the hell do you think I’ve been drinking?" I question, unsure why I’m suddenly spilling my guts to him, why I’m letting myself unravel in front of him like this. "Initially, I could handle his half-assed attempt at making me cum all over his fingers," I smile, the bitterness in my words hanging thick in the air. Noah’s eye twitches, the tension between us palpable.
"But then, I closed my eyes while he was trying to bury his fingers in me and thought of one person."
I peer up at him innocently, biting my lip, my heart pounding in my chest. "And for some reason, when I thought about that person, I got so damn wet, Walker thought he was on top of the world-"
"Walker-"
"I’m not done," I cut him off, my voice sharp as I place my finger over Noah’s lips, silencing him. His eyes widen slightly, and I watch him carefully, wondering just how far I’m willing to push this.
"While Walker was fucking my pussy, burying his fingers inside of me, I slipped up and happily moaned the name of who I was thinking about." I frown. "He was so angry; I had to make it up to him." Lowering myself to my knees, Noah watches me with a look I can't decipher. "I kissed his cock up and down and had to bite back my screams as he throat-fucked me as hard as he possibly could." Leaning closer, the very large and hard presence of his cock presses against his pants. "All because of one name," I mutter. Just barely grazing my lips over the material of his pants, my lips tease his cock. Pulling away, I look up at him with lowered eyes. "Do you know what that name was, Mr. Ackerman?" I question.
Several seconds pass before I whisper a response.
"Noah-"
Letting out a startled yelp, his hand grabs my hair, yanking me to my feet. His grip on my hair forces my head back, and for a split second, his nose barely grazes mine, his breath hot against my skin. The sound of keys rattling behind my back catches my attention, as I feel the cool draft from the classroom door once it swings open.
"Want to daydream, Anastasia?" his voice snaps through the air, sharp and demanding, as he pushes me backward, guiding me into the classroom.
With a swift motion, he slams the door shut behind us, the sound of the lock twisting echoing in the tense silence.
"Fine, let's see if you can handle reality," he growls, his voice low, like a promise of something darker.
He releases my hair, but before I can react, his hand moves to the back of my neck, his fingers digging in as he forces me forward. Stumbling, my legs struggle to keep pace as he directs me toward his desk. The room is too dark for me to see clearly, and I gasp when my body collides with the hard edge of his desk, the shock of the impact reverberating through me.
Ready to turn around and snap at him, his hand forces my head down onto the desk. Keeping his body behind me, I feel his cock press against my already dripping warmth. Divided by nothing but our clothes, the reality of what is happening begins to settle in.
"Noah, what are you-"
"Shut your fucking mouth."
Viciously striking my ass, I let out a yelp, regretting it immensely once his free hand comes over my mouth. Leaning over my body from behind, he has me fully bent over and plastered to the desk.
"That will be the last time your pretty mouth gets anywhere near another man's cock, understand?" he questions. Dropping his hand from my mouth, I speak up.
"Fuck you. You can't tell me-"
Striking my ass again, he squeezes the back of my neck tighter, stifling my yelp.
"I wasn't asking, Ana."
Shocked, I try and find a single coherent thought.
"W-what the hell are you doing?" my voice trembles with a mix of adrenaline and thrill.
"What? Scared? You looked so confident when you were on your knees for me, teasing me as your lips touched my cock," he snaps. Pressing his lips to my ear, my legs shake from eagerness. Biting my lip, the pleasure I feel each time his cock rubs against me is undeniably addicting. "Now, I have you bent over my desk," he says as seduction drips from his tone. "Feeling my hard cock rub against that pretty pussy trapped by those slutty shorts. Walker could barely get you anywhere with his fingers." Pausing, Noah releases his grip on my neck. With a swift motion, he flips me over, positioning me so that I'm facing him now. His hands settle firmly on my hips, his body pressing into mine, heat radiating between us. The edge of the desk digs into my back, a sharp contrast to the pleasure building inside me. The tension thickens as his voice drops to a low growl.
"I wonder just how wet my pretty girl is from my words."
My pretty girl.
Fuck.
Watching his hand slide toward the front of my shorts, his long slender fingers toy with the tie holding them on my hips.
"But Walker-"
"You don't say his name," he snaps. Feeling the sharp, painful strike, my cheek feels as if it is on fire. "Not while I am touching you."
D-did he just slap me?
Did I like it?
"If you're a good girl for me, Ana," he whispers as he undoes the tie. Feeling the material pool around my ankles, my embarrassing hot pink underwear is on full display for him. "Then you can earn my touch." Slipping his hand below my waistband, his fingers creep close to my needy center. Just barely grazing my clit, the taunt I was willing to play into quickly turns into a yearning need.
"Beg for it," he snaps.
Looking down at his hand in my shorts, there's no getting out of the position I have found myself in.
I don't want to find a way out.
"No," I hiss, still willing to test his authority. "I won't beg-"
"Pity." He smirks. "I guess you'll have to scream."
Sliding his hand down past my clit, he allows two fingers to slide into my dripping entrance. Moaning louder than I expected, his hand strikes my face once more. Grabbing my chin to get me to look at him, he slowly drags his fingers in and out of me, curling his fingers every so often.
"You gotta be quiet, baby girl," he whispers.
He is degrading me and praising me all in the same sentence.
Feeling a deep burn in my cheek and ass from his slaps, the pleasure from his hand outweighs the pain.
"Your legs are going to give out, Anastasia. Lay back and feel my fingers filling up your tight pussy. If you stay quiet, I will gladly make you cum."
Listening to him, I let my weight shift forward, pressing deeper into the desk. I lean back, my hands bracing against the surface to support my body as I move, giving myself just enough room to watch him. The sight of his fingers moving inside me is almost too much to bear. The wet sounds of my pleasure, slick and hungry, coat his fingers, each noise an addictive reminder of what’s happening. I gasp, my breath shaky as I fight back the moans rising in my throat, biting down hard on my bottom lip to keep them at bay.
"Do you like watching, Ana?" he questions, once more taking his time dragging his fingers in and out of me. Feeling warmth flood my core, I let my arms give out, laying down entirely on his desk.
"I love it," I say through a gasp. "I fucking love this-"
Hearing my words trail off into a moan, he forces my feet up onto the desk, spreading my legs wide open as his thumb swirls around my clit. His fingers mercilessly pound into me. Arching my back, the pleasing relief of my climax forces a vicious moan to rip free from my throat.
"Fuck, Noah," I moan. "God," I pant as my cum coats his fingers.
Adjusting myself to sit back up, he shoves me back down.
"Oh, no, baby," he growls. "You're going until I hear you scream."
Driving his fingers into me with intense force, a gasp escapes my lips, sharp and breathless. He leans over me, his eyes locking onto mine with an unwavering intensity as his fingers shift from two to three. The change causes a rush of sensation to pulse through me, and I can’t help but moan louder, only for it to morph into quiet, breathless yelps. My legs tremble beneath the weight of it all, shaking violently with a surge of aggression, my body struggling to keep up with the overwhelming pleasure he's forcing from me.
"I just know the taste of your cum would be addicting," he purrs. "Why don't you scream for me, pretty girl, I doubt you can take another finger. Then I can lick you clean."
Going till the point my legs close in around his arm, he digs his free hand into my thigh, forcing my legs to spread.
There's no safe word.
I have no idea how much more I can take of this.
Trying to move his hand away, he pinches my inner thigh.
"Another finger it is."
Feeling a fourth finger slip into me, I let a scream rip from my throat. Feeling a mix of pain and pleasure, he covers my mouth. Gripping my cheeks, my legs viciously shakes as another release comes over me.
Gripping his shirt, I slump backward, letting my cum coat his fingers once more.
Slowly pulling his hand backward, his fingers drag out of me. Tugging the front of my shirt, he forces me back up into a seated position.
My slickness coats the top of his desk, only adding to the thrill and shame happening before me.
Holding his glistening fingers in the air between us, I try and reach for his cock. Grabbing my wrist with his free hand, he stops me.
"You weren't quiet. You haven't earned that."
Guiding my hand back to my aching warmth, a devious smirk curls up the corners of his mouth.
"Finger yourself," he demands.
Still coming down from my climax, I struggle to find my words.
"W-wha-"
"You heard me. I'm going to watch you finger yourself while you lick your cum off of my fingers."
Not even posing the proposal as a question, my core throbs with eager anticipation to please him.
God, I already came, yet his words are making me slick enough for three of my fingers to slide right in.
"You didn't stop-"
"And I won't. Not until I get what I want."
Swallowing, I close my mouth.
What is happening now is more than sexual satiation.
He lives for the power he can exert and I'm feeding right into it.
Sliding my fingers inside of myself, I use my free hand to cover my mouth. Grabbing my wrist, he makes me finger myself more aggressively.
"I want you shaking, Anastasia," he growls.
Lowering my hand from my mouth once I have adjusted, he allows me to move my hand on my own. Bringing his slick fingers to my mouth, I pump my fingers in and out of myself with a great deal of force. Licking my cum from his fingers, I close my lips around them. Gasping and moaning as he works his fingers in and out of my mouth, the dual sensation tips me further to a point of no return. Once more reaching out, I feel the outline of his cock outside of his pants. Gripping his wide base once the warmth returns to my stomach, he eyes the sight with a malicious grin.
"Look at you grasping onto me," he whispers. "You can barely handle my fingers, how much do you think you'd be screaming if it was my dick pounding in and out of you?"
Moaning once again, he pinches one of my nipples.
Forcing down a yelp, he slowly drags down one of the straps to my top.
"The least I can do is give those pretty tits some attention-"
Before he can finish, a loud knock echoes against the door, and we both freeze, tension crackling in the air.
"You still in here, Mr. Ackerman?"
My heart skips a beat.
Who the hell?
"The custodian," Noah hisses under his breath, his voice tight with barely contained frustration.
Looking at the mess before me, I pull my fingers from me. Panting heavily, I run my hand through my hair. Adjusting his cock, Noah's feral look dies down. Readjusting my top and shorts, I slide off of his desk, petrified to see my slick mess on its surface.
What in the fuck did I just do?
Glaring at the door tethered to the classroom over, Noah lowers his eyes as he adjusts his length.
"Just give me a few minutes, Tate," Noah yells.
Still feeling the sting in my cheeks from his slaps, my vagina throbs with pain and pleasure.
"Ana, don’t," Noah whispers, his voice low, almost pleading, as he watches me inch backward toward the door.
"I-I have to go," I whisper, my breath shaky. "Now."
The jingle of keys echoes from the hallway, a sharp reminder that Tate isn’t in the mood to wait. My window of escape is closing.
"Ana-"
But I don’t let him finish.
Bolting toward the side door, I spill into the empty classroom beside his, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The darkness swallows me whole, but I don’t stop moving.
Through the thin walls, I hear Tate strike up a conversation with Noah, his voice casual, unaware of the storm brewing just moments ago. My fingers fumble with the front door handle of the empty classroom, my only hope that the teacher who locked up didn’t double-check before leaving.
It clicks open.
I don’t hesitate.
Slipping outside, I seize the opportunity and bolt, my feet carrying me away from Noah, away from whatever the hell just happened between us. But even as I put distance between us, I can feel it. An invisible tether, something dark, something unshakable.
Something tells me that what I just allowed to happen has created a whole new monster.
I just wish I knew whether that monster was tethered to me or to Noah.