21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Noah
C ole, Walker, and now fucking Roman Briar.
Cole and Walker are just children. Children with power, sure, but still children.
They think they understand strength, but they don’t know what it means to be truly dangerous.
But Roman?
Roman is a different breed.
What the hell did he say to Ana to leave her so shaken?
I saw it. The way her breath hitched, the way her body locked up like prey sensing a predator.
Did he threaten her?
No, he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
Would he?
There’s no fucking way he touched her.
No way he put his hands on something that isn’t his to claim.
If I had a shred of sense, I’d take this as a warning.
I’d put distance between me and Ana, let Roman’s visit serve as the reminder it was meant to be.
If I were smart, I would have never touched her in the first place.
But I’m not.
Because watching him leave this room so smug, so sure of himself, like he didn’t just fucking rattle my entire world, makes me want one thing and one thing only.
Her.
Close enough to erase every trace of him from my mind.
She listens when I tell her to come here, little resistance in her steps, and my eyes rake over her greedily.
Those tight black leggings, the oversized shirt slipping just enough to tease what’s underneath. Her breasts bounce as she moves... no bra. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
She knows exactly how many marks I left on her. And all I can think about is how fucking sweet she tasted against my tongue.
I shouldn’t have snapped at her when she touched my scars.
It was weak. Cowardly.
The kind of mistake I don’t make. Sitting there, exposed, letting her see that part of me, that was bad enough. But letting her think, even for a second, that I’m anything less than unbreakable?
Unforgivable.
Scars mean pain.
Pain someone else inflicted. Pain I allowed someone else to inflict.
No one should see that part of me. No one should get even a glimpse of the past I carry like a weight on my back.
Especially not Ana.
She should feel one thing, satisfied. Nothing more.
Her prying into my personal life? That’s a line I refuse to cross. The more she knows, the more reason she’ll have to run. And if she runs, I won’t chase her. I can’t.
This thing between us, selfish, reckless and fucking stupid in every possible way, should have never started. But it did. And now, no matter how much sense tells me to stop, I won’t.
Because those moments with her? They’re mine.
She is mine.
And I’ll keep her as far from my fucked-up life as I can for as long as I can.
The last thing I need is for my family to catch wind of her. The last thing I need is Walker watching my every move, waiting for me to slip, dragging her down with me when I do.
But right now, none of that matters.
Gripping her thighs, I yank her forward, swallowing her surprised yelp as she lands exactly where I want her. Straddling my lap, pressing her beautiful cunt against the ache that’s been building in me since the second I walked in.
Her hands clutch my shoulders, but her eyes flick to the door, still rattled after Roman’s intrusion.
That won’t do.
“We have twenty minutes before class starts,” I murmur, fingers curling around the back of her neck, dragging her closer to my lips.
She gasps; the sound soft enough to send another rush of heat straight to my cock.
“Twenty minutes to have fun with my pretty girl.”
My fingers dip into my pocket, a slow, devious smile pulling at my lips the second I feel the cool plastic beneath my fingertips. The remote.
Rolling my thumb over the large power button, I watch her carefully, waiting for the moment confusion flickers in her eyes.
“Did you listen?” I murmur, voice low and rough. “Is it still inside of you?”
She nods, innocent, trusting.
Perfect.
“Good.”
No warning. No hesitation.
I press the button, watching as the first wave of pleasure jolts through her. Her body lurches forward, pressing into me, a quiet, strangled gasp spilling from her lips before she can stop it.
Burying her face in my shoulder, she muffles the delicate moans I crave, but I won’t let her hide from me. Not now.
My fingers slide between her legs, pressing against her swollen clit, circling gently, teasing, rewarding her for being so obedient.
Her breath stutters.
“Fuck, Noah,” she pants, her voice laced with desperation. “I don’t know how long I can-”
“Then let’s give you something else to focus on.”
I grip her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“On your knees, pretty girl.”
Her eyes widen, darting toward the door. The risk, the thrill of getting caught, it only makes this sweeter.
But she obeys.
Slowly, she slides off my lap, dragging her hands down the front of my pants, teasing, lingering. Taking her time just to make me suffer.
Nestling herself beneath my desk, she looks up at me, wide-eyed and eager, as if she isn’t about to wreck me completely.
My chair shifts forward, closing the space between us. Her hands move quickly, undoing my belt, fingers tugging, clawing at my waistband like a starved animal.
I let her work, watching every delicate movement, every flicker of hunger in her eyes.
Then I fist my hand in her hair, tilting her chin up, forcing her to hold my stare.
Innocent. Tempting.
Fucking mine.
“Open your mouth.”
She obeys without hesitation, parting her lips, her tongue flicking out in silent invitation.
My free hand works open my fly, and the second my cock has room, it springs free, hard and aching, desperate for the warmth of her mouth.
She stares, lips parted, eyes wide with hunger.
Perfect.
Leaning in, I let the spit pool in my mouth before letting it drip onto her waiting tongue, a slick string connecting us as I pull away.
“A little extra motivation for my pretty girl,” I murmur, wiping my lips clean, watching the way her breath hitches at my words.
She doesn’t hesitate, using my spit to coat my length, her soft lips part as she takes me in. The first glide of her mouth around me is slow, teasing, but her hunger betrays her. She wants this just as badly as I do.
Her head lowers, my cock disappearing inch by inch, and when she reaches the base, her throat clenches around me. The sound of her gagging sends a violent pulse of heat straight to my spine.
My hand coils into her red locks, wrapping the strands around my fingers as I guide her pace.
“Just like that,” I groan. “Good fucking girl.”
Below me, her legs tremble, shaking from the relentless vibrations tormenting her clit. Each time she sinks down, a whimper slips free, mixing with the wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working me over. The noise is a high all on its own.
Her cheeks flush red, her pretty eyes glistening as they flick up through thick lashes, silently begging for my approval.
And fuck, she has it.
Gripping my thighs for support, she drags her head up, sucking in a desperate breath, her chest heaving, saliva clinging to her lips in glossy strands.
“Already done?” I taunt, tilting my head as I smirk down at her.
Her eyes burn with defiance, answering my unspoken question before her lips even part.
“Not in the slightest, Mr. Ackerman.”
Smirking, she replaces her mouth with her hand, slow and deliberate, dragging her fingers up and down my length with torturous precision. Every stroke teases, taunts, makes me ache for more.
Then she moves lower.
Her tongue flicks past the base of my cock, traveling further, tasting, exploring. My breath stutters the moment she gathers my sack in her mouth, sucking softly, swirling her tongue over the sensitive skin.
The sensation, her wet heat, the way her hand keeps working as I fill her mouth, consumes me. I tip my head back, jaw clenched, burying my groans into my sleeve, fighting to stay quiet when every nerve in my body screams for release.
“Fuck, Ana,” I hiss, my control slipping fast. “It’s like your mouth was made for my cock-”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Mr. Ackerman?”
The voice, soft and oblivious, cuts through the moment like a knife.
I stiffen.
“We know it’s early, but a few of us are waiting. Can we come inside?”
Ana freezes beneath the desk. Her lips retreat slowly, hesitantly, as if she’s just as wrecked by this as I am.
“H-hold on-” I start, trying to catch my breath.
But it’s too late.
The door swings open.
Students shuffle in, chatting, taking their seats, completely unaware of what’s unfolding right beneath their noses.
Under the desk, Ana stays perfectly still. Her grip around my cock tightens, holding me in place, her breath coming out in short, shaky gasps.
Fuck.
I don’t move.
She doesn’t move.
And the worst part?
I’m still throbbing, still aching, still teetering on the edge of release with no fucking escape.
“He has nothing better to do. Next time, don’t ask.” Walker smirks, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he shuts the door behind him.
The bastard is always the instigator, always the one stirring the pot just to watch it boil over.
Students start pulling out their materials, settling in, but Walker? He takes his time, circling Ana’s empty desk like a fucking vulture.
“Where did our sweet Ana run off to?” he sneers.
My hands curl into fists, trembling with rage the longer I look at him.
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” I snap, teeth clenched, barely holding myself together.
Ana doesn’t stop.
Ignoring the situation entirely, her lips wrap around my cock again, her head bobbing slowly, silently, stealing my tension with every sinful stroke.
My fingers clamp around the back of her neck, but all I feel is her smug little smile pressing into my skin.
God.
She feels so fucking amazing.
Walker takes another step toward my desk, still grinning, still running his mouth.
“It’s just funny,” he muses, voice dripping with amusement. “She never leaves her stuff behind. You never know what she could be getting up to.”
His smirk widens.
“A leash would be a worthy investment for that one.”
My jaw tightens. My patience snaps.
“You’re right,” I hiss, pressing the button on her toy, letting the adrenaline surging through my veins take over.
Ana jolts beneath the desk, her fingers digging into my thighs. My cock twitches, seconds from spilling over the edge, and I know, judging by the way she clings to me, the way her tiny whimpers vibrate against my skin, she’s already falling apart, soaking through those lace panties she thought would survive the day.
“She really does need some discipline,” I murmur, my voice thick with restraint. “As do you.”
Walker raises a brow, but the warning in my tone must strike something in him because his cocky stance falters.
“Now sit down,” I command, voice even, deadly. “And get some work done before I send you to the dean for intruding on my prep period.”
Scoffing, the little bastard finally backs off, dropping into his seat with minimal lip.
Tapping a pencil against my desk, I drown out the quiet, filthy sounds beneath me, fighting against the need clawing its way through my body.
More students funnel in. The clock ticks by, painfully slow. The walls close in, leaving us with nowhere to go.
Most people would be cowering under the desk by now, too afraid to move, too afraid to get caught.
But Ana?
She’s still on her knees, lips stretched around my cock, eyes glistening with determination.
Trying to coax my release, trying to take every last drop of me into her mouth.
Naughty. Fucking. Girl.
Her nails bite into my thighs, hard enough to draw blood, but the pain is nothing compared to the fire coursing through my veins.
How much longer can I hold this off?
How much longer can I keep this hidden?
God.
I can’t fucking take it.
She feels too good. Too fucking good.
I have to cum.
I have to-
A violent, earsplitting screech fills the room.
The fire alarm.
Blasting through the walls, loud, grating, pulling me back from the razor-thin edge I was clinging to.
Fuck.
Scrambling, I grab my mouse, pulling up my inbox, scanning the morning announcements I usually ignore.
9:00 AM – FIRE DRILL.
Well, shit.
Maybe God is throwing me a bone.
Teeth clenched, my voice cuts through the chaos. “Line up outside the classroom.”
No one questions it. Not even Walker. Annoyed by the noise, they file out one by one, leaving without pushback, leaving until it’s just me and my sweet, filthy girl.
The moment the last body disappears through the door, I push my chair back slightly, finally meeting her gaze.
Devilish, smug and sinful.
“You naughty fucking girl,” I murmur, smirking down at her. “Ready for your reward?”
Her response is instant.
Dragging her tongue from the base to the tip, she lays my cock flat against her tongue, eyes dark with need.
“Desperately, sir.”
And that’s all it takes.
A few raunchy words, a flick of her tongue, and my control shatters.
My release spills into her mouth, coating her tongue, filling her like she was made for it. She swallows every drop, taking it without hesitation, without complaint, sucking me clean before tucking me away again.
Fastening my belt, buttoning my pants, I waste no time yanking her up from under the desk.
Then my hand slips down the front of her leggings.
No hesitation. No patience left.
Her breath stutters, a moan slipping free as I retrieve the toy from between her slick, soaked folds, watching as her fingers tighten in my shirt for balance.
Pulling it free, I hold it up between us.
Her cum coats the surface, sweet, glistening and addicting.
My mouth waters at the sight.
All fucking mine.
“How did it feel?” I murmur, gripping her hair tight, giving it a firm tug until her eyes snap to mine. “Taking my cum like a good fucking slut… knowing you let yourself finish from something that wasn’t me?”
Her eyes blaze, defiant even as she winces.
“I’d much rather have taken your cock,” she whispers, her voice dripping with sin.
Then she smirks.
“Now open up, Mr. Ackerman. You have a mess to clean up.”
She nudges the toy past my lips, and the second her taste hits my tongue, I groan, sucking it clean without hesitation. The sweetness of her release lingers, addictive, all-consuming, and she watches me with a hunger that rattles me to my core.
This woman is going to be my undoing.
Tossing the toy into my desk drawer, the blaring fire alarm finally registers, snapping both of us back into reality.
Sort of.
“Care to share with the class how you’re going to explain my sudden arrival?” she prods.
I should be focused on the fact that the classroom will be filling back up, that at any moment, someone could come too close, notice something is off.
But all I can think about is laying her over this desk and burying my face between her legs.
“Simple,” I murmur. “You missed class today.”
I slide her off my lap, slowly, deliberately, my eyes flicking to the space beneath my desk, the space she had just been hiding in.
“Get back under there,” I command.
Her brows lift, eyes widening slightly before darkening with understanding.
Already, I feel the strain building again. Already, my body is demanding more.
“You don’t get off your knees,” I add, voice low, dangerous, “until it’s painting your face.”
It’s wrong.
So fucking wrong to be doing this here, in a classroom, surrounded by students who, at any moment, could walk up, could put the pieces together.
But I can’t stop.
I won’t.
Her lips part, a slow, sultry smile creeping across her face.
“Fine,” she whispers, tilting her chin up. “Let’s see how long you can sit at that desk and teach while you’re buried in my throat.”
My teeth clench. My resolve snaps.
She settles into my chair, sinking into position, watching me like she’s already won.
Then, with a devilish smirk, she leans back, her legs propped up against my desk, fingers toying lazily with my computer.
“Run along, Noah,” she purrs. “The students need you.”
Her gaze flicks up, lips curving as she taunts.
“You know where to come crawling back to once you’re done playing teacher.”
This is no longer just a game.
She’s fighting for dominance, testing her limits, wondering what the consequences of pushing me will be.
Oh, Anastasia.
You have no idea what kind of monster you’re dealing with.