Chapter 20 Deirdre
Deirdre
“It is a happiness to wonder; it is a happiness to dream.” Edgar Allan Poe
Claire’s voice cuts through the fog of my sleep before my alarm has the chance.
“Rise and shine, TA Ravencroft. First day back at Cornelia!”
I groan into my pillow, clutching the blanket tighter. “Do you have to sound so chipper?”
“Yes,” she says, ripping the blanket away without an ounce of sympathy.
“Because, unlike you, I don’t get the fun of being Professor McKnight’s teacher’s pet this semester.
Instead, I’ll be slogging through Literary Theories with half the football team while you sit there swooning over Gothic literature. ”
“One day, I am going to sleep naked just to give you a surprise when you do that.”
Claire snorts in response.
I sit up, hair a tangled mess, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. The semester finally starting feels like a chance to reclaim everything that was taken from me in that stairwell. A chance to prove I am not some feeble victim, but strong and resilient.
“It’s not swooning,” I argue, though the flush in my cheeks betrays me. “Plus, you can barely stand Gothic lit.”
Claire arches a brow, unimpressed. “Mmhm. Sure. Just remember your best friend who will be suffering while you’re basking in Poe and drooling over your broody boyfriend who would rather bend you over his desk than teach a bunch of freshmen.”
I throw a pillow at her. She ducks, laughing, then flops onto my bed to watch me get ready.
I choose carefully—black pleated skirt, short enough to feel confident but modest enough for a classroom, paired with a light cream loose blouse that buttons up the front.
I slide on my flats, then shrug into a pale cardigan.
My reflection stares back at me in the mirror, my pulse quickening.
Today isn’t just the start of classes—it’s my first day as his TA.
My mind races back to this warning Friday night at Salvation, and I remember he wants me there early.
Looking at the clock, I see it shining brightly on my desk.
Seven fifteen.
Turning to Claire, I grab my coat to brace for the cold and motion toward her backpack, “Come on, chica, time to go!”
By the time Claire and I step into the courtyard, the January air bites at my cheeks.
I tug my coat a little tighter against my body.
The sky is a pale winter blue, and the stone towers of campus look like something out of an old English postcard.
Students emerge from dorms with coffee cups clutched tight, laughter and chatter weaving through the cold. It feels alive again.
“Still can’t believe you’re working for him,” Claire mutters as we crunch across the frosted path.
“Not really for him, just assisting him,” I correct her. My stomach twists in a bundle of nerves. Being his student was one thing, but spending time together so closely outside of the classroom and outside of Salvation will be new territory for us.
At the edge of the quad, Claire veers left toward her building while I veer right. “Have fun with your broody professor,” she calls, grinning. “Don’t combust!”
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks are warm long after we part.
The walk to his office inside Scholar’s Auditorium makes my heart beat faster with every step. My steps echo on the marble floor of the academic hall; the corridors are hushed and quiet this early in the morning. When I reach his door, the brass nameplate gleams: Professor K. McKnight.
I knock lightly.
“Come in,” his voice calls, smooth and low.
The sight of him behind his desk does something to me. He’s in his usual dark suit, tie knotted perfectly, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. But his eyes lift to me, and they soften in a way they never do for anyone else.
“Right on time,” he says, pushing back from the desk. “Close the door.”
The command in his tone makes the heat coil low in my belly. I obey.
His eyes rake over me as if he is drinking in the sight of me.
“You kept me waiting all weekend,” he murmurs finally, closing the folder in front of him. “First day of class, and I think we should go over your…role.”
I quip something smart back about the application being self-explanatory, but when he stands up behind the desk, it feels like he is towering over me, even with the desk holding the space between us.
I watch him carefully as he pulls a sleek velvet bag out of his drawer.
My eyes widen and my cheeks flush as he pulls the small toy out of its holder.
I know exactly where that is going.
That’s when the heat from my cheeks reaches my ears, and I have to keep my composure from falling off my center of gravity as he makes his way around the desk and speaks.
“This is what you’re going to wear in class today.” My head feels dizzy with him this close in proximity before I can say anything, his hand slides to my hip, drawing me flush against him.
My breath catches.
There is no way I can wear this in class.
He wants control and my restraint. He wants to remind me that while they’re watching him, I’ll be desperate for him. Every squirm, every shiver, will be for him alone.
Heat floods my face, my chest, everywhere. I nod, breathless.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
His strong hands grip my hips and lift me onto the top of his sleek, wooden desk.
His hands slide up my body, pushing my coat off my shoulders.
I can feel my nipples harden and tighten underneath my blouse.
Looking down, I can see his hungry eyes looking down on me as they poke through my bra.
His hands slide beneath the hem of my skirt, and he gently spreads my legs open to him.
“Do you want this, Deirdre?” His voice is strained as if it is taking every ounce of control not to take me on top of the mound of papers I am sitting on. “Yes or no.”
“Yes,” I exhale, desperately. “God, yes.”
He delicately slides my panties to the side and settles the toy nestled right at my entrance.
He does it slowly, not quite inserting it inside.
Just enough to where I will need to keep my legs tight and feel everything.
I feel empty when his warm fingers pull away from my sensitive skin and he tucks the small remote into the pocket of his slacks.
He steps backward, closing my legs, and looks at me with an approving expression.
He smooths his tie into place and smirks smugly. “Now let’s see if you can pay attention to the lecture.”
Despite my heart pounding in my ears and every inch of skin burning, I try to put on a defiant facade. “Good thing, I am not being tested in this class, remember?”
As I stand up, I can feel the toy shift ever so slightly, and I clench my legs tighter as I step toward the door.
My ears begin ringing as my senses heighten, and he motions toward the door, “Oh, Miss Ravencroft, I am going to test you.”
I can feel the heat of his gaze burning into my back as we emerge from his office and step into the side door of the lecture hall. With each step, I feel like I am about to combust, and he hasn’t even tried the toy out yet. Every one of my nerve endings is burning, and everything is magnified.
The auditorium feels too big, too bright, too loud with all of the new, fresh faces filing in nervously.
I shrug my coat off my shoulders and place it neatly on the back of my chair.
I gently sit down in my seat and cross my ankles, attempting to keep my legs tight.
My notebook sits open in front of me, but my hand can’t stop fidgeting with the pen.
I don’t exactly have to take notes, but it is the only way I can keep myself distracted, and it’s a feeble attempt to convince myself it will make me a more prepared assistant.
I tell myself I’m just nervous about the semester starting, about being back in this room in a new role, where everything changed last fall. But it’s more than that.
It’s him.
Kieran now stands at the podium, fingers wrapped around its worn wooden edge like he owns it.
He doesn’t just teach—he commands the entire room.
His hypnotizing presence draws me in just like my first day last August, and looking around the room, I know I am not the only one he has that effect on.
If I didn’t know better, I would think he lives for the reactions of his students.
Our eyes meet for just a second, and that’s when the first pulse hits.
The vibrations move through me in delicate waves of pleasure, and it takes every fiber of my restraint not to snap.
He scans the room as if there is no secretive game playing between us while I sit here in this hard chair, butterflies flitting around my stomach, trying like hell not to explode in front of everyone.
He begins writing on the blackboard and then turns as he clears his throat and begins his usual first-day introduction of the semester.
His deep voice flows as smooth as whiskey.
Every word, every pause, sinks into the air, curling around me until I can hardly breathe.
It is when I hear my name that I perk up in surprise.
Part of me is embarrassed because now there is attention on me, but another part of me is anticipating the next wave of pleasure that I know he is just waiting to inflict on me.
I thought I could handle it. But now? Sitting here, students on every side of me, knowing he holds the remote in his pocket? My pulse hasn’t slowed once.
Buzz.
He announces me officially. I try to focus on the words he is saying, but I think my eardrums have exploded because I can’t hear anything except the pounding of my heartbeat.