Jackson
Having a secret relationship with Priya Sharma is the most exhilarating and frustrating thing I’ve ever done.
In public, she’s still the uptight TA who corrects my Chemistry homework with brutal honesty. Still the anatomy student who maintains professional distance during our sessions. Still the pre-med perfectionist who doesn’t have time for anything that’s not academic.
In private, she’s something else entirely.
We’ve been doing this for two weeks, sneaking moments between her clinical rotations and my practices, stealing kisses in my studio, learning each other in ways that have nothing to do with molecular orbitals or muscular systems.
Right now, we’re supposed to be studying. There’s a Chemistry exam next week that I actually need to pass, and Priya’s spread textbooks across my studio table with that determined expression that means she’s taking this seriously.
I’m sitting on my work stool, watching her explain electron configuration, and thinking about how she looks with her hair down.
“Are you listening?” she asks without looking up.
“Absolutely.”
“What did I just say?”
“Something about electrons filling orbitals in order of increasing energy.”
She glances up, surprised. “Actually, yes. You were listening.”
“I can multitask. Listen to you and think about how much I want to do other things.”
“Jackson, we’re studying.”
“We’ve been studying for an hour. I think we’ve earned a break.”
“We’ve not earned a break. You have an exam—”
I stand up, walk around the table, and spin her chair to face me.
“Jackson—”
I kiss her, cutting off whatever responsible thing she was about to say. She resists for about half a second before melting into it, her hands coming up to grip my shirt.
“This is not studying,” she murmurs against my lips.
“This is better than studying.”
“You’re going to fail Chemistry.”
“Worth it.”
She laughs, and god, I love that sound. She doesn’t laugh enough. Takes everything too seriously. But with me, in this studio, she lets go. Lets herself be messy and imperfect and beautifully human.
“Five minutes,” she says. “We can take a five-minute break.”
“I can do a lot in five minutes.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
I pull her up from the chair, backing her against my desk, my hands on her waist. She’s wearing scrubs again, she usually comes straight from clinical rotations and somehow even medical clothing is sexy on her.
“You know what drives me crazy?” I murmur, my lips finding that spot on her neck that makes her gasp.
“What?”
“How professional you are during anatomy sessions. How you touch me like I’m just a specimen. Like you’re not affected at all.”
“I have to be professional. It’s for a grade.”
“But you’re not unaffected, are you?”
Her breathing has changed, gotten faster. “No.”
“Tell me what you think about. When you’re examining me.”
“Jackson…”
“Tell me, Priya.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her hands gripping my shoulders. “I think about how your muscles feel under my fingers. How your skin is warm. How you smell. How I want to trace every line of your tattoos with my tongue.”
The confession makes heat surge through me.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “You can’t say things like that and expect me to go back to studying Chemistry.”
“You asked.”
“I did. My mistake.” I kiss her harder, deeper, my hands sliding down to her hips. “We should stop.”
“We should.”
Neither of us stops.
Her hands are in my hair now, pulling me closer, and I lift her onto the desk, stepping between her legs.
“Jackson,” she gasps as my lips trail down her neck. “Someone could come in—”
“It’s my place. Door’s locked. No one else has a key.”
“We should—” I push the words out between kisses, my voice rough. “We should stop… but I won’t.”
Priya’s answer is a soft, needy sound as she pulls me back to her mouth. Her legs wrap around my waist, scrubs stretching tight over her thighs. I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric, and it’s driving me insane.
I break the kiss and drop to my knees in front of the desk, looking up at her. Her eyes are wide, lips parted, chest rising fast under the scrubs.
“Jackson… you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” My hands slide up her thighs, gripping the waistband of her scrub pants. “I’ve been thinking about this since the first time you touched me in that damn lab.”
She lifts her hips without me asking, letting me peel the pants and her panties down in one smooth motion. I toss them aside and spread her legs wider, settling between them. The sight of her, already wet, glistening, her pussy flushed and waiting makes my cock throb painfully against my jeans.
“Fuck, Priya,” I groan. “You’re soaked.”
I don’t give her time to overthink. I lean in and drag my tongue slowly up her slit, tasting her from entrance to clit. She jerks hard, a sharp gasp escaping her.
“Oh my god—”
I do it again, slower, savoring her. She tastes sweet and musky, addictive. I circle her clit with the flat of my tongue, then flick the tip against it, finding the rhythm that makes her thighs start to tremble.
Her hands fly to my hair, fingers tightening. “Jackson… that feels—”
I cut her off by sucking her clit gently into my mouth, rolling my tongue over it. She moans louder, hips rolling against my face. I slide one hand under her ass, pulling her closer, and press my other hand against her inner thigh, keeping her spread open for me.
I lick lower, teasing her entrance with the tip of my tongue before pushing inside her. She’s tight and hot, clenching around me as I fuck her with my tongue in shallow strokes. Then I pull back and replace it with two fingers, sliding them deep while my mouth returns to her clit.
“Fuck, right there,” she whimpers, her voice breaking.
I curl my fingers, stroking that spot inside her while I suck and lick her clit with steady, relentless pressure. Her breathing turns into desperate little pants and moans. Her hips are grinding against my mouth now, chasing the pleasure, and I let her use my face exactly how she needs it.
I look up at her while I eat her out, her head thrown back, mouth open, one hand gripping the edge of the desk, the other tangled in my hair.
The scrubs top is still on, pushed up just enough to expose her stomach, and the contrast of her professional clothing with my tongue buried in her pussy is filthy and perfect.
I groan against her, the vibration making her cry out. I add a third finger, stretching her, pumping faster while my tongue works her clit in tight circles.
“Jackson…I’m gonna, fuck, I’m so close—”
I don’t stop. I suck harder, lick faster, fingers curling and thrusting deep. Her thighs clamp around my head, trembling violently.
She comes with a choked moan, her whole body seizing as her pussy pulses around my fingers. I keep licking her through it, gentler now, drawing out every wave until she’s shaking and whimpering, oversensitive.
When her grip on my hair finally loosens, I pull back, lips and chin shiny with her. I rise up between her legs, kissing her deeply so she can taste herself on my tongue.
She’s breathless, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. “That was… holy shit.”
I smile against her mouth, my hand still between her legs, lazily stroking her slick folds. “We’re not done yet, Priya. Not even close.”
Whatever she was going to say is lost when I find that sensitive spot just below her ear. She makes a sound that’s half gasp, half moan, and my self-control is hanging by a thread.
Her hands slide under my shirt, and the feeling of her fingers on my skin, not clinical this time, but hungry and wanting, makes me dizzy.
My phone buzzes. Then again. Then starts ringing.
“Ignore it,” I mutter.
“It might be important.”
It’s Carter. Of course it’s Carter.
I pull back, both of us breathing hard, and answer. “What?”
“Where are you? Coach called an emergency team meeting fifteen minutes ago. Everyone’s here except you.”
Shit. I completely forgot.
“I’m on my way.”
“You better be. Coach is pissed.” He hangs up.
Priya’s already climbing off the desk, straightening her scrubs, finger-combing her hair back into place. The quick transformation from passionate to professional is impressive and slightly depressing.
“You have to go,” she says.
“I don’t want to.”
“But you have to.” She’s gathering her textbooks, organizing them back into her bag with that meticulous precision. “This is why we need boundaries. Why we can’t just—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t retreat into being the perfect student again. Not after what just happened.”
She pauses, her hand on her bag. “Jackson, this is fun. But we both have responsibilities. Lives that existed before this. You have hockey, I have medical school applications, and we can’t let this derail everything we’ve worked for.”
“Who says it has to derail anything?”
“Because relationships are messy. They take time and energy and emotional availability. None of which I have to spare right now.”
“This doesn’t have to be a relationship. It can just be… this. Us. Stealing moments when we can.”
She looks at me, and I see the conflict in her eyes. “Stolen moments.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s all this can be?”
“Is that all you want it to be?”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before. Never break rules or sneak around or let myself want something that’s not on my five-year plan.”
“How does it feel?”
A small smile. “Terrifying. And kind of amazing.”
“Good. That’s good, Priya.” I grab my gym bag. “Same time Thursday?”
“For tutoring?”
“And other things.”
“Just tutoring. We need to actually prepare for your exam.”
“We’ll see.”
I kiss her one more time, quick and hard, before heading out to face Coach’s wrath.