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My thoughts of Oaklyn were more. Something about her felt different, and fuck if I knew what it was. It didn’t matter though, because she was my student. My nineteen-year-old student. It didn’t matter that she made me feel different than any other woman. I was older, and I should know better. So I stayed away from Voyeur as much as I could.
It hadn’t stopped the lunches and conversations in my office though. It hadn’t stopped my heart from beating double time when I saw her. It hadn’t stopped my imagination from running wild. But at least I wasn’t seeking her out. I was actively not going to watch my student strip down and finger herself as I watched her rose-tipped breasts heave in pleasure.
Sometimes, when I really missed watching her, I’d try and stay at work later, finding ways to keep her with me in the office past everyone else leaving. Meaningless tasks. I’d feed her dinner, so we had a reason to stop and talk.
But I’d had to be more careful. Shannon popped in to say goodbye every day since last week when she discovered we worked in the same building. I discouraged her attention as much as I could without being rude, but she still stopped by randomly. I only hoped she didn’t notice my attraction to Oaklyn.
I felt like it was written all over my face.
“Please make sure to read the online assignment and answer the questions before the next class,” I said loud enough to be heard over the rustle of students packing up to leave.
Oaklyn’s eyes caught mine before I could look away. I managed to return her smile before turning away to pack my things. I couldn’t help but wonder if Oaklyn’s face showed more than she wanted me to see. The way she looked at me was anything other than the teenager I knew her to be. Her eyes sparked with more. With a yearning she couldn’t hide behind the demure tilt of her lips no matter how hard she tried. She looked at me like she knew what desire was and imagined me giving all of it to her.
Yes, I noticed her attraction. I tried to dismiss it; convince myself she was no different than some of the other students, especially the girls with their flirting and crushes.
But it wasn’t other students I dreamed of at night. It wasn’t other students I imagined sliding into and whose moans I heard, waking with my hand fisted around my cock.
Most dreams like those ended much differently. They’d morph from sex with a woman I wanted, to my worst nightmare, waking me up in panic, sweat coating my body, and my hand fisting the sheet instead of my dick.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to have sex. I just didn’t trust myself to not freak out. One night I’d even tried. I’d gotten drunk, determined to lose my virginity and I had. But as soon as she’d touched me, I broke into a sweat, somehow still pushing on before running from the room, swearing to never let myself be so vulnerable again.
I’d been vulnerable enough in my life and I didn’t want to be there again.
“Dr. Pierce.” Her gentle voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I noticed almost the whole class had cleared out while I’d been lost in a dark memory.
“Yes, Oaklyn?”
She smiled when I turned my attention to her, looking almost shy.
“I signed up for the last slot for the telescope, but I’m the only one, and I wanted to make sure that was okay. I can try and make another night, so you don’t have to make the trip just for me, but I’m not sure when yet.”
“No,” I rushed to reassure her. “That’s perfectly fine. Maybe someone will sign up and join us later.”
Honestly? I hoped not. I loved any excuse that would get me alone with her. The thought of being under the stars—just her and I—without any prying eyes watching us. The possibilities almost scared me,
“Awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watched her walk out, my eyes dropping to the way her ass moved under her leggings. Realizing my huge mistake, checking out my student in the middle of school, had me jerking my attention away. I berated myself as I collected my things and headed out to meet Reed for lunch.
I was almost to the restaurant when my phone rang. Seeing it was my parents, I ignored the call. I didn’t have long to talk, and their conversations usually required an hour or more. I didn’t blame them for the long conversations. I knew they missed me and could only find so much time to come out and see me. One time, my mother tried to broach the subject of me coming home and I immediately shut it down. California was no longer my home. It only held the worst of my memories and things I’d rather forget.
