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Her legs spread. The muscles in her arms strained. A flush began in her cheeks and spread down below her heaving breasts.
I adjusted myself in my seat, shifting my hips, rocking my erection against nothing, my hips just desperate to move on their own in time with hers. I waited for the glass to begin fogging as my heavy pants filled the room.
My head swam as all the blood rushed to my cock. I kept my hands glued to the leather. I would not move. I would not pull my cock out and stoke it to the movement of her fingers under her skirt.
There might be indents from my fingers burrowing into the leather, but I wouldn’t move.
She whimpered, her face scrunching up, her whole body contracting as her arms moved faster. Her back arched and I almost lost it when one of her nipples popped free of the confines of her top.
I groaned, flexed my ass, thrusting my hips up off the chair.
Fuck she was beautiful.
When I expected her to tug the top back up, she instead began rolling the bud between her fingers. If she didn’t come soon, I was going to come in my pants.
The tight rosy bud held my attention as I imagined latching on to it, sucking it into my mouth as I fucked her with my fingers.
I clenched my jaw, ground my teeth and tried to swallow past my dry mouth, and finally—fucking finally—she came. Her hips thrust off the couch and her thighs shook. Her cries rang out louder than the couple on the screen and I had to squeeze my eyes closed. It was too much.
Breathe in for five seconds, out for five. In for five, out for five.
More moans and whimpers.
In for five, out for five.
One last satisfied sigh, and I opened my eyes to find her breast safely tucked away and her sagging against the couch. I counted to twenty, then stood with jerky movements, adjusting my cock to make it less obvious, flicked the light to red, and stormed out of the room, heading straight to the iPads to make a second request.
If I bought her time, then no one else could. It wasn’t for me. It was for her.
God was going to kill me by striking me down with lightning, or I was going to die from blue balls.
At that moment, a lightning bolt was far more preferable.
14
Callum
I walked into Voyeur for the fourth time in two weeks. I knew I shouldn’t be there, yet I couldn’t stop. I had to make sure she was okay.
I’d kept a close eye on her, taking advantage of all the time we were around each other. Walking her to her car when I could. Something inside of me pleaded with me to keep her safe. To protect her from the horrors of the world. The horrors of boys too amped up on power to consider they were wrong.
I shuddered and focused instead on keeping my head down under my hat as I made my way to my usual corner of the bar. The blonde, Charlotte, saw me and gave a nod, letting me know she’d bring me the beer she knew I ordered every time I came in.
Scanning the crowd, I found Oaklyn almost immediately, my attention always drawn to her. Being so in-tune with her made the days difficult. I did my best to pretend the almost kiss had never happened, to pretend I didn’t know how soft her skin was, but it was all a lie.
Every day my desire seemed to be pulling at a leash as it tried to break free and announce to everyone that I wanted her. I stared more when I knew I shouldn’t. I tried to make her stay later, just for the chance that we could be alone.
And on the nights I came to Voyeur, I watched her with a new level of feeling. When I watched her fingers skim her thighs, the tops of her breasts, any part of her body, I remembered what it felt like. Something so small and so minor, but it resonated through me, latching on like a leech to my memory.
I continued to select innocuous things each time, refusing to jack off. No matter how much my hard cock pressed against the zipper of my pants, begging to be let free, I refused.
Like the rationalization made it any better that I was there, watching my student come.
My eyes found Oaklyn again and I finished my beer. I moved to the edge of the room, never looking away from her pert nose and smiling lips. Tonight, she wore a white lace body suit, like she was a virginal bride on her wedding night. Except there was nothing virginal about the shorts that just reached the bottom of her cheeks and the deep V in the front and back. The lace only heavy around her breasts and core.
