Voyeur (A student/teacher romance) (Voyeur Series)
Voyeur: Chapter 13

CALLUM

Oaklyn walked into the office the following Monday and gave me a timid smile. Probably unsure of exactly how I’d act after Friday night.

That night . . . That night had split me open. Seeing her jump when I said her name. Seeing the lingering fear and frustration in her eyes. Then seeing her arm. I didn’t know how I’d kept a lid on my anger. To replace out it was from some asshole threatening to sexually assault her and her friend?

My stomach churned remembering the wave of nausea that had hit me when she’d said it. I’d managed to hold it together enough to take her upstairs and take care of the wound. As I’d bandaged her arm, I salivated over the feel of her flesh beneath my fingertips. Even if it was just her arm.

There was nothing sexual about what I’d been doing, but the tension had crackled between us, heating up the room.

She’d turned to look at me, so close, her deep golden eyes had fused onto mine. Her tongue had peeked out to slick across her lips, pulling my gaze to the soft pink flesh. I’d wanted to lean in, taste them, flick my own tongue across them. I’d been so entranced by the way she’d leaned toward me. I’d thought of nothing else but moving closer too. I’d watched her eyes drift close, and I was ready to say fuck it and give in.

Then the alcohol pad began to seep through my pants, the cold tickling at my thigh. It’d been minor, but enough to snap me back to reality. It might as well have been a bucket of cold water doused over my head.

My chest had clenched when I saw her eyes widen in confusion, when I saw the sheen of tears before she’d looked down in embarrassment. I’d given her space to collect herself, taken a walk to replace the first aid kit, calling myself every stupid name in the book. I’d resolved to apologize when I’d returned, determined to take responsibility for leading her on. Then I’d seen her trying to bolt, and I’d forgotten my whole plan. Scratched everything and instead pretended like nothing had happened.

Which is exactly what I’d continue to do today too.

“Feeling any better?” I asked when she stepped into my office.

“Yeah,” she said, moving to sit in the chair in front of my desk. I fought to keep my eyes from trailing down to watch the way her skirt rode up her thighs as she sat. “A hell of a lot better than Olivia. I think she was still hungover yesterday.”

“I don’t miss those days,” I said, cringing.

“What?” she mock-gasped, pulling her hand to her chest. “You? A rowdy boy in college?”

Laughing at her dramatics, I shook my head. “More like rowdy high school boy.”

“Was this before or during the class presidency and physics club? I won’t judge,” she held up her hands.

“Physics club would drive me to drink too.”

“You’re very funny, Miss Derringer.”

She gave a shameless shrug, and I loved the way it made her ponytail sway. Maybe I could blame that for putting me in a trance long enough to allow the next words to pop out.

“I struggled a little as a teen. Drinking helped.”

She hid her shock at my confession pretty well. Not that it was much of a confession, just probably not something a

teacher talked about with his student. I could see her eyes widen a little before she nodded her head like she understood.

She had no idea how much was really behind those two sentences. I’d struggled with my anger—my loss of control

—and drinking helped me numb myself enough that I didn’t replace the need for an outlet. But it wasn’t long until my parents had had enough and got me into therapy. My therapist recommended getting involved in school and then came physics club. As lame as it sounded, it was the first thing to get me excited about something in years.

Fucking stars, man. Saved my life.

I laughed at that, then admitted, “Physics club was my jam. Gave me something else to focus on.”

I didn’t know why I’d shared so much of my past.

Something about her, the innocence and acceptance that emanated from her made me want to confess all my secrets. I needed to change the subject before more word vomit came out.

Thankfully, Donna popped her head in. “We’re getting lunch from the sub shop. You want anything?”

Oaklyn’s stomach growled right on cue and her cheeks blushed.

“I’ll take a large club and two bags of potato chips.”

Oaklyn’s head popped up at that. “Dr. Pierce, no. I packed a PB&J. I’m go—”

“Two, Donna,” I interrupted Oaklyn and held up two fingers to Donna. She gave me a nod, smiling at Oaklyn’s protest.

“Let us treat you every once in a while,” she said before walking out.

Us. Like it was the office that wanted to gain pleasure from watching Oaklyn’s lips move with every bite, and not just me.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Oaklyn said, hopping up from her seat and whirling around to dig in her bookbag.

My eyes trailed to the way the soft material of her skirt swayed higher as she moved. The expanse of thigh entranced me and shot straight to my cock, making it twitch under my slacks. She stood, and I looked away before she fully turned and faced me.

“Brownies!” She held up a Tupperware container victoriously. “And I made sure to add peanuts just for you.

Although I hear Mr. Erikson likes them too, so you may have to share.”

“Hmmm.” I pretended to think about it. “I don’t think so.”

Her soft laugh filled the office, and I couldn’t help smiling too.

Oaklyn set some brownies on my desk before taking the rest out to the main office for everyone to share.

After lunch, I put on some music to help distract me from the soft noises she created as she filed. It seemed every swish of paper drew my eyes to her, like she was shouting at me, demanding my attention. However, the music backfired on me when I glanced her way to replace her standing in front of the cabinet, swaying her hips to the beat of the song.

I wasn’t even sure she was aware of what she was doing, but the motion sucked all the moisture from my mouth and I struggled to swallow the desire choking me. Fuck. I wanted to place my hands on her hips and inch the skirt up until the cheeks of her ass peeked out. Then I’d rub my hand across the soft skin and sway with her. Work my hands around the front as I pressed my cock against her soft globes and buried my fingers between her thighs.

“Dr. Pierce.” Her soft voice interrupted my fantasy and I jerked, blinking away the image to replace her staring at me.

My heart thundered in my chest as I realized she’d turned to replace me staring at her ass. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I took deep breaths to stop the blood rushing to my cheeks

and swallowed, hoping my voice sounded normal and not at all nervous about what she’d say.

“Sorry. I zoned out a bit.”

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip and she seemed to be trying to hide her own blush as she walked forward to put a paper on my desk. I scooted further under my desk, hoping she didn’t notice the tent in my pants.

“I was wondering where you wanted me to file this one.”

I looked over the paper she handed me, and just stared at it, trying to regain my composure. “Bottom cabinet.”

Giving her what I hoped was a reassuring smile, I returned to my work, berating myself the whole time.

Before I knew it, the day was over.

“Is there anything else you need before I head out?”

“No. Thank you, Oaklyn.” She nodded with a smile and began to pack up her bag. “Headed home for the night?”

She let out a heavy sigh. “No. I have to work tonight, so I’m headed there and then home.”

It was a struggle to keep my face neutral, but somehow, I managed. She waved goodbye, and I tried to focus on my work. Tried to not think about her performing and being surrounded by men. What if one of them took it too far?

What if she was hurt again?

Rationally, I knew Daniel took the utmost care of his employees, but after seeing her Friday night, the pit in my stomach wouldn’t abate.

Giving up on the papers in front of me, I shut everything down and headed home. Each mile I drove, I thought about her and wondered if she was okay. It haunted me, irrationally taking over every thought.

I walked in my house and slammed my door, carefully hung up my jacket, stomped up the stairs, and got undressed. I draped my tie onto the rack, and tugged until it perfectly lined up with the rest; placed my shoes on the floor alongside my other dress shoes, the laces carefully tucked inside; coiled my belt tightly and put it in the

drawer with the buckle facing out, and dumped the rest of my clothes into the empty laundry basket.

I stood in my walk-in closet, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, my chest heaving, feeling no calmer than I had when I’d left school. Just feeling too much, period.

I needed a drink. I took long strides to reach my door and as soon as my hand rested on the handle, I remembered my conversation with Oaklyn and how I explained how far I’d come since needing to drink. Now look at me, ready to storm downstairs and chug straight from the bottle. I had more restraint than that.

I forced myself to breathe in for five seconds, out for five. In for five seconds, out for five. I didn’t dare let go of the handle until I had regained control. By the time I did, my fingers tingled from squeezing the metal knob so hard.

I carefully walked back into my closet and grabbed a long-sleeved Henley, jeans, and my ballcap with Cincinnati stitched across it. Then I strolled downstairs, grabbed my keys, and headed to Voyeur. Rationalizing the whole way that if I was the one watching her, then no one else could and I’d limit the risk of someone pushing too far.

I didn’t hesitate when I reached the club. I kept my head down, hat shadowing my face as I stuck to the edges of the room, keeping my eye out for her. Of course, I saw her as soon as I entered. Her magnetism had me stopping and staring. She had a tray of drinks and was laughing with a couple at a table. She had on the same swishy skirt from earlier, except now, she only wore a lacy bustier that showcased her breasts to perfection.

Control. I needed control. I’d gone to Voyeur for a reason and I needed to focus on that.

I went back to the iPads and made my selection, not bothering to sit in a booth in case she came to take my order.

Maybe thirty minutes later of watching her flit around the lounge, smiling, flirting, talking with all the customers,

my wristband finally buzzed. I darted down the back hallway and entered the private room. I flicked on one of the lamps, casting a dim light across the two leather club chairs. I didn’t even acknowledge the wall of toys and lube, knowing I wouldn’t need them tonight.

The leather creaked in the silent room as I looked through the glass at the setup waiting for Oaklyn. A simple scene of a girl on the couch watching something sexy and then getting herself off to it. No nudity. Nothing graphic.

She walked in like it was her own home, natural as could be. She moved to the couch, slightly slanted so, I could see more than just her profile, and turned on the TV. Some soft core porn filled the screen and she looked on enraptured by the couple on the screen. I wondered what she was thinking. What she was imagining.

My fists squeezed the armchair, my heartbeat echoing in my ears, as her hands coasted up her legs, dragging the skirt up her thighs, but still not exposing anything as the material fell at her core. Her hands continued their ascent, cupping her breasts. Her eyes slipped closed and her lips opened, a moan reaching through the glass and stroking at my cock.

The semi-erection I’d had since walking in hardened to my full length, pressing against the confines of my pants.

One hand kept working her breast and the other moved back down to between her thighs. Moving the skirt aside, but still not showing anything, she began her show.

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 replace 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.