Voyeur (A student/teacher romance) (Voyeur Series)
Voyeur: Chapter 19

OAKLYN

Slamming another drawer closed, I looked toward Dr.

Pierce’s office, hoping he had heard, and it annoyed him. I refused to think of him as Callum. He’d made it clear this week that he was officially Dr. Pierce.

Abusing his power as my superior, if you asked me. It was the second night he’d kept me later than necessary.

The whole office was deserted except for me and him.

Every time we spoke, it was Miss Derringer with a distant voice. Lacking all emotion. What the hell had changed from the heated looks in class last week? Was he pissed that I’d refused to stay to talk to him? That I’d called out on Friday?

I’d just needed time to process, the whole situation clouding my mind. Then the entire time I’d worked at Voyeur over the weekend, I’d been looking for him.

Constantly waiting for him to walk through the door, come to me and demand I take his request for another repeat. My heart had been erratic every minute I was there, worried that he’d come, more worried that he wouldn’t.

And he hadn’t.

Feeling that desire for him to come to me had cracked open a door to clarity. I wanted him to. For the first time I had a solid feeling of want. Not fear or indecisiveness but

want. Want for him to walk through the door and stare at me the same way he had in class.

But he never came and clocking out on Sunday night had been depressing.

I hoped I’d have time to talk to him on Monday, that we would sit and have our lunch and figure it out. But he’d shut his door and told me I should go grab some lunch and be back in an hour. I’d stared at the wood between us with my jaw hanging open. When he finally opened the door again, it was to request I type up meeting notes.

“If you would, Miss. Derringer,” he’d said, gesturing to the papers on the corner of the desk without even bothering to look up from his work. As though those same fingers hadn’t been buried inside me, hadn’t made me come.

That had been the beginning of the benign requests and menial tasks.

Reorganize the beakers.

Rewash the beakers.

File these papers alphabetically. File these numerically.

Make these copies and organize the packets.

Go to the chemistry department and help them move the centrifuge up to our floor.

I was waiting for him to ask me to get on the floor and spit-shine his shoes. I ground my jaw at each request. I hadn’t hoped today would’ve been any better after his completely ignoring my existence in class, but I hadn’t expected him to keep me late. Again.

It made me want to regret having let anything happen between us, but I didn’t. Not really. I missed the friendship we’d formed. I missed sharing lunches with him and laughing over our easy banter. That was the most painful part of all of this.

Even though staying late on a night I had off from Voyeur and could catch up on homework was a close second.

I walked to his office and stared at his head bent over some papers. I knew he knew I was there, but he refused to look up and acknowledge me. Why bother?

“I’m done with everything, Dr. Pierce.” I made sure to stress his name, so he had no doubt I felt his cold shoulder.

“Another thirty minutes and I’ll be ready to lock up. You can help me,” he said, not even bothering to look up.

That was enough. It was after seven and even if we hadn’t shared our experience, I wouldn’t stand for this disrespect. I was sick and tired of him acting like an asshole. I had more than two months left with him, and I wasn’t going to let him think he could walk all over me.

“You can’t keep me here.”

That got his attention. Finally, his head lifted, and he stared at me with blank eyes.

“Excuse me, Miss Derringer?”

I scowled at the Miss Derringer. A small flicker of something crossed his eyes. Too fast for me to see. I stomped, like a child throwing a temper tantrum, further into the room and slammed the door. No one was around, and the heavy wood banging shut made me feel better.

“I may only be a teenager and you’re my professor, but you can’t take advantage of me like this.”

He laughed. Actually laughed. My eyebrows rose high on my forehead. His head fell back, and mouth opened around the deep rumble escaping into the room to taunt me. I took a deep breath and furrowed my brows. His chest shook with humor he couldn’t seem to contain.

“This is not fucking funny,” I growled.

Getting himself under control, his eyes were no longer blank when he looked at me. The blue almost glowed in the dimly lit room. I took an involuntary step back as his gaze raked over me, each inch of my body igniting with his stare.

“Oaklyn, trust me when I tell you I see you as anything but a teenager. Anything but my student.”

The way he said my name after refusing to all week, felt like a gift.

“Then what?” I asked with less fire and anger than had fueled me a moment before, but no less frustration.

He stared, his eyes dropping to my mouth as my tongue slicked across my lips. Then they dropped even further to his desk. He nudged a pen that was already in line with the one next to it, then a stack of papers that was already straight. His hand seemed to float across the desk, looking for a distraction rearranging anything they came across.

My irritation grew with every item that he moved just a fraction of an inch. It bloomed in my chest, squeezing my lungs. Each second I waited for an answer, it spread until I was ready to explode. I stomped the last two steps to his desk, snatched the pens up, and tossed them down on the ground.

His head jerked to the floor where the three pens lay scattered, then it slowly turned toward me. His brows furrowed, his jaw clamped shut, the muscle clenching in his cheek, his breathing growing heavy. He looked like a bull ready to charge.

Well I was fucking ready.

I threw my arms wide. “Huh?” I shouted. “What do you see when you look at me?” I had wanted the question to come out strong and demanding. Instead it slipped out as a desperate plea.

Dr. Pierce pushed his chair back and stood, not taking his eyes off me as he moved to stand directly in front of me, towering over me. My neck arched so I could hold his gaze and I had to fight from taking the last step to close the gap between our bodies. He looked over my face, and I almost whimpered when I watched his tongue roll across his lips.

I thought I knew his answer, but nothing prepared me for what he said next.

“I see you sprawled out on a bed. Naked. Your body flushed as you roll your rosy nipples between your fingers.

Tugging at them. Making them hard.” Heat washed over my body as I sucked in a gasp, but I refused to look away as he continued. “I see your head thrown back as you laugh at a joke I shared over lunch.” He took the last step toward me, and I swayed closer. Pulled in by his confession.

“I see you in class, your lips stretched in the most beautiful smile, and I remember the taste of them.” He leaned down closer, so I could feel his words against my skin. “I’m desperate to taste them again,” he growled.

Fire zipped down my spine to my core and I was sure I was going to combust from the pressure of desire—of need

—bubbling up inside me.

His breath caressed against my mouth, urging it open, and I pressed up to my toes to close the gap. Groaning, our lips locked together, melding as one, glued together by his words of desire, by the memory of the last time we kissed.

This time there was no hesitation as we wrapped our arms around each other, holding tight like we were trying to become one. His tongue pushed past my lips, demanding I let him in and taste what he wanted.

I opened willingly, moaning when his tongue brushed mine. I tasted him in return, the taste of mint and him, the man. My fingers dug in his hair as he leaned down to reach more of me, his hands skimming over my hips to grip the cheeks of my ass, bunching up the material of my dress.

We each pulled back to breathe, and when I opened my eyes, his were still closed as he rubbed circles, massaging my bottom.

“What else, Dr. Pierce? What else do you see?” I whispered against his lips.

He exhaled a heavy breath from his nose before he gripped me tight, and growled, “Callum. Call me Callum,”

against my lips. He hoisted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. His mouth began devouring mine as the room spun, and he turned to sit me on his desk. He pulled

back only to trail kisses down and back up my neck where he nipped at the lobe of my ear.

“I see you bent over my desk, my fingers disappearing inside you.”

I inhaled sharply at the imagery and tried to lower my hands down his chest, needing to touch him. He stopped me, gripping my wrists tight and pulling them down to the desk behind me. I wanted to protest but then his kisses moved past my neck, going as far as the V of my dress would allow.

Stopping at my breasts he looked up at me and bit at my nipple through the cotton, causing me to jerk in pleasure.

“I imagine your perfect ass covered in my cum. I imagine rubbing it in, soaking it into your skin. Maybe then you would know what it feels like to have me be a part of you.”

I didn’t know what to say. That was so much more than sexual. It was much deeper than what I’d hoped he felt for me. I opened my mouth to ask more, but a groan escaped instead as he bit my other nipple and began dragging his hands up my thighs and under my skirt.

“Dr. Pier—”

“Callum. Callum when I’m inside you,” he said, falling into his chair and rolling between my spread legs.

“But you’re not—ohhh.”

“What was that?” he asked with a smirk, his fingers pushing in and out of me.

They moved so quickly under my panties. I was so wet, there was no resistance as he shoved two fingers inside me and rotated them.

“Callum,” I said on a breath.

He groaned against the skin of my inner thigh. “I see you naked on a bed, legs spread wide with a dark head buried between them.” His eyes locked on my core as his hand twisted.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he saw, my dress still pulled down enough to block my view. However, it rode up when he used his free hand to lift my leg and place my foot on one arm of his chair.

He pulled his fingers out and I whimpered at the loss, but then he lifted my other leg to the other arm of his chair.

There I sat, my legs spread wide on my professor’s desk.

My pussy exposed from my panties being pulled to the side, so he could see what he did to me.

“I imagine it’s me. I imagine how soft the folds of your pussy will feel against my tongue. If you’re sweeter directly from the source rather than licking you off my fingers.”

And then his head was between my thighs, his tongue digging into my opening before trailing up to circle my clit.

His moan vibrated through my core and I thrust up against his seeking mouth. He sucked and bit and laved at every part of me as my whimpers filled the room. My thighs shook with the effort to hold them open and let him have his way. He ate at me like a starving man, and I couldn’t ever remember anything feeling so good.

Maybe it was because he was older with more experience, but that moment when he thrust his tongue inside me over and over, I didn’t care. He moved back up to flick across my clit and I was close. I needed him to stay there. I moved my hand and dug my fingers in his hair to hold him and he grunted, his whole body jerking before his hand shackled my wrist and moved it back to the desk. He held it there as he put all he had into making me come.

I wanted to ask what had just happened, but his mouth sucking at the lips of my cunt distracted me. The more he worked, the more lost I got, falling into an abyss of pleasure until finally I was exploding. Long moans slipped from my lips as my whole body contracted, my hips pushing up hard against his mouth, my fingers clenching around nothing as they dug into the wood of the desk.

His licks got softer and eventually turned to gentle kisses before he worked his way back down my thigh, ending at my knee.

Panting, I watched him sit back and wipe his chin with the back of his hand and I knew I needed more. I wanted to taste him like he had tasted me. I wanted him to be a part of me like I was a part of him.

I dropped my feet from the arms of the chair and slid off the desk before he could object and began working on his belt.

“Oaklyn,” he panted, his breaths coming heavy.

“I want to taste you. I want to hear you moan as I suck you.”

His breathing picked up faster once the button on his pants was undone, his loud exhales fighting with the sound of his zipper sliding down.

Looking up, I bit my lip and took him in. Sweat had broken out on his brow and his eyes were pinched shut in what looked to be concentration. I reached my hand inside his boxers, just grazing the soft flesh covering his hard length when the chair jerked back, and he stood. The force knocked me back on my butt and I stared up at him in confusion. His eyes were wide and frantic as his chest heaved up and down in what I was beginning to think wasn’t restrained desire.

“Callum,” I whispered.

He dropped his eyes to me, and they looked pained. “I’m sorry, Oaklyn.” Then he stepped around me and began fastening his pants. I scrambled up from the floor.

“What?” I asked. I was so confused, my mind scrambling to keep up. But my body knew. My chest squeezed tight, a piercing pain in my heart. My face flushing in embarrassment of rejection.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

I stared at his back as he paced to the door. When he reached it, he didn’t turn around to look at me and it hit me

like a slap to the face. It was a far bigger rejection that he couldn’t even look at me as he turned me away.

“What the hell?” I asked, hating the tremble in my voice.

Finally, he turned, but kept staring at the floor. “It’s late.

We should get going.”

The piercing in my heart spread, causing a fire to burn in my chest. The burn reached my eyes and I blinked, not wanting to cry in front of him, but confused and hurt by his rejection. He wouldn’t even look at me. Was he so ashamed of what we’d done? Why? Why had he gone so far only to turn me away?

I didn’t understand and the more I tried, the more questions bombarded my thoughts and I couldn’t get any of them out past the painful lump in my throat. It choked me, and I hated it. I hated it even more when a tear broke free.

I refused to stand there and listen to any possible reason he may have had to pull back so suddenly. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Brushing the tear away, I turned to begin gathering my things.

It was pointless as more tears fell, my sniff giving away my weakness.

“Oaklyn, I’m so—”

“No!” I spun around to face him. “Fuck you, Callum. I get it, I’m young and your student, and you probably regret it, but maybe you should’ve figured your shit out before eating me out.”

His eyes looked pained as he took in the tracks of my tears. He took a step forward with his hands out, but I would completely crumble if he touched me now.

“No,” I said again, swerving around him and heading toward the door. I stopped at the entrance but didn’t turn around. “I’ll see you in class, Dr. Pierce.”

And with that, I walked out with my head held as high as I could, choking on as many tears as I could hold back.

When I got home, I fell to my bed and cried. Hating how mad I was at him for rejecting me.

Hating that he was ashamed of what we’d done.

Hating that he was the one to stop it.

Hating him because he’d made me feel so good.

Hating him for saying everything he’d said.

Hating him because I didn’t really hate him at all.

And that made me feel as immature and naive as he probably saw me.