“Because it’ll mean more.”
“It’s not appropriate for me to tell you, especially since you won’t be using it.”
I lowered my eyes and then peeked at him flirtatiously from beneath my lashes. “But it would be nice to know whose name to call when I touch myself at night.”
“Jesus.”
“What?” I questioned as I spread my thighs apart under the desk. “It’s the truth.”
“It doesn’t matter. You can’t say things like that to me.”
“But I can to others?”
He pulled his seat out and sat down. “No. You shouldn’t say it to anyone.”
“Why? Am I supposed to act ashamed that I like to touch myself? I do, you know, but I promised myself that my next orgasm would be with you, so…wanna help me out?”
His gaze dropped below the desk, and the moment he noticed my legs parted, he brought his eyes back to mine. This time, they were a dark gold and much more volatile—less patient.
“I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Oh, please. Don’t try and tell me you don’t think about me.”
“Stop. It. Addison,” he growled, and the sound of my name reverberating from his throat made my pussy clench in response.
“Don’t worry, Mr. M. Can I call you that? It’s much easier. I don’t want you to touch me. I can do that all on my own. Just watch—watch me.”
I pushed my chair away from the desk and leaned back into the seat, lowering my hand down between my thighs. Pressing my fingers against the outside of my shorts, I noticed his eyes skid down to see what I was doing.
“Stop it.”
“Make me,” I challenged.
His voice was barely audible as he admitted, “I can’t.”
I couldn’t make her because I didn’t want her to stop.
If anyone could have seen what was going on, it was obvious to me that they would have labeled me a monster and her a victim. However, as I sat there, fighting every instinct to go to her, I really had to wonder which role fit whom in this scenario.
I consciously knew this was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to be the one to walk away, but how do you keep saying no in the face of such temptation? If this was a test, was I about to fail?
Addison’s smooth legs were spread wide under the desk. Her hand was eagerly massaging between them as she watched me. I remained frozen, fixated on the scene like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Tell me what to do,” she invited.
Was she kidding? This was the most demented thing I’d ever done. I wasn’t going to compound the situation by giving her instructions to take her pants off so I could see more.
“Tell me,” she demanded again as her fingers moved up and slid—oh fuck—inside her school shorts.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to erase the image as I fought my body’s natural instinct. My cock was as hard as a fucking rock as I sat there imagining what she was touching. The only sound I could hear was the—tick, tick, tock—of the fucking wall clock. It felt as though it was keeping time with my heart as it pounded inside my chest.
“Mr. M?”
At the breathy sound of her voice, I lifted my head and saw that she’d unzipped her jacket and was focused on me with lustful eyes.
“Addison.”
“Don’t tell me no.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
She let out a soft moan, and I figured she’d just touched…fuck!
“You don’t have to, just your voice makes me wet. Watch me. Watch what you do to me.”
Denying myself even that, I stood, determined to put an end to this.
“This is over. Stop what you’re doing and get up.”
“No,” she told me as her eyes clouded over, desire starting to take a tight hold of her.
Rounding my desk, I pressed a firm palm against my erection, trying to get it to behave as I moved closer to her.
“Get your fucking hands out of your pants, and go home, Addison. It’s called self-control. Try and find some.”
“Mhmm, again,” she panted, and I could feel my panic closing in on me as her quick breaths were beginning to drown out the ticking of the clock, which was the only thing keeping me sane.
“What?”
“My name, say it again,” she pleaded as I stopped in front of her. “Hurry.”
Looking down at the way she was sprawled out in her seat, I saw the fingers of her left hand tapping the edge of the desk—one, two, three—and her other was underneath it, out of view.
That’s when I heard myself say, “Addison.”
“Yes,” she moaned, and I assumed her fingers were now inside her.
“Addison,” I repeated again, unable to stop my mouth as she pushed her breasts out for me like a fucking offering.
I felt drawn to her.
With morbid curiosity, I placed my hands on her desk, bringing my face in close to hers. Closer than I’d ever been before. Unable to look away.
Her attention shifted to my mouth in that moment, and the power of my own lust slammed into me, taking full control.
“Addison,” I rasped out, and as she tipped her face up, I couldn’t find the will to back away.
“Yes?” she sighed, so close to my lips I could taste her sweet, warm breath as it entered my mouth.
“It’s Grayson,” I finally gave over. Her lips curved seductively, and I knew she understood exactly what I’d just given.
Her eyes shut, and the long lashes kissed the top curve of her rosy cheeks. She sat back and started to raise her hips up under the desk. I rubbed my painfully stiff cock while Addison continued to masturbate less than an arm’s length away from me.
I couldn’t drag my attention away as her forearm flexed and pushed down every time her body bucked up, no doubt causing her fingers to slide deeper inside herself.
She was stunning.
Provocative, sensual, and so free with her own pleasure that when her eyes opened and locked with mine, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Kiss me,” she begged.
I stumbled back, shaking my head in denial.
While I wasn’t touching her, I could convince myself that I hadn’t crossed too many lines. Yet, even as the word, “No,” left my mouth, I knew I was a liar.
I’d crossed every fucking line. I reveled in the sound of my name on her lips as those siren eyes closed and she hurled herself to climax.
It was risky, it was decadent, and I knew I’d never be able to step foot into this classroom without envisioning Addison in that moment.
Present…
Talking is overrated. I know that now. I just wish I’d known it back then.
Unfortunately, that is all that’s on the schedule for me at Pine Groves. Talking about the past. Or should I say, Doc talking and me…just listening.
What a waste of time. Nothing could be undone. It was too late.
“Addison, sooner or later, you need to talk about this.”
No I don’t, and he can’t make me. That’s what really kills him.
“Let’s talk about Grayson again today.”
I want to tell him not to use his first name and that I hate when he talks about him as though they know one another—but I don’t say anything.
Instead, I sit silently in the corner of this room as I always do. Silent, except for the clock that’s keeping track of how many seconds I’m wasting in here.
“It’s okay to be angry. What he did was…” His voice tapers off, inviting me to divulge what I know.
Thinking about the past hurts. It’s raw, painful, and I can’t imagine ever wanting to talk about it. But I also can’t let a lie continue to be told.