LANA

 

 

It’s been almost two weeks since Mr. Portland became Jackson to me. Of course, I only address him like that when we’re alone, but it’s getting harder every day to remember to maintain my distance in public.

We’re playing with fire, both of us. He may not be a real professor at my university, but I’m sure he still needs to adhere to the same rules as everyone else. Relationships between students and teachers are strictly forbidden. This was one of many things we were told during our first week here. These rules don’t change, no matter how old you are, no matter how much time there is left before graduation, no matter how long the teacher in question will be part of the faculty.

This is the first time I’ve ever broken the rules.

And I love it.

I don’t even know what we are. Are we involved in a relationship? We never talked about it, not during the night at the hotel, nor in the days following. He has my number now and I have his. I wasn’t the one to text first, he was. A silly smile spread across my face when I read the message. Short as it was, it still made my heart flutter because he asked to see me again.

We’ve “seen” each other several times since then, always making sure that our dates are as far removed from campus as possible. I’ve been out with him so many nights that Celia has become suspicious. I excused myself by insisting that I had extra study sessions at the library, reminding her that finals are slowly creeping up on us.

She doesn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes and that hint of a cheeky grin that showed up on her face when I stuttered my excuse in front or her. She’s not stupid, but empathic. I appreciate her for not asking any nosy questions.

I’ve tried to stay away from Jackson on campus as much as possible. We’re never seen together, not more than he’s seen talking to any other students. But today, I need his help. I need his advice on the project I’ve been working on since he planted the idea of going after financial funding in my head. I’ve been working on it ever since, taking away so much time from studying that I’m beginning to worry. This could be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done – or the best thing. I won’t know until I’ve tried, and  I know I have to try. Jackson gave me the push I needed, and I know I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t go for this.

But I need his help. I want to distinguish between our teacher-student relationship and the relationship that defines us outside the classroom, which is why I signed up on the sheet listing his consultation hours. I wonder if he’s confused to see my name on there, especially because we’re supposed to see each other tomorrow night. If he was, he never mentioned it.

I’m waiting in front of his office, waiting for him to finish up with another student inside. I have no idea what other students might have to discuss with him, since he’s not grading us and barely ever gave us any assignments to work on. A flush of jealousy travels down my spine when I see that all the names on the list are female students.

I’ve been waiting for about ten minutes when I see another girl from my class walking down the hallway. I don’t know her name, but she’s the girl who sat next to me during Jackson’s first lecture, the one who was so busy fixing her makeup. Our eyes meet for a split second, both acknowledging that we’ve seen each other before. She stops in front of the door and studies the list of names.

“Are you Lana Harlington?” she wants to know, pointing to my name on the list.

I nod. “Yes.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes, before slumping down on a bench opposite me.

“Guess it’s your turn next,” she says, sounding annoyed at my presence.

I don’t know how to reply to that, so I just regard her with a shrug, ready to mind my own business, when she draws my attention back to her.

“What do you even want from him?” she asks. “Weren’t you the one who was such a bitch during his first lecture?”

Now I’m the one raising my eyebrows. “I wasn’t just bitching at him, I-“

“Whatever you wanna call it,” she cuts me off. “What business do you have with him now?”

“That’s none of your business,” I retort. “I could ask you the same question.”

A smug grin appears on her face, and I notice that she looks quite dolled-up, even more so than that day she sat next to me.

Even more so than I did when I walked up to Jackson in that skirt he let me wear after telling me to take off every other item of clothing. My heart races, and I hope to God that she doesn’t see the blush on my face when I recall that day.

“I just wanted to have a word with him,” the girl says, even though I never asked why she was there. “Alone.”

She winks at me, and my heart pinches.

“What are you trying to insinuate?”

She giggles and waves me off, as if I was a dumb little kid. “Nothing, nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

We both flinch when the door to Jackson’s office opens abruptly, and I find myself jumping up in an instant. Always the good girl, always ready to please.

Another girl from my class scurries out of the room, casting Jackson a coy smile before she says goodbye, completely ignoring me as she walks past me.

I’m almost disappointed to see how nonchalantly he greets me when I show up in front of him. The girl who’s been waiting with me has her eyes locked on us, clearly hoping for Jackson to divert his attention in her direction, but he doesn’t.

“Miss Harlington,” he says, beckoning for me to step inside his office. I follow his gesture, suppressing a telltale smile as I do. The last time he closed that door behind me was when I undressed in front of him and he toyed with me just to leave me frustrated and humiliated.

Even now, my core flutters at the memory.

He closes the door with noticeable force, but he doesn’t lock it before he turns toward me, fixating on me with a stern expression. We stand, frozen, staring longingly at each other.

“I was surprised to see your name on the signup sheet,” he says in a voice so low that I can barely hear him. “I hope you’re not here to cancel our date tomorrow.”

I shake my head. “No, I just needed to talk to you. About my business plan, the project. I thought it would be best to keep this separated from our-“

“Not possible,” he interrupts, closing in on me with two wide steps and taking my face between both his hands. His lips plunder mine with fierce desire. I’m so surprised by his sudden approach that I forget to breathe. As always, my body reacts to him before my mind does. My chest is heaving with lust, spurred on by my furious pulse, as I give into his kiss. I’ve never felt like this before, so desired, so hungry for more. His kiss is so possessive and greedy, not allowing me to retreat, even if I wanted to.

I’m panting when he lets go of me, and I have to refrain from reaching out to him. He’s always the one in control and barely lets me touch him, even though there’s nothing I’d like to do more in moments like this.

“I can’t do anything about it as long as we are who we are to each other in public,” he says, making me shiver when he graces along the side of my face with his fingertip. “But you’re my good girl, always and everywhere, my little slut. If I could, I’d taste you every time you’re in my presence.”

I blush at his words, and my excitement is only fueled by the knowledge that one of my classmates is sitting right outside the door, a girl who’s been swooning over Jackson for far longer than I have. Yet, I’m the one he wants.

Or so I hope.

“Is this the way you greet all the female students who sign up to see you?” I ask, sounding bitchier than intended. The thought has haunted me for a while, but I never let myself believe it.

The frown on his face makes me regret my words immediately. He doesn’t just look angry or annoyed at my subtle accusation. It’s more than that. He looks disappointed.

“Is this what you think is going on here?” he asks. “Do you really think I’m taking every chance I can get to fuck as many random college girls as possible?”

I lower my eyes, conscious of guilt. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Stop concerning yourself with such nonsense, Lana,” he cuts me off, placing the tip of his finger below my chin to tilt my face up to his. “I’m not a skirt chaser. I prefer to focus on one girl at a time, one submissive, one pretty little thing to play with.”

He leans in for another kiss, gentle and careful this time, barely more than a peck on the lips.

Our eyes meet when he withdraws, a reassuring smile on his handsome face. He cocks his head to the side and the smile widens before he adds, “One girl to tame.”

I pout at him. “Tamed!”

He chuckles, placing his hands on my shoulders in a possessive manner that’s unique to him. It surprises me to realize how right all of this feels, how natural. He was a stranger, an odd guest lecturer just a few weeks back, a man who stirred my insides with more than just his incredible looks.

I still can’t believe he’s this infatuated with me, but it really seems to be true. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he went after me when I tried to distance myself from him. It should leave little room for doubt, but yet it does.

He squeezes my shoulders slightly, tilting his head to the side.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” he says. “About your proposal?”

I nod. “Yes, I need your advice.”

He smiles and lets go of my shoulders, beckoning me to take a seat.

“All right, baby girl. Let’s see how I can help.”