Chapter Thirteen
Ian
“Class, please turn to Byron’s poem ‘The Corsair.’”
They paged through their textbooks to the right passage, while I tried to appear composed, but it wasn’t easy.
Sod it all—I’m hard. Again.
Over the past few weeks, I’d taught Darcy a little too well, if I did say so myself. I’d had Darcy dozens of times and so many different ways, but it hadn’t cooled my lust. We’d been sneaking around—romantic dinners far away from campus, creeping back to my flat during the day to make love. And in public, we were proper and professional.
Yes, having a secret affair was exciting but also damned inconvenient.
Like when I lectured to a classroom full of impressionable students, whilst trapped behind the lectern because I’d gone hard. Even the thought of fucking her got me aching and thick. My cock stood at full attention, pressing against the opening of my tweed trousers. And I was working on a set of blue balls.
Bloody hell.
I couldn’t even concentrate. Who knew if my prattle made any sort of sense? I just gawked at her legs, thinking about them wrapped around my waist.
Women had it easier—they could hide their desire between dimpled thighs, while I tried not to end up as fodder for the campus gossip mill. Or worse—an anecdote in the university police blotter.
That’s when I realized my students were silent, watching me with interest. Darcy smothered a snicker with the back of her hand.
I cleared my throat. “Mr. Archibald, please read Canto I aloud.”
His classmates groaned. Excellent. Archibald was a pillock, and it should take him ages to finish. Since the class’s attention had been sidetracked, I could focus on Darcy.
I should feel guilty. After all, I’m poor excuse for a professor. I was supposed to be educating the leaders of the future, or whatever twaddle they put on admissions brochures. Teaching should be serious business, one requiring careful consideration.
Instead of concentrating on my sacred duty, the short skirt Darcy wore mesmerized me—the subtle way the hem slid up her thigh, the teasing glimpse of skin she offered me now and then.
She sat in the front row, and I felt the weight of her stare—down deep in the marrow of my bones. And everywhere else.
As a result, I was off my game, unfocused, a little dazed. Scenes from her book keep flooding my thoughts—the twelfth chapter, in particular. I hadn’t missed the symbolism of the pairing—an older man’s love affair with a younger woman.
At my request, Darcy had added a few pieces to her wardrobe. Darcy didn’t have much in the way of lingerie. She’d said it made her feel silly, not sexy—but she couldn’t be more wrong. But I wanted to see her in an actual uniform. The schoolgirl look was scrummy.
Quite pervy, really, but there you have it.
For a moment, I thought of taking her on my desk. I pictured her writhing—skirt tossed up, arse in the air, squirming as I put my bell end into her. Or placing Darcy on her knees, coaxing my cock into her mouth, and holding on to the back of her hair.
She’d driven me insane. And the little minx knew it, too. Darcy casually sucked the end of her pen, watching me from beneath her lashes.
I’m in hell, and she’s the devil.
Somehow, I survived the torture, and class ended. The students filed out, far too slow for my liking. It was all I could do to keep from shouting. I had a reputation for being difficult, but they’d think I was daft if I made a scene.
“I need to see you for a moment, Ms. James.” Darcy tried to sail out the door with the rest, but I snagged her arm.
“Of course, Dr. Sterling.”
Then I locked the door, shut the blinds, and pushed her into the far corner of the room.
“You’re driving me mad.” I pressed her against the wall, my throbbing cock surged against her soft belly. “I can’t think of anything but you.”
“Really?”
“What are you wearing under there?” I slid a hand up her thigh.
“Why don’t you find out?” She turned a delightful crimson. There was the barest hint of shyness left. How charming.
“Such a tease.” But I encountered bare skin—nothing else.
Oh, fuck it all. She isn’t wearing knickers.
“What a naughty girl you are.” Just as I suspected, she was wet—my fingertips were dewy.
“I don’t do lingerie, but I thought this would be the next best thing.”
“No, pet, this is even better.” I slipped two fingers deep inside her. And, oh yes, she dropped for me.
Darcy moaned.
“Hush now. Don’t make a sound.” I dragged a student desk closer to us and bent her over it.
“What are you doing?” Darcy craned her neck to look at me. Her eyes were wide and wary.
“What do you think, pet?”
“Here? You can’t be serious.”
“But I am. The door’s locked; your classmates are long gone. And I can’t take any more teasing.” Truthfully, I knew this could be a mistake. Anyone could hear us, but I couldn’t help myself.
I flipped her skirt up, squeezing her lovely little bum. I loved the hint of softness. Darcy had a thin build, but she was womanly where it counted.
Then I unzipped, freeing my cock. In a second, I lunged inside her—pumping. Darcy pushed her hips back against me—we were moving as one. Her sex was humid, drenching me like a warm summer rainstorm—lush and wet and everything I craved. Groaning, Darcy ground her pelvis against me—on the verge of coming.
With a wail, she let loose, and I came soon after.
***
Much later, when I got back to my office, I found an email from Walter waiting for me. The subject line read: My Office.
“Well, that can’t be good.”
Stomach churning, I clicked it. I need to see you before the end of the day.
Bollocks.
What the fuck had possessed me earlier? What if someone had seen us? Or heard?
There was no use in second-guessing myself now. Might as well face Walter and get this over with.
I marched down the hall and knocked on Walter’s office door.
“Come in.”
“Ian, have a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.” I found him on the computer. His tone had been cool, but not harsh.
“Maybe I should return at a more convenient time?”
“You’ll meet with me now.”
“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in the chair, not even bothering to hide my impatience.
This was a huge waste of time. My time.
Hadn’t I wasted enough of my time already? I’d spent ten years doing a job I enjoyed but didn’t love. Teaching never filled me with joy, gave me a sense of purpose. Not like painting had.
As I waited, I thought of all the things I could be doing now—cleaning my brushes, planning a new painting. Making love to Darcy again.
I needed to paint.
Every time I close my eyes, I imagined standing in front of a blank canvas, a hint of turpentine in the air, a sleek sable brush gliding through the glossy smears on my palette.
“Ian, some concerns about your work have come to my attention.”
“Oh?”
Once again, I didn’t jump to my own defense. It appeared Walter had been busy conducting a witch-hunt. My academic contract was just about up. He’d have the summer months to recruit and hire a replacement.
“Your colleagues mentioned you’ve been distracted. Students said you’ve been late returning their homework.”
Had Walter dragged them all into his office, searching for performance issues?
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
That was it—I’d finally had enough.
“Bugger off.”
“How dare you speak to me in such a disrespectful manner? I should fire you on the spot.”
“Don’t bother—I quit.” I stood.
“Excuse me?”
“And we both know firing me is an empty threat. The English department is down one professor due to maternity leave. There are three weeks left in this semester. Hiring someone new takes months—you couldn’t even get the human resources paperwork done in time.”
He glowered but didn’t contradict me. “Don’t even think of asking me for a reference.”
“Not a problem, since I never intend to work for a university again.”
I waltzed to the door with a big grin on my face. Why hadn’t I done this years ago?
“What are you going to do?”
“Tonight? I’m going to knock off early, grab a pint, and then spend my second-to-last paycheck at an art supply store.” I fired off a mocking little salute. “Toodle pip, mate.”
And I left the room a free man.