Workingin the office beside Amy was killing me. Was it possible to die from loss of blood flow to the head? Not because I’d been stabbed or injured, but because my dick was so hard most of the time I couldn’t think straight. It had been a week. A week of torture, and I had to admit, my office and paperwork were in the best shape it had ever been. She was efficient, hardworking and brilliant, nothing I hadn’t already known and yet, it was something else to see her work. I’d watched her study at the library before. Of course, no self-respecting obsessed man could fail to walk under the stacks when the object of his desire was sitting for hours, absorbed in her books and not paying attention to greedy eyes.
Seeing her in my office, moving with precision, again, completely absorbed, but this time in my service, was something else completely. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Today, she was yawning near constantly, and I had a sneaking suspicion she hadn’t given up her laundry mat job yet. I was going to have to confirm it myself, as I didn’t think she was going to be forthcoming about it, and I needed to make sure she was taking care of herself. She had her headphones in, as she usually did, singing quietly to herself as she sorted files at the huge, hulking file cabinet in the corner. I got up to go to the printer and stopped just behind her. She was intent on her task, and listening to her music full blast. She didn’t so much as turn as I stood just behind her. Her hair was like a cloud of auburn silk. I wanted to wrap it around my fist and tilt her head back, hold her in place while I explored her mouth with my tongue. I wanted to bend her supple, long neck as I held her, and keep her supplicant in my hands. I wanted her surrender more than I’d ever wanted anything in my wretched, empty life.
I’d been teasing Amy about being a sociopath, but there was a grain of truth in it. It wasn’t normal to be so fixated on one person. It wasn’t normal not to care if the rest of the world burned, as long as she was in my arms. I wasn’t normal. But it was the kind of not-normal that society adored. Rich, powerful and brilliant, a man who was master of his domain. I was lauded for my focused personality, and undistracted mind. No one knew the things I felt for this woman, young, innocent, mine. No one knew how I longed to possess her, enslave her heart, and keep her forever. I wondered if society would see it as the insane obsession it undoubtedly was, or if it would only seem like a grand love story. Men like me could get away with a lot and still walk in plain sight, admired and praised.
I leaned in and smelled Amy’s hair. There was a chance that she would turn, of course, and wonder what the fuck I was doing. And then, I’d tell her. I’d tell her how obsessed I was. I’d tell her how I wanted her, dreamed about her… watched her. And then I’d kiss her and forget about any ideas of waiting. Fuck rules and forbidden relationships. I didn’t care about anything else.
Her hair smelled like coconut and vanilla, and some underlying scent that was just her. She washed it often, I knew, because she played basketball nearly every day. My hand came up to hover just above her shoulders. I wanted to turn her to me and crush her mouth to mine. I wanted to circle her slender neck with my fingers, and bend her to me, feel her precious pulse fluttering against my fingers. I wanted proof that she was real, not only a figment of my fevered obsession.
The printer shook in the corner, spitting out a document, and the sound must have made it through Amy’s earphones. She spun around and came up hard against me, standing just behind her.
“Oof! Professor Cole, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she said, breathless, and smiling. My hands steadied her, holding her shoulders. Her upper arms were strong, well-developed from all the sports that she played. Even then, my fingers easily spanned them.
“Why are you so tired?” I found myself asking. The question seemed to throw her. Her auburn eyebrows scrunched.
“Who said I was?”
“You’re yawning constantly.”
“Oh, I just stayed up late to study,” she said. She was standing so close, I could see lighter green flecks in her eyes. In the late afternoon light, they looked like hidden gold.
She hadn’t made any move to step away from me. I suddenly realised that while I gripped her shoulders her hands had come up under my arms, and she was holding my forearms. She didn’t break that grip, even as the minutes stretched out between us.
“Are you lying to me, Miss Mackintosh?” I wondered. She laughed, but it was a lie. I knew Amy’s laugh, and this one was hiding something.
“Why would I lie?”
“Because you know I wouldn’t approve of any other reason for being tired,” I told her. “You’re still working at the laundry mat, aren’t you?”
“Nope. I was on a date, if you must know,” she said blithely. It was like throwing a grenade into my heart. I stilled, my grip tightened on her shoulders without meaning to, while I processed what she’d said. She winced.
“You’re hurting me,” she muttered, stepping back and making me drop my grip.
“Likewise,” I murmured, turning away. I didn’t want her to look too closely at my expression right now. I was sure that I looked furious and bereft at the same time.
“What?”
“Nothing. A date? I’m surprised you have time to date, considering your schedule,” I told her flatly.
“Well, it’s thanks to you, actually. Now I have more time, I can do more normal things like other students my age, like date and party and hangout,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, and then fixed me with a challenging look. “Is that a problem?” she asked, sticking her chin up at me in such an obstinate angle I wanted to put her across my knee and teach her not to goad the darkness inside me like this. Not to anger the possessive, angry beast within that had already claimed this woman.
“Why would it be?” I said instead. She shrugged.
“I don’t know. Just tell me if it is,” she insisted.
“Would it change anything if it was? Would you not do it?” I wondered, stepping back into her space. Now that my head had cooled a fraction, analytical thinking was trickling in.
“It depends,” she said.
“On?”
“On why you don’t want me to do it,” she mumbled. The tension between us was unbearable. Her eyes flickered between mine and my mouth, and she poked out the pink tip of her tongue to wet her lips. What was her angle here? I had to know.
“Maybe it interferes with your work, being tired and all,” I suggested. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“In that case, it’s none of your business and I’d still do it,” she said. I advanced a step toward her, scenting something in the air. Like a predator could smell fear, I could sense her vulnerability. She was telling me something, confessing something, and I wanted to hear it. I wouldn’t let her leave without letting me know it.
“So, what reason would there be that stops you?” I murmured. Her back came up against the filing cabinet, trapping her, and I stopped when my jacket was brushing her belt, and all she could see was me.
“You know what,” she muttered.
“Do I? I can’t think of a single thing,” I told her, even as I stepped once more toward her, this time, my chest pressing against hers. I could feel the soft globes of her breasts against my chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra, or at least, It didn’t feel like it, and it sent heat scalding me inside. My hard-on was pressing against my belt, trying to lift it up, and now I fitted it firmly against her soft abdomen. Her eyes widened a fraction, and her lips parted. “Tell me,” I instructed her in no uncertain terms. She shivered, her nipples flourishing into hard points that poked through her thin t-shirt and into my skin.
“I won’t say it,” she said stubbornly. “I won’t.” I brought my hand up to her chin, the same place I’d first touched her, and tilted her head back so her face was presented like an offering for my inspection. A gift for a possessive, obsessed deity. Her eyes flittered shut and her lips parted, like she thought I was going to kiss her. She wanted me to. The realisation was a gut punch, stealing my breath away.
“Yes, you will,” I told her quietly, as my other hand worked its way through the thick hanging curtain of hair at her nape and gathered it into a thick rope. I wound it around my hand, just like I’d imagined doing. The reality of it felt even better than I’d hoped. I tilted her head to the side, like a vampire about to feast on innocent blood. “Tell me what you want, Amy, and you will get it,” I told her.
“Really? Anything I want?” she whispered. Her eyes blinking open to meet mine.
“Absolutely anything, little one. I’ll give you everything, and anything you want,” I vowed, words that wrote themselves across my barren heart as I spoke them. It was a lot. The possessiveness in my eyes, the strength of my grip, and power in my command. It might be too much for my good girl. But then, the corners of Amy’s mouth curled in a satisfied, cat-like smirk.
“Ok,” she whispered.
“Ok?” I repeated.
“Yes,” she said again, her eyes falling to my lips. This was it. Her capitulation. The beginning of our forever. I leaned in to touch my forehead against hers, feeling like my heart was literally trying to tear out my chest and find a new home in hers. It was a greater emotion I could remember feeling ever before in my lonely life.
“I’m going to kiss you, little one,” I told her. “And after that, you’ll never think about kissing another,” I continued. Her eyes widened, but the spell wasn’t broken. She simply nodded. Surrender. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever felt. I touched my lips to hers, feeling her sweet breath against my skin for a glorious, precious moment.
A hard knock on the door felt like a spear through my chest.
“Professor Cole? Aaron?” Monica Devany’s voice came through the door. Fucking bitch. I stepped back, feeling icy cold wash over me, as Amy slapped a hand over her mouth and looked horrified. We’d just about been caught breaking the rules, and I couldn’t bring myself to care, except that Amy was upset. That was unacceptable.
“Aaron?” Monica called again.
“A minute,” I ground out harshly,, reaching for Amy. I just wanted to sooth her, reassure her, but panic was already climbing in her eyes, and she spun away from my reaching hands.
“Amy, stop, you did nothing wrong,” I started. She was heading toward the door.
“Only because of being interrupted,” she tossed back over her shoulder at me, before reaching for the door and flinging it open. Monica jumped back as she took in Amy. She looked between us, clearly wondering what the fuck was going on. I panicked inside, knowing that Amy wasn’t ready for anyone to know. She wasn’t even ready for herself to admit how it was between us.
She turned her face to me, and I saw a tear run down her cheek. It crushed my heart. Then she turned and fled. Literally running down the hall.
“What was that?” Monica asked, coming into the office. I turned away from her, aware that I wasn’t in control of my feelings right now, not to mention sporting a hard-on that could have lifted the desk.
“No extra credit this semester,” I said flatly, sitting and hiding my lower body. Monica sighed and rolled her eyes at me.
“Seriously, Aaron, you don’t have to be such a hard-ass. You know what the students call you, right? The dragon professor,” she chastised. Thankfully, she was easily distracted.
“I’m not here to make friends,” I told her stiffly. “What can I help you with?”
I barely heard her reply. My mind was lingering on Amy, where she was, if she was upset. I felt torn in two. This couldn’t go on.
It was time to end the charade.