His obsession, his muse.

4. Zara

"Just leave me alone, I don't care who the f**k you are, lecturer or not.”

"Yes," he said simply. "I am your lecturer and I deserve your respect."

I stared at him. "If this is your judgment zone, if that's what this is, I'll drop the course right now. I don't need it that badly."

He moved from behind the desk slowly, unhurried, and I took one step back and found the wall behind me, which was closer than I had realised. He stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to make a decision about where to look.

"I'm not judging you," he said quietly. His hand moved to the wall beside my head, not trapping, just placed there. "I have never once judged you."

"Then what do you want?"

He reached to the door and locked it, turning the knob twice.

“ You always talk this much, Zara ehn?”

He whispered close to my ear.

“I'm just not comfortable with judgemental pricks”.

“Then which sort of pricks do you like sugar?” He asked?

My breath caught in my throat, this was simply inappropriate and I could tell he was messing with me. Toying with the power he has over me. Knowing I'm literally praying he touches me.

“ The cat has gotten your tongue now eh? You don't seem to be a blabbermouth after all.”

He was really close to me now, that we were literally breathing the same air. He looked at me for a long moment and then his free hand moved and slid beneath my skirt and I stopped breathing. His fingers played around the fabric of my underwear drawing circles over my s*x and I was there trying hard not to breathe hard or moan.

“You won't ask me what I'm doing? I knew it, you're a naughty girl. You want to be touched so bad. I can feel your p***y breathing, you're so bad, Zara”

And I was in a moaning mess.

He pushed my panties aside and then flicked a finger over my folds and God help me! I was wet, so wet, I could hear the sound and smell my own arousal as he pushed into me slowly, watching my face the entire time with that same calm, deliberate attention he gave everything.

My bag slipped from my shoulder and hit the floor and I grabbed the front of his crisp white shirt with both hands, not pushing him away.

"I want to understand what you're made of," he said quietly, his fingers moving with an unhurried precision that was unravelling me from the inside out. "That's all. That's the whole of it."

I couldn't locate a single word in the English language.

He watched my face the way he watched his paintings, like he was reading something that kept revealing new information, and I stood against that wall in the empty classroom with my knuckles white in his shirt and let him.

“Would you be a good girl and show me what I want, my Sugar?” he asked, his voice a low, vibrating rumble straight into my ear.

His breath was hot, sending a frantic shiver down my spine that settled deep in my core.

“Anyone walking by could see us, Mr. Cillian,” I managed to squeak. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, and the sheer audacity of where we were, of what he was doing, made my head light.

He closed his eyes and moaned, a sound so raw and hungry it felt like a physical touch.

God! That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life. It was the sound of a man completely unraveling, yet somehow still entirely in control.

“Call my name again, baby?” he asked, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

“No,” I breathed, trying to regain some semblance of control even as his fingers remained busy, slipping in and out of my p***y with a rhythmic, torturous precision. Each slide was a promise; each retreat was a tease that left me aching for more.

“You won’t? No cuming for you if you don’t,” he said, stopping abruptly.

The sudden void where his heat had been felt like a slap. My body screamed at the loss, pulsing with a need that was rapidly becoming unbearable.

“No,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Say my name, Zara baby,” he said again. His dark eyes were fixed on mine, heavy with a challenge that made my blood boil.

I shook my head, my jaw tight. I knew this was a power play. Giving in now would give him the upper hand for life, and I wasn't ready to be conquered, not like that.

Right before his eyes, I slipped my own fingers into my p***y. I didn't look away. I watched his expression shift as I began to finger myself, my movements slow and deliberate. I felt myself slick and swollen, my fingers being swallowed by my own heat as I found the rhythm he had so cruelly abandoned.

His lips parted, his pupils blowing wide until his eyes were almost entirely black. His breathing intensified, jagged and heavy, looking like a crazy animal watching its prey realize its own power. He looked wrecked, caught between the urge to take over and the sheer shock of my defiance.

I came hard, the waves of pleasure crashing through me while I stared right at him, making sure he saw every bit of the ecstasy he wasn't allowed to touch. As the tremors finally began to subside, I looked down, noting the massive, unmistakable bulge in his pants. Jesus! He was huge.

He didn't move for a long beat, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. Then, pressed his body against mine firmly, his bulge to my lower belly and stared at me with a predatory grace. He didn't say a word as he reached out, caught my hand, and held up my glistening fingers.

Without breaking eye contact, he proceeded to lick my wetness off them. His tongue was rough and warm, wrapping around my fingers and sucking with a slow, expert pressure that told me exactly what that tongue could do elsewhere.

I stood there, paralyzed, my knees going weak as the heat flooded back. I was lost and dripping wet again already, my defiance melting into a different kind of desperation.

He released my hand and straightened his pants, his movements sharp and efficient, though his hands trembled ever so slightly.

“I’m dangerous, Zara. You do not want to mess with me.”

His voice was hoarse, thick with a warning that sounded more like an invitation. Without another word, he turned, opened the door, and stalked off, leaving the air behind him cold and me breathless in the silence.