Indecent (2 page)

As often as I watch you, I’d never seen you look at another guy the way you looked at me.

It was hours ago, and I can still feel the heat from your stare. That look gave me the strength to stop this game and tell you how much I want you, that I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you, and that I’ve never felt this way before, overwhelmed by burning desire and all-consuming lust.

I’ve imagined you taking me so many times. More times than I can count or would be willing to admit. But I needed you to know that it’s you I dream of when I lay in bed alone at night, wishing I was wrapped in a pair of strong arms, surrounded by body heat, smooth skin, and a hard cock pressing against the crack of my ass.

It’s so hard to fight the urge to stroke my myself, when all I can think about is you bending me over your massive oak desk, those warm hands gripping my hips as you pound into my ass over and over until I no longer have the strength to stand.

You know the kind of games I play, but I wonder about you, whether or not you’d spank me. We both know I deserve some punishment for sending you all those naughty notes, and as frustrated as you looked watching those boys by the soda machine, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had the urge to whip my ass till it turned hot pink and sensitive.

I bet you’d love to teach me a lesson and show me what a bad boy I’ve been, spanking me hard before you pushed me to my knees? I’d let you because I think you’d love the sight of me kneeling in front of you, all hands and unsteady fingers fumbling with the tab of your zipper, showing you how goddamn eager I am to have you in my mouth.

I’d suck you so hard, Professor Cameron, drawing out your pleasure, taking the hot tip between my lips as I lick around the curve of the head. Then I’d slide my tongue up the length of your shaft before opening wide to take you in as far as I could. Sucking and tasting, touching and teasing, I’d be so turned on, I’d let you fuck me any way you wanted.

Just thinking about being with you is almost too much. You can’t imagine how fucking difficult it is to write all this out without touching myself, while the thought of having you nearly makes me come in my pants.

Maybe it sounds juvenile, but what I’m trying to say is that I want you, and if you want me too, then I’m yours.

I’ve given you my words, Professor, a little taste of the desire burning in my chest, but those words pale in comparison to what you do to me. Maybe it’s wrong—I know it is, but I can’t change the way you make me feel. I don’t want to.

Kaleb

-

-

Fuck.

My face felt hot, and my slacks tight, as I re-read what he’d written, all the naughty things this boy claimed he wanted to do to me and have me do to him.

Kaleb Davis.
The thought of him writing all this, ending his game so he could admit his true desires was beyond anything I ever dared to hope for. All the notes before this one, the teasing and taunting, those small thrills no longer mattered. Right now, all I could think about was the note in my hands, the one that contained the secret desires of a horny young boy who wanted nothing more than to be fucked by me, his professor.

Christ
.

My thoughts were spinning out of control, trying to understand what all this meant, what I’d actually read. One thing was certain—that fucking letter was downright indecent. My rock-hard dick throbbed and twitched in agreement.

What the the hell was I going to do? What could I do?

I knew what my body wanted to do, what my dick ached for...
that hot piece of ass on his knees in front of me, letting me fuck his mouth...

Just as soon as the image popped into my head, I knew I was fucked. I tried as hard as I could to will it away, but it was no use. The memory of that errant thought would be branded into my brain till the day I died. Unlike the other times I fantasized about fucking Kaleb, it was with the knowledge that what I was doing was nothing more than a fantasy, a dream that
would
never,
could
never, be realized, but now—now that I had his words, my fantasy had every chance of becoming a reality.

Why Kaleb? Why not some handsome, available professor I could actually date without risking my career? Why did it have to be a student, the one student I had absolutely no chance of resisting?

I was well and truly fucked.

My emotions spun out of control, frustration and self-loathing mixed with desire and need so overwhelming I had to fight the urge to slide my boxers and slacks down to my ankles, freeing my erection from the confines of smothering cotton and tweed. If I had let it get that far, there would have been nothing to stop me from jerking my dick. But I couldn’t have tricked myself into thinking that would have been enough because it had
never
been enough. No. I needed more than that, more than just the calloused palm of my left hand. I needed scruff and an angular jaw rubbing against my fingertips as I pushed my dick into a hot, eager mouth.

How could I be expected to hold my composure and teach a class in such close proximity to his dizzying presence? In the past, anytime I’d indulged myself with a glance in his direction, I would catch him watching me, nibbling on the end of his pen, those full lips wrapped around the tip in a way that was deliciously obscene. The memory alone was enough to inspire a lifetime of scorching hot fantasies.

Remembering back to the way he always looked at me before, I’d assumed he was simply eager or attentive, not daydreaming about getting bent over my desk or letting me spank his ass till it turned hot pink and sensitive. I never would have thought
all that
was lurking under that sweet, shy, boy-next-door exterior.

After reading that letter, I had to consider whether or not I’d be able to resist the pen nibbling or the sight of him gazing up at me, piercing me with those entrancing green eyes.

I felt like I would go insane if I couldn’t have him.

Never in my life had I ever even touched a student, much less fucked one. Then again, I’d never wanted to fuck
anyone
as badly as I wanted to fuck Mr. Davis. And now that I knew he wanted me just as much, my desire increased ten-fold.

The thought of actually giving in to my unethical desires was giving me an unethical hard-on, not one of those stiffies that usually subsides after thinking about my grandma’s bursitis, but the kind of erection that felt like my fucking dick would burst if I didn’t immediately stick it into something hot, slick, and responsive. I couldn’t, though. Eyeing the clock, I realized I had a class to teach in less than ten minutes. I had no time to be standing around, nursing the hard-on in my pants.

With my briefcase carefully positioned in front of my tented slacks, I made my way back to theology lecture room, still unable to get over the fact that, Kaleb, my TA, had been thinking
those
thoughts about
me
, a boring, grey-headed, forty-year-old professor with old-fashioned tastes in clothing.

My hands shook as I ran my fingers through my hair and removed my glasses. The next hour was going to be a long one, especially since Mr. Davis was scheduled to come in to finish working on the last group of tests.

-

-

My career is over.
That was the first coherent thought I’d managed since Kaleb Davis had casually strolled into my lecture room with his messy brown hair, shy green eyes, a messenger bag thrown over his shoulder, and that goddamn motherfucking green shirt. Unsurprisingly, he looked even hotter in it than I remembered.

I am completely and utterly fucked beyond belief
, or at least I thought so before our eyes met, and then I knew it was far worse than I’d feared. One side of his mouth lifted slightly, as if he were surprised or pleased. I couldn’t have been certain.

Maybe I didn’t need this job as badly as I thought.

Reality came bouncing back as soon as I recognized the dangerous direction my thoughts were headed in. Quickly, I composed my expression, remembering myself.

Desire and vulnerability must have been written all over my face.

The small smile that had been playing on Kaleb’s full lips straightened into a grim line. He looked away, shaking his head as if trying to physically dislodge some unpleasant thought. As guilty as I felt for causing him to look so hurt, my cock still throbbed at the sight of him.

God, I want him so fucking much.

“Mr. Davis, I expect to see you in my office
a
fter class.” The gruff, lust-filled words tumbled from my traitorous lips before my brain had a chance to catch up.

His eyes popped open, wide with shock. He blinked twice before his face twisted with fear.

He thought I was angry, that I planned to turn him in. Had it been someone else—
anyone
else—I probably would have. But not him, not Kaleb, even though I knew, for the sake of my career and my sanity, that turning him in was the right thing to do. But I couldn’t, and as much as I tried to fight it, I knew exactly what was going to happen the moment the two of us were alone in my office.

Unsurprisingly, the knowledge that I would end up giving in to my desires didn’t provide an ounce of comfort. I could still feel Kaleb’s anxious, eyes on me, and as much as I wanted to clue him in, to let him know that I wanted him, I had a class to teach. There was no way I could make it through if he was sitting across from me, looking at me with even a tenth of the intensity he had the night before.

All during the lecture I was irritable and grumpy, snapping at students who asked dumb questions or answered incorrectly. Maybe I was being an ass, but I didn’t know how else to act, and I definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with students right now. At least not with my dick so hard and painfully trapped inside my slacks, begging to be freed from its cotton prison. It was seriously testing the limits of my zipper as I hid the rather damning evidence of my arousal behind the large oak podium at the front of my class. I was fairly certain my poor balls were going to explode before I made it through the rest of this lecture.

The one thing that managed to make that entire situation infinitely worse was Kaleb’s penetrating gaze—his stare boring into me, as if he could see the outline of my straining cock through the podium like some fucked up X-rated, x-ray vision. My eyes stayed fixed on the students toward the back of the class. It was all I could do to avoid his stare.

“In your next assignment, I’d like you to choose three pieces of art that inspire you. Describe each piece, the medium, and what message you believe the artist was attempting to convey. Tell me why those pieces inspire you and what drew you to them specifically. I need these essays in my inbox by Thursday. Questions?” There were none. Students rarely ever questioned my assignments. I scanned the room, still purposefully avoiding Kaleb’s eyes.

By my watch, I still had ten minutes left, but I knew there was no way I could make it that long, not with a cock
this
hard. “I’ll see you all back here on Wednesday.”

As the class began gathering their things to leave, I finally gave myself permission to look at the guy who had—so suddenly and thoroughly—commanded my dick’s attention. “I’ll be in my office waiting, Mr. Davis. Don’t be long,” I told him gruffly.

It wasn’t exactly a demand
. He could say no, or just not show up. It was his choice, and
after the things I’d read, I knew he’d come to me. Feeling mostly confident, I forced myself to look away as I grabbed my laptop and briefcase and walked out the door.

The journey down the hall
toward my office felt like the longest of my life, my thoughts teetering dangerously between guilt and excitement, self-disgust and desire. My dick, on the other hand, knew exactly what it wanted. The thing was still fighting a losing battle against my zipper.

As I twisted the brass handle, opening the door to the only true sanctuary I had at the university, I fought the urge to look back and see if Kaleb was following. Not knowing how much time I had, I quickly took a few precautions, checking my planner to ensure I hadn’t forgotten any tutoring sessions or faculty meetings. Once I was satisfied we wouldn’t be interrupted, I closed the blinds, further guaranteeing my meeting with Mr. Davis wouldn’t be seen by prying eyes. I was so focused on making sure everything was perfect that I startled in response to the light tap at my office door.

Kaleb.
Finally
.

“Come in,” I called from behind my desk. There was no way I was going to allow the ridiculously large tent in my slacks to give me away.

He stepped through the door, his face pale and as white as a sheet.

I’m such an asshole.

Clearing my throat, I motioned toward the chair in front of my desk. “Please sit,” I told him, my voice steady and even. I sounded infinitely more composed than I actually felt.

He nodded and proceeded to hang his messenger bag on the back of the chair before taking a seat in front of me. Things were awkward, and the air between us felt thick with tension.

“It was you the entire time, wasn’t it?” I already knew the answer to that question. I just needed to hear him admit it out loud.

Kaleb shrugged and looking away from me, upset. “I know it was wrong. I know it was an invasion of your privacy. I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t have left you those notes,” he muttered.

“What did you hope to gain from
all this
?” I waved my hand in explanation toward the note he’d left earlier. “Were you just trying to fuck with me?” Kaleb’s eyes snapped to mine, his expression intense as he sucked in a breath of surprise. “If you were, then it worked...
at first
.” His eyes softened with remorse. I could tell he really felt bad. Most of the pent-up anger and frustration that had been building up inside me was gone, dissipated the moment I read that final note and worked out the goal and Kaleb’s end game. It had all been a tease—a bit of fucked up foreplay. All that aside, I still felt compelled to watch him squirm after the shit he put me through. “You had me watching my back, obsessively avoiding my desk, mailbox, and briefcase on the off chance that one of those infuriatingly observant notes might be in there taunting me.” By that point, Kaleb was looking down again, rubbing his eyes anxiously, his guilt apparent.