19. Evil Woman

19

EVIL WOMAN

LESTER

I'm filling in for Mrs. Lincoln today. English Lit.

Besides a nice number of degrees in everything regarding art, I'm also educated in this department. Class was going to be cancelled for the day because of a private matter that caused Mrs. Lincoln to be unavailable, but I volunteered to take over.

It's just one class, and I had a spare hour between my own classes anyway.

Though if I'm truthful with myself, I accepted because I knew Daisy would be here.

And I wanted to see her.

The second she walks into the room, our eyes meeting, a shock of electricity zaps through my body like lightning. Her chin tilts up in that way she often does, then her left eyebrow follows in an arch while she holds her textbooks against her chest. She looks at me with intrigue, wondering why I'm here when she expected Mrs. Lincoln. To my pleasure, she takes place in the front row―the table right across the desk I stand behind.

Once everyone's seated, I start the class. I tell the students why I'm here and I give them their assignments. I don't have to do much else besides being available for questions, so I take a seat behind the desk, my eyes automatically locking with Daisy's once more.

I can perfectly hear the taps she makes with her fingernails on her table and I nearly lose my breath when she sucks on a bright, pink-colored lollipop, her eye contact never wavering.

It's as if I'm staring at her lips through binoculars, the way I notice every single detail. The color of her lipstick is a tangerine shade with a glossy finish, the curve of her Cupid's bow applied with infuriating precision as they glimmer in the light.

All I want is to taste them again. Take them between my teeth and bite so hard she'll bleed.

Her head is slightly bent in the direction of her desktop, and she looks up at me through her long eyelashes as she keeps sucking on her lollipop.

Goddamn jailbait is what she is.

It's a good thing I'm sitting behind my desk, my growing crotch hidden from view.

She knows it. She knows how my body is responding to her.

Which is why she abuses that power.

With confidence, she sits up, leaning back in her chair before she spreads her bare legs underneath her table. All she's wearing is a short plaid skirt that leaves barely anything to the imagination, and the piece of fabric rides up further when she opens her legs wider.

My eyes shift to the other students in panic, but they're all absorbed in their assignments, with their textbooks splayed open before them, their hands moving in overtime to write down notes. Daisy remains unbothered, as if she couldn't care less if anyone could see her.

My cock is a painful, throbbing ache inside my pants, and it hurts to not be able to touch it. Especially when her free hand moves underneath her table and she uses it to slide her red panties to the side.

I nearly choke on air.

Even from here, I spot a glimmering spot between her thighs. She's that wet.

My eyes shift between her mouth―the way she's sucking her lollipop more eagerly by the second―and the movement she makes with her hand, probing it underneath her skirt until two fingers disappear completely from view.

Christ . They're inside of her now.

My heart pounds inside my throat, and it's as if someone threw acid all over my skin, the way it pulls so tight around me like a latex suit.

I think I'm going to die.

I can do nothing but watch her as she eye-fucks me while pleasuring herself with her fingers. The hand that contains her lollipop drops onto the desk as her eyes roll to the back of her head in pleasure, her mouth parting on a silent cry.

I've got VIP tickets to see the exact moment she comes. And it's the most beautiful display of potent passion I have ever seen in my life. So free, so unashamed.

This is not a girl who is in battle with her sexuality. She's got it grabbed by the balls.

She owns it.

I have no goddamn clue how she's been able to keep quiet, and not a single student has noticed what she just did.

She removes her hand from between her thighs, then crosses her legs before bringing her fingers up to her lips to suck them off, her lollipop forgotten.

I imagine she tastes sweeter than that damn piece of candy anyway.

When the class ends, she doesn't stay behind like I expected her to. To my dismay, I must add. So I go to my office instead, to take care of the painful behemoth inside my pants.

Locking the door behind me, I walk over to the sofa in the corner of the room and sit down, my zipper already opened on the way. Taking hold of my cock, I start jerking it as the scene from not even thirty minutes ago plays out before my closed eyes. It's as if I'm sitting in the cinema, watching a movie. Though it's no movie that would ever be played in theaters. It's too foul, too unreal.

That's what she is. She's unreal.

What kind of girl full-on masturbates in class, while her teacher watches?

It's madness.

"Fuck…" I growl between gritted teeth as I start stroking faster, once again losing myself in the fantasy starring Daisy Burton. I've lost count of how many times I've done it this past week. She's the lead in every single motion picture inside my mind.

Her name slips past my lips over and over, and despite working hard toward my impending release as I lose my head, I still feel a shred of embarrassment coat my skin.

I'm fucking pathetic.

Hot spurts of cum shoot out of the tip, onto my bare chest and hand. Luckily, I still had the sense to unbutton my shirt before I started masturbating in the middle of a school day. Panting, I ride it out, my cock still achingly hard.

"Oh, Professor…"

My eyes fly open at once upon hearing that sultry, familiar voice. They clash with the girl who was just in my head, where it was safe. "What the fuck?!" I roar.

I'm at war with my limbs―do I stand up, or do I keep my hands where they're covering up my cock? I yank a pillow from beside me to cover myself up instead.

"What the fuck are you doing in my office?" I whisper-yell, having lowered my tone so no one in the hallway can hear me. "Did you break in here?"

"Maybe." She shrugs all innocently, as if this is not an utterly psychotic thing to do. "How many times have you jerked off to me now, Mr. Gilbert? When did it start?"

"You need to get the hell out before I report you to the dean and have you expelled." She tilts her head and looks down at me―specifically at the small pillow that's doing a terrible job at hiding my manhood. Because the truth is, despite my shock and anger, it's already throbbing again.

It's a human impulse. Bare legs and short skirts and a slight peek of stomach… Not even the strongest of the male species can resist that.

"This has nothing to do with you," I say.

She huffs, crossing her arms smugly. "Liar."

I groan, squeezing my eyes shut in defeat for just a second. "You have to stop. Or there'll be consequences for both of us. I could lose my job and you could lose your place at this academy. Please, kid," I plea pathetically.

The god honest truth is that I don't want her to stop.

That's the last thing in the world that I want her to do.

"You think calling me kid is gonna help anything. You use it as a shield, though it only makes you more fucked up. Because you're attracted to a little girl, if you truly see me that way." She takes a step forward, but there's still a coffee table in between, keeping us apart. "You're staining the pillow with your cum. Would you like me to lick you clean instead? It looked fucking delicious, the way it squirted out of the tip when you grunted my name."

I need to remind myself of the monster I am. The killer in disguise, with countless murders to my name. Because I almost let out a whine.

"What the fuck…" I grunt, forcing the words out of my mouth. "You've been hiding in here, watching me the whole time? Christ…"

I could snap her in half with only my hands. Squeeze the life out of her in mere seconds, watch the spark drain from her eyes until she's nothing more than a lifeless corpse.

I could end her if I wanted to. Take care of the problem. Make her disappear.

But I don't want to.

"What do you want, Daisy?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowing.

"What do you think?" she quips. "It's not rocket science, you know."

"I don't do love." I try to make my voice sound monotone, unbothered. But I fail miserably.

" Aww . How sweet of you." She smirks sinisterly as she grabs her lipstick out of her pocket along with a small mirror. Holding it up in front of her face, she starts applying the makeup without a care in the world and with a whole lot of attitude, potent from the way her hip sticks out.

It's a fucking power-move that makes me feel even more pathetic than I already felt.

"It is not love that I'm after, Professor. I just think it would be enjoyable for you to completely fuck my brains out." She smacks her lips together, then drops the items back inside her pocket. "I see you still need some time to come around. Good luck with that. By the time you're ready, just hit me up. My pussy is always wet and ready to go."

She blows me an air kiss before she casually walks out, leaving me in a mess of my own cum and a terrible lot of mortifying shame.