14. Connor

Brooke Westwood was fucking gorgeous, and I hated it. I stared at her perfectly round ass, positioned just like I told her to. Her legs were spread, ass up, bent over my desk and waiting for me. I could still taste her in my mouth, and I reveled in it, wanting to remember this.

I had been fantasizing about this ever since I found out she'd be my student this semester, and now, I'd finally have her.

"You're going to wear a condom, right?" she asked. Her voice quivered a little.

I smirked. "Oh, no," he said. "I want to feel you just like I did two years ago, Westwood. And when I come inside that tight little pussy, and you're off to your next class without panties, you'll know it's my come dribbling out of you and coating your thighs."

"I hate you," she said, but her voice was hollow.

She didn't mean it.

I slipped out of my pants and approached her from behind. She shuddered as my hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer to me. I could practically feel her heart pounding, and I knew she was as excited as I was.

Gently, I slid the tip of my erection against her entrance, feeling the slick warmth of her wetness. I pushed in slowly, watching as she pressed her forearms into the desk, hoping to find stability. Her back arched even further, pulling me deeper inside her.

I thrust harder, feeling her tight muscles clench around me. Her moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of our skin slapping together. It was everything I had imagined, and more.

Brooke began to buck against me, her body twisting and writhing. Sweat glistened on her skin, coating her perfect body. I almost wished I could have stripped her, but I knew the risk was too high. The doors weren't even locked. Anyone could walk in on us. And maybe that was what I wanted. I had already been punished for this; why not show everyone? Why not show that Brooke Westwood was mine?

"Fuck, Westwood," I said through clenched teeth. "You feel so fucking good."

Brooke"s moans grew louder, more desperate. She pushed back against me, meeting my thrusts with fervor. My own desire rose, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I reached my climax.

Like a fucking teenager.

This never happened to me, even when I was a teenager.

Fucking Westwood.

I gripped her hips tighter, pulling her closer to me, feeling the heat of her body against mine. The thought of being caught only fueled my desire. I wanted everyone to see that Brooke Westwood belonged to me.

She moaned in response, her body trembling as I thrust into her. This was it, the moment I had been waiting for. The moment I had been fantasizing about for months. It was like we were the only two people in the world, and I was the only one who mattered to her.

As I thrust harder, I could feel her wetness seeping down my shaft, and I knew I wouldn"t be able to hold back much longer. "Oh my God, Professor," she groaned, her voice strained. "Don"t stop, please don"t stop."

I gripped her hips tighter, taking her fully into my grasp. Her ass was perfectly firm, and I could feel every curve of her body as I thrust into her. I was close, so close to the edge. The tension was building, and I knew it wouldn"t be long before I came.

I slammed into her one last time, feeling her muscles flutter. Her moans became louder, more desperate, and I knew I was about to explode.

"Fuck, Connor, please, I'm going to —"

"Come all over my dick, sweetheart," I said. "I want to feel your perfect little pussy gush for me."

Brooke"s eyes rolled back as her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. Her body convulsed against me, her muscles clenching hard around my dick, milking me for every last drop. I could feel her pussy pulsating, the walls contracting around me. It was like a vice grip, squeezing pleasure from me.

At that moment, the door opened, but I didn't give a fuck. I pounded into her one more time, feeling her body tremble with the aftershocks of her climax. Her moans filled the room, and I knew she was mine in every sense of the word.

"Why am I not surprised?" The sound of my ex-wife's voice would normally be enough to cause my dick to wilt, but not when I was buried so deeply into heaven.

"Fuck, Brooke," I said, digging my fingers tighter against her hips. "Oh, fuck…fuck, Brooke!"

As I came, a white-hot liberation swept over me. Wave after wave crashed into me, each more intense than the last, as I shot released inside of her, filling her to the brim. Brooke"s moans and the slapping of skin against skin was the only sound in the room, drowning out the world.

Soon, too fucking soon, my climax subsided, and we both collapsed on the desk.

"Fucking hell, Connor," Sarah said as she moved closer.

I wasn't sure what she saw and what she didn't, but I didn't give a fuck.

Slowly, I pulled out of Brooke, reaching for the box of tissues. I knew Brooke was shocked, probably from Sarah's unexpected appearance to the fact that we had fucked in my classroom.

My hands shook slightly as I cleaned her, wiping away the remnants of our passion. She was still panting, her eyes wide and dark with desire. I could feel the heat radiating from her, and I wanted to take her again, right there on the desk. But Sarah was here now for some fucking unknown reason.

Looking up, I saw her staring at us with a mix of anger and despair. Her lips were pinched tight, her eyes narrowed with anger. She didn"t say anything, but the silence spoke volumes. I knew she had just witnessed something that would haunt her for a long time, something that would only deepen the wounds of our broken marriage.

Fucking good.

Brooke was still shaking, her hands trembling as she struggled to regain her composure. I could see that she was trying to process what had just happened, unsure of what to think or feel.

"We need to talk," Sarah said, her voice low and dangerous.

I ignored her.

Right now, my only focus was Brooke.

I put my dick in my pants before fixing Brooke's skirt, making sure she was covered before throwing away the tissues. One hand went to the small of her back, leaning forward until I caught her eye.

"You okay?" I asked.

Her eyes widened, like she was surprised I would even ask her.

After a moment, she nodded. Gently, I took her arm and helped her up, moving her to my chair. I helped her sit down.

"She's not staying for this," Sarah stated firmly.

"Fuck off, Sarah," I replied, my eyes never leaving Brooke's. There was still a flush that ran down the graceful curve of her neck and across her chest, hidden by her shirt.

Next time, I would make sure she was naked.

I didn't want her to hide anything from me.

"Where"s my money, Connor?" Sarah demanded, her voice slicing through the awkward silence like a knife. "When am I getting what I"m owed?"

"You"ll get it when you get it," I retorted, my patience wearing thin. "The court papers stipulate when you're receiving money and how much. That you're here is unnecessary and annoying. You don"t need to come to my place of work and make a scene."

"A scene?" Sarah echoed, incredulity and anger mingling in her voice. Her eyes darted between Brooke and me, seeking an explanation. "And what the hell was that?" She gestured towards the space Brooke and I occupied just moments ago.

"That," I said firmly, stepping in front of Brooke to shield her from Sarah"s prying eyes, "is none of your business." It was a defensive maneuver, an instinct to protect Brooke from the fallout of Sarah"s wrath.

"You made it my business," Sarah snapped back, her gaze sharpening. "Do you think I wanted to see it?" Her voice was laced with a mixture of disgust and accusation.

"And yet, you didn"t leave," I pointed out, my frustration growing. It was a low blow, perhaps, but it was the truth. Sarah had lingered, perhaps out of shock or morbid curiosity, but she had not turned away.

"Aren"t you ashamed of yourself?" she pressed, moving closer, her disdain obvious. "Taking advantage of some poor girl?—"

"He"s not taking advantage of me," Brooke said, her voice steady and firm, a declaration of her autonomy that I hadn"t expected but appreciated deeply.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of accusations and unwelcome intrusions, Brooke"s assertion was a lifeline, a clear signal that, regardless of how messy our circumstances were, there was an understanding between us that transcended Sarah"s attempts to undermine it.

Sarah"s glare pivoted sharply from me to Brooke, her eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and malice. "You should be careful," she warned, her tone dripping with condescension. "What happens if your father finds out about this?"

"I"m sure he already knows," Brooke retorted confidently, her composure unshaken by Sarah"s intimidation tactics.

The surprise that flashed across Sarah"s face was almost comical, and under any other circumstances, and if it had been anyone but Sarah, I might have found the situation amusing. But the tension in the room was too thick, the stakes too high for amusement.

"And Stephen Hanson?" Sarah pressed on, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "Does he know you"re embarrassing yourself by getting with washed-up hockey players? Is this some kind of cry for attention? Your father is ignoring you, so you have to find someone almost twice your age to notice you? Your professor of all people?"

"Sarah, that"s enough," I growled, my patience fraying at the edges, a warning clear in my tone.

"What, am I just supposed to forget about this?" she demanded, her voice rising in pitch and indignation. "This isn"t the first time I"ve walked in on you. The only difference was, we weren"t divorced."

"We were separated, and you know it," I countered, my frustration boiling over. "By the way, I saw those emails you sent her. You and I are going to have a chat about them."

Sarah"s glare shifted back to Brooke, who stood her ground despite the obvious discomfort. I could see the effort it took for her not to let her chin drop, to maintain her dignity in the face of Sarah"s animosity.

"Don"t look at her," I commanded, my voice leaving no room for negotiation. "Look at me. You"re here for me, aren"t you? You want your money? You"ll get it when you get it. There"s no other reason to be here. You need to leave."

"I want it now," Sarah insisted, desperation creeping into her voice. "Or I"ll... I"ll go to the dean."

"Go ahead," I retorted, unfazed. "Like she said, he knows."

The standoff that followed was tense, Sarah"s eyes searching mine for any sign of weakness.

But I held her gaze steadily, a smirk playing on my lips. "You don"t know me as well as you thought, do you?" I taunted. "You"re embarrassing yourself. Why don"t you call Fox Sports West? I"m sure they"d love to give you a platform where you can tell your pathetic sob story about what a victim you are when, the truth is, we grew apart. Simple as that."

"We grew apart because you were too busy sleeping with other girls," Sarah shot back, a last-ditch effort to wound.

"I never cheated when I was with you," I said, my voice steady and pointed. "Never. If you have to create a fantasy to make yourself feel better, by all means, do it. I don"t care, Sarah."

The words were a final severance, a line drawn that marked the end of any sway she believed she held over me. It was a declaration of independence from the narratives she spun, a refusal to be drawn back into the web of lies and manipulation that had characterized the end of our marriage.

"Now, get the hell out of my classroom," I snarled, my patience completely spent. The finality in my voice left no room for argument, an unmistakable command that even Sarah couldn"t ignore.

Turning away from the remnants of that confrontation, my gaze fell on Brooke. In that moment, something shifted within me. Despite the chaos, she looked incredibly beautiful—hair slightly disheveled, her shirt wrinkled from the day"s events. It was a stark contrast to the polished fa?ade I was used to presenting to the world. Something tightened in my chest at the sight, a sensation unfamiliar yet undeniably poignant.

Leaning in close, so close that my lips were mere inches from her ear, I whispered, "Come on. Let"s go somewhere."

It was an invitation, a plea wrapped in the guise of a suggestion. I held my breath, waiting for her response, half-expecting her to refuse, to push back against the proximity and the complexity of whatever was brewing between us.

When she looked up at me with those wide green eyes, full of uncertainty and something else I couldn"t quite name, I thought I saw hesitation. But then she nodded, and a wave of relief washed over me, so potent it was almost dizzying.

I took her hand in mine, the contact electric, a silent vow of solidarity against whatever came next. As we walked past Sarah, who stood frozen in her indignation, neither Brooke nor I spared her a second glance.

It was a decisive moment, a turning point that neither of us could fully comprehend yet. Leaving together, in the choice to ignore Sarah, we were stepping into uncertain territory. The simple act of holding Brooke"s hand felt like the most natural thing in the world, a gesture loaded with implications I was only beginning to unravel.