She’s not here yet... Fuck, I really have to stop thinking about her like that. I’ve got a classroom full of students waiting for me to teach them and I’m bloody stalling because I can’t concentrate until I see her. This is so fucked up.
The door swings open and there she is, my girl. Except she’s not my fucking girl, she’s her own damn girl, its what makes her so... Brianna.
Her usual smirk isn’t plastered on her face, she actually looks exhausted. “Nice of you to join us, Miss Parker.” She turns to walk to the back desk, waiting until I’m the only person who can see her face before letting her lips curl up in that gorgeous smile she does that just makes me weak.
There’s just something about her, I felt it the first night I saw her. She was standing there dancing on the floor, completely wild and free, almost oblivious to the fact every pair of eyes was on her. Either that or she was just so used to it that it didn’t phase her anymore.
It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, which obviously she is – I mean, I honestly thought girls that looked like her only existed in magazines after major editing. It was her spirit, this human spitfire that didn’t feel the need to conform to anything but exactly what she is. She’s unforgiving when it comes to who she is, and it’s sexy as fuck.
Going through the lesson I try to make a point of giving every student equal attention but no matter what, I’m drawn back to her. I’ve tried everything to get her off my mind, nothing works. I find myself sitting up on that group chat every night just to see if she becomes active, even though I know I shouldn’t be thinking about her this way at all.
I’m her teacher, she’s my student. It’s an unfair misbalance of power in most situations – but I don’t think anyone that ever met Brianna Parker would think she could ever be anything but the most powerful one in a relationship. This isn’t a regular situation.
Being with her that night was one of the best nights of my life - not just the mind blowing sex, but the way I talked to her for fucking hours without it ever feeling odd or uncomfortable.
She collapsed on my chest that night and I’ve never wanted to wrap someone up and keep them that much in my life... Then she ran. I watched that cab drive away and threw myself back against the metal fence of the park not knowing whether to scream at the fact I’d let this amazing woman get away, or be grateful I’d been given a night with an angel. An angel without a name.
Then she walked back into my world, or more precisely – my classroom. It was like the fates had stepped in and given me a second chance, until they reminded me that once again I wasn’t in the position to have her.
So here I am, a man infatuated with a beautiful woman but forced to admire her from a distance.
Of course this would all be made easier again if Hope didn’t bloody like her so much. She’s asked about her so many times since we went out I’m starting to wonder if she’s more in awe of her than I am. Brie was so good with her, the way she reacted to her with such instinct – it made me want her even more.
The classroom empties but I look up to see she is still here, struggling to focus her eyes enough to even put her stuff away. I watch her massaging her temples with her chocolate eyes more glassy than I’ve ever seen them, before taking some pills. She’s overworking herself again, I’ve seen it more and more with each session she’s coming in but I’ve tried to keep my distance, being close to her is fucking torture sometimes.
Walking over I try to keep space between us, looking down at her whilst leaning against the desk opposite. “Rough day?”
She’s so stressed she can’t even find her keys in her bag, maybe I should tell her to ditch a few classes? I could catch her up, she clearly needs sleep right now more than anything. Taking her bag from her hands I find her keys but looking at her now I’m not sure she’s actually safe to drive. “You know, you shouldn’t be driving when you’re this distracted. Want me to drop you home or something?”
She smiles at me and my body feels weak just staring back at her, how is it possible for one person to hold so much beauty? Even this tired I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so effortlessly gorgeous. “No I’m good, I’ll just sit in the car until the pain killers work their magic. I need it for work tomorrow anyway, but thanks.”
Yeah that’s not fucking happening. Why does she always feels like she has to struggle through everything? I know she’s a strong, independent woman – it’s sexy as all hell – but that doesn’t mean she can’t let someone take care of her once in a while.
I tell her to stay here, Ma’s with Hope so I don’t need to rush. Taking the papers I needed to grade from the desk and a bottle of water, I shut out the florescent lights that I’m sure are making her headache a hundred times worse.
Leaving the bottle of water next to her I have every plan to go back and sit somewhere else, but then that scent of hers hits me and my body cries out to be closer to her. I have enough control not to take the seat next to her so take the one in front instead, keeping a desk between us that will hopefully relieve my sanity.
“How are you going to grade in the dark?”
With great fucking difficulty. Honestly, I’m not even trying to grade them, I just needed to have something in my hands so they’d keep to themselves. “Good eye sight.”
I can hear her trying to hold in a laugh and it makes my lips turn up at the corners. “Oh yeah? Then what’s with the glasses?”
Stop looking at her Con, just focus on the paper in front of you that you are definitely holding upside down – you idiot. Say something before she thinks you’re a weirdo. “They look good on me.” Well now she definitely thinks you’re an idiot.
Shit. I don’t get flustered around girls, there haven’t even been that many I’ve ever taken an interest in if I’m honest. I’d met Meg back in high school and I hadn’t really dated anyone properly since she left, taking care of a beautiful feisty little toddler by yourself doesn’t leave much room for a social life. Brie’s different, she’s so confident it’s hard not to get a bit worked up around her. It’s like you just want her to like you, sometimes I look at her and still can’t believe I got to spend that night with her.
Her head rests against the desk and I can see the tension all through her neck, her shoulders hunched as she tries to breathe through the throbbing in her skull.
I should.. no, that wouldn’t be okay.. would it? I don’t know... fuck it.
Reaching over I start to slowly rub away the tension, my body sparking with electricity at the feeling of her skin against mine once again. Fuck, how is her skin so soft? It’s like silk below my fingertips.
I keep my eyes glued firmly to the paper in my hand so she can’t tell what this is doing to me. If feels so fucking good to touch her again, we’ve had tiny moments before this; me taking her hand when she spoke about losing her friends, times our hands have touched whilst she passed me her notes, even a time a week ago when she asked me to look at some of her work and lent across my desk with her hand pressed firmly against my lower back – I couldn’t sleep that night thinking about it.
This is different, it’s me initiating something and her letting me. I try to concentrate on anything else so I don’t get too invested, it probably doesn’t mean as much to her as it does to me – but then she had to go and bloody moan.
“Oh god, please don’t stop doing that.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Jesus Christ is she trying to kill me? She can’t just say stuff like that in that deep sensual voice of hers, it does shit to me. Down little Connor! My hand is still interlocked with the curls at the nape of her neck and its taking everything in me not to yank her up by them and kiss her right now.
Well I can’t stop now I know she’s liking it so much...
I lower the paper and place both hands to her shoulders, rolling the muscles between my fingers and hearing another symphony of sweet gentle moans. I never want to stop being the person that causes her to make those noises, I want to do things to her that will make her feel things she never knew she could.
Her hands slip out from underneath her head and crawl forward, taking a hold of my shirt and pulling me towards her... she always has to have some control doesn’t she?
The smirk of confidence I was feeling is wiped away as she slips her hand between the buttons of my shirt and starts to stroke and scratch at the skin of my chest. Fuck. She has to stop this, it’s just like that night. She ran her nails down me and it awoke something inside me that just made me want to tear every scrap of clothing from her body.
A shudder runs through my body as her hand slips in further and her long acrylic nails run over my nipple. She doesn’t even realise she’s doing it but I know I have to stop now because if I don’t, I’m going to fuck her right here over my desk.
The thought has plagued my best dreams since the moment I saw her in the classroom, never have I ever been as attracted and drawn to someone as I am to her. It was so animalistic before but now it’s raw and powerful, like I want her but I need her to want me just as much before I can do anything about it.
Would I be willing to risk it all for her? When I know that for her it may never be anything more than just sex.
She deserves more. I want to fucking give her more than that, I want to show her how a real man should treat her – like the queen she is.
Her head lifts from the table and I was so lost in the feeling of her I hadn’t realised how close we were, as her eyes meet mine I’m suddenly aware of how near her lips are. An inch, if I just pushed forward an inch I could taste them again. Taste her again.
The flavour of her still sits on my tongue like an expensive meal my taste buds refuse to forget. Even now as her peppermint and coffee combined breath tickles my lips I can’t stop myself breathing it in just to get a fix of her.
Those beautiful brown eyes of hers leave my own and glance down at my lips. My breath hitches. Sometimes I convince myself that this thing between us is all in my head, that a girl like her could never think that way about a guy like me. I’m damaged and I have so much fucking baggage - she’s pure perfection. Why would she want me?
But then there are moments like these, moments where I can see she’s thinking the exact same thing as me and I know this feeling is mutual.
I want to kiss her.
Her lip pouts at the bottom as she takes in a deep steady breath, forcing me to want to lean forward but at the last second I pull it back.
She’s your student Connor, she’s your student and you’d lose your fucking job if anyone found out.
Shit, wanna know the worst part? Right now, I don’t even care.