Tasting the Forbidden - A Mayhem Erotica Anthology (10 page)

Fuck. Now is not the time to be fantasizing, especially since we’ll be sharing the same air for the next hour.

Needing a distraction, I was seconds away from poring over my note again. At least until I realized Kaleb hadn’t left. He was still standing there, watching me, his handsome face a mask of indiscernible emotion. Our eyes locked, and I was immediately disarmed, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

Naked. I felt so goddamn naked and exposed that I had to fight the urge to look down at myself to make sure I wasn’t. The feeling was familiar, aching, inflaming my body, stiffening my cock. It was like reading that first note all over again, but more, compounded by the intensity of Kaleb’s penetrating stare.

What I am doing? He’s a student!

With great effort, I somehow managed to look away, breaking the connection.

“Did you need something else?” My word were preceded by the awkward sound of my throat-clearing reflexively.

“Um, guess not. You just seem a bit anxious.”

You seemed anxious.
The subtle resemblance to the comment at the end of this afternoon’s note caused my eyes to widen slightly before narrowing, drawing my brows together in concentrated suspicion.

Is Kaleb my stalker?

“I’m fine,” I replied, keeping an even tone, though inside, my emotions were undulating wildly—wavering between disbelief and excitement, anger and arousal. I didn’t know what to feel.

Kaleb shifted from foot to foot, nervously rocking on his heels again. He looked away, unable to hold his composure under the pressure of my intense stare.

“Okay...well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor,” he muttered before turning toward the door and shuffling out as quickly as he could.

Maybe Kaleb wasn’t the one leaving them after all. He seemed so timid and sweet, while the guy who who had left those notes was self-assured and confident. Smug.

-

-

When I stepped through the doors of my lecture hall the following morning, my eyes sought the desk, wondering whether or not today’s letter had been delivered. I’d already stopped by my faculty mailbox, holding my breath as I shuffled through each piece of correspondence. I wondered if I’d find the most recent report of my inappropriate behavior, but I found nothing. My desk was curiously empty as well.
Maybe it will come this afternoon.

Except it didn’t.

The first few classes of the day were spent scouring my attendance rosters trying to figure out who was missing.

There were three, two of which I was absolutely certain, based on their intellects or rather lack of, could not have been my stalker. The third wasn’t that strong of a candidate either, and as soon as I compared his handwriting against yesterday’s note, any doubt I had of his innocence washed away. There was no way he’d written them.

I was back at square one.

Before taking my lunch break that day, I stopped by my office to retrieve the tests Kaleb had graded the day before. At the university, that was the one place my stalker had never invaded with his observant reports of my deviant behavior. It served as a stalwart sanctuary when I couldn’t hide out in my apartment at home. But the day had come when even
that
place was no longer safe.

My body burned, nerves standing on end as my gaze locked on the folded white sheet neatly placed in the center of my desk. There was something different about it that day though. Maybe it was the sudden break in routine, or the fact that I was now seeking the notes out, rather than hiding from them. Something had changed, and I recognized it immediately. Fear—it wasn’t the presence of it, but the lack thereof.

I no longer felt the urge to cringe as I unfolded the paper in my hands. I didn’t worry whether the next note I opened was going to be the one to tell me I was being blackmailed or exposed to my colleagues and students.

All that fear was gone and replaced with sheer anticipation. I felt like a child at Christmas as I scrambled toward my desk, grasping for the note. I had to force myself not to tear the thing as I opened it, hoping that in reading it, I might soon be closer to unraveling its mystery.

The first thing I noticed was that today’s note was far longer than any that preceded it.

I scanned the creased sheet, eyes raking over the scrawled text. It wasn’t long before I realized I needed to sit down to avoid collapsing from the weight of its revelation.

-

-

I honestly can’t believe I’m writing this, let alone giving it to you, but after yesterday, I just can’t hold back any longer—not after the way you looked at me, making me feel like I’d been stripped to the bone. It was as if you could see inside me, exposing my bare desire.

Could you feel how much I wanted you?

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.