Page 27 of Bait

“Happy birthday, baby girl,” Oliver says quietly, making my heart soar.

“Best birthday ever,” I whisper back.

“See you tomorrow, Ana.”

9

Oliver

My jaw twitches, my eyes narrowing as they sweep over the sea of faces staring back at me from their desks.

…She’s not here.

There’s a ball of fire burning inside of me as I whirl back to the blackboard, grabbing a piece of chalk. Though the architecture is old at Winchester, most classrooms have dry-erase whiteboards, if not huge-size touch screens for lessons. The blackboard and chalk was a personal request from me when I was hired. My mother was a school teacher, which is part of the reason I’m here even doing this. Blackboards worked for her, and they’ll damn well work for me.

But still the ball of fire burns inside of me, because in the sea of students sitting behind me ready for the lesson of the day, Ana isn’t among them.

Part of me growls, wondering if I pushed too hard last night. I wonder if she’s scared, or nervous to see me again. Or worse, that she regrets what we did. I snarl as I stare at the board, ignoring one little prick when he calls out asking which page of the textbook we’ll be starting on this morning. I want to rage, or yell, or just fucking leave the room and storm right over to her dorm to make sure she’s okay—

The door opens, and when I whirl to it, and see her standing there blushing, biting her lip with a little smile hidden behind it, it’s like a calm settles over me. I exhale, not even realizing I’ve been holding my breath. My eyes meet hers, and she blushes a little deeper as she steps into the room.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor Bard.”

For the sake of the room full of gossipy kids who spoteverything, I keep my face neutral.

“Have a seat, Ms. Penworth.”

Anastasia’s eyes flick to mine for half a second as she scurries to the free desk at the front of the room facing me, a little fire in her gaze before she looks away. She sits, quickly pulling her notebook and pen out as I turn back to the board.

“Page eighty-nine,” I growl lowly, hearing the rustle of textbooks behind me. “We’ll begin with FDR’s New Deal and its impact on—”

I turn, and suddenly, I don’t know words anymore. I don’t know how to speak. Because right there, front and center sitting primly at her desk, is Anastasia. Except, that whole “primly” thing is only from the waist up, where her back is straight, her hands are clasped in front of her, and her smile is innocent and wide.

…Beneath the desk is another story.

Becauseunderher desk, prim little Anastasia Penworth, wearing her plaid skirt, knee-high socks, and flats, has her legs spreadwideapart, giving me a totally open, totally unobstructed view of her very bare, very panty-less, very pink, tempting, pretty little pussy.

An animal inside of meroars.

I stumble for a moment, searching for words and trying to tell my eyes to look away from her gorgeous cunt, before I finally find my sanity. I clear my throat, somehow dragging my eyes away from her.

“Now, who can tell me about FDR’s cabinet at the time, and their input into—”

Fuck.

I make the mistake of looking back at her, and this time, she’s pushing it even more. Ana’s still smiling at me, twirling a pen in her hand. But her other hand has dropped under the desk, and as I watch, she slides it teasingly up her bare, creamy thigh.

Fuck, I’m in trouble. And I think it’s fair to say Anastasia isnothaving second thoughts about last night. In fact, it would appear I may have created a monster.

I stumble for words, finally just nodding at Matthew Klop at the back of the room to just start reading the textbook out loud for the class. My eyes burn into Anastasia, dipping down to watch as her hand creeps higher and higher, until her fingertips brush her silky pink lips. I groan, leaning back against my desk and gripping the edge of it with white knuckles as I watch her.

Her eyes meet mine, a glimmer of coyness in them, and she grins slyly as she brings the pen to her lips. Her little pink tongue darts out, swirling over the end of her pen, and she blushes as she slowly slides it between her pouty lips andsucks.

…And my cock is hard as fuckingsteel.

Ana sits there, teasing me, driving me fucking insane and out of my damn mind as she subtly sucks her pen and teases her little pussy under her skirt. My cock strains at the front of my slacks, so much so that I eventual move behind my desk, sitting, but with my eyes still locked on her. Somehow—somehow—I make it through some semblance of a lesson, andfinally, the clock strikes the hour.

There’s a rushing sensation in my ears as the classroom ends, students grabbing their books and their bags and streaming out of the room. I watch, ignoring all of them as Anastasia stands, gathering her books slowly…lingering.

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