Page 7 of Degraded Terms

My eyes shift to Asher’s, finding his already on me as he talks. A blush burns in my cheeks, and I rip my legs apart, but then his attention drops to them and his eyes widen at whatever he sees.

He stumbles over a word before clearing his throat and looking away from me. My fingers slip between my thighs, skimming along my panties and my mouth drops open. I knew I was wet, but I didn’t realize how much. They’re completely stuck to me.

I can feel the way the cotton curls around my pussy lips, and I know the entire area must be darker than the rest. From his point of view, he must have gotten an entire snapshot of me, like a drunk sitting at the bar during a wet t-shirt contest.

My center throbs, demanding I ease the ache he’s created for a second time. I lean forward and scoot back into my chair so I can squeeze my thighs together, shifting side to side for some relief.

“Any questions?” Asher asks the class, his eyes falling back onto me as he takes in my position.

Someone asks him about office hours and extra credit, but I don’t listen as my gaze drops to his pants. I wonder if he has a large cock, it looked big enough with the bulge. I wouldn’t doubt it if it’s huge. The man exudes big dick energy.

“How about you, Miss Williams?”

I blink and blush when I realize half the class has turned to stare at me while I’ve been fantasizing about our professor.

“What?” I get the word out in a choked whisper, mortified by all the attention on me.

His lips purse for a second before he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. A few students laugh and embarrassment hums hotter under my skin. I drop my hands into my lap, fidgeting with my fingers as I fight the urge to run.

“I asked about your plan to have a better performance this semester?”

My tongue is heavy in my mouth, drying with an aching tingle.

He waits patiently, the shadow of a smirk on his lips as he rests on the edge of his desk. The same edge he had me rubbing against.

I swallow, trying to coat my throat so I can talk. “Um. Just try harder.”

“Did you not try hard the first time?”

A few more students laugh and embarrassment reaches new heights inside me, but I can’t look away from him. Asher’s attention is fully on me, his eyes studying every inch of my body and dropping to my legs every few seconds.

I shift in my seat, hating that he’s forced me to wear a skirt today. My mouth drops open when I realize this may be a punishment for choosing a chair so far away from him.

“I did.”

“Hmm.”

Thankfully, he asks another student a question, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. My cheeks are still burning from the attention and sometimes a student will flick their gaze over to me.

Asher dismisses class a few minutes early, and I pack away my items before slowly heading down to the front after the last student leaves. He watches my every step until I’m standing before him.

“Were you mad I sat in the back?”

“No.”

My eyebrows knit in confusion. “Oh?”

His jaw tics a second. “I was furious.”

The curt tone sends a jolt to my heart, fear twisting and turning in my stomach. He stares down at me.

His dark, angry eyes feel piercing while his voice is quiet and intense. “Furious that any fucking twat with eyes can see up your skirt. Furious they can see that sloppy fucking cunt dripping with desperation when they have no right to.”

I startle back, gripping my backpack tighter. “I’m sorry.”

A muscle feathers in his cheek and the furrow in his brow make him pause, then he crosses his arms. “Good.”

My shoulders slump in slight relief, but I wait, assuming he has more to say. When his eyebrow arches, another ball of embarrassment forms in my chest.

---