Page 56 of Deviant Obsession

"Remember," I say, wrapping up the session at long last, "next week's focus will be on practical applications in clinical settings. You might want to refresh your memory in case I decide to put you on the spot." My eyes lock onto Rhea again as the rest of the class begins packing up. She's moving slower than her peers, exhaustion evident in every motion as she gathers her scattered materials.

Something is very wrong with my favorite student. And I intend to find out exactly what—orwho—is responsible for this concerning change in her behavior.

The thought of anyone else affecting her this way makes my blood simmer. I watch her fumble with her bag, my fingers itching to help, to touch, to claim. But I remain behind my desk, waiting for the other students to clear out before I make my move.

"Miss Foster, a word please."

The command slices through the shuffling chaos of students filing towards the exit. Rhea freezes mid-step, her eyes going wide as she glances at her friend. The stack of textbooks she's clutching might as well be a shield pressed against her chest, her knuckles white around their edges.

I approach at a casual pace, careful to maintain a professional distance as the last stragglers drift through the door. Each footfall echoes in the emptying lecture hall, marking the steady decrease in witnesses. My pulse quickens as the space between us shrinks, but I force myself to stop several feet away. Close enough to catch the slight stutter in her breathing, far enough to maintain the illusion of propriety.

We stay silent until the last student has let the door swing shut behind them. A bead of sweat traces down the elegant line of Rhea’s neck, disappearing beneath her collar. My eyes follow its path with hungry fascination before being pulled by some magnetic force back to her face. She still hasn't turned to face me fully, her body angled toward the exit like a frightened deer preparing to bolt.

"Miss Foster. The quality of your work has been a little concerning lately." I try to keep my tone just on the right side of professional concern, reel her in gently instead of demanding answers. "I wanted to ask if you’re alright?"

I watch her pulse flutter in her throat as she swallows with a nervous gulp. The movement is hypnotic. Maddening. The room feels too warm despite the slight breeze seeping through the open windows. Or perhaps that's just the heat radiating from her skin, from the blush I can see creeping up her neck.

The books tremble slightly against her chest as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Still not looking at me. Still poised for flight. I have to take a deep breath to calm the predatory instinct that’s telling me to prepare for a chase.

I force myself to remain still, to wait. Let her make the next move. My patience is rewarded when she finally starts to turn, though her eyes remain fixed firmly on the floor between us.

"I'm... I'm fine, Professor. Really." The assertion is unconvincing even to her own ears, judging by her grimace.

I take another step closer, unable to resist the pull of her. My hands ache to reach for her, to force those eyes up to mine.

"Don't lie to me, Rhea." Her name rolls off my tongue as easily as if I breathed it every day, as if I groaned it beneath her sheets. It takes more than one mental slap to clear that image and remind myself why I asked her to stay back. “You know you can speak freely with me. I can see something's wrong."

The blush deepens across her cheeks and my gaze tracks its progress as she squirms under my scrutiny. She shifts the books in her arms, inadvertently shoving those mouthwatering breasts upwards again. It’s my turn to glance at the floor now, silently cursing whatever invisible power is deciding to thoroughly test me today.

"It's nothing, really. Just... I’ve just having trouble sleeping lately." She starts to chew on her bottom lip, worrying at it until it grows red. Watching that soft flesh being pinched and rolled between her teeth makes my cock throb traitorously against my slacks.

My fingers curl into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. The pain helps ground me, helps fight the urge to grab her chin and tilt that beautiful face up to mine. To demand the truth with a stern order. Or with my mouth against hers.

"Your work is suffering," I press, fighting to keep control of myself. "Your latest assignment was well below your usual standard. You're dozing in lectures, and never volunteering to join the discussion." Another step closer, drawn by the way she trembles. "This isn't like you."

"I'll do better, I promise. I just need to..." Her timid voice trails off as she finally glances up, catching the intensity of my stare. Whatever she sees there makes her breath catch audibly.

The sound goes straight to my groin. I can picture her making that same soft gasp as I bend her over my desk, as I show her exactly how concerned I am about her wellbeing. The fantasyis so vivid I have to lock every muscle in my body to keep from reaching for her.

"You just need to what, Rhea?"

She takes a tiny step backward, but there's something in her eyes beyond fear now. Something that makes my blood sing.

"I should go. I have another class," she murmurs, but she doesn't move. Just stands there trembling like a rabbit before a wolf, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. She’s testing my control with every innocent movement. "Really, Professor, there’s no need to worry about me. I’ll get my grades up in no time.”

The urge to back her against the wall becomes nearly overwhelming. I want to cage her between my arms until she has no choice but to tell me the truth. "You have a paper due on Monday. If I don’t see an improvement, we’ll continue this discussion in my office hour." The words come out as more of a growl than I intended. Her eyes go wide at the sound, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of green remains. The sight sends blood rushing south so fast I almost feel lightheaded.

I need to get out of here.

Now.

Before I do something way beyond the bounds of professionalism.

"See you Monday then." I turn abruptly, not waiting for her response. Each step away from her is physical agony, but the alternative is unthinkable. The image of her bent over my desk, auburn curls spilling across my papers as I take what I want, threatens to shatter what remains of my self-control.

My cock throbs painfully against my zipper as I stride toward the door. The sound of her shaky exhale follows me. I don't look back. Ican'tlook back. If I see that blush one more time, if I catch another glimpse of her biting that soft lip…

The hallway air hits my face like a splash of cold water. I lengthen my stride, needing to put as much distance between us as possible. My office isn't far enough—nowhere on campus feels far enough right now. But it will have to do. I'll lock myself away, and try to regain some semblance of control before I see her again.

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