Page 17 of After Class

"Ignore my problems. Pretend I don't see really obvious red flags. Drown sadness in wine and boxed macaroni and cheese."

He laughed. "That sounds . . . extremely dramatic. And unhealthy."

I shrugged, giving him a sassy little smile. "What you see is what you get. That's what you get for going home with a really drunk girl at a frat bar."

"As your professor," he said, mockingly serious. "I don't feel qualified to give you advice on your mental health." He paused, and then added. "As your friend, however, I will give you unsolicited advice as often as I feel is needed, and insist that you follow it. So we'll come back to this topic again."

My friend.The simple comment made me feel stupidly warm and fuzzy inside. But it also made me feel anxious. Anxious because it didn't quite feel like enough.

We mulled over Frost for nearly an hour, flipping back and forth between his poems for comparisons. Adrian finally told me what "sound of sense" was, and it had nothing to do with him spanking me. As the night wore on the library emptied more and more. There was no one left at all on the 4th floor with us. I rubbed my eyes, beginning to grow weary from the hours staring at tiny print.

"Getting bored of studying?" he asked, watching as I stretched back in my chair, arching my back. I nodded, flopping my head down against my hand.

He scooted his chair back slightly from the table, but didn't get up. Instead he said, "I have one more poem I would like to go over with you. Come, sit on my lap. I think I can help you get just a little bit more study time squeezed in."

I glanced around nervously, even knowing that the floor was empty besides the two of us.

"In the library?" I whispered. His expression clearly showed his displeasure at my hesitation.

"Yes, in the library," he said. "Whenever and wherever I want you is where I'll have you. But only if you earn it, remember?" He gave me a cat's grin and patted his lap. "Come. Sit."

I got up and went to him. Before I could sit properly, he had snatched me by the waist and settled me down tightly against him. I could feel his bulge through his slacks and my eyes widened, immediately turned on. He took my wrists gently in his hands and placed them on the table on either side of the book, breathing a light kiss against my neck.

"Alright, Miss Cassandra," Adrian spoke just into my ear, sending very distinct chills down my spine that settled in my lower back. "Turn to page 394."

He released my wrists, and I began to flip through the book obediently. The section I had flipped to was 19th Century Poets, and I found the verses of Anne Reeve Aldrich – whom I had never heard of – upon the page he had told me.

"This isn't part of the reading," he murmured, his lips finding those sensitive spots along my neck and taking full advantage. "But I still think it's a valuable study." His fingers dug into my hips as he ran kisses up my neck so that he could nibble at my earring. I had the irrational urge to squirm away, the stimulation hitting that odd spot again that sent waves of tension down my back.

I was smiling with excitement, unable even to concentrate on the words before me. His grip tightened again, dangerously, and he growled, "Start reading, little girl."

I cleared my throat quietly, knowing that I would really have to watch my noise this time. "Servitude," I read. "By Anne Reeve Aldrich."

Adrian's hands slipped under my shirt. They slid up my stomach and played over the surface of my bra, teasing upon the exposed parts of my breasts. I steadied my breathing, determined to resist him.

"The church was dim at vespers," I read. "My eyes were on the Rood." His fingers found their way beneath my bra. They flicked over my nipples, almost making me stutter. My breath hitched and he took a nipple between two fingers and squeezed. I closed my eyes and held my breath.

"Something wrong?" he taunted. His hands left my breasts but were now heading down. They stroked over every curve, taking in my shape as they found the top of my jeans. "Are you distracted?"

"No, sir," I said, opening my eyes determinedly. I looked back at the poem, my eyes barely focusing on the page. "But yet I felt thee near me, in every drop of blood. In-"

He had popped open the button on my jeans. He slid down the zipper, his fingers tantalizingly brushing over my panties. Not enough to truly stimulate me, but more than enough to encourage my excitement. I tried again to finish the verse, "In helpless- ah!"

His fingers had slipped beneath my panties, finding their playground on the most sensitive part of my body. It took all my focus to keep from moaning as Adrian worked circular motions over my clit, sending shudders through me. I tried to stop my legs from beginning their telltale shaking.

"Go on," he ordered. "I didn't tell you to stop reading."

"I-"

His fingers entered me. I flinched, pressing back against him, a gasp forced from my mouth at the sudden intrusion. He held me tighter, keeping me firmly on his lap as he began to slowly pump two fingers in and out. I moaned from behind my tightly pressed lips, unable to keep it back. I felt Adrian chuckle, and his fingers paused deep within me, caressing my very core.

"Keep reading, Cass," his said, his voice heavy with promise. "Don't make me punish you in here."

My backside tensed at the suggestion. I didn't even want to imagine how difficult it would be to stay quiet through one of Adrian's punishments. Or worse, what methods he would use to makesureI stayed quiet. I clenched my hands on the tabletop, refocusing on the words.

"In helpless, trembling bondage," I said, "My soul's weight lies on thee." His merciless fingers were going to drive me over the edge. My voice was shaking. "O call me not at dead of night, lest I should come to thee!" I moaned again as I finished the reading, bowing my head toward the table as my pleasure began to peak.

"Don't come yet," he hissed sharply, but his fingers didn't still. "We're not done yet. Your lesson isn't over."

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