Heat gathers in my groin, my cock twitching as Elon's face flashes through my head.
Proof number one why I should get the hell out of here. . . I'm becoming increasingly obsessed with my student. Everything reminds me of her, yet, she shouldn't be anywhere in my thoughts.
Taking in the woman's round ass and legs that make my mouth water, I stand up, ready to thank my sister and her husband for coming to celebrate with me.
My lungs deflate as air rushes out of my gaping mouth. Elon--my unhealthy obsession--turns around and takes a seat gingerly as if she's afraid the dress will tear, then kicks off her heels from her feet. Back straight, she parts her legs at the same time positioning the instrument between them, and I find myself standing in front of the glass walls. She turns and nods to a blonde guy--one of Reed's waiters sitting in front of a piano in the dim area of the stage. It's obvious they had discussed which song they'd be playing, given the knowing glances and nods they pass each other.
"Planning on leaving without telling us, Nate?" Bennett asks from behind me, but I can't be bothered right now. My attention has already been stolen by someone else. The constant calm, the simmering fire, the woman on the stage.
The second her bow kisses the strings, I'm out of the booth, muttering the words, "Be right back". I bound down the stairs, my good judgment no match for my feet.
On the ground floor, I position myself next to a wall, making sure my view of Elon is not obstructed, and cross my arms on my chest. I listen as she soars through the Mission Impossible tune, her head rocking with each beat. Goosebumps form on my skin, my breath suspended inside my chest. She stumbles on some notes but quickly recovers, but it doesn't matter. I'm spellbound, hypnotized by the beauty of both the music and the player. In the two weeks I've been here, I never bothered to wander further than my Music Theory classes and my office. Never the practice rooms. Now I know what I've been missing. Christ, I'd listen to this girl play from sunup to sundown and never get tired.
My gaze flicks back to where the cello rests between her thighs, roving over her creamy skin where the plum dress ends. Visions of me standing between those legs instead of the instrument fill my head. Her legs wrapped tightly around my hips as I rock into her. Her fingers, like a bow, strumming my body with reckless bliss as we compose a symphony: moaning, screaming, harsh breathing. Reaching a crescendo as she comes around my cock and I come inside her. A masterpiece.
Quick pants leave my mouth just thinking about it.
Fuck. The things I would do to her, places I would take her with just my tongue. Places no man has ever taken her.
Yeah, I'm confident about that.
I've got three years of pent-up sexual frustration on my side boiling inside me; hands and mouth that know how to please a woman, make her keep coming back for me.
The stirring in my groin has grown into a full-blown arousal. My cock is hard. So fucking hard it’s pressing on the front of my pants. Every molecule inside me sways with the music. I can't even remember the last time I was this aroused. It's a fact my student is beautiful, but seeing her in her element is so goddamn sexy.
She ends her performance, and air rushes into my lungs. I feel giddy, high as a kite. Could be the pain medication or the alcohol, or the woman sitting fifteen feet away.
Christ, there is no way I'll let her leave without saying something. My feet propel me toward the stage just as Miss Blake's long lashes flutter open, and the loud applause threatens to bring the house down. She smiles to the crowd, slips on her heels and stands up, holding the neck of the cello with one hand and bows her head slightly to acknowledge her audience. Her usually shy demeanor is gone. Standing there is a woman full of confidence. As soon as her eyes find mine, the air around us crackles with tension. Her gaze widens as she watches me stride toward her in determination.
I've always followed my dreams with ruthless determination.
My life was going well. Success was at my fingertips.
Until it wasn't.
All it took was three seconds to send my world crashing down around me, ripping my dreams to shreds.
Then I meet her, with her large hazel eyes that slay me at first glance.
And everything starts to make sense again.
I try to keep my distance.
To remind myself I am her mentor.
That we can't be more,
but every time I push away, I'm pulled deeper into her.
The line between student and teacher is blurring.
They’re all it would take to cross the line.
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