Chapter 2

Caught In The Act 

  

Maya’s POV

The door opened all the way.

I could not move. The toy was still pressed between my legs, the low vibration continuing like it had a mind of its own. My skirt was pushed up. My hand was still under it. Heat and wetness coated my thighs. I knew exactly what he could see.

Dr Elias Voss stood in the doorway holding a dark notebook. His eyes moved from my face, down to where my hand disappeared under the fabric, then back up again. He did not look shocked. He looked calm. Too calm.

For three full seconds neither of us spoke. The only sound in the room was the soft, steady buzz still coming from between my legs.

Then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The soft click of the lock turning made my stomach drop.

“Turn it off,” he said.

His voice was quiet. Steady. It left no room for argument.

My fingers fumbled under my skirt. The vibration stopped. The sudden silence felt louder than the buzzing had been. I yanked the fabric down with shaking hands and sat up straight, heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat and in my ears.

Elias walked toward the desk at the front of the room without rushing. He set the notebook down carefully, then turned to face me fully. His expression had not changed. Dark eyes. Controlled mouth. The same look he wore when he waited for a student to finish a wrong answer.

“I locked the door,” I said. My voice came out thin and shaky.

“The lock on this room has not worked properly in two years,” he replied. “Most students do not know that.”

He leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. The movement pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders. I hated that I noticed the way the fabric stretched.

“I needed a minute,” I said. “That is all. I was not hurting anyone.”

“You were in a university classroom with the door unlocked, using a vibrator during school hours.” His tone stayed even. “That is not a minute, Miss Reed.”

The use of my last name made me flinch.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please do not report this.”

Elias tilted his head slightly. “Why would I report it?”

Hope flickered for half a second, then died when I saw his face. He was not offering mercy. He was asking a real question.

“Because I will lose my scholarship,” I said. The words tumbled out fast. “If this goes on my record, if anyone even hears about it, financial aid will pull everything. I cannot afford to be here without it. My mother works double shifts at the diner. There is nothing else. Please. I will do anything.”

The last sentence hung in the air between us.

Elias’s eyes sharpened.

“Anything,” he repeated, soft and slow.

My mouth went dry. I had not meant it the way it sounded. Or maybe I had. I no longer knew. Panic pushed the next words out before I could stop them.

“I mean it,” I said, louder this time. “I will do whatever you want. Extra assignments. Office hours every day. I will rewrite every paper from the semester if I have to. I will stay late. I will come early. I will do whatever extra work you give me. Just please do not put this in any kind of report.”

He did not answer right away. The silence stretched until I felt it pressing against my skin.

“You sound desperate,” he said at last.

“I am desperate.” My voice cracked on the word. “You do not understand what this scholarship means. If I lose it, I go home. I go back to the diner and the double shifts and the same small town that already decided I would never leave. I cannot let that happen. I will not let that happen.”

Elias pushed off the desk and walked toward my row. Each step was unhurried. When he stopped, he stood only a few feet away. Close enough that I had to tip my head back to look at him. Close enough that I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.

“You were close,” he said.

My face went from hot to burning. “What?”

“When I opened the door. You were close.” His voice stayed quiet, almost thoughtful. “Your face. Your breathing. The way your hand was moving. You were about to cum.”

I wanted the floor to open. I wanted to disappear. Instead, I sat frozen, staring up at him, while the truth of his words sat between us like a third person in the room. I could still feel how wet I was. The knowledge made me want to sink through the chair.

“I am not going to report you,” Elias said after a long moment.

Relief hit me so hard my eyes stung. “Thank you. Thank you, I…”

“I am not finished.”

I closed my mouth at once.

He looked at me for several seconds in silence. The only sound in the room was my own uneven breathing. Then he spoke again, still calm, still controlled.

“You offered me anything.”

My pulse jumped. “I meant schoolwork. I meant extra credit and papers and…”

“I know what you meant.” He took one more step closer. “But that is not what you said.”

I could smell the faint scent of his cologne now. Clean. Expensive. My thighs were still wet. I pressed them together and instantly regretted it because the pressure only reminded me of how close I had been when he walked in.

“Please,” I whispered again. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Elias studied my face like he was reading a page he had already memorised.

“You will come to my office tomorrow after your last class,” he said. “Four o’clock. We are going to discuss what happens next.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Discuss what?”

Elias looked at me for a long moment.

“You will come to my office at four,” he said. “That is all you need to know for now.”

My throat felt tight. “And if I do not?”

He did not answer. He only held my gaze until the silence itself felt like a threat.

Then he turned, picked up his notebook, and walked toward the door. “Do not be late.”

He reached the door, then paused with his hand on the handle.

“And Miss Reed?”

I waited, barely breathing.

“Wear the same skirt tomorrow.”

The words landed low in my stomach, hot and heavy.

Elias opened the door and left without looking back. The soft click of it closing behind him echoed in the empty room.

I sat frozen in the chair. My heart was still racing. My thighs were still slick. The toy lay abandoned on the seat beside me, shiny under the late afternoon light.

I had not been reported.

I had been given an order instead.

And the worst part, the part that made my stomach twist with something that was

not only fear, was that a small, secret piece of me was already wondering what he would ask for when four o’clock came.