The auditorium was dim. Cold. Echoing.Rows of empty seats stretched out under the glow of a single spotlight above the stage.She stood in the middle of it, legs bare, skirt shorter than usual, blouse unbuttoned just enough to tease.Tonight wasn’t a performance.It was a trap.And he walked right into it.His steps echoed up the center aisle.Dark slacks. Rolled sleeves. No tie. He didn’t need one anymore. Not for her.“You said this was for your presentation,” he said as he reached the stage.She turned slowly. Smirked.“It is. I’m presenting myself.”His jaw clenched.“Don’t play games in this room.”“Too late.”She stepped to the edge, lifted one foot onto the step, letting her skirt ride up.He followed without a word.“Where’s your clicker?” he asked.“Between my legs.”“Where’s your outline?”“On my chest.”He moved before she could finish.Grabbed her. Hauled her onto the stage.His fingers tangled in her hair.He kissed her rough — no patience, no hesitation, just mouth on m
The faculty wing was always colder than the rest of the school.Dim lights. Locked doors. Silence.She walked barefoot down the hall, heels dangling from her fingers. Her skirt was too short. Her lips still tasted like him. Her thighs were still sticky with his hunger.She should’ve gone home.She didn’t.She stopped in front of his office, twisted the handle, and found it open.He was inside.Sitting at his desk. Eyes locked on her like he’d known she was coming. Like he hadn’t stopped thinking about her from the second she left his classroom two hours earlier.Neither of them spoke.She stepped in, shut the door behind her, and leaned against it.“I thought I told you to go home,” he said, voice tight.“You did.”“And yet—”“I don’t follow rules very well.”His jaw twitched.She dropped the shoes to the floor.Walked to his desk.Placed both palms on the edge and leaned forward.“I’ve been thinking about your mouth all night.”“Is that so.”She nodded slowly.“And your hands.”“I to
The hallway was quiet when she stepped inside the classroom, the final bell long gone, the rest of the building already emptying out. The faint squeak of her gum echoed off the tile floor. She popped it once, just to hear it.He was waiting behind his desk.Same tired button-up. Same furrow between his brows. Same too-serious voice.She hated how much she noticed those things.Or maybe she didn’t.“Sit,” he said without looking up.She took the front row seat like she owned it, dropped her bag with a thud, and crossed one bare leg over the other. The skirt she wore barely passed code. The way she sat made sure it didn’t.“I thought we were done with detention for the week,” she said.“You were told not to skip third period again.”“It was gym. I don’t run laps. I don’t do sweat.”His eyes finally lifted.And locked on her.There was a pause. A long one. The kind that stretched so tight she could feel it in her stomach.“Is there a reason you came in looking like you don’t care what an
It had been two days since he last fed.Two days since she let him suckle, since she let him fuck her while her milk spilled across their bodies and soaked the sheets. She told herself she needed a break. That she needed space. That she needed her body to dry out.But she had lied.Because now her breasts were swollen. Aching. She had stuffed tissues inside her bra, changed tops twice, and still the milk leaked. Her nipples were red and sensitive. Her body screamed for release. For relief. For him.And he knew.He always knew.She walked into the kitchen late that night wearing a thick robe pulled tight around her. Her nipples still pushed against the fabric, hot milk already seeping through. She tried to pour herself some water. To focus on anything else.Then he walked in.He hadn’t seen her in twenty-four hours. His jaw was tight. His eyes darker than usual. He didn’t say hello.Just stared at her chest.“You’re leaking again.”She backed up.“I don’t need your help.”He stepped fo
The clock read 2:44 a.m.The house was still.She hadn’t been able to sleep.Her breasts ached again. Heavy. Leaking. Her shirt was soaked through. She’d changed it three times already, but it didn’t matter. Her body wouldn’t stop responding. Wouldn’t stop preparing for a baby that no longer existed.But something else had taken its place.She lay in bed with her thighs pressed together, her nipples tingling and hard. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt his mouth again. The way he had latched on. The groan that rumbled from his throat. The way he looked up at her like she wasn’t his godmother. Like she was his addiction.Her legs were trembling. Her hand drifted under the covers, cupping her breast, massaging slowly to ease the pressure. Milk leaked instantly. She gasped.She needed him.She didn’t want to.She didn’t try to stop herself.Her bedroom door opened.She hadn’t called for him.But he was there.Shirtless again. Shorts slung low. Chest rising and falling like he’d bee
It was quiet in the countryside, too quiet sometimes. The kind of silence that left space for thoughts to turn dark. Her house sat tucked at the edge of a narrow gravel road, surrounded by hills and whispering trees. No neighbors close enough to hear. No traffic. No noise. Just birdsong and wind. And lately, the occasional low hum of aching discomfort beneath her skin.She sat on the edge of the couch that night, body curled forward, hands pressing into the heavy swell of her breasts. The pain was dull, then sharp, then dull again. Her shirt was already damp. Milk had soaked through the thin fabric in two perfect circles. She hadn’t expected it to last this long. The hormones, the fullness, the aching weight that came with her body still producing after birth.Even though she had given the child away.She never thought she’d have to deal with this part alone.But she was.And it was becoming unbearable.She winced, tugging the neckline of her top down to free one breast, the skin hot