All Chapters of Forbidden Touch : Stories of Desires: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The sound of the belt sliding free was louder than it should have been in the quiet office.Ellis stayed braced against the desk, hands light on my hips, letting me work. I felt the controlled tension in him, the way he held still while I unzipped him, the quiet inhale when my fingers brushed the hard length of him through the fabric. He was already fully hard. The discovery sent a fresh pulse of heat between my legs.I shoved his pants and underwear down just far enough. He kicked free of one shoe so the fabric could drop. When I wrapped my hand around him he exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes never leaving mine. Thick, hot, the skin smooth under my palm. I stroked once, deliberate, watching the muscle in his jaw flex.“Professor…”“Ellis,” I corrected, the same soft challenge he’d given me earlier. “If we’re doing this, use my name.”“Mara.”My first name in his mouth landed differently than I expected, intimate, almost careful. I stroked him again, tighter, and felt the control

He stood without warning, still buried inside me, and lifted.The sudden display of strength pulled a startled sound from my throat. My legs locked around his waist on instinct. He carried me two steps from the desk as if I weighed nothing and braced my back against the nearest wall. One arm stayed solid under my thighs; the other braced beside my head. Then he fucked up into me in short, powerful strokes that stole the air from both of us.Every thrust dragged a soft, helpless noise out of me. The wet, rhythmic slap of our bodies was impossible to hide. I tried to muffle the sounds against his shoulder and failed. My fingers dug into the muscle of his back hard enough to leave marks. He kept the pace, then shifted the angle so the head of his cock dragged across the exact spot that made my vision blur.“Look at me,” he said, voice rough.He saw every crack in the performance I had tried to maintain in class, every place the text message and the locked door and the way I had touched m

Six weeks felt longer than they should have.I kept the door open during every remaining office hour. I called on him in class only when the work demanded it. I graded his final portfolio with the same ruthless precision I gave everyone else and refused to let my eyes linger when he packed his things on the last day of the semester. He never pushed past the boundary I had drawn that rainy night in my apartment. He simply looked at me the way he always had, and left the room each time without a word that could be misread.Graduation was held under a white tent on the main lawn. The air smelled of cut grass and warm champagne. I stood near the edge of the faculty section in a dark dress and watched him cross the stage, receive his diploma, and shake the dean’s hand with the same quiet composure he had shown in every seminar. When his name was called I felt the old familiar pull low in my stomach and forced myself to clap like every other professor.The after-party spilled across the dep

Two days later the mark on my cheek had faded, but the memory of Jude Harlan’s eyes had not.I told myself it was nothing. A stupid accident and an ancient history that should have stayed buried. I went to work, answered emails and smiled through another client call that went nowhere. At night I lay awake replaying the exact second the iced tea left my hand and the way his voice had said my name.On Thursday evening my phone lit up with a calendar reminder I had almost forgotten: the soft launch for the new co-working space downtown. Free drinks, networking, the usual forced cheer. I almost stayed home. Then I remembered Tessa would almost certainly be there, still laughing about the coffee-bar video, and spite won.The space was all glass and concrete, already crowded when I arrived. String lights hung from the high ceiling. People clustered around low tables with wine glasses and forced laughter. I took a glass of sparkling water I did not want and found a corner near the windows wh

I was two-thirds of the way through a bottle of something amber and expensive when the door opened again.Jude stopped in the doorway. His eyes went from my face to the bottle in my hand and back.“I thought I told you to stop.”I lifted the bottle in a mock toast. “Welcome home.”He crossed the room in three strides, took the bottle from my fingers with firm pressure, and set it out of reach.“That’s enough.”He crouched in front of me so we were eye level. The concern in his face was worse than anger would have been.I looked at him, and the words I had never said finally pushed free.“I’m sorry.” The confession came out raw. “For all of it. The books in the mud, the notes, the way I made sure everyone laughed. I just… I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere. Hurting you was the only thing that ever made the other kids stand next to me. That doesn’t make it better. I know that, but it’s the only reason I have.”Silence stretched.“I won’t forgive you.”He said.I reached out, took