Nocticadia: A Dark Academia Gothic Romance

I carried the phone down into the lower level lab, staring at the brightly-lit screen. The moment it dimmed, I touched the space between icons to keep it from locking. Fuck invasion of privacy. I’d already trusted people attempting to steal my research twice, and I’d be damned if I’d let some newly-minted adolescent attempt the same. The fact she had such in-depth knowledge of the organism already put her on my radar, but to have detailed its clinical manifestation in such depth sent up a red flag where her intentions were concerned.

I reached my office in the lower lab, where Lippincott had so kindly removed all of the cameras. Once there, I clicked on the photo icon, and the image in the small preview window had me frowning. In the tiny corner square, the background of which was mostly dark, I could just make out what looked like her hand beneath the hem of her skirt.

Fuck.

I tossed the phone onto the bench and stepped back, staring down at it.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

Don’t do it.

I wanted to say it was the bullshit story of needing to know if she’d recorded my class, but that was a lie. The infuriating truth was, I needed to see if she’d had the balls to do something so bold and outrageous right in front of me.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I paced beside the desk.

Why? Why look, when I had a perfectly good idea of what was on that video?

The screen dimmed, and I lurched to keep it from locking me out. The moment I tapped the screen, it sent the video into motion.

In the background, I could only just pick up the mumbled voice of Ross. The camera seemed to be positioned between her knees, given the short length of her thighs and the hem of her skirt at the top of the viewing screen.

An unrelenting ache twisted in my stomach, and I wanted to say it was disgust churning there, but I knew better. A long-slumbering and vile greed throbbed in my groin.

The camera slid closer toward the dark depths beneath her skirt, and the moment she peeled back the hem, allowing some light, my knees damned near buckled. Her pussy arrived in perfect view, shaved clean of every hair, and when she pressed two fingers against her folds, opening herself up, I bit my knuckles while staring down at that beautiful, pink shell.

Fuck me.

Fuck. Me.

At first, she only toyed with her seam, tickling the tiny pearl of flesh that had the tips of my fingers tingling.

“My apologies for interrupting,” I heard myself say in the background, and her thigh twitched, making the view jump.

All at once, she stopped, her finger resting on her thigh, where I watched her wipe away the glisten on her skin.

Stop. Stop it now, you crazy fuck.

After all, I’d been embroiled in enough scandals throughout my life. The last, involving a student, hadn’t even warranted the reputation I’d earned. I’d never touched her, never felt the slightest inclination, and yet, I’d been made out as some kind of predator. Thankfully, a complete lack of evidence and a fairly solid alibi had cleared my name, but I swore I’d never get tangled in a mess like that again. Not when my research was on the verge of greatness. Not when this dreary stretch of failures I’d been living was about to take flight into a whole other stratosphere of success.

Just as I reached to turn off the video, she moved her hand again. I froze, watching her finger tease that mouthwatering bit of flesh.

Eyes screwed shut, I shook my head. Don’t do this. The girl had to be at least twelve, maybe thirteen years younger than me. A woman, but young.

And a student, for fucks sake.

A lewd, wet sound, like ASMR porn had me opening my eyes, to see two of her fingers disappearing up inside of her, my voice still prattling on in the background. In and out, she pumped those wet digits, while I unwittingly gave my lecture.

Again, I bit my knuckles, damn near gnawing them to keep from taking hold of the painful erection blooming behind my zipper. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I paused the video and swiped out of the app altogether.

A ravenous hunger shook my muscles. In all the years I’d taught–as a TA in grad school, a resident in medical school, and as a professor—I’d never felt such sexual temptation. Ever. I’d been boldly propositioned by students, and endured their flirtations, but I’d always been very adept at ignoring it all. I’d never had any interest in my students, not even the ones who’d shown up to class wearing makeup and tight, revealing clothes, making eyes at me and leaving gifts. One even left a scrap of paper with a note to meet her in the library at a certain time.

Beautiful girls with money and bright futures, and yet, I’d never once taken the bait.

I wasn’t stupid enough to destroy my reputation over some silly schoolgirl fascination. Not even when that fascination had bordered on a strange obsession, as was the case with Jenny Harrick.

But it was the audacity of this girl that crawled beneath my skin. The way she sat in my class with her wild hair that reminded me of autumn leaves, her mouthy comebacks, and those eyes. Bold, aquamarine eyes that constantly challenged me. Eyes I imagined were staring straight at me while she fingered herself in my class.

I should’ve been furious with her, but it was the most exciting fucking thing I’d ever seen. Perhaps an effect of the last injection I’d taken.

I’d thought the sexual urges had declined over time, seeing as I’d lost interest with Loretta so quickly. Yet, clearly they hadn’t.

In fact, I dared say it’d gotten worse.

The light on her screen dimmed again, and I swiped it up, keeping it from locking. On a whim of absolute adrenaline, I sent the video to my phone, then clicked on her texts and deleted it permanently. While there, I saw a couple of text threads–one to someone named Conner.

I clicked on the thread, reading through her most recent conversation. All I could gather was that Conner owed some money for someone named Bee’s tuition. Whether he was her boyfriend, or husband, I couldn’t tell. There were no other texts prior to that, as if she’d erased them.

The second thread was to someone named Jayda, regarding a website named VoyeurBait. Frowning, I punched the address into my phone in incognito mode, and was greeted by a video of a woman masturbating at a library. The header on the page read: Easy Money! Submit your videos and get paid!

It occurred to me right then that she’d made the video for cash. I clicked back to her texts with Conner, and suddenly, the story came together in my head. It seemed whoever he was had screwed her out of much-needed money.

She wasn’t into public gratification by nature, from the looks of it, as I perused boring campus shots on her camera, but only out of desperation.

A flash of her wet fingers plunging into her pussy slid into my thoughts like a poisonous vapor that quickly evaporated, leaving me sick and drunk. The fact she’d seemed to enjoy her little assignment sent a shiver down my spine.

A wiser man would’ve kicked her out of his class and avoided the inevitable headache that was sure to follow.

I’d certainly never professed to be the wisest.

Before the end of the hour, I returned to the lab where I found Ms. Vespertine sitting at her bench, well-composed, looking completely innocent with her bright doe eyes and cupid bow lips. As I approached, my gaze caught on her legs, and I winced at the visual of them flexed around the phone camera. Fucking hell, how could I ever look at the girl again after that video.

I was grateful it hadn’t shown her face in the throes of all that, or I’d have lost all composure.

I handed off the phone, which had long since locked.

Gaze lowered, she didn’t bother to look at me as she accepted the device. It should’ve made me feel sympathetic toward her, but the bastard in me found her humiliation utterly enthralling.

“I trust you’ll delete whatever you recorded in my class.”

For a moment, she stared down at her phone, then lifted her gaze to mine. The way her eyes studied me, as if she knew I’d watched it, only hardened my cold expression. I’d learned from an early age to uphold the face of a liar in front of those far more powerful than a crafty young girl. I waited to see if she had the balls to challenge me.

Instead, she tucked her phone away, gaze never wavering. “Of course, Professor.”

Damn her.

Damn that innocent face and those cherry blossom lips she sat nibbling on that probably tasted like cherries.

Without another word, she gathered up her books and left.