Voyeur (A student/teacher romance) (Voyeur Series)

CALLUM

Her lips were just as soft as the other night. Maybe even softer, more plush, more perfect. Something about her always seemed better each time I had her.

Oaklyn hesitated only a moment before she moaned, and her lips began to move against mine. Her tongue flicked against the seam of my lips, and I obediently opened, needing to taste her. I held my eyes open and focused on her face when her hands moved to my neck and then into my hair. I stared at the way her lashes cast shadows on her soft cheeks. I moved my hands to her waist to remind myself of the petite female in my arms and to not let the memory of another’s hands pull me back.

I watched her features shift with each move of her mouth against mine. The sweet taste of syrup mixed with her own unique taste intoxicated me. I became so lost in her kiss that I hadn’t even realized when my eyes slid closed and every feeling became amplified. But not the feeling of panic that had been lingering on the edge since her hands had become buried in my hair. No, I felt the sting of her teeth nipping at my lips. I felt the rush of air against my cheek when she breathed without removing her mouth from mine. I felt the fine bones of her ribcage expand and contract beneath my fingers.

She consumed me, and before I knew it, my fingers were bunching up her sweater to pull it over her head. My hands molded to her soft breasts as my thumbs stroked back and forth across her nipples. I tugged the flimsy lace out of the way and trailed my lips down her neck to latch and suck at the tight bud. I’d been so enthralled with the feel of her in my mouth, I hadn’t even had a chance to think of how the way she held me made me feel anything but excitement.

The absence of panic left an opening I became desperate to fill with her. I needed to feel more. More of her against me.

I pulled back just enough to tug my shirt overhead and then went back to kissing her. Her bare chest pressed to mine sent shockwaves of lust rocketing through me. Had I ever been skin to skin with a woman? Had I ever been so lost in the now, that the past couldn’t touch me?

At least I thought it couldn’t. I thought I’d been so buried in Oaklyn, nothing could break through.

Then her hands were on my shoulders pushing me back on the small couch, and I fell. Fell back into my nightmare.

Her hands pressed hard against my shoulders and he began climbing on top of me. Lost from reality, my legs were being pressed back to my chest and—

“No,” I shouted, gripping her biceps and shoving back.

My eyes popped open when I heard my voice in the quiet room, bouncing around the tiny space, mocking me. Oaklyn stared at me with wide eyes, her mouth open in shock.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to whisper on a heavy breath. My chest was unable to take a deep enough breath and panic began to tickle at my skin. Not just from the flashback, but at wondering how I was going to explain myself out of this situation.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Her brows dipped, and she pressed off my arms, so I would let her go. She jerked her sweater up and covered her breasts as she stared at

me, trying to figure me out. “Are you serious?” she asked slower, angrier.

“Fuck,” I swore, standing from the couch. I paced to the wall a few feet away and dug my hands in my hair before turning and pacing back. My fingers tightened to a fist, hoping the sting of pain would center me, help me get some control that seemed to be spiraling out of my grasp.

“Fuck,” I said again.

“You need to leave.”

Her low but harsh command stopped my pacing. When I turned to look at her, my heart sank to my stomach like a lead weight was pulling it down. The hurt in her eyes was so strong, not even the thin veil of anger could mask it.

“Oaklyn, please.” I stepped toward her with my hands out.

“No.” She looked down and shook her head. “No. You can either explain what the fuck is going on, or you can leave.”

In the middle of the turmoil raging through me, I wondered what she saw when she stared at me then. A man housing a scared boy? A caged animal who had been abused too many times to recover from? A grown man terrified of losing the first flicker of hope? A desperate man trying to hold on to her and his secrets?

I held her golden gaze as I imagined the outcomes. I could run and hate myself every day for not trying? I could confess and see the disgust cross her face and have her push me away because she didn’t know how to handle such a damaged product. Would she judge me for still being chained to my past?

Or, I could confess, and she would share the weight of the burden with me. I could confess, and she would ease the haunting pain. Oaklyn was the first person I’d even considered telling. Not a single woman had tempted me to share. I’d only made enough excuses to hold off another stint of being alone. But with her? I felt safe. I felt

comforted, and I didn’t want to give up so easily. Could I live with myself if I didn’t try to take hold of this opportunity?

With jerky movements, I put my shirt back on, needing all the armor I could get. Then I moved toward her and helped her put her sweater back on too.

“Cal,” she whispered, pushing her arms into the sleeves, watching me with concern and confusion.

I sat with my back against the arm of the other side of the couch and swallowed before taking a deep breath.

“Just,” I started. “Just give me a minute.”

“Okay.” She breathed the word so softly I almost didn’t hear it, but it made its way across the space between us and sunk in to me as though she’d shouted her support.

I couldn’t look up as I began. Instead I focused on the way my thumb rubbed back and forth across the leg of my jeans. “I had a cousin,” I started. So simple. So innocuous to the nightmare that would follow those four words. But once I began, it all came out without pause, sticking to the basics. “He was three years older than me, and I idolized him. Looked up to everything he did. Thought he knew all.”

I laughed a dry, humorless chuckle that hurt my chest. “So, when he put on a porn video, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to think I was dumb. I was only eleven and he was the much cooler teenager.”

Rolling my lips between my teeth, I prepared to say aloud what I hadn’t in more than ten years. “I didn’t say anything when he was touching my penis, saying he was doing me a favor by teaching me how to masturbate. Or that since he’d done it to me, I needed to do it back. After that, it continued, and I began to feel stuck when I really wanted it to stop and tell someone to make it stop. I was scared of what to say or how to say it. Then it slowly progressed to oral sex, then just sex. And I wanted it to stop. I didn’t want to learn anymore. But he threatened me.

He told me no one would believe I didn’t want it when he

was able to make me orgasm. He held my fear and shame over me, trapping me. After two and a half years, my parents really began to notice my panic attacks and how I acted out. You see, if I got in trouble, he couldn’t come over for sleepovers. It was how I could keep him away. After a while, my parents put me in therapy, and I guess one day the therapist finally asked the right questions, said the right thing to get me to open up. It ended after that.”

My whole body seemed to be shaking inside with tremors, but when I lifted my hands they barely moved.

Inside, I crumbled, but somehow, everything still stayed intact.

I held off looking up, she hadn’t spoken yet and the loft screamed with the silence. Fear had frozen my muscles, making it feel impossible to lift my head, but I did. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to hers, preparing myself for the worst.

Her slim fingers were pressed to her lips as tears fell down her cheeks in a continuous flow.

“Callum.” My name came out broken past her tears.

“I don’t need your pity.” Fuck, I couldn’t handle her pity.

Somehow that hadn’t factored into the scenarios I’d imagined. I hadn’t thought about what would happen if she felt pity for me.

“I don’t pity you,” she said, bringing my focus back to her. I watched her throat bob over a swallow before clearing it. “I’d be a monster to not feel pain for you and what you went through. That’s not pity. It’s compassion.”

The fire behind her words, the depth of feeling sinking into me caused my eyes to burn, and I looked away, swallowing hard past the lump threatening to choke me before my final confession. “I’ve never really been able to be touched after that. I’ve touched women, kissed them, dated them, but they tend to want more. Who wouldn’t when they’re trying to build a future? But they eventually got fed up when I continued to put them off without an explanation and refused to let them touch me intimately.”

“Have you ever been . . .” Her words trailed off, but I knew what she was asking.

“Once.” I cringed remembering the night. “I was in college and got very drunk to help me follow through. I was shaking and sweating the whole time and she was too drunk to notice. I left immediately after. Never tried again.”

“What a horrible bitch.”

My lips somehow twitched at her anger on my behalf. I hadn’t thought I’d smile at all after I confessed my past.

A silence hung between us, and I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t want to pressure her to say anything she wasn’t ready to discuss, so I decided to give her an out.

Give her some space to think about it and an opportunity to have me leave without asking.

“Do you want me to go?”

“What? Callum, God no.” Her vehement denial made me jerk my head up to see her shocked expression. “If nothing else, you’re at least my friend. I would never . . .” She shook her head, not finishing the thought. “I care about you. I want you to stay.”

Wanted me to stay. She cared about me and wanted me to stay. The words were so simple and yet, they seeped in through my skin and began to fill some of the damaged holes inside of me. I’d told her about my past and she hadn’t doubted me, questioned me, or looked at me differently. I felt . . . Lighter. Oaklyn somehow filled me up, like I could possibly be whole someday. It was like she’d helped me set down some of the load I’d been carrying for so long. How could one girl do that?

I didn’t know, but I didn’t want it to stop either.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

We stared at each other from either side of the couch, both unsure of what to do next. I missed the heat from earlier, and I wanted to put away my confession. It was said, it was out there, now I wanted to move on. “You can

come closer, give me another chance to kiss you. I won’t break, Oaklyn.”

She smiled, and her eyes scanned me up and down with one eyebrow cocked. “I never thought I’d break you.

There’s too much of you to even put a dent in.”

I exaggerated puffing my chest out and flexing, succeeding in making her laugh.

Still smiling, the wheels turned behind her eyes as she worked her lips between her teeth. I held her stare, watching a decision form across her face and her look to shift, to become heated. Making a point to keep her hands by her side or behind her, she inched her way across the space between us until she sat right in front of me.

“Will you tell me if I do something that bothers you?

Anything at all.”

“Oaklyn—”

“Yes, or I’m going back to that side of the couch.”

“Yes,” I answered, my cheek twitching at her warning.

“Good.” Slowly, as she held my stare, she leaned in and pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to become heated. I licked at her mouth, wanting to taste her again, and she almost fell forward when she leaned closer to get more of me. Not stopping the kiss, I reached for her hands and put them on my shoulders, pulling my mouth back just enough to say against her lips, “I’m fine with being touched, especially by you. Just nothing too aggressive.”

“But you can touch me that way, right?” she asked breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck yes. I plan on touching you any way I can.” I pressed my lips to hers and pulled back enough to say,

“Gently.” Then I nipped at her lips. “Or roughly. Any.” Kiss.

“Way.” Kiss. “I can.”

Then my hands trailed down her arms, over her breasts, and moved to grip the edge of her sweater, tugging it back over her head. She gripped the edge of my shirt and

hesitated. I hated that she needed to hesitate, but also appreciated the fact that she did. With a slight nod from me, she tugged it off and moved back to kissing me.

And something I’d only managed to do with Oaklyn, I closed my eyes and savored the taste of her as I tugged her closer, pulling her into my chest. Her soft skin pressed to mine, and I had to pull back to breathe through the excitement of the sensation.

“Callum,” she breathed nipping at my lips. “Can you . . .”

“It’s okay. Ask me.” I wasn’t sure what she planned to ask, but I wanted to try.

“Can we start slow? Can I, can I watch you while you watch me? No touching, yet.”

I tried and lost the fight to hide my wince.

“Okay. That’s okay,” she rushed to reassure me. “I’m just selfish to see you. More than in a dark corner or out of sight behind me.”

“It would only be fair since I’ve watched you,” I joked, but it was empty. I looked down, ashamed to have my weaknesses laid out in front of her.

After a pause, her eyebrows shot up. “I have an idea.”

Oaklyn stood and began moving the overstuffed chair back into the corner. She then came back and pulled me to stand before leading me to the chair. Once I was seated, she turned off all the lights until only the kitchen light barely illuminated the couch and almost hid me completely.

Then she perched herself on the cushions, facing me.

“Pretend you’re at Voyeur,” she whispered.

I didn’t deserve her, but I watched her anyway. I watched her shimmy her leggings down and part her thighs. I watched her tug the lace of her bra aside and pluck at her nipples before dropping a hand to between her legs. She teased, rolling her head back on her shoulders before, pushing the material aside and exposing her wet pussy to me.

My hips flexed, and I groaned, dragging my hand down the erection straining against my pants. Her breaths urged me on and I unzipped my jeans, the rasp seeming to scream my intentions. Her eyes flickered in my direction but immediately went back to the ceiling. Her fingers circled her opening, and I pulled my cock out of my pants, stroking the hard flesh, not once taking my eyes from her.

“Callum,” she breathed, sinking her fingers inside herself, fucking her core. I mimicked her movements, groaning at the intimacy of the moment. The way I was completely consumed by watching her, consumed by the sounds of our breathing happening in sync as though we were actually fucking.

The emotions raged through me and sunk straight to my balls. Swelling inside me, making me feel bigger than my bones, like I could conquer anything. Like an addict, I craved more. I wanted more from her.

“Oaklyn,” I moaned. “Look at me.” Without hesitation her eyes dropped to mine, holding my gaze, somehow not sinking lower to watch my fist on my cock. “Watch me.”

She did, and my dick twitched, jumping at attention under her stare. Her fingers matched the movement of my strokes and her whole body seemed to undulate under the pressure. Her whimpers growing louder and coming faster.

“Come with me. Callum, come with me.”

Her thumb snaked out to rub at her clit and her body tightened, her thighs flexing and spreading as her core tightened around her fingers. And I came. With her eyes on me, I stroked my cock until white ropes of cum shot across my chest.

“Fuck, Oaklyn,” I breathed.

“Not yet,” she panted out of breath. “But maybe someday.”

She smiled, and my chest shook with laughter. My body felt light like it would float away. My chest expanded on each breath, each one a little easier. And she was laughing

and smiling with me. Ten feet stood between us, but right then, I felt more tied to her than I did when my tongue was buried between her legs.

Oaklyn was either going to make me or destroy me. I just hoped it was the former, because I didn’t have much more left to destroy.

She tugged her underwear back over herself and walked to the kitchen before coming back with a wet washcloth.

“Thank you,” I said, holding her stare.

She understood that I was thanking her for so much more than the washcloth. “Anything, Callum.”

By the time I’d cleaned up and tucked myself back in my pants, she’d pulled her sweater back on, but left her legs bare.

“Do you want to stay?” she asked, tipping her head to the bed off to the side.

“I don’t know if I can,” I answered honestly.

“Will you try?”

Could I?

For her, I’d try anything.

Nodding, I got up and moved with her to bed. I had no idea how it would go. I sometimes had nightmares and woke up shaking and sweating, but everything in me urged me to lay out on the bed and hold her as close as I could, never letting her go.

I still wanted to warn her.

“I’ve never done this before.”

She rolled to face me and smiled. “Neither have I.”

“Yeah, but you’re nineteen.”

“There’s no required age for experiences. I’m sure there are men out there who have never shared a bed with anyone who are much older than you.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she gloated.

I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before stroking my thumb along her lips. Electricity shot to my chest when

she pressed a kiss to the pad of my finger.

“There are a lot of things I haven’t done,” I said, hating to admit it, but needing her to know.

“It’s okay, Callum.”

“I know. I just . . . You make me want to be honest. You make me feel like I can be honest. I’m not sure why, but it’s there, just the feeling I have when I’m with you.”

“Is it wrong that I feel honored at being that for you?”

she asked on a whisper.

“No. I want to try with you, Oaklyn. I care about you and over the past few months you’ve become more than a friend. Something about you clicked with me. As wrong as all of this is,” I took a deep breath before saying it again. “I want to try with you.”

“There is nothing wrong with this.” At her fierce tone, I cocked my eyebrow. She smiled at my reaction. “Other than me being your student, but I won’t be forever, and I don’t want to keep fighting this. I care about you too, and I want you.”

Shifting forward, I pressed a soft kiss to her lips before moving back to my pillow. Her hand snaked out between us and touched mine, asking for permission. I opened my palm and watched her slim fingers link with mine.

Somehow, by some miracle, my breathing evened out and I fell asleep, my hand gripping hers like a lifeline.