A surprise update because you deserve it ;) Still another chapter coming Sunday, and then the final two chapters will be next week ❤️ ~ Thank you for the support so far.

4

"The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain." ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

oXo

It's been two weeks, and my self-control is reaching its limit. Isabella taunts me in a collection of tiny little skirts, some flowing and brushing her upper thighs, teasing me with little glimpses of her lacy pants, and others that are so tight they're like a second skin, clinging to every luscious inch of her round arse. Every class she gets bolder, flashing me her thongs, crossing and uncrossing her legs, pressing her full tits together so they spill out of her tops.

Sometimes she comes in braless and her little nipples press out of the material—that slightly darker shade in the center of her perky tits driving me insane. I spend every lesson in a state of mindless lust—fixated on her pouty mouth, the way she sucks at her pen, the sight of her sinking her teeth into her plump bottom lip.

On the inside, I'm losing my mind, but I never let her see even a sliver of how I'm feeling.

Part of me finds it amusing, her growing frustration at being unable to crack me. If only she knew that I've already cracked, that my fist is becoming too well acquainted with my cock as of late, that the second she's no longer my student, if she still wants me, I'll give in to her.

I wanted Isabella from the moment I first saw her, but it was always a fantasy—something that crept in my thoughts when I was wanking or dreaming. I never believed anything could come of it. Now that she's started teasing me, it's become so much more visceral, tangible. Isabella Swan occupies my every fucking thought. I can't stop thinking about her. Can't stop fantasising about taking her in every fucking way imaginable.

But my thoughts, my desires, they're hidden deep. I can't let her see them. I could easily lose my job if anything happened between us, or god forbid, my actual interest in her scared her.

I want to believe that she wants me, but how can I know for sure? If this is a game, she's playing it well.

I'm reading my well-worn copy of Crime and Punishment at my desk, my body flooded with tension at the knowledge she's going to be coming into the room soon.

It's become a ritual of sorts. She tempts; I ignore.

As if on cue, Isabella saunters up, and I sigh internally, keeping my eyes fixed down.

I hear the wet crunch of the apple and force myself not to react, peeking up at her from under my eyelashes as she takes it away from her full mouth. She's in a miniscule skirt again, and her pert nipples are pressing out of her tight tank top. My cock twitches.

"Mr. Cullen," she says, her voice slightly husky and sweet like honey. I want to hear her moan my name, feel her curves up against me.

"Yes?"

"Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice."

My head flies up and my heart stops in my chest, because this beautiful, intelligent woman is quoting from my favorite book—in a way that tells me she's read it, resonated with it enough to recall the words inside. I want to answer her, I want to say, "reason is the slave of passions," that though I desire her, I can't act on it. But to answer her is to acknowledge her, and I can't, not while she's still my student.

Her amber-specked eyes are hooded, pupils dilated as she holds my gaze, and I force myself to look down again.

"Take your seat, Miss Swan."

I hear her sigh, and I lift my head slightly as she walks away, staring at her flowy yellow skirt as it kisses the tops of her creamy white thighs.

I announce the pop quiz, handing out papers and hissing internally as Isabella drags hers under her full breasts, with my hand still attached. I run my eyes up her tight little body and meet hers, which stare deeply and knowingly into mine. I feel a slight tug in the pit of my stomach as she licks her full, pink lips, and I let go of the paper and turn away, replaying changing Peter's diaper to try to force my cock to stay down.

Mercifully, it works, and I sigh in relief as I tell them to start.

I fetch their papers and start to mark them while they work on their essays, too aware of Isabella's eyes on me. Doesn't she know that I can fucking feel it when she stares at me like that?

When I come to her paper, I have to fight not to laugh out loud. She's cheeky as hell, but her answers are insightful, and I feel a flicker of frustration that she doesn't apply herself like this more. I wonder if she gets distracted by me, something curling under my ribs and flaring at the thought.

Her answer to the third question is so fascinating; it makes me look up at her, intrigued.

How is the theme of oppression explored in 1984?

In '1984' ideas of love and sex are distorted in order to maintain conformity and oppression. Love and lust become intrinsically negative emotions, and Winston and Julia's sexual exploration is deeply intertwined with Oceania's use of this psychological warfare. Winston's sexual fantasies are violent—he wants to fuck Julia, but he also wants to kill her, demonstrating the extent of his conformity to Oceania and the values instilled in him by the state. Sexual repression is a key part of the oppression that Winston feels at the beginning of the book, and although he initially rebels against his sexual urges by fantasizing about killing her—when he fucks her, when he chooses to fuck, instead of kill, he opens the door to his shackles, he becomes aware of his oppression, and rises up against it. It's ironic that sexual repression is integral to maintaining oppression, but also the key to overcoming it. Sometimes taking what you want is worth it.

She's underlined the last sentence, the little vixen. I'm utterly enamoured by her—her intelligence, her wit, her beauty.

I want to know her.

Isabella is the last to leave, and I hesitate for a second before I pick up the apple on my desk. Her apple. I bite into the skin, and something stirs inside of me at the knowledge her spit is on the apple, that I'm tasting her indirectly. She gasps, and the sound goes straight to my cock, my balls feeling heavy.

I hold her gaze as I chew on the succulent fruit, then look down at my book again, hiding a smile as I hear her laboured breaths.

If she wants me, she can have me—just not while she's my student.

See you Saturday loves.

Can you remember what she tries next? Hint: The Divinyls

There will be a teaser for the next chapter in the Creaatingmadness group on Friday ❤️ Don't miss out!