Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

40 - Ice

Alison
***

I woke up cold. Still with my eyes closed, I reached over to Chris to get warmer, but my hands didn't find him. My eyes confirmed what my hands already knew: we wasn't there.

"Chris?" I called, my voice groggy from sleep.

I wiped my eyes and took a good look around the room. Chris' side of the bed was unmade, but he was nowhere to be seen. The en suit door was ajar and the lights inside were off, so he hasn't there either.

I grabbed my phone to check the time. It was a quarter to ten. Maybe Chris had already gotten up and let me sleep in.

I got up and stretched my arms. I pulled up the covers to make the bed look presentable and made my way to the bathroom where I brushed my teeth and washed my face.

I opened the bedroom door expecting to hear the TV on, something frying on the stove, the tapping of a keyboard, but the apartment was dead silent.

"Chris, you there?" I called. Again, no answer.

Strange, I thought. Why had he left the apartment and didn't say anything? I got back inside the room and searched the bedside tables for a note, but he hadn't left any.

Chris hadn't opened the living room curtains before he left, so the open space was quite dark, the sunlight unable to get in. I walked down the corridor to open them up, my bare feet the only sound echoing inside those walls.

That was when two strong arms sprung out of thin air and yanked me. I let out a scream, my blood curdling in fright. To muffle the sound, a hand came up straight to my mouth, the other arm holding me tight in place.

"Good morning, Miss Bardot." Said Chris, his mouth close to my ear. He was holding me so tightly against his chest that I couldn't take deep breaths. I thrashed my arms and legs to get him to release me, but he only held me tighter. I tried to speak, to ask him what the hell he was doing, but he kept his palm pressed against my lips.

My heart was beating at a dangerous rate which was only made worse by the utter fear of being attacked like that.

Still with his hand over my mouth, he whispered. "Have you any idea what you've done? You behaved so badly last night... Leaving me alone in my room while you spoke on the phone, making me wait for you, fantasize about you... The waiting only made me want you more and yet, as you can recall, I didn't even get a taste of you."

I gulped, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. He was doing this because of the conversation we had during dinner, I was sure. My cheeks flushed when I remembered our discussion, embarrassed at my own words. I couldn't believe he had actually gotten such intimate details out of me. They were thoughts and desires I didn't think I was able to admit to myself, much less say them aloud.

"You know what happens when you misbehave, don't you?" Chris said in a taunting voice.

I nodded. I knew it was better to comply with him at this point.

He chuckled. "I know you do, and you love it, don't you?"

I didn't reply this time, knowing that he was teasing me.

"You're such a dirty girl Miss Bardot," he added, his lips brushing against my cheek. "But that's exactly how I like you."