Fantasises of Amelia Clarke

Amelia

"Class is dismissed. I'll see you all same time next week. And make sure you....," The rest of his speech trails off and falls on deaf ears. All I can focus on is the movement of his lips and the way his pen moves swiftly between his fingers. The way his muscles flex in his white long-sleeved shirt with each movement of his hand.

I can hear the shuffling of feet, and the sound of chairs scraping the floor, but I can't seem to take my eyes off the handsome male specimen that is, Mr Maverick Remington.

I've been taking this class for more than two months, and I don't think I've ever paid attention since he became our substitute lecturer, and then permanent.

Maverick Arrington was my special brew of torture formed especially by God. It was achingly painful to see him three times a week and not be able to touch or kiss him the same way I do in my fantasies.

I hated it. I hated the fact that the only way I could be with him was in the fantasies I had. It was-- "Miss Clarke?" His voice calls out, interrupting my thoughts "The class is dismissed, you may leave."

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm so sorry, I'll leave now." I clear my throat awkwardly before gathering my things and heading for the door.

"Are you fine?" He asks, stopping me in my spot.

Just act it cool, Amelia. It's not like he can see your dirty thoughts about him in a bubble above your head. Can he?

"I'm fine, sir," I smiled. "But is there a reason you asked?" I'd take any opportunity I can get to have longer conversations with him.

"No." He walks to the front of my desk and leans on it. "Should there?" He folds his sleeves higher, maintaining eye contact.

Is he doing this intentionally or am I just delusional?

"I-I don't know."

He chuckles, "It's okay. I just asked because you seemed lost during the entire lecture."

Did he notice?

"I.. uh, I'm fine. I'm just worried about the upcoming test, that's all," I lie.

"Hm," He mutters. "Well, I'm sure you have nothing to be worried about." He tells me, before tucking a stray strand of hair away.

"I hope so. Not all lecturers are as kind as you are." That's the truth. Among all the other subjects I had to take, he was among my top three easiest.

He laughs and the sound of his soft, rich laughter does unspeakable things to me.

God, I'm crazy.

"Like I said, I'm sure you'll do fine. Well, that's only if you focus more and stop fantasizing about me during class hours."

"Yeah, I have a lot to -- W-what?" I stop abruptly when the rest of his speech registers in my head. "W-what are you talking about?" I ask, shocked.

"Oh, Miss Clarke don't play coy with me. I'm fully aware of the way you daydream about me."

"No, you're a staff and I'm a student. It's not allowed," I say.

"What is not allowed? Daydreaming? Well, last I checked the school can't know what goes through every student's head in this school." He takes a step toward me and I do the opposite. "You didn't deny fantasizing about me though."

My eyes widen when I realize he's right. "Mr Arrington, I assure you, I don't fantasize about... you." The lie rolls off my tongue easily.

"Don't lie to me, Amelia. I've seen you during lectures."

I gasp lowly, "You have?" I ask he smiles, and I want to kick myself for taking the bait.

He smirks and then takes another step towards me. I take one back. "No, but I suspected. You just confirmed it."

I shrug, there's no point lying or hiding it anymore, "Fine you caught me. And if I'm correct, there is no punishment for mere fantasizing. So, technically, you can't punish me for anything." I fiddle with the strap of my bag, "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable." I looked out the window, feeling glad for the unoccupied hallways.

"Oh, no. I'm going to punish you, Amelia. And I'm very sure you're going to like it." He eyes me, tracing the length of my body silently.

"M-mr Maverick," I gasp loudly when he runs his hand across my face "Somebody will see us."

"So, what? Let them." He walks further, closing the gap between us. "You want to know a secret?" He whispers in my ear, taking my mind off the windows momentarily.

"Yes," I whisper breathily.

"I've fantasized about you too," He whispers in my ear too, knocking the breath out of my lungs.

"You have?" I ask. My breathing was erratic. Being this close to him, and being able to smell him was doing something to my senses. So, I took a small step back hoping he didn't notice.

"Do you want to hear what I fantasize about?" He whispers while playing with a lock of my hair.

I nod, unable to speak. I'm very sure words would fail me.

"I fantasize about bending you over that huge desk in my office," I swallow, waiting for him to proceed. "Using you, and watching you cum undone all over my table. Fuck, I have that sight ingrained in my head." He closes our distance, eyes locked with mine he grabs my chin.

His words cause a sudden ache between my thighs, "Mr Arrington someone might see us."

"Let them. Isn't that what you want?" He doesn't drop his hands from my chin. Instead, he wraps them around my throat."I've seen how you clench your thighs in these short skirts you wore intentionally. Do you wear them to torture me? If yes? It's working." With his hands still around my throat, he buries his face into the crook of my neck, his grip tightening and I let out a low moan causing him to growl. The vibrations sent tingles throughout my body.

Suddenly he pulls away, "Go home, Miss Clarke." He steps back.

"W-What?" I ask, confused. I assumed he was going to have sex with me. I want that.

"You heard me. Go, home." He repeats, walking away to his table and packing up his things.

"I'm sorry," I have no idea why I'm apologizing. "I just thought you wanted to have sex with me." I cut to the point.

"Go home and prepare yourself mentally for the next class next week." He walks down the stairs and stops inches away from me. "Because after the next class is over, I'm going to take you into my office and I'm going to fuck you like the slut you really are." He delivers each word with the precise intent in them.

And all I can do is nod and stare in surprise. "Yes, sir," I mutter weakly.

"Good girl. G'night, Miss Clarke." He gives me a peck and walks out leaving me alone with my thoughts and fantasies of what will happen in the next class.