The silence in the living room stretched tight, vibrating like a violin string about to snap. The only sound was the soft hiss of the heater and the ragged rhythm of Kai's own breathing.
Anastasia didn't blink. She remained frozen in that compromised position-leaning over him, the crimson silk of her cowl neck gaping open, the black lace of her bra barely restraining the heavy, pale curve of her breasts. She wasn't fixing her dress. She was wielding it like a weapon.
"I asked you a question, Kai," she whispered, the words brushing against his cheek like velvet. "Is it the diagram? Or is it something else?"
Kai's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His brain was screaming at him to look away, to apologize, to run back into the cold fog of Delhi. But his body was rooted to the spot, pinned by her electric blue gaze.
"I... I..." he stammered, his face burning so hot he felt dizzy.
"Don't lie to me," she warned, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. She tilted her head slightly, a shark sensing blood. "I can see the carotid artery pulsing in your neck. Your body is reacting to a stimulus. As a biology student, you should be able to identify it."
She leaned in a fraction closer. The scent of vanilla and warm skin flooded his senses.
"Tell me," she commanded. "What were you looking at?"
Kai swallowed hard. The denial died in his throat. There was no point. She knew. She had trapped him.
"You," he whispered, the word barely a breath.
Anastasia's lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile. It wasn't a kind smile; it was the smile of a cat that had just cornered a mouse.
"Be specific," she urged softly. "That is not a biological term. What part of me, Kai?"
Kai's hands gripped his knees so hard his knuckles turned white. He felt like he was jumping off a cliff.
"Your... your chest," he confessed, his voice cracking. "I was looking at your... breasts."
The words hung in the air, shameful and thrilling. He waited for the explosion. He waited for her to slap him, to scream, to call the Principal.
Instead, Anastasia laughed.
It was a low, throaty sound that rumbled in her chest-a sound that Kai felt more than heard.
"Finally," she purred.
Slowly, agonizingly, she sat back. She didn't pull the dress up to cover herself. She simply shifted her posture, crossing her legs the other way, the red silk sliding smoothly over her skin with a soft swish.
"Honesty," she said, picking up her wine glass from the side table and taking a slow sip. Her eyes never left his. "It is the first requirement of science. You cannot observe reality if you are too afraid to admit what you see."
She set the glass down. The rim was stained with her dark lipstick.
"You are an 18-year-old boy, Kai. Your testosterone levels are peaking. I am a woman sitting in front of you in a dress that is... let us say, comfortable." She gestured to her exposed cleavage with a casual, dismissive wave. "It is a biological inevitability that you would look. To deny it is to deny your own anatomy."
Kai let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He felt lightheaded. She wasn't angry? She was... analyzing it?
"So," she continued, her tone shifting from interrogation to instruction. "Now that we have established that you are distracted by my body, we must address the issue."
She stood up.
Kai looked up at her, blinking. She towered over him, the red dress flowing around her curves like liquid fire.
"You cannot focus on the textbook because you are wondering about the reality," she said, walking slowly around the small coffee table until she was standing directly in front of his knees. "Curiosity is a powerful distraction. The only way to silence it... is to satisfy it."
She looked down at him, her expression unreadable, her eyes glittering in the dim light.
"Close the book, Kai."
Kai's heart slammed against his ribs. "Ma'am?"
"Close it," she ordered. "The textbook is clearly not working. If you are going to learn about human anatomy tonight, perhaps we should use a more... three-dimensional model."
She took a step closer, her knees almost brushing his.
"Stand up."
"Stand up," she had said. It wasn't a request.
Kai pushed himself off the velvet sofa. His legs felt unsteady, like he had just stepped off a boat. Standing up changed the dynamic instantly. He was tall, but in her high heels, Anastasia was nearly eye-level with him. The scent of her-that intoxicating mix of vanilla and warm, clean skin-was no longer just a suggestion; it was an atmosphere.
She stepped closer, invading his personal space with terrifying confidence. She didn't retreat. She didn't flinch. She simply looked up at him, her blue eyes dark and unreadable.
"The textbook is flat, Kai," she whispered, her voice a soft, smoky hum. "It cannot teach you the rhythm of life. To understand the circulatory system, you must feel the engine that drives it."
She reached out and took his right hand.
Her fingers were cool, her nails sharp against his palm, but as she lifted his hand, he realized how trembling his own was.
"Your hand is cold," she noted, a small frown marring her perfect forehead. "Vasoconstriction. A sign of nervousness. Let us see what your heart is doing."
She guided his hand to her own neck, pressing his fingertips against the hollow just below her jaw-the carotid artery.
"Press," she instructed softly.
Kai swallowed hard. His fingers sank into the impossibly soft skin of her neck. It was hot-much hotter than the air in the room. beneath the surface, he felt it. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. A steady, powerful rhythm.
"Count the beats," she murmured, her eyes locking onto his.
"One... two... three..." Kai whispered, his voice shaking.
"Good," she purred. "Strong. Steady. Roughly seventy beats per minute. This is a resting heart rate, Kai. This is control."
She didn't let go of his hand. Instead, she slid her fingers over his wrist, guiding his hand lower.
"But the carotid is just a highway," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "To truly understand the pressure... you must go to the source. The Apex."
She moved his hand down her neck, over the smooth, hard line of her collarbone. Her skin felt like satin under his calloused fingertips. She kept moving his hand down, over the expanse of her upper chest, the red silk of her dress feeling like cool water against the back of his hand.
Then, she stopped.
She pressed his palm flat against the upper slope of her left breast, just above the curve where the black lace of her bra bit into her skin.
Kai stopped breathing.
Under his palm, he could feel the soft, yielding firmness of her flesh. The heat was radiating off her in waves. And beneath that softness, he felt the heavy, rhythmic thud of her heart.
Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP.
It wasn't seventy beats per minute anymore. It was faster. Much faster.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered, leaning in so close her lips brushed his ear. "That is the systolic pressure. The heart contracting, forcing blood through the body. It is primal. It is involuntary."
Kai's fingers twitched involuntarily against her skin. The sensation was overwhelming-the taboo of touching his teacher, the softness of her breast, the erratic hammering of her heart that betrayed her cool expression.
"Ma'am..." he choked out. "Your heart... it's beating fast."
Anastasia pulled back slightly to look him in the eye, but she didn't remove his hand. She kept it pressed there, trapping his heat against her chest.
"Is it?" she asked, a challenge in her eyes. "Why do you think that is, Kai? Is it the caffeine? The room heater?"
She pressed his hand harder against her, molding his palm to the curve of her breast.
"Or is it because a young, healthy male is touching me?"
The air in the room seemed to vanish. The question hung between them, heavy and explicit. She was no longer hiding behind the lesson. She was acknowledging the electricity that was arcing between them.
"Tell me," she demanded, her voice thick with something that sounded dangerously like desire. "Does it excite you to know that you can make my heart do this? That you have this... effect on me?"
"Does it excite you?" she had asked.
Kai didn't need to answer. His body had already screamed the answer for him.
Anastasia held his gaze for a second longer, savoring the panic in his eyes, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she released his hand. But she didn't step back.
Instead, her eyes drifted down.
They traveled from his flushed face, past the heaving chest of his t-shirt, down his torso, and settled, with terrifying precision, on the crotch of his jeans.
The silence in the room changed. It wasn't just heavy anymore; it was suffocating.
Kai wanted to cover himself. He wanted to turn away, to grab his textbook, to run out the door. But he was frozen by the sheer, clinical intensity of her stare. There was no hiding it. The heavy denim of his jeans was strained tight, a stark, undeniable ridge tenting the fabric. It was a humiliating, throbbing betrayal of his own anatomy.
"Fascinating," Anastasia murmured.
She didn't look away. She reached out, her hand hovering in the air between them, and pointed a manicured finger at the bulge, stopping just inches away from the fabric. She didn't touch him-not yet-but the proximity of her finger felt like a brand.
"We were discussing the circulatory system, Kai," she said, her voice dropping to a scholarly, yet incredibly sultry tone. "And here we see a perfect example of... vasodilation."
She looked back up at him, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise.
"Blood flow redistribution," she lectured, as if she were standing at the chalkboard and not standing between his legs in her living room. "When the male body encounters a potent stimulus, the parasympathetic nervous system engages. Arteries dilate. The corpus cavernosum fills with blood. It is a hydraulic mechanism. Pure physics."
Kai's face was burning so hot he thought he might spontaneously combust. "Ma'am, I... I'm sorry, I can't help-"
"Shhh," she silenced him, placing a finger against her own lips. "Why apologize for a healthy biological function?"
She took a step closer, closing the final inch of distance. Her knees brushed against his thighs. The heat radiating from her body was overwhelming.
"You see, Kai," she whispered, "this is what I meant when I said you were distracted. All your blood... all your oxygen... it has left your brain."
She reached down.
Kai gasped, his stomach dropping.
She didn't grab him. Instead, she placed her hand flat against his lower stomach, just above the waistband of his jeans. Her palm was cool, pressing against his heated skin through the thin t-shirt. Then, slowly, she dragged her hand downward, her fingers trailing over the button of his jeans, until her palm rested directly over the hard length of him.
"So hard," she observed softly, feeling the jump of his muscle beneath the denim. She didn't stroke him; she just held him there, weighing the evidence of his desire. "And so desperate."
She looked up, her blue eyes dark with a mix of amusement and hunger.
"You cannot study biology in this condition, Kai. Your brain is starved of oxygen. We need to... alleviate this congestion before we can continue the lesson."
She squeezed him, just once-a firm, possessive grip that sent a jolt of electricity straight to his spine.
"The question is," she purred, "do you know how to relieve this pressure yourself? Or do you need a teacher's assistance?"
Anastasia's hand lingered on him for one agonizing second longer, squeezing the hard length of him through the denim, before she abruptly pulled away.
The loss of her touch was physical, a sudden coldness that made Kai gasp.
"Inefficient," she declared, stepping back.
She turned her back on him, the red silk of her dress swishing around her legs as she walked back to the velvet sofa. She sat down slowly, deliberately, crossing one leg over the other. The slit of her dress fell open, revealing her thigh all the way to the hip, a flash of pale skin that seemed to glow in the dim light.
She picked up her wine glass, took a sip, and then looked at him over the rim. Her expression was cool, expectant. The teacher waiting for the student to present his project.
"You are compromised, Kai," she said calmly. "You cannot focus on the lesson while your blood is pooling in your lap. It is a distraction. And as I said... I do not tolerate distractions."
She gestured toward him with her free hand, a lazy, imperious wave.
"Fix it."
Kai blinked, his heart hammering against his ribs. "M-Ma'am?"
"Resolve the pressure," she clarified, her voice dropping to that husky, dangerous purr. "Take it out. Deal with it. Bring your body back to a state of equilibrium so we can continue studying."
Kai looked at the door, then back at her. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with the scent of her vanilla perfume and his own rising panic.
"You want me to... here?" he whispered.
"I want to observe," she corrected. "I teach biology, Kai. I know the theory of the male sexual response cycle-excitement, plateau, orgasm, resolution. But I rarely get to witness the mechanics of it up close."
She leaned back against the cushions, her eyes narrowing.
"Do it. Or walk out that door and fail my class."
The ultimatum hung in the air. Kai's hands were shaking as they moved to his belt. The sound of the metal buckle unclasping seemed deafening in the quiet room. Clink.
He fumbled with the button. Then the zipper. Zzzzip. The sound echoed like a gunshot.
He pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself.
His erection sprang free, hard and heavy, twitching in the cool air of the room. It was fully engorged, the veins prominent against the skin, the head dark and glistening with a drop of precum.
Anastasia didn't look away. In fact, she leaned forward. Her eyes traced every inch of him, from the base to the tip, with a clinical, hungry fascination.
"Impressive," she murmured, the word vibrating through him. "The vascular dilation is... substantial. Better than the textbook diagrams."
She took another sip of wine, her eyes locked on his length.
"Well?" she asked softly. "Don't just stand there displaying it. Manipulate it. Show me how it works."
Kai swallowed hard. His face felt like it was on fire. Slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his hand around himself. The sensation of his own skin was familiar, but doing it in front of her-in front of his teacher, in her living room-made every nerve ending scream with electricity.
He began to move his hand. Slowly at first.
"Too fast," she critiqued instantly.
Kai froze.
"You are rushing to the finish line," she scolded, shaking her head. "Typical teenage impatience. Slow down. I want to see the friction. I want to see how the skin moves."
She set her wine glass down and rested her chin on her hand, watching him intently.
"Use your thumb," she instructed, her voice soft and commanding. "Rub the frenulum-the underside of the head. That is where the nerve endings are most concentrated, is it not? Verify the hypothesis."
Kai obeyed. He moved his thumb over the sensitive spot she indicated. A jolt of pleasure shot through him, so intense his knees buckled. He let out a ragged moan.
"Yes," Anastasia whispered, watching his face contort. "That's it. I can see the reaction in your eyes. The pupils are fully dilated. The breathing is erratic."
She shifted on the sofa, her own breathing becoming slightly heavier. The red dress slipped a fraction lower on her chest.
"Stroke it, Kai," she ordered. "Long, steady strokes. Let me see you get close. I want to see how much you want this."
Kai pumped his hand, the wet, slick sound filling the room. He was staring at her-at her parted lips, at the way her eyes devoured him. The shame was gone, replaced by a raw, burning need to please her, to show her.
"Ma'am..." he gasped. "I'm... I'm getting close."
Anastasia smiled. It was a wicked, powerful smile.
"Are you?" she purred.
"Ma'am..." Kai gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily as his hand moved faster, the friction becoming unbearable. "I'm... I'm going to-"
"Wait," Anastasia commanded.
The single word cracked through the haze of his lust like a whip. Kai froze, his hand trembling, his chest heaving as he fought to hold back the tide. He looked at her, eyes wide and pleading, agony and ecstasy warring on his face.
"Do not spill it on the floor," she said, her voice cool and detached, though her eyes were burning with a dark, predatory fire. "This is a biology experiment, Kai. We do not waste the specimen."
She leaned forward on the sofa, resting her elbows on her knees. The movement pushed her breasts together, the red silk struggling to contain them.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised a hand and tapped her index finger against her bottom lip.
"Here," she whispered.
Kai's brain short-circuited. He stared at her mouth-those full, sculpted lips painted in a deep, glossy berry shade. They were parted slightly, wet and glistening in the dim light.
"Y-Your..." he choked out, unable to finish the sentence.
"My lips," she clarified, her gaze locked on his throbbing length. "Come here, Kai. I want to inspect the viscosity. I want to taste the... vitality of your response."
She opened her mouth a little wider, extending the tip of her tongue to wet her lower lip. It was a gesture so lewd, yet performed with such terrifying authority, that it shattered Kai's last remaining defense.
He stumbled forward, his legs shaking, until he was standing right between her spread knees. The heat radiating from her was suffocating. The scent of her vanilla perfume mixed with the musk of his own arousal was intoxicating.
"Closer," she murmured, looking up at him through her long lashes. "Do not miss."
Kai groaned, a low, guttural sound torn from his throat. He wrapped his hand around himself again, his knuckles white. The image of her-his strict, terrifying biology teacher-waiting with her mouth open for him, demanding his release, was too much.
"Ma'am... Anastasia..."
"Do it," she hissed. "Give it to me."
Kai squeezed his eyes shut and stroked one last, desperate time.
The release hit him like a physical blow. His hips jerked forward, and he erupted.
The spurts of hot, white fluid shot out, arcing through the small distance between them. They landed with a shocking heat against her lips, splashing across her chin and the corner of her mouth.
Anastasia didn't flinch. She didn't pull away. She took it all-the heat, the mess, the shame. She closed her eyes for a brief second as the warm fluid coated her lips, feeling the pulse of his climax.
Kai gasped for air, his knees giving out. He collapsed onto the floor at her feet, his chest heaving, his body drained and trembling. He couldn't look up. He had just cum on his teacher's face. The reality of it crashed down on him.
Silence filled the room.
Then, a soft, wet sound.
Kai slowly lifted his head.
Anastasia was running her tongue over her lips, cleaning them with a slow, deliberate sensual precision. She gathered the fluid into her mouth, savoring the taste, her eyes distant and analytical.
"Hmm," she hummed, the sound vibrating in her throat.
She reached up with a finger, wiping a stray drop from the corner of her mouth and bringing it to her tongue. She tasted it, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration.
"High glucose content," she noted softly, her voice raspy. "Salty. A sign of good hydration, though perhaps too much caffeine."
She looked down at him, her lips now slick and glistening with the evidence of his desire. She smiled-a true, wicked smile that reached her eyes.
"A viable sample, Kai. Very viable."
She leaned back into the sofa, looking like a queen who had just been paid a tribute.
"Now," she said, pointing to the mess on his stomach and jeans. "Clean yourself up. The lesson is far from over."