Page 17 of Never Let Go (Forbidden #1)

Chapter Seventeen

CALEB

I woke up this morning and chose violence.

I’m still fucking raging over what happened with Lauren at Illusion.

My mood went from bad to worse after I looked out of my office window to see Lauren and Brad laughing and, what looked to be, the exchanging of numbers.

Shortly after, I received an email from Lauren saying Brad was going to be teaching her from now on.

I think the fuck not.

The only reason why I chose to tutor Lauren myself was to be around her. Fucked up, yes. Brad could’ve easily done it and I definitely wasn’t thinking clearly when the words tumbled out of my mouth—my dick did all the talking there.

I all but stomp into the classroom, slamming my satchel down on the desk—with far more force than is necessary—causing the pens to rattle and the papers to lift. The loud mutterings between students comes to an abrupt halt at my act of aggression .

“Books out, page twenty,” I bark. “Someone tell me what Hemingway was trying to say here.” I perch on the edge of my desk, arms folded, waiting for an answer.

Some asshole pipes up, “That he needs to get laid.”

Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. One, two, three… Nope, can’t do it.

“Get the fuck out of my class,” I bellow.

The kid looks at me, eyes wide, before scrambling to collect his stuff, and runs out the door.

“Anyone else got any smartass remarks?” I question as I glance around the room.

“I don’t relish the fact I have to ask this yet again , but what was Hemingway trying to say on page twenty ? ”

I shouldn’t, but I peer at Lauren, her face a mask of shock—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. The rest of the class have varying degrees of intrigue and shock. I’m usually all jokes and banter but right now? Right now, I’m about to explode.

Clenching my jaw, I bite out, “Miss Taylor, care to explain what Hemingway was saying here?”

She tilts her head to the side, giving me a challenging stare. “He’s telling us to write more concisely. Long sentences avoid readers from enjoying the script. So, in a sense, Hemingway wanted to teach people how to write effectively.”

Game on.

“Miss Taylor, my office after class,” I snap, and her challenging stare morphs into anger in an instant. Good. I need her to hate me. “The rest of you, use this time to prep for a pop quiz next lesson.” The groans echo around the auditorium but I’m past caring.

Class drags by in a murmur of hushed tones as I try and fail to concentrate on the work before me. By the time the bell rings, my mood still hasn’t lifted and I storm into my office, throwing my bag on the sideboard as I pace around .

I’m restless and irritable and I know why. It’s her . She’s clawed her way in without either one of us realizing it and seeing her with Brad was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’ve never been a violent person until her. Now I’m mentally killing every fucker that goes anywhere near her.

I continue pacing, taking—what I hope is—deep, calming breaths to get myself under control. I gaze around my office to distract myself. I’ve always liked it. It’s compact with only a desk, a chair, and a sideboard, but it’s mine.

There’s a knock on the door and I pause, raking a hand through my hair as I call out, “Come in.”

The door slowly opens, and Lauren’s face emerges. “You wanted to see me?” She poses it as a question but the attitude behind it is close to her getting her ass spanked.

I gesture to the chair opposite my desk. “Have a seat, Miss Taylor.”

She sits down, looking around my office as I take a seat in my own chair, giving me the opportunity to take her in.

She’s got her hair up in a messy bun, no makeup, a black vest top—which gives me a fantastic view of her tits—and black leggings which hug her ass and thighs.

As Lauren turns to look at me, she bites her lip.

Sweet baby Jesus.

Blood rushes to my cock as I imagine her lips wrapped around me.

“Care to explain what the fuck that email was about?” I glare at her, the anger that I thought I’d got rid of, coming back in full force just thinking about the damn thing.

“Care to explain why the fuck you lied?” she retorts.

“I didn’t lie. I just… stretched the truth slightly.”

“That’s what you’re calling it? You are un-fucking-believable, Caleb,” she hisses. “You had no right to do that. But I guess the jokes on you now because I no longer need you.” She raises her eyebrow at me and jealousy floods through my body.

“Watch your tone. I’m still your professor,” I snap.

Lauren scoffs. “I think we’re well past that now, Professor , but whatever.”

This fucking girl.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, for what feels like the hundredth time and try to breathe through my anger. “You are to continue having your scheduled lessons with me as planned. Are we clear?”

“No, we’re not fucking clear. Why? Brad can help me. I don’t need you,” she sasses.

There’s that fucking word again— need . “Regardless of what you think you need or don’t need, Miss Taylor, this is what I’m telling you.”

“Well, you can tell me all you want, Caleb, but the fact of the matter is, Brad will be helping me… not you.” She smirks, like she’s enjoying being a brat.

My control is slowly slipping, threatening to send me into territory we can’t come back from. But then again, I think we’re way past that now.

“Accept what I’m telling you, Miss Taylor, or get the fuck out.”

Lauren’s green eyes blaze with defiance, her posture matching it when she crosses her arms over her chest and places her right knee over her left, raising an eyebrow at me. “Come again, Professor? It sounds an awful lot like you’re trying to tell me what to do.”

Mirroring her posture, I reply, “You forget who’s in charge here.”

“Is that so?” she purrs.

“On your knees, Miss Taylor,” I grind out.

I shouldn’t be doing this, it’s wrong, unethical, and anyone could walk by, but my stupid fucking mouth ran away from me again .

Am I being unprofessional right now? Yes.

Can I get fired for this? Also yes. Do I care?

Not in the fucking slightest. This girl has pushed me far past my limits.

Lauren’s breath hitches, her eyes going slightly wide at my demand, a flush spreading across her cheeks and I know I’ve got her. I can see the desire in her eyes, the way she’s unconsciously leaning toward me and biting that damn lip.

“Caleb?” she questions, tilting her head to the side and taking me in. I don’t know what the fuck she’s asking me for but I’m taking what’s mine.

“Baby girl, I’m not going to ask you again. Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Just when I think she’s going to call me out, she stands up and drops to her knees and fuck if my cock doesn’t go from semi hard to rock hard in 0.2 seconds flat. The sight of her nearly sending me feral.

“Crawl to me,” I command.

Doing as I say, Lauren crawls to me, staring up at me with her soulful green eyes, and for a moment I get lost. Her hips swaying from side to side like she’s on stage, her movements exaggerated, knowing the effect she’s having on me.

I rub a hand over my cock to ease the discomfort and I can feel the pre-cum leaking in my boxers.

She comes to a stop between my legs and with a slight glint to her eye, Lauren asks, “What now?”

“Take my cock out like the good girl I know you are.”

Lauren’s breathing becomes faster, her thighs clenching.

Oh, she definitely liked that.

She runs her hands up my thighs, her gentle touch causing shivers, before getting to my belt buckle. She quickly undoes it and reaches in to take my cock out, it springs free from its confines as her hand fully wraps around me and I groan at the sensation.

Leaning forward, her grip on me loosens slightly. I tuck a finger under her chin, bringing her eyes to meet mine. “Suck my cock.”