The Reader

His phone beeped, the sound cutting through the droning lecture that seemed to stretch on forever. He blinked at the message.

"Hello, reader?"

The words were casual, yet they sent a jolt through his system. His fingers tightened around the phone as he read it again.

He quickly typed back, confused and more than a little intrigued.

"Writer? How did you get my number?"

The response came almost instantly, as if she had been waiting.

"Not hard. Your Discord bio."

He arched a brow, glancing around the brightly lit classroom. The windows were open, letting in the mid-afternoon breeze that rustled the pages of forgotten notebooks. Students murmured to each other in hushed tones, while the professor scribbled incomprehensible formulas on the whiteboard, his voice a dull monotone.

What bio? He had no personal information on there.

"Writer, is there something you're not telling me?" he replied, trying to keep his breathing steady.

The pause was brief but felt eternal.

"Yes..."

He stared at his screen, his heart hammering.

"I want you."

The air left his lungs in a rush. His grip on the phone tightened, and his pulse thundered in his ears.

He groaned softly, thankful that no one nearby was paying attention to him. The guy next to him was dozing off, and the girl a row ahead was doodling in her notebook.

"Mmhm, is this a game?" he typed, his fingers trembling slightly.

"Yes and no," came the reply.

"I really want to fuck you though. I've been thinking about it since that chapter."

His breathing grew uneven. The sterile air of the classroom suddenly felt too hot, too stifling. His gaze flickered to the professor, who was still lost in his equations, and then to the back of the room, where she sat.

She was there. She was always there, her face calm, her fingers moving over her phone as if she wasn't turning his world upside down.

"Am I creeping you out?" she asked.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"No, it's not creepy at all, I just… just damn."

"Yes, damn. I want you to moan that in my mouth," she sent, following it with an emoji biting its lip.

An almost silent groan escaped his lips. He shifted in his seat, trying to adjust his position discreetly, but the ache in his pants was becoming unbearable.

"I know this is going to sound weird, but I can't help it," she wrote.

"Go ahead," he replied, his fingers fumbling over the keys.

He dared another glance back. She was leaning against the wall, her head tilted slightly, her face unreadable. Her composure was maddening.

"You look good... mmm, I wonder if you taste good too. I want that. I want to taste you."

The words hit him like a freight train, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Dear God," he typed, forcing himself to stay seated. He didn't dare look at her again. What if she saw him staring and stopped? Worse, what if she ghosted him like she did in the novel?

"Use me to satisfy you," he sent, his hands trembling as he pressed send.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her lean back, her head resting against the wall, her posture still deceptively casual. But her hands… both of them were under the desk.

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding.

"I want your hands going down my body into my skirt right now," she wrote.

The words blurred his vision, his mind supplying an image he had no business conjuring in the middle of class.

"And I want you to rub circles around my clit, like I'm imagining it's you right now."

Her face was calm, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as though the lecture bored her to death. But he knew better. The slight parting of her lips, the subtle shift of her shoulders…

"Right here, I want to look in your eyes as I cum, 'cause Lord, you have fine eyes."

He shuddered, pressing his thighs together under the desk to manage the unbearable ache in his pants.

"It's unfair to come alone this way," she sent, her tone teasing even in text.

She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving just a fraction as though she were relishing this.

"Should I help you cum too?"

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, his mind spinning.

The classroom, once filled with the monotonous buzz of lectures and quiet conversations, now felt like a cage, trapping him in this intoxicating torment.

And yet, he didn't want it to stop.