Free Indecent by L. J. Anderson Page B

behavior, but I found nothing. My desk was curiously empty as well. Maybe it will come this afternoon.
    Except it didn’t.
    The first few classes of the day were spent scouring my attendance rosters trying to figure out who was missing.
    There were three, two of which I was absolutely certain, based on their intellects or rather lack of, could not have been my stalker. The third wasn’t that strong of a candidate either, and as soon as I compared his handwriting against yesterday’s note, any doubt I had of his innocence washed away. There was no way he’d written them.
    I was back at square one.
    Before taking my lunch break that day, I stopped by my office to retrieve the tests Kaleb had graded the day before. At the university, that was the one place my stalker had never invaded with his observant reports of my deviant behavior. It served as a stalwart sanctuary when I couldn’t hide out in my apartment at home. But the day had come when even that place was no longer safe.
    My body burned, nerves standing on end as my gaze locked on the folded white sheet neatly placed in the center of my desk. There was something different about it that day though. Maybe it was the sudden break in routine, or the fact that I was now seeking the notes out, rather than hiding from them. Something had changed, and I recognized it immediately. Fear—it wasn’t the presence of it, but the lack thereof.
    I no longer felt the urge to cringe as I unfolded the paper in my hands. I didn’t worry whether the next note I opened was going to be the one to tell me I was being blackmailed or exposed to my colleagues and students.
    All that fear was gone and replaced with sheer anticipation. I felt like a child at Christmas as I scrambled toward my desk, grasping for the note. I had to force myself not to tear the thing as I opened it, hoping that in reading it, I might soon be closer to unraveling its mystery.
    The first thing I noticed was that today’s note was far longer than any that preceded it.
    I scanned the creased sheet, eyes raking over the scrawled text. It wasn’t long before I realized I needed to sit down to avoid collapsing from the weight of its revelation.
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    I honestly can’t believe I’m writing this, let alone giving it to you, but after yesterday, I just can’t hold back any longer—not after the way you looked at me, making me feel like I’d been stripped to the bone. It was as if you could see inside me, exposing my bare desire.
    Could you feel how much I wanted you?
    As often as I watch you, I’d never seen you look at another guy the way you looked at me.
    It was hours ago, and I can still feel the heat from your stare. That look gave me the strength to stop this game and tell you how much I want you, that I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you, and that I’ve never felt this way before, overwhelmed by burning desire and all-consuming lust.
    I’ve imagined you taking me so many times. More times than I can count or would be willing to admit. But I needed you to know that it’s you I dream of when I lay in bed alone at night, wishing I was wrapped in a pair of strong arms, surrounded by body heat, smooth skin, and a hard cock pressing against the crack of my ass.
    It’s so hard to fight the urge to stroke my myself, when all I can think about is you bending me over your massive oak desk, those warm hands gripping my hips as you pound into my ass over and over until I no longer have the strength to stand.
    You know the kind of games I play, but I wonder about you, whether or not you’d spank me. We both know I deserve some punishment for sending you all those naughty notes, and as frustrated as you looked watching those boys by the soda machine, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had the urge to whip my ass till it turned hot pink and sensitive.
    I bet you’d love to teach me a lesson and show me what a bad boy I’ve been, spanking me hard before you pushed me to my knees? I’d let you because I