Page 7 of The Professor
I gritted my teeth as I was flooded with the urge to rip off her clothes and fuck her hard right there on my green leather desk.
“And how long has this been the case?” I managed.
“Why do you want to know?” Her eyes were brimming with lust and her breaths were shallow.
I knew she wouldn’t object to anything I decided to do. She was hot and ready for it. I locked my knees, stiffened my spine. I had to stay in control even though every fiber of my body was telling me to throw caution to the wind and fuck a student. Pound into her sweet body in a frenzied release of passion that would blow both of our minds.
“I suppose for about two years now.” She shrugged.
“Two years?” I nodded slowly; my erection was becoming painful. “That’s a long time.” I shifted from one foot to the other; it didn’t help.
She smiled as though she knew about my discomfort. Hell, of course she did, she’d dragged her attention down my body, settling it on the wedge of flesh straining within the confines of my pants. There’d been no hiding.
“The thing is, Professor,” she said and touched my wrist, the one that was lifted between us
I was still pinching her delicate chin.
“Have you ever thought of me when you’ve jerked off?”
“That’s hardly an appropriate question for a student to ask her professor.”
“This entire conversation is rapidly become inappropriate, don’t you think?”
She turned her face, and I dropped my hand back to my side. Her profile was beautiful. Almost pixie-like with her delicate freckled nose and angular jawline. Her bottom lip was fuller than the top, and her eyes the palest blue that somehow made her even more delicate.
That’s right, she was delicate. This pretty young woman with sassy backchat would never cope with my particular brand of fucking. I’d break her. She’d snap, she’d be scarred for life. What the hell was I thinking? I was too rough and ready and badass for her.
Which of course she didn’t know. In her eyes I was an esteemed professor, suit-wearing, law-abiding, a fine upstanding citizen who paid his taxes. She’d created a version of me in her mind that was so far from the truth it might as well have been on another planet.
“You should go,” I said, reaching for her file of papers.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Go?”
“I’ve reviewed your thesis proposal, what else did you think was going to happen?”
Once again, she dropped her gaze to my groin, folding her arms as she did so and shifting her glorious tits upward. “I didn’t think anything else would happen, but it has.”
“How do you mean?” I shoved the file at her. I needed to cover some of that temptation up.
She stared at it for a moment, her lips pouted, and then took it and held it to her chest.
“Nothing else has happened?” she snapped. “Unless you questioning me about my self-pleasuring habits doesn’t count.”
“I only asked if what I suspected was true.”
She suddenly stepped up close. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes narrowed. “Yes, and you made me answer truthfully. I was completely honest, bare-bone honest with you.”
I didn’t reply. God, she was even hotter when she was frustrated and horny. I could practically feel the waves of anger crashing from her, and each one carried a hefty dose of lust with it.
Just the way each wave of need was crashing through me.
But I had to put a halt to this. It couldn’t happen no matter how much I wanted it. She might be a spoiled little rich girl, but I would wreck her for every other man she’d ever date…the man she’d go on to marry. And that just wasn’t fair on any poor sucker.
“And you, Professor.” She jabbed her finger close to my face.
I thought she was going to stab the end of my nose.
“You gave me absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. Sweet fuck all in return.”
