Grant breathed a sigh of content when he walked through his front door. It’d been a long fucking day. The beginning of the semester was always hard, especially in the fall. Most of the kids were more focused on their social lives than they were with class, and it was like pulling teeth to keep their attention.

Kristen Monroe.

Jesus.

He’d dealt with female students like her in the past. The whole professor and student fantasy was a popular one, and plenty of students had been smitten with him before.

But there was something about Kristen.

Fuck.

How he’d kept from staring at her in that short little skirt he wasn’t sure. From the first moment she’d walked into his class, he’d definitely noticed her. She’d kept her eyes down the entire period the first day. When they finally made eye contact, he was practically dead in the water.

She was the most gorgeous student he’d ever seen by far. Her long, delicate legs and high, firm tits. He bit back a groan just thinking about her. A pang of guilt hammered his stomach. He was damn near old enough to be her father. When she’d bent over in front of his desk, his cock was so fucking hard it took everything he had not to snap the pen in his hand. He knew female students often found him attractive, and even some of the males.

He shook his head at himself in the mirror.

Get your shit together.

He couldn’t afford to act on her obvious advances. Maybe she was just trying to get him back for giving her shit about being late the first day. She might lure him into a compromising position and threaten to get him fired. Use it as leverage. He’d dealt with plenty of devious students before who didn’t like his rigid classroom structure or thought they could seduce their way into a passing grade.

There was no way he would fuck a student—especially one half his age. He had to push that idea far away. He was a man of authority, of power. There were serious ethical implications.

But still, the thought of her in the mini skirt walking through his classroom played through his mind on a loop. Grant shook his head, doing everything in his power to erase the memory. Trying to forget made it even worse. He swore he caught a glimpse of her white, cotton panties.

His jaw tensed. She knew exactly what she was doing.

What the hell was she doing?

What the hell was he doing?

He shouldn’t have given the situation another thought, but there he was, making dinner and having some kind of cliché porn, role-playing fantasy. His mind went to places it shouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, and to make matters worse, he didn’t want it to stop. He imagined what he would to do her—what kind of noises she’d make when he bent her over his desk and fucked her from behind.

It was endless, how much he could teach her beyond the classroom.

Each thought quickly filled him with shame. He was the professor, and she was the student. The last thing he should’ve been thinking about was spanking her tight little ass while she squirmed on his knee.

No.

He could lose his job, his teaching credentials. It was a serious moral dilemma.

But fuck, the way her ass swayed in the skirt, and the way she blushed every time he glanced at her. He definitely loved a woman in a skirt, and even more so the way Kristen filled out hers.

Was she even a woman yet?

She probably wasn’t older than twenty.

But then again, it wasn’t like this was high school. She was easily past the age of consent, and he’d witnessed plenty of relationships between students and professors in the past.

Usually, nothing came of it, though they tried to keep it private. Maybe something could happen between them and never be spoken of again? Something brief and enjoyable?

But would it be enjoyable?

She was so young and innocent and he—wasn’t.

If given the opportunity, he would do things to her she’d never experienced. He wouldn’t be able to control himself, once put in that position.

“Fuck.”

He looked down and noticed the chicken he’d been pan-frying was black on one side, and smoke rolled through the kitchen. He ran with the pan in his hand and dumped it in the sink.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t even think about it any longer.

Other teachers might fuck their students, but that wasn’t him. It wasn’t how he ran his classroom.

It didn’t matter how attractive she was or how she looked at him. He was the professor, and that’s exactly how it would stay.

* * *

Grant reached over and smacked the loud alarm clock. He lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling, then turned his gaze down to his rock-hard dick. He usually stuck to a tight schedule, going through his morning workout routine, taking his time with his coffee before he’d leave for class. Today was different. He hadn’t slept well at all and felt it in every part of his body.

He glanced over at the clock and then back to his dick. His hand slowly glided down his stomach, and his eyes closed. He still smelled the perfume she’d worn to class a few days before, laced with a hint of body wash.

The sight of her bent over his desk played through his mind, and he stroked his cock, gently at first. The same way he would in real life, while he made her stand there, eagerly waiting for him.

He’d demand for her to stay still and tell her to offer him his pussy, however he instructed her to do so. His hand sped up on his dick as he thought about teasing her, tasting her. Fuck, her pussy tasted so sweet on his tongue as he went to his knees behind her and buried his face in her ass. He licked and sucked and bit, all the while noting every sound she made with each stroke of his tongue.

Then, he stood and asked her if she’d been well-behaved. She naturally shook her head, and he smacked her on the ass with a loud thwack that echoed through the classroom.

Her whole body tightened under his fingertips. That power, that control—that was what did it for him. His balls had already begun to tighten, and he thrust into Kristen’s sweet, innocent pussy. It was like heaven in his mind—euphoric—tight, hot, wet, and snug. She jolted forward on the desk with his first thrust, and he took everything from her. Every innocent little look was his. He stood still with his arms behind his back and told her to fuck his cock, and to make it pleasing to him or he’d turn her ass red with his hand.

She bucked back against him, needy and helpless, like she couldn’t get enough of it. He enjoyed how hungry she was. She needed his cock like she needed air to breathe. She begged him to let her come, but he refused. The naughty little bitch had to know who was in control.

He stroked his cock furiously in the bed, gritting his teeth and grunting like a wild animal. He thought of all the different ways he could fuck her, and how he would angle his cock to hit all the perfect spots she probably hadn’t yet discovered herself.

He was a professor. His job was to teach. And he would teach her how to come on his cock correctly, or she would be met with discipline. Finally, on the verge, he couldn’t take it any longer. He gripped her hair and fucked multiple orgasms out of her, then came inside her smooth, slick cunt.

A groan echoed through his bedroom, and his toes curled as he filled Kristen Monroe with every last drop from his balls. Afterward, he shoved her to her knees, and allowed her to clean him with her tongue while she stared up at him with those helpless doe eyes.

He let out a large gasp, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. His chest rose and fell as he panted, and a fine sheen of sweat coated his body. Fucking hell, what was this girl doing to him?

His mind was a haze, and slowly the fog cleared and his wits returned. It wasn’t how he’d planned to start his day, but he didn’t mind. He was focused now.

Grant stared up at the ceiling and muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

A rush of anxiety pounded into his stomach.

He didn’t want to go to class again and see her after what he’d just done. But, there was another part of him that wanted to. What would she wear? What would she smell like? How would her voice sound? Had she just had a similar fantasy about him in the comfort of her own bed?

He pulled himself up and walked to the shower, stopping to look at his reflection along the way. Looking at his face, he knew what he had to do. He had to push her away, keep her at arm’s length. If he got her alone, there was no telling what he would do.

He needed to be cold. Make it known through his actions that it would never happen, and if she wanted to pass his class, she would work hard and conduct herself properly.

He stepped into the shower and welcomed the hot water on his body.

When he got out, he gave himself another once over.

He knew he was attractive and kept himself in excellent shape. But shouldn’t she be infatuated with the drunken frat boys on campus or the athletes? He wasn’t arrogant about how he looked. But he flirted with enough women his own age to know he could turn heads.

Even though he’d just gotten out of bed, his hair still looked good, his beard didn’t need to be trimmed, and his body was tight and toned from all the hard work he put into it.

But, he had to admit it was a pleasant surprise that a girl so young would be interested in him.

What was he doing? Critiquing himself over what some infatuated student thought of him? It was insane. He knew he’d have to tread carefully, or he’d wind up in trouble. He didn’t know anything about this girl, save for what was shared with him through school records. There wasn’t much there, either.

He didn’t know what her home situation was like, where she came from, what she was trying to accomplish other than a degree in journalism. And what was she trying to get out of him?

She was a journalism major. Surely, she was capable of passing an introductory course on her own merits. Maybe it had nothing to do with being physically attracted to him or a passing grade. Maybe she had daddy issues or some sort of childhood trauma that prompted her to dress so slutty yesterday. Maybe it was attention-seeking. Maybe she just had a fetish for older men. Some girls experimented with other girls when they came to college. Maybe Kristen wanted to try her hand with a more experienced sexual partner.

His thoughts made more sense to him as he toweled off, but there were still too many unanswered questions. He couldn’t reconcile some of them in his brain no matter how hard he tried.

Throughout his life, Grant hadn’t had the best luck with women. There was something that wouldn’t allow him to fully commit to the idea of one person for the rest of his life. There was a girl when he was young and foolish who’d almost changed that, but she chose another man at the last minute. It’d wrecked him for a long time and molded him into the man he was today.

He’d tried to act like it didn’t matter, that he wasn’t hurt by the situation, but he’d never considered committing to a woman after that. He’d resigned himself to the fact he would be alone for the rest of his life and decided to focus on his own career and happiness.

He wasn’t old by any means, but compared to his students, he was practically ancient. And he was still old enough to feel like chasing random women was something he needed to give up. Maybe he could settle down with someone, if the right woman came along.

Despite his current thoughts, he was convinced the right one wouldn’t be one of his students.

Even with the thoughts swirling through his mind, Grant couldn’t help but notice he took extra care shaving the sides of his beard, and he wore a little more cologne than normal. He slicked his hair back over to the side of his head with some hair gel and took one final, critical look.

He stuck with the normal attire he wore every day—some things were too sacred to change. His suits were a wall he put up. They represented authority, the clear line between student and teacher. And that’s how it would remain between himself and Kristen Monroe.