Fuck!”

Kristen flew out of bed.

What the hell happened?

Her brain was a dense fog for a moment before she realized instead of hitting the snooze button she’d turned the alarm off. She hopped on one foot and pulled her jeans on, then yanked a shirt over her head. She’d planned on getting up early and spending an hour in front of the mirror, fixing her hair and makeup for class. Staying out until one in the morning drinking hadn’t been the wisest decision the night before.

A few of the girls she’d met during orientation convinced her it was a good idea. She didn’t want to be known as the square, studious girl who lived her life in the library. She had to make a good first impression and turning potential friends down on the first day wouldn’t be the best way to start off.

One drink soon turned into ten. They’d promised Kristen they’d only be out for an hour or so, and before long it had morphed into an all-nighter. By the time she’d crawled into bed, she was seeing double and the ceiling danced around her head.

“Fuck me.”

She scolded herself in the mirror, grabbed her hair, and yanked it into a loose bun. Her hands were a blur as she lined her eyes and dabbed on some shadow, hoping it would disguise the hangover. When she bent over to tie her shoes, nausea slammed into her stomach, and her heart beat on her temples. It was going to be a rough first day.

Normally, she’d have chosen to pair her jeans with boots or sandals, but given her predicament, she didn’t have much time to think, let alone select a good outfit. She also wasn’t certain she had everything in her backpack, but it’d have to do. She sprinted out the door of her dorm room and into the hall.

Of course, if she’d been on time, there would’ve been far more students in the halls, but since she was already half an hour late, the building looked like a ghost town.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” She mumbled her words as she dashed down the stairs and ran across the lawn. Each step was like someone pounding her skull with a sledgehammer. Crowds of other students hung in small packs, and some of them stopped and stared as she flashed past them. Others ignored her completely.

Kristen wasn’t in the mood to talk anyway, nor did she really give a shit what they thought about her. She’d made a mistake the night before. She quickly realized she didn’t want to be popular. She came to get her degree, and that was what she was going to do.

I’m never drinking again.

She stopped a guy who looked like a senior. Surely, he’d know where her class was.

“Journalism 101?” She bent over at the waist, panting while she waited for a reply. She knew the general direction of where she was supposed to go, but she didn’t want to waste any extra time. The guy looked her over from head to toe with a smirk. He clearly enjoyed the fact she was lost and wanted help. What was it about men that made them love a helpless female? His eyes roamed her chest before shifting back to her face.

Kristen crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. She let out an obvious sigh, making it a point to look unimpressed.

“First day?” He grinned. Apparently, he liked what he saw.

She tilted her head to the side. “Obviously.”

He laughed. “Go around the corner. First door on the left.” He pointed in the general direction.

She took off.

“Better hurry. Not cool to be late, freshman. Even if you’re hot.”

As she rounded the corner, she couldn’t help but think how annoying college guys would be. She had no intention of hooking up with any of the boys on campus, and that’s what they were—boys. Nothing would jeopardize her future. The last thing she needed was to get involved with some jock who might knock her up and vanish.

She intended to have fun, but she wasn’t about to fuck the first guy she saw in the hall to accomplish the goal. The dude was cute, but she shuddered a little at the fact he stared at her tits before answering her question.

Asshole.

She reached the door to her class and paused for a deep breath.

This is it.

She shoved the door open and walked into the room. Aspirations of being a journalist meant this would be one of her most important classes. That’s why she scheduled it first thing in the morning. Normally, she was a morning person and got most of her work done before lunch.

If things had gone according to plan, she’d have been there an hour early, not hauling ass at the last second.

Get your shit together, Kristen.

She kept her head down and hurried to a seat in the back. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the professor wouldn’t even notice her. She was there now, and if he did catch her, she’d just apologize and tell him it wouldn’t happen again.

There was only one problem.

The door made a god-awful squeak that echoed off the walls, and it closed with a loud clank before suctioning shut. All of this before she’d even found her seat.

Shit.

Everyone in the damn class turned and stared. She didn’t care what her classmates thought. It was none of their damn business. At least she made it to class at all, which she was sure would be a chore for some students.

Fortunately, the professor had his back to her. She breathed a sigh of relief, until he stopped writing on the board. Kristen kept her eyes on the floor as she slinked through the back of the room. She took a seat in the last row and avoided all the stares as if nothing had happened.

The chair was like nails on a chalkboard against the tiled floor when she pulled it out. She winced.

Son of a bitch.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, even the professor, as if time had suddenly stood still and she was the only one moving. It wasn’t until the room was completely silent again that the professor resumed teaching.

His voice boomed when he spoke. “As I was saying, the most important thing you can know as a journalist—” He turned around and glared at Kristen, but her head was angled down toward the desk.

She could see him in her peripheral vision and practically feel the heat of his gaze on the top of her head.

“Is that you have to be on time.” He turned back and scribbled on a dry-erase board while he continued. “If there’s a story, the sooner you get it into the public’s hands, the better. Good journalists don’t just get a story, they get it first.”

Her cheeks burned and heat rushed into her face.

Maybe he’d been talking about being on time before she’d walked through the door, she thought. She could hope anyway.

“What does that have to do with those of us who aren’t going to be journalists?” another student asked.

“Punctuality will serve you well in life, regardless of your field of practice. You will learn plenty of principles in this class that will prepare you for the world. Keep an open mind, and you may be surprised where you end up.”

Kristen kept her eyes trained on the syllabus someone had passed her. She was uncertain how much of the lecture had to do with her or if she was being paranoid.

Even though she’d shown up to the class late, she still felt it dragged on for the rest of the period. Maybe it was the fact she wanted to speak with the professor about being late—set things straight—or maybe she didn’t find Intro to Journalism as interesting as she’d thought it’d be.

Either way, seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into an hour. She just wanted out of the class and back to her dorm room. She silently prayed that interaction would be minimal the first day, and she could start over new tomorrow.

Finally, class came to an end, and the professor dismissed them. Kristen had stared down the entire time and pretended to take notes, afraid to look up again, worried her professor would notice her bloodshot eyes. Now that it’d ended, Kristen decided she’d face her fear. Walk up and apologize for being late and assure him it wouldn’t happen again. It was the adult thing to do, and she was in college now.

After a few stragglers made their way to the door, she headed up to his desk.

“Excuse me, professor.”

Her heart thumped in her chest, and she could still feel it beating in her head. Kristen had always dealt with anxiety to some extent, and now that she stood in front of her professor, she worried he might take off points for being late.

“I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to be late. My alarm didn’t go off. I got here as soon as I could.” Her chest constricted, and she thought she might be having a heart attack.

“I’m not interested in excuses.”

She looked away. She hadn’t meant to make excuses. In fact, in her mind it wasn’t an excuse, just a reason. How did he not understand that? It was the first day. She’d never been there before. She could’ve been lost. Maybe she misjudged the distance to the building. It wasn’t true, but he didn’t know that.

“Well, I just wanted you to know it won’t happen again.” She forced a smile.

He still hadn’t looked at her, and she worried he wasn’t listening.

“This class is absolutely a priority for me. You don’t have to worry about this again.”

God, you already said that. Just go. You sound like an idiot.

“It’s not me who has to worry. And if it’s a priority, where were you this morning?” He finally looked up from his desk.

She started to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Her breath hitched. She noticed his eyes first—icy blues that seared into her. Her mind went blank, and words refused to form in her brain.

He was by far the most attractive man she’d ever seen.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You won’t be penalized this time. Don’t let it happen again.”

* * *

Kristen clutched her books to her chest as she walked back to her room. She noticed other students staring, and a few even greeted her as she passed. Nothing registered, though. She couldn’t get her professor out of her mind.

Professor Grant Wiseman was the hottest man she’d ever met in her life. It made the whole situation worse.

She knew he was smart, and it was probably easy for him to deduce that she was hungover. If her eyes didn’t give it away, she probably still reeked of booze.

She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Maybe then she’d be able to get the professor out of her head. Grant was tall, even when sitting down. He looked in his late thirties. His hair was jet black with dashes of silver mixed in—salt and pepper. He kept the sides trimmed low, and the longer hair on top slicked back. And, Jesus—the glasses. He wore dark-framed spectacles that were the sexiest pair she’d ever seen, coupled with the icy-blue irises that sat behind them.

He clearly worked out, the way he filled his dress shirt, and despite being quite a bit older than her, he was still lean and fit. There had to be some story behind him teaching journalism at California State University, and she wanted to know what it was. During their interaction, she’d forced her mind to think of anything other than his body, and by the time they’d finished their little talk, she could barely recall any of the conversation.

All she’d taken away was she’d gotten off with a warning. She wouldn’t mind getting off with more than that in the presence of the hot professor. She’d rushed from the room shortly after. The last thing she wanted was to make the situation any worse than it already was, and she knew she was on thin ice. Professor Wiseman didn’t seem like the kind of man who allowed his students to be late, ever.

There would definitely be no shortcuts in his class.

“How’d it go?” Stefani, her roommate, turned to Kristen as she walked through the door of their room.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Kristen knew it wasn’t Stef’s job to get her out of bed, but she also knew she was probably up around the same time.

“I didn’t know you had class. You were out late. I figured you had afternoon classes today.” Stefani shrugged. “Sorry.”

Kristen sighed and threw her books on the bed, then sat down in a chair, rubbing her temples. “I was thirty minutes late, and the class is only an hour and a half.”

“Sorry. If I’d known, I would’ve given you a good shake.” Stef typed something out on her laptop as she spoke, then turned to look at Kristen. “How you feeling?”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault I’m an idiot.” Kristen sighed. “I feel like shit. Hungover. And get this. I had the hottest professor of all time.”

Stefani spun around in her chair. “Really? Tell me more.”

Kristen nodded and told Stef everything that happened on the way into class.

“Well, just be on time from now on. Shouldn’t be a big deal. He’ll notice you putting in the effort. Everyone makes mistakes.”

She smiled at Stef doing her best to cheer her up. “Thanks.”

Judging by Stef’s cheery demeanor, there was no doubt her day had gone far better.

Oh well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She grabbed her books and climbed onto her bed to take care of her homework.

Daydreams of Professor Wiseman quickly invaded her thoughts and took over. Different scenarios and how she’d affected his opinion of her played through her mind. She overanalyzed everything, and often dwelled on the tiniest details and actions.

How could a man like that end up at a school like this? Was he really pissed at her for being late? And then there was the most important question, what did he think of her?

“You’re up. Good. I was about to start jumping on your bed.” Stefani finished a bowl of cereal and stared over at Kristen, who was sitting up in her bed.

Kristen had set several alarms the night before, bound and determined to get up on time. After Wiseman’s class, and the entire next day, she’d made it a point to not be late again.

“Thanks, but no way was I going to be late twice in a row.” She shook her head and snickered. Her nerves had kept her up most of the night. She was worried she’d sleep through her alarm again.

“Good luck.” Stef headed out the door.

Kristen threw the blanket off her legs.

Since she was up on time, she could be a bit more selective in choosing an outfit.

She flipped through her closet, trying to decide what to wear. Normally, she’d just grab something comfortable, more concerned about what she was going to do with herself that day than how she looked while she did it. That was before she had someone to impress. Today, Kristen only had one thing on her mind that seemed to guide her wardrobe selection.

Professor Wiseman.

She wanted something that would get the professor’s attention and show off her tightly toned body.

She wasn’t sure why she was dressing up for him, but she couldn’t help herself. She settled on a pink mini skirt. It was cotton and barely covered her ass. It definitely highlighted every curve and left little to the imagination. Her father had hated the skirt, and more than once sent her back to her room when she’d tried to go out in it, but like every teenager, she’d insisted on keeping it. She hid it from him and wore it only when she knew he wouldn’t find out.

She wasn’t sure why she’d brought it to college with her because she had no intention of ever wearing it. But she now found herself grateful that she did. Pairing it with a tight tank top, she figured it was enough to make the professor drool a little.

Instead of pulling her hair up into a bun again, she took the time to put curls in it, then finished her look with some eyeliner and mascara. With each stroke of the brush, she thought more and more about Professor Wiseman and what he would think when she walked into the room.

Once she approved of herself in the mirror, she grabbed her things and headed out of the dorm.

There was plenty of time to get to class, but it was difficult to hold herself down to a casual walk. Her heart thumped with each step toward the building, but this time without the headache and nausea.

She was enjoying the little fantasy in her mind when she entered the classroom and what he would think of her outfit when he noticed. He probably wouldn’t say anything at all, but then again, he wouldn’t have to. Those icy blues would tell her everything she wanted to know.

In the corner of her eye, she could see guys gawking as she passed. She smiled to herself and put a little sway into her hips as she continued toward the building, knowing with each step she took they all fantasized about what they’d like to do to her.

When she finally got to class, she once again hesitated and took a deep breath before walking inside.

Why was she so damn nervous? He was just a man.

Unlike the last time she was in the class, she didn’t avoid eye contact with anyone. Kristen squared her shoulders and strode through the door, smiling at the boys who dared to look her way. Kristen had never lacked confidence, and it only grew when she saw the way the other students reacted.

When she was in high school, she’d deliberately do things to draw attention to herself, and now that she was in college, she didn’t plan to change.

The only person she didn’t make eye contact with was Professor Wiseman. Her palms grew slick as she walked across the room, purposefully taking her seat at the front. When she sat down, she looked up at him with a broad smile.

The second his eyes met hers, he quickly looked away.

A little thrill of triumph ran through her body and landed between her legs.

He cleared his throat and gathered the papers on his desk. It seemed he had a difficult time keeping his attention on his work instead of staring at her. Each time he’d glance over to the class, he’d make it a point to not look at her, and each time he did have to look at her, he stared directly into her eyes.

She smiled once more after class let out. “Made it on time, professor.”

He glanced up and locked eyes with her, not daring to look down at her body.

“Are you looking for a pat on the back for being on time?” His attention moved back to the papers in front of him. His voice was harsh and cold.

“No, sir. Just making conversation.”

What an asshole.

He still hadn’t tried to check her out, either. What the hell?

She rose from her seat and made a show of bending over right in front of him to pick up her books. The cool air tickled the backs of her thighs, and she knew her panties were alarmingly close to being visible. She wondered if she made his cock thick and hard under the desk.

Kristen wanted to glance back and watch his reaction, but it’d be too obvious. She purposely fumbled around with something in one of the books, so that she could linger a bit more. He’d definitely be jerking off to her later.

When she stood, he pretended to ignore her.

“See you Friday.” She walked toward the door.

She desperately wanted to stay and chat, see how uncomfortable she could make him, but she didn’t have any questions about the class, and she wanted to remain a mystery. Everything had gone perfect, and she didn’t want to ruin it. She’d leave and go back to the dorm before her next class, but it was impossible to get him out of her mind.

She was the last one out the door, and she swore she’d heard a groan right before the door closed.

She was obsessed.

It was going to be a long semester.

* * *

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.

* * *

The first week passed, and it soon became two weeks, then three, then the first month of school had come and gone. By now, most of the students had settled into their daily routine, and many of them had found their place in the school—socially and academically. There were those who practically lived in the study halls and library, and there were those who never went to class and partied all day, flunking class after class.

Although Kristen liked to believe she was one of the better students, she’d found herself drawn to the party lifestyle more than she wanted to admit. No matter how hard she tried, she fell further and further behind in class, and her grades reflected it.

It was to the point she was afraid to check online when grades were posted. Each time her overall average dropped more and more. She wasn’t worried about losing scholarships or anything like that. Her parents paid for it, but she didn’t want them to find out how poor she was doing. Not so much because of the money, that wouldn’t matter to them, but she didn’t want to disappoint them. She knew she had to make some changes to her lifestyle.

She’d call home all the time, but always avoided the topic of grades. It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have over the phone, and she knew there’d be some serious words exchanged when it happened.

“You’re up early.” Stefani stretched her arms over her head.

It was the first time all semester Kristen had been up before her. “Thought I’d get in some study time before class. I really need to pass this test, or I’m fucked.” Kristen yawned. She reached forward and grabbed her book, not bothering to dress herself before she opened it to the page she needed.

“Why don’t you ask someone for help?” Stefani was being tutored for two other classes.

“This shit is one of the easiest classes, and I can barely keep up.” Kristen sighed and shook her head, staring at the page in front of her.

“Yeah, you didn’t get off to a great start.”

Kristen could hear a half-joking tone in Stefani’s words, and she sighed. She hated the fact she’d been late on her first day. It felt like a curse.

“I was good at this stuff in high school. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know where to look for a tutor.” Kristen knew what happened, and so did Stefani, but neither would ever address the problem in a conversation. She’d partied and been lazy, and as a consequence, she fell behind. Now, it felt impossible to save her grades.

“Why don’t you go talk to the professor?”

“What?” She didn’t bother to mask the shocked tone in her voice.

Stefani stopped what she was doing and gave Kristen a strange look, and Kristen quickly angled her gaze back down to the book.

She’d told her she thought Professor Wiseman was hot, but she hadn’t told her anything about the feelings she’d had for him—or what she wanted to do to him.

“It would be the logical first choice. Students can talk to professors, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just—”

“Do you know another journalism professor or TA? It’s normal to ask a professor for help.”

Her eyes lingered on her friend for a few seconds, then she turned her attention to her breakfast. She hadn’t considered it, but now that the possibility was in front of her, butterflies swarmed into the pit of her stomach. What would she say to him?

It would be embarrassing. Over the course of the month, she’d done everything she could to flirt with him without it being obvious, and he’d been nothing but rude to her.

Still, she’d noticed, after the first day, he looked perfectly put together every morning after that. The few occasions she’d seen him at other times on campus, he wasn’t dressed nearly as sharp. She could’ve sworn he was doing it because of her.

“I don’t know. The whole class is subjective. I don’t want him to fail me if I ask for help. He’ll know I’ve been behind.” Kristen kept her head down as she spoke. She didn’t want Stef to be able to read her expressions and figure out the real issue she faced. She wasn’t worried about him failing her. She just didn’t want him to think she was stupid. Which wasn’t true at all. She retained every word he’d spoken and the way he’d said it.

Sure, she might have daydreamed about what she wanted him to do to her too, but that was different. She made an effort to learn everything she could. She wanted to impress him. She’d fallen behind on her assignments because she didn’t want to turn in subpar work. She’d only turned in one in the beginning, and the result had been horrible. She hadn’t given him anything since.

She had zero confidence in the test she was about to take. No matter what she did, it wouldn’t be good enough.

She was convinced she was going to bomb.

“Anyone have questions?” Professor Wiseman glanced around the classroom with raised eyebrows as he spoke. He had a way of simultaneously staring at everyone and no one. Every time he did it, Kristen pretended they were the only two people in the room. That his gaze was intently fixed on her, but her eyes always dropped if he lingered in her direction.

“Nobody? Okay then, class is dismissed. Don’t forget about the test coming up Friday.” Professor Wiseman spoke loud enough that his voice carried over the din created as students gathered their things and prepared to leave the class. Kristen’s heart kicked into overdrive, pounding in her chest, and a lump formed in her throat. She wiped her sweaty palms down her skirt.

She’d decided to ask for help, but she couldn’t think of the right thing to say. How would she open the conversation? What would he say back to her? So many thoughts whirled through her brain that it went blank.

As she walked up to his desk, the smell of his cologne landed in her nose, and she just wanted to breathe him in. A sudden wave of adrenaline coursed through her limbs when he looked up at her with his cold, blue eyes sitting behind his glasses.

“Something I can help you with?” He looked up at her. His words were harsh and uninviting, and his tone suggested no bullshit.

Why was he so mean to her?

The knot in her throat swelled. “Y-yes.”

Her hand trembled when she held out the one assignment she’d turned in. She quickly sat it on the desk in front of him, trying to hide her shaky fingers. Despite being nervous, she walked around his desk so she could stand next to him. He was like a magnet, the force yanking her closer, despite the fact her brain screamed for her to keep a safe distance.

A vein popped out on his neck, and she could practically feel his heartbeat on it as she neared. His entire body tensed for a quick second, and his hands balled into fists before returning to a relaxed state.

I’m making him nervous too.

Calm washed over her, and her anxiety melted away, knowing she affected him the same way he did her.

Kristen leaned over his desk and pointed at a few sentences she remembered working hard on but was still ashamed to admit were her own.

“I don’t understand the grading on these.”

He glanced over at her and gulped. His eyes darted back to the paper. “What do you not understand?”

He was back to using his asshole tone. What was his deal? If he liked her, why was he being a dick? Two could play at this game.

“Everything. I worked hard on those. Is it my form?” She arched her back and stretched like a cat, as if she were sore and needed a massage. Kristen grinned on the inside, knowing the words would stir him even more.

He tried to control himself, but she noticed every little detail about him. His breathing sped up, and she wondered if his heart beat in his chest as hard as hers.

She pointed at a semi-colon on the page and breathed him in once more. Her pussy was already wet just because of the close proximity. She could easily grab him by his hair and pull his head down to where she needed it. Her clit swelled and throbbed just at the sound of him breathing. Goosebumps pebbled along the backs of her arms thinking about his rough fingers digging into her hips.

Her eyes followed from the paper up to his face where he studied what she’d written.

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, then handed her the paper.

“It’s not terrible. Just not great.”

She stood there, staring nervously.

He sighed. “What would you like me to do? You’ve only turned in one assignment. Maybe you’re not putting forth enough effort.”

She should’ve felt embarrassed at what he’d said, but all she could think was that he’d paid enough attention to realize she’d only turned in one paper. The class was huge. There was no way he could keep track of everyone personally, but he had for her.

Her hands were clammy once more. Why was it so hard to just fucking breathe around him? And he’d asked her a simple question that heated her up even more.

“What would you like me to do?”

Everything. Do anything you want to me.

She wasn’t sure how to actually answer. Her brain was nothing but a giant mass of exposed wires.

“Umm, is there—I mean, maybe you know a tutor?”

He let out another exasperated sigh. “Well, did you go to student services?”

“No.”

“You’re aware there’s a department for helping out with problems like these, right?” He glanced up at her and seared her with those eyes. “So that you don’t bother your professor with it.”

Of course, she knew that. But she didn’t want to go to student services. She wanted to be in the room with him. She wanted any opportunity she could get to ask him questions.

“S-sorry. I didn’t know.”

He smirked as if to say, we both know damn well what’s happening here.

She rose and smoothed down the front of her skirt.

She caught his eyes glancing to her legs and then back up to her face as quickly as possible.

God, there was something about this man that made her ramble like an idiot. Part of her worried he’d think of her as some kind of helpless airhead.

They both sat there, staring at one another for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. His eyes raked up and down her body, this time without any attempts to avert his stare.

His gaze moved up to her face, still perfectly framed in his hot-as-all-fuck glasses. He let out a breathy sigh. “I normally don’t do this. But I can help you with a few things.”

Houston, we have lift off.

A wave of delicious tension swam through her body and funneled straight down into her pussy. It was like floating on air. Everything became bright and more radiant. Colors were vivid.

“You would do that?” She blinked. “For me?” Her face had to be pink with excitement.

He smiled. Not a warm, happy smile. It was more like a devilish grin. But it was still the first time he’d ever smiled at her. “Stop by after class tomorrow. We can go over a few things.”

She nodded, unable to even think of classes she had the next day. It didn’t matter. She would clear her schedule for him.

“Thank you. I really appreciate this.” She scurried away as fast as she could.

What had she just done? What had he just done?

It had to be nothing. He was just being nice, showing her some kind of mercy. But the way his eyes seared into her flesh and warmed her all over. The tone of his voice. She hadn’t seen this coming at all, him offering to help her personally.

“I expect you to work, Miss Monroe.”

She whipped back around to face him.

His face was tense, and his eyes narrowed. “Do not waste my time.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

She turned on her heel and pushed through the door.

Holy fuck, he was so intense. And she was going to be given time with him, alone.

She had him entirely to herself.

The thought ran through her mind once more.

Alone. Tomorrow.

* * *

Grant flipped through the book on the table in front of him. Ever since that morning, he’d been unable to get Kristen out of his mind. He’d noticed her lack of effort in his class, even though her writing had shown promise. He graded everyone with a high level of scrutiny. How else would it prepare his students for the real world? He hadn’t thought she was struggling with concepts though, figured it was just chalked up to the usual laziness.

Was that it, though? If she were just being lazy, why would she come and ask for help?

There were many times after class where he thought about offering help, but he couldn’t trust himself. And he didn’t want any other students to overhear. It’d be a nightmare. People lined up outside during office hours, needing the same help they could get from a tutor.

He also didn’t want it to come off as hitting on her. He’d been trying to keep her at a distance the entire semester. But when she walked up in that fucking skirt and stretched her goddamn back like a cat on a scratching post, he knew he was done for.

He’d had to calmly sit there while she openly flirted, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. His fingers itched to yank her over his knee and spank her ass for not turning in her assignments on time.

He knew it was all ridiculous, but with the way she consumed his thoughts every damn day of the week—it was impossible to know how to behave toward her without being inappropriate or hinting that he was attracted to her.

He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head.

What the hell did you do?

His brain had struggled for the past month and went back and forth on what to do about Miss Monroe.

Fuck, even her name was sexy.

Wearing skimpy outfits and sitting with her legs spread open on the front row—she’d practically turned him into a salivating teenager.

He’d debated it over and over in his mind. Obviously, his cock argued it was perfectly fine. They were two consenting adults. Then the mature part of him would take over and remind him it was like walking along the edge of a cliff with hundred-mile-an-hour headwinds.

One day he would be determined he wouldn’t give her another thought and focus solely on the class in its entirety. He was her superior and those moral walls had to be sturdy and firm. But then, the next day, she would flounce into the room in a mini skirt and a tight, button-down blouse, with her perky tits half hanging out, and it was like his brain overwrote all the moral bullshit from the day before.

As the days had passed, Grant worked tirelessly to keep his ridiculous fantasies to a minimum, and with each day that’d passed, it’d grown easier. Easier to control his actions, anyway. There was little he could do when she sat in the front row, and even when he fought to keep his mind under his control, it didn’t always happen the way he wanted it to.

But he’d remained strong through all of that, kept it all bottled inside him. So, what could it hurt to help her out personally? He was a grown man with self-control. There was nothing wrong with aiding a student in a one-on-one environment. If that’s what the student needed, he had an obligation to see that they learned and retained the material from his class.

It was on a whim that he’d agreed to tutor her privately. The words came out of his mouth before he’d thought them through. But it would be fine. They would both be at the school, in a classroom anyone could walk into at any moment. He was safe there.

He would keep his distance in case anyone walked in on a study session. It wasn’t uncommon to have people in classes accuse him of playing favorites. He would be certain to keep the discussion on the subject at hand. In this case, it would be all about her journalism assignments and nothing about their personal lives.

A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts, and he rose to see who it was. He never had company and expected it to be a solicitor looking to sell him something he didn’t want.

He opened the door with an angry sigh that slowly morphed into a smile. “What are you doing here? Thought you were in Canada.”

His good friend Hank Burton returned his grin.

“Come in.”

He stepped out of the way and opened the door wider. He and Hank went way back and often spoke on the phone or texted. But Hank was known to take long fishing trips—a.k.a. vacations—around the world, and the last Grant knew, he wasn’t anywhere near California.

“Cut it short. Nothing but issues. They already have snow up there. Wanna beer?” He held up a six pack in his hand.

Grant swept his arm out, ushering in his guest as Hank walked past. He definitely could use a drink.

“Not surprised. Late enough in the year there.” They walked to the kitchen, and Hank let out a whistle.

“You ever take a break?” He stared at the pile of papers spread out on the table.

Grant snickered as he cracked open one of the beers.

“Yeah, but this is important. Have a student that’s not keeping up with her work. Thought I’d give her a hand.”

Hank smirked. “She hot?”

“Yeah.” He’d answered quickly without thinking. “I mean, no, not really. I never really thought about it. I’m old enough to be her dad.”

He grinned back as though Hank had been teasing him, but for some reason his words had come out incredibly defensive. He didn’t mean for his reply to be so sharp.

Hank stared back with a devilish smile, like he wanted more information about the mysterious hot student. The fact Hank even asked what she looked like had Grant grinding his teeth.

“Fuck, man. Was just kidding.”

Grant’s entire body was stiff. He needed to change the subject. Nothing screamed guilt like acting defensive, and if they stayed on the subject, it was only going to piss him off further.

“Sorry. Just a little stressed. And I have to be really careful about shit like that. Rumors start flying, and it never looks good for the professor. But yeah, she’s hot, and she damn well knows it.” He sipped his beer and stared off at the wall.

He wasn’t concerned with rumors, because there wouldn’t be any if he could keep his cock in his pants. He was far more worried about being unable to control himself around her than what other teachers and students would think. She was an adult, and she could do whatever she wanted.

And so was he.

“Yeah.” Hank’s forehead wrinkled, like he was confused. “Thought you only had to worry about shit like that when kids were in high school.”

Change the fucking subject.

For some reason, he couldn’t. He wanted to talk about Kristen every minute of every damn day. “Yeah, as far as the legal end is concerned, but it’s an ethical gray area. I’m twice her age and in a position of authority over her.”

Change the fucking subject, idiot.

Hank smiled and shrugged. “Hey, some chicks dig older guys.” He chuckled. “Hell, when I was in Africa, some of the women banged dudes their grandfather’s age. They were all about it.”

“I doubt they were students of theirs.”

“What are you working on with her?”

“It’s an intro to journalism course.”

“Shouldn’t they all be journalism majors in a class like that? If they struggle with the intro course, it might be a good idea to think about a new career path.”

Grant rubbed his temples. It irritated him that the conversation still lingered, but he didn’t want to make it obvious he was trying to change the topic. “Yeah. Some of them struggle with sentence structure and things like that. Did you read the last email you sent me? You should know how easy it is to butcher the English language.”

Hank shrugged and laughed. “I’m not a fucking journalist, dickhead.”

“Fair enough.”

Hank walked around the living room and checked out the place. “So, you’re helping the girl out with her sentence structure. Very noble of you.”

Grant didn’t ignore the sarcasm in his voice but went along with it anyway. “She’ll need it. If she’s going to be a journalist. It’s all writing, so grammar will be important if she wants to succeed.”

The two men sat down.

“If she’s hot, she’ll be fine. All the ones on TV are always smokin’. Look at Kathryn Hobbs.”

They both laughed. Kathryn Hobbs was a local news anchor with no talent at all, but she had huge tits and a ditzy smile—and quite the following.

“I don’t know if she’s going for TV or print. Haven’t discussed it.” Grant finished his beer and opened another.

Hank tossed him a side-eye. “Do you ask students about stuff like that?”

In the past, Grant had always made a point of keeping separation between himself and his students. His philosophy was they were there to learn, and he was there to teach. There was no reason to have any kind of personal relationship with them. There were too many to keep up with, and his job was to weed out the ones who wouldn’t hack it at a higher level. It was doing them a favor, before they wasted years only to find out they didn’t have what it took. His job was to teach them how to write correctly and introduce them to the field of journalism.

“I’ve been trying to be better. The dean encourages it.”

He could feel Hank’s gaze on him but chose to ignore it. Hank could smell bullshit a mile away, and he’d just fabricated another excuse for his actions.

He could sense by the way Hank was looking at him that he was being defensive again. His entire life seemed like conversations with ninety percent of the context hidden under the surface.

“Well, hell. You’re a grown man. You know what you should and shouldn’t do.”

They left it at that.

* * *

“Wow.”

Kristen didn’t respond to Stefani.

Stefani stared as Kristen walked out of the bathroom. “You have a date? Don’t usually see you so dressed up for a Wednesday.”

Kristen glanced down at her outfit. It was a chilly day outside. She’d chosen her best pair of leggings under her skirt, and the one tight sweater that showed off every curve of her body.

It left little to the imagination of what she was working with underneath. She wasn’t showing much skin, though, and she knew she looked hot in it. This was her confidence outfit. She waved Stefani off, like it was something she’d just thrown on in the spur of the moment. “No. I’ve worn this outfit before.” It wasn’t a lie, she just hadn’t worn it to class. She’d put a lot of thought into her clothes, though. She’d spent a lot of time picking it out. Something she’d done every night before his class the past month.

“It’s comfortable.” Another lie. “I’m going to spend most of the day studying. You were right about talking to Professor Wiseman about a tutor. He offered to help me himself.” Kristen kept her tone natural and neutral so she wouldn’t be hit with more questions. It wasn’t that she minded answering, but she didn’t want rumors spreading. The last thing she needed was to be labeled as a whore who slept her way to good grades.

Stefani nodded. Her eyes lingered on Kristen for a few quick seconds before she turned back to her books. An awkward silence permeated through the room for a few moments before Stefani got her things together for class.

Kristen didn’t know what was going on inside her head, but she thought she might be judging her.

It was true. She did look really nice in the outfit, and it did cling to her like a second skin.

But it didn’t mean she’d gotten dressed up for her professor. Maybe it was for another boy in the class. Or maybe it was just because it was comfortable to Kristen.

If Stefani accused her of something, she could easily deny it. It wasn’t any of Stefani’s business anyway.

When Stefani left, relief flooded her body. It wasn’t easy hiding her feelings, even though it should’ve been. She wanted to talk to one of her girlfriends about him, but she worried what they’d think. He was a professor and she was the student. What would they think of her? It wasn’t like they didn’t have the same kinds of crushes. She knew they had to. Everyone thought about it at some point. It was normal to be infatuated with a hot professor. Despite her attempts to tell herself it was all okay, she still felt like she was doing something wrong.

Her phone chimed, and she glanced down. She’d have to hurry to make it to class on time. Professor Wiseman would have to wait for her outfit.

She had to get through the rest of her schedule first—but once she did, she would be there. With him.

And she would get as much of his time as possible.

“Am I interrupting?” Kristen leaned against the doorframe.

Her heart came alive when she saw him sitting there at his desk alone, going over papers. Fuck, he was hot.

She held her books close to her chest and found herself attempting to look as seductive as possible.

He always wore some variation of the same thing to school. Blue or black suit, perfectly pressed, and he alternated the button-downs and ties.

He had a new shirt on today. She would’ve known. His wardrobe was practically catalogued in her brain. She’d seen him cycle through a few shirts over the last month, but this cornflower blue was different.

He bought it for me.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought.

He looked up and smiled, a real, genuine smile this time. “Perfect timing.” He collected the papers in his hands, lining up the edges, and sat them down.

“Just finished grading a paper. I’ll go back to the others after I get you going.”

You already have me going, professor.

“Did you grade mine yet?” she asked. “Was it an A?”

He stood and just seemed to admire her from his desk. His hands were in his pockets, and his icy-blue gaze seared her from the inside out. “I don’t hand out grades. They’re earned.” He paused. “Can’t earn them with your looks.”

Kristen couldn’t tell if he’d just flirted with her or not. Was he suggesting she was hot enough to earn high grades with her outfit? He was such a mystery, and it stirred her.

He walked over. “This way.” His hand landed on her lower back as he guided her toward the table.

She thought she might die. His hand was electric, placed just above her ass. If she shifted the right way, or lifted on her toes, he’d be able to grip her from behind.

“It’ll be easier if I show you at the front of the class.”

Show me, please.

A twinge of excitement shot through her at the fact he hadn’t moved his hand. It stayed affixed to her the entire walk. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she had to hide the smile forming on her lips. She carefully avoided eye contact with him as they walked to one of the tables at the front of the room.

“I took the time to put some notes up for you. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Kristen smiled, hoping her cheeks weren’t bright pink. She smelled his cologne again when he’d walked up. It was woodsy and smelled like, just—male. Her heart pounded, and she hoped her perfume did the same to him.

She took a seat near the front of the class with her book open in front of her, but she found it difficult to concentrate.

“Let me know if you get stuck, and I’ll come over and see what we can do.” Professor Wiseman sat at his desk in the front of the room and continued grading papers.

She couldn’t help but glance up at him every few minutes. She tried to concentrate on the large multimedia screen where he’d put up handwritten notes, but even his scrawled-out sentences and explanations didn’t make sense.

Or maybe her subconscious didn’t want them to make sense.

She managed to keep herself occupied for a bit, but finally, she couldn’t take it any longer.

“Can you give me a hand with this?”

He glanced up at her, and his eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you just come look?”

He hesitated.

Adrenaline shot through her chest and down into her legs when he rose from his seat. As he walked over, all her senses heightened, and she could practically feel each one of his footsteps hit the ground.

She thought she might faint when he leaned over her to get a look. She closed her eyes and inhaled a huge breath.

“I don’t understand your notes on my punctuation.” She pointed to various places on the paper.

He leaned in for a closer look, and she realized he didn’t have his glasses on.

“Could you explain it?” She looked up at him and saw his eyes dart away from her chest.

He’d been staring right down her shirt. Her sweater wasn’t super revealing, but from his angle, he would’ve been able to make out some of her cleavage, and possibly her bra.

His eyes shifted back to the paper.

It was incredibly difficult for her to read him. He always sent out signals, then he would pull back every time she started to act. He wasn’t exactly teasing or leading her on, but in another way, he was.

What was with the new shirt? Him dressing up nicely for class? And the comment about not being able to buy a grade with looks?

She saw that he was clearly doing things to make himself appear more attractive to her, and every time they were in close proximity to one another, the tension was off the charts.

She wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her so she could show him just how amazing she could be. Of course, the inside of his mouth wasn’t the only place she wanted to put her tongue, and the inside of her mouth wasn’t the only place she wanted his.

Though Kristen was inexperienced, she wasn’t a virgin, and the football player boyfriend she’d dated in high school had opened her mind to trying different things. She was ready to give it a try with someone else now. Someone much older, who knew even more ways to explore her body.

But, each time they were near each other, like now, he seemed to pull back, hesitate.

Was it something she was doing? Or not doing? Was that pushing him away instead of drawing him closer? She knew all men loved tits. There was no way around that, and she knew hers were well-above average.

She sometimes used them to get what she wanted, and it was always incredibly effective. Men’s brains seemed to turn to shit the second they saw even a hint of her cleavage, and most would do just about anything she asked when she showed them off. Of course, she’d learned how to work this to her advantage.

But Professor Wiseman was different. She had no doubt in her mind he was having difficulty keeping his eyes off them. She wondered if he was thinking about what he wanted to do with them. Would he want them in his mouth? Wrapped around his cock? Did he want to put his face between them?

She looked up at him as he answered her question about the assignment, hoping he would stare at them again.

Her heart sank as he finished his explanation and walked back to his desk. He avoided eye contact the entire time.

“Thank you, professor.” She tried to keep her tone somewhat neutral but added a little emphasis on the word professor. She didn’t want to overdo it, but fuck, she wanted him to take her, touch her, own her. Or just acknowledge he was attracted to her, so she’d know for sure. She was hurt that he didn’t seem to take the bait. It confused her.

Perhaps she’d been wrong about the signals from him. Maybe he didn’t care for her and was just being kind. Maybe he’d just bought a new shirt, and he offered to help any student that asked. Maybe class was on shaving day, and that’s why he was so neat and trimmed during class, when she’d seen him with a five o’clock shadow on campus at other times during the week.

Men were strange, no matter how old they were—and maybe Professor Wiseman was no different.

* * *

He hated to admit it, but he was relieved when his time with Kristen was almost up.

“Anything else I can help with?”

“No, thank you.” She almost sounded sad as she gathered her books and once again clutched them to her perfect set of tits She walked over by his desk. “Goodbye, professor.”

Professor.

Fuck, the way she added emphasis on the word. He desperately hoped she would leave, but instead, she lingered. He could tell by the way she hovered she wanted to say more, but she didn’t appear to have the courage to do it.

Hoping to speed her along, Grant steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the table as he looked at her, waiting for her to spit out whatever it was.

“I really appreciate you taking the time to help me. I’ve been struggling a lot.” She gave him a nervous nod as she spoke.

She was clearly finding any reason to stay there a little longer, and her nerves were getting the best of her.

“Wasn’t a problem. I enjoy having you in class and would hate to see you drop.”

Her eyes lit up the second he told her he enjoyed having her in class. Why’d he do that? He shouldn’t be sending out signals he knew she might misinterpret. Except for one little fact—he wanted her to interpret them the exact way she had.

“Are you sure? There are times when I wonder—” She bit her lip.

His cock rose in his slacks. She needed to stop doing that before he did it for her.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way. But—”

More lip biting.

Fuck, he wanted to groan. His cock stiffened to the point it was painful the way he was sitting.

“You’re a very good-looking man, and I’m glad I took this class.”

Jesus.

She was practically begging for him to bend her over the desk and fuck an orgasm out of her.

She rocked back and forth nervously on her heels, as if waiting for a response.

“Thank you for the compliment.” He couldn’t even look up at her. If he did, he might not be able to control himself, and she’d definitely see his cock tenting his pants.

He made the mistake of glancing up and caught her biting her lip once more. What was her deal? Did she get off on teasing men who shouldn’t touch her? Was that her little game?

Tease and tease, with little compliments and gestures, like spreading her legs open while wearing a skirt for him to see. He stared at her plump lip, held captive between her teeth. If she went much further, he’d have to punish her. Grab her by the back of her hair and shove his cock between those lips. Ram it so deep tears would form in her eyes as she swallowed him in the back of her throat and tried not to gag. He’d have to bend her over, make her beg for him to fuck her, and ask permission before she came.

Pull yourself together.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

The little bitch. Goading him on by saying sir that way. It was almost enough to make him leap from the chair and order her to bend over his desk.

He tried to slow his breathing. He couldn’t give off even a hint of how he felt. It was a bad idea, unprofessional, and ethically wrong.

“Like I said, no problem.” Somehow, he managed to remain calm and collected. He stared down at the desk, ignoring her clingy sweater and the tights she wore under her skirt.

She started to walk away and then turned back with a smile. “You really enjoy having me?”

He hadn’t thought she would be so forward as to compliment him on his looks earlier. He wasn’t prepared for that, especially with the way she would usually duck out of the class as soon as he dismissed them. She would always flirt just enough to get his attention, then leave before she had to deal with any consequences for her actions. He’d told himself it was something she was doing because she was so young and innocent. He hadn’t dreamed she might work up the courage to be so straightforward.

He could lie to himself about what he might do when he admired her from a distance—but fuck, her standing right in front of him, practically demanding he repeat he enjoyed her in his class. He couldn’t help but be truthful. He had to be strong and set the tone.

“Of course, Miss Monroe. I enjoy having you as a student.”

Maybe the last sentence would get her out of the room so he could get his wits back about him. He had to be forceful and clear, didn’t want to stumble over his words. He had to appear confident, and he knew if he was going to get his point across, now was the time to do it.

But this was one of the toughest things he’d ever done. His stomach twisted when she looked like he’d just crushed her. Like she’d taken it as a rejection. He didn’t want to hurt her. He cared about her feelings more than he’d realized. Sure, he wanted to fuck her, but it seemed more than just sexual attraction. He wanted her happy and doing what she loved. He couldn’t help but think he was making things worse.

He glanced up at her fingers on her book. They practically trembled against it. “Well, umm—” She took a deep breath. “That’s the thing—”

Jesus, this girl. Was she really going to push him over the edge?

“I just, umm, it seems like maybe you think of me as more than just a student. You’ve been doing things differently since I came to class.” Her voice trembled as she spoke. Her eyes were glassy and looked like they might fill with tears.

She sniffed and smiled, though it was clear she was hiding pain or doing her best to hide it anyway.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had to let a student down easy, but it was definitely the hardest.

She looked so innocent, even standing there in her tight outfit with her perfectly toned body.

But what did she expect? He was her professor. He had to be responsible, and it was the right thing to do. He’d tried to scare her off by being cold and distant. She hadn’t taken the hint.

No matter how bad he wanted to fuck a smile onto her face, he couldn’t.

“Listen, I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I’m doing everything I can to help you. But nothing can happen between us. It’s got nothing to do with you.” He sighed, trying to find the right words to say. The more he talked, the worse he seemed to make it.

“I’m not in high school. W-we c-could make something work.”

Jesus. She still wouldn’t let it go. If there was a God, He was definitely trolling the professor. A beautiful young woman practically begging for him, and he had to say no. One he liked, even. Surely, she could understand his point of view.

He did his best to search for words that wouldn’t hurt her feelings more than he already had. The last thing he wanted to do was see her in pain, and he could tell his words were driving a dagger through her heart.

He looked down at the ground, and then off at the wall. Anything to relieve him of her intensity. “Not going to happen. It’s not ethical. I’m a teacher, and you’re my student.” His eyes moved back to hers. If he could show her how bad it would be for her, maybe he could get through and make her understand. “You have your entire life ahead of you. It would complicate everything for you. It’s against university policy, and I don’t want to see you get in trouble.” He could see by the look in her eyes she didn’t care if she got into trouble. She was willing to risk everything just to be with him.

“If that’s how you feel, why do you dress the way you do? Why do you look at me the way you do? I’m not an idiot. I see what you’re doing. You can’t just flirt with me until you get bored, and then move on.” Her jaw tensed as she spoke.

God, is this woman psychotic?

But if he was honest with himself, the crazier she sounded, the more he wanted her. He secretly loved how much she craved him, even though he couldn’t act on it. The power that came with that was almost too much to keep him restrained. When her jaw tensed, and the anger filled her tone, his cock stiffened more.

Compose yourself.

“It wasn’t my intention to lead you on. I apologize if you took it that way. I try to look nice because I take my job seriously. If I expect my students to take things seriously, I have to set an example.” He knew it was bullshit. He’d dressed up for her. She was spot-on with her assumptions.

Part of him loved the fact he was heating her up even more. Frustrating her. He didn’t like that about himself, but what else could he say?

She was about to respond when the door suddenly opened, and one of the other students walked in. Grant recognized the kid from one of his other classes, but he didn’t know his name.

“Sorry, professor. Am I interrupting?” His eyes roamed from Grant to Kristen.

“What’s up, Jordan?” She turned to face him.

Grant didn’t like the look in her eyes when she did it, as if she had some devious plan.

“We’re busy, if you don’t mind.” Grant’s words came out harsher than intended.

Kristen stared over at the professor and shook her head. “No, that’s okay. We were just wrapping up. It’s no big deal.”

Grant’s stare hardened at her, as if to say what the hell are you doing?

Kristen turned to Jordan. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just left something in the room earlier. Gonna see if it’s still here.” He ran over to a table and reached down and picked up something off the floor. “Sorry, professor. My lucky pen.” He held it up at them.

“Lucky pen?” Grant asked.

“Yeah, I aced all my finals with it last year, so I keep it for test days. Thought it was gone.”

“Okay then.” Grant nodded to the door.

Kristen had taken a few steps toward the exit as well while Grant had been talking to Jordan.

Jordan looked Kristen up and down in her outfit, definitely checking her out. Grant’s hands balled into fists at his sides, and he caught himself glaring at Jordan.

“You can walk me out, if you don’t mind.” She stared back at Grant when she said it and added a little sway in her hips. She stopped next to Jordan and hooked her arm in his.

Jordan’s eyes lit up like a horny teenager. “There’s a few people going bar-hopping downtown tonight. Wanna go? Might get a little crazy.”

Kristen glanced back at Grant, as if challenging him to stop her, and then back to Jordan. “Sounds awesome.”

Heat rushed into Grant’s face, and he didn’t appreciate the way he was affected by this. He was a professor for fuck’s sake, and she was a college student. He should be encouraging her to go and have fun, yet all he could think about was ramming Jordan’s face through the wall for touching her. When he was finished, he’d tell him to stay the fuck away from what was his.

The more his mind wandered, the worse it got. She’d practically accepted a date right in front of him. And if they were going bar hopping, it meant she’d be drinking, most likely heavy drinking. He knew how the college boys were. They’d get women drunk and do anything in their power to take advantage of them.

No. He couldn’t let her make a mistake like that. The thought of her fucking some little frat boy like Jordan sent flames rushing through his body. His chest constricted, and every muscle tightened.

He had to do something, but what? He couldn’t tell her to stop acting like a fucking idiot in front of Jordan. He couldn’t make a scene. “You have a test coming up, Miss Monroe. You’d better get a good score, or college, and the bar hopping, might end early for you.” His face had to be bright red, and he needed a cold shower to cool himself off.

She looked at him with a wry smile. “Thank you so much, professor. Seriously, you were such a huge help to me today. I’ve got it down now. Think I’ll celebrate with a little fun.” She turned to Jordan. “Want to pick me up?”

Jordan practically drooled in front of her but tried to do one of those frat boy head nods to play it cool. He stared down at Kristen’s ass while she was turned toward the professor. “Definitely. Text me your room number. I’ll pick you up when you’re ready. We were thinking about heading out around seven.”

“Here’s my phone. Put your number in it, and I’ll send you a text when I get back to the dorms.”

She grinned at Grant while Jordan typed his number in the phone.

Grant glared at her, trying to let her know how displeased he was with nothing but his eyes.

It was a mistake. He should act like he didn’t care. He knew that was the way to win this little game of hers, but his frustration wouldn’t allow it.

Jordan handed the phone back.

“Goodnight, professor.” Kristen didn’t even bother to look back after she turned and followed Jordan through the door.

Fucking bitch.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe once she was gone things would improve. He’d calm down and go back to grading papers. All he could do was worry about her though. His feelings morphed from angry to concerned.

The worst part was he knew if he really wanted, he could be fucking an orgasm out of her right now, on his bed and pretty much anywhere else he wanted. She would’ve followed him blindly and did whatever he told her to do.

Fuck.

He was almost sure she had a fake ID. Every damn freshman on the campus seemed to have one, and if they didn’t, someone else would buy the shit for them. He’d pissed her off. She’d probably get wasted now to take her mind off him. He knew she drank heavily. The girl was hungover and smelled of alcohol on the first day of school.

What if she got drunk and something happened? She could end up drugged or raped. Would it be his fault? Not legally, but he could’ve prevented it if he hadn’t run her off. He’d be up all night worried about what he’d done.

Right then, he realized he had to stop sending her signals, flirting with her. This was the exact reason he never should’ve done it in the first place.

He’d led her on. Rejected her. And now she was going to go make a stupid decision because of him. It had to stop. All of it. He needed to cut the shit off, stop sending her mixed signals, and be clear and concise the next time he saw her.

He had to let her know nothing would ever happen between them.

* * *

Kristen kept her head down as she walked back to the dorm. Her mind was spinning, and she didn’t know which thought to follow. There was a deep sting in her chest, like someone squeezed her lungs so hard she couldn’t breathe. Anxiety riddled her stomach, and she thought she might burst into tears before she got back to her room.

She’d gotten away from Jordan as soon as she left the classroom, telling him she would text him later. She hadn’t given him her number so she could blame it on miscommunication. What the hell had happened back there?

She’d been rejected, but the thing with Jordan. She didn’t know what had come over her. Maybe it was the fact she wanted to frustrate Grant as much as he frustrated her.

Still, it was childish and inconsiderate. Even though she didn’t think Jordan really gave a fuck. He was just looking to get laid, and if not her, he’d find someone else. It wasn’t like it was difficult to find a fuck buddy for the night at college.

Right now, her heart was shattered. There was no way she could go out later. She’d thought for sure once she’d dropped obvious hints and been straightforward, Grant would jump all over the opportunity. Why else would he subtly flirt with her and change his outfits for her? He said he hadn’t, but he was full of shit.

She didn’t want to go out with anyone but him. And he didn’t want any part of her.

She needed to get her shit together and just focus on school. What was she thinking anyway? It did put him in a compromising position.

She wouldn’t have told anyone though. She’d have been perfectly fine keeping it all a huge secret, taking proper precautions to make sure nobody found out. Why didn’t he trust her? She would have just as much to lose as him. Even if they had a falling out, she wasn’t so shitty as to try and get him fired over it. She liked to play the flirt-and-make-jealous game, but she cared about him way too much to ever hurt him.

The real question was why did he pull back so suddenly? Sure, she heard his excuses, but you wouldn’t lead someone on if you thought that way. Why was he staring at her tits and lingering over her shoulder? Why was he offering to give her one-on-one help when everyone knew there was no way he’d do that for someone else?

She pushed her way into her dorm room, glad to have a few minutes to herself. Maybe have a nice little cry and then pick herself up.

Stefani was seated on her bed with a book in her hands, flipping through like a machine.

God, didn’t she ever go and do anything?

She smiled at Kristen, but it quickly faded when she saw the look on Kristen’s face.

Kristen didn’t like being upset with Stef either. She was a hard worker, and she was always nice to her, even when she thought she was screwing up. She always tried to help Kristen with her problems when she’d clearly rather be studying or doing something else. Kristen didn’t want to be mad at her roommate, but she needed some fucking privacy for five minutes. Was it too much to ask?

“What’s wrong?”

Kristen stood there for a brief moment, staring a thousand yards beyond the room, and her bottom lip began to quiver. She burst into tears. They streamed down both sides of her face.

She couldn’t hold it back any longer. She sat there and spilled the entire story to her roommate.

She sobbed as she spoke, and Stefani rose from her chair and put her arms around her.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed Kristen in a hug, but Kristen wasn’t feeling much comfort in her words.

Kristen wanted to tell her friend that there was so much more to the situation than what she was able to say, but she couldn’t find the right phrasing to do it. How could she make her understand when she didn’t fully understand herself?

“I don’t understand what the problem is with a professor dating a student? We’re both adults.”

Stefani leaned her head on Kristen’s shoulder. “I had a crush on one of my professors, too. Then I found out he’s married, and I had to get over it.”

Kristen stared up at her blankly. “Really?”

Stefani nodded. “Yep.”

“That does make me feel a little better.”

Stefani frowned.

“No, no, not that he was married or whatever. I’m saying, gah—” Kristen damn near started crying again. She never cried and hated herself even more for that. “I mean it’s nice to know I’m not the only person crushing all over a professor.”

Stefani nodded. “Oh, okay. Yeah.” She stared at Kristen and smiled with a shrug. “It’s hard when there are all these good-looking men on campus who have their shit together, and we’re supposed to go out with the ones who don’t.”

For the first time in a while, Kristen laughed. A real, genuine laugh. Stefani had a point. A damn good one too. She felt a sense of relief. She’d thought Stefani stayed in their room like a hermit all day and did nothing but study, and then study some more. It was nice to know even the conservative girl who didn’t seem to even notice guys had suffered from the same affliction.

“You’re absolutely right.” Kristen smiled. It was nice talking to Stefani, and actually having a conversation. She’d assumed she was sitting back, judging the situation the entire time when really she could relate to her.

She made a mental note not to judge people or size them up as quickly as she had. Stef was a good friend and the best roommate she could ask for.

Maybe that was what was so attractive about Professor Wiseman. Kristen hadn’t been able to put her finger on it, but Stef hit the nail on the head. He was already established in life and had his shit together. That, and he had icy-blue eyes behind a hot set of glasses and a fucking body like a Greek god. And he was broody, and protective, and jealous. He was the ultimate alpha professor. The kind you read about in romance novels but didn’t exist in the real world.

“It still hurts, though. Why would he do that to me? He broke my heart like it was nothing.” She shook her head as she looked out the window.

Stefani nodded once more. “I know it hurts, and I think that was a shitty thing for him to do. I think you should move on, though. You don’t have to waste your time on a guy who’s going to be wishy-washy. You can’t trust someone like that.”

Kristen nodded. She knew Stef was right, as hard as it was for her to believe it. She’d have to push through the pain and move on. She couldn’t waste her time with a man who didn’t want her.

He’d basically told her there was no way they could be together, too. It wasn’t like he was unsure or thinking about it.

Nope.

It was steadfast—final. Maybe there was a hot senior out there, or better yet, a grad student who was heading places and looking for something long-term. One that was even hotter than the professor.

“So, what do I do? I’ve never been rejected like this before.” She still had tears in her eyes, and a thick lump formed in her throat.

“Why don’t you go out tonight? I know you said you don’t want to, but trust me, that’s the best way for you to get over him. Jordan’s a decent enough guy. Just go have fun and remember you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But it’ll definitely take your mind off things.” Stefani smirked. “Jordan’s not that bad to look at either.”

Kristen tried to smile. She had to agree. Jordan was good looking and seemed sweet, and she wouldn’t mind fucking him. He was probably decent in the bedroom, too. But he wasn’t Professor Wiseman. Something inside of her just simply wanted what she couldn’t have, like it was a wired reaction and part of being a human.

She should be happy someone like Jordan even asked her out. A lot of girls on campus would die for a date with him. But she wanted what she wanted.

“All right, but I’m not going out very long. I’ve got other things to do. I don’t have time to be moping around about some crush, anyway. I’ll just have some fun with Jordan and his friends for a bit and call it a night.” She rose from the bed, walked over to her closet, and opened the door, scanning her clothes for something that might look good. “Hey Stef?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Seriously.”

Stef nodded. “No problem.” She looked Kristen up and down for a quick second. “Why don’t you wear something of mine? You want to look good, and it might help if you have something different than what you normally wear.”

Kristen grinned. It was the first time Stefani had offered to loan her clothes, and it was nice that she’d taken the time to try and make her feel better. Stefani was very particular about clothes.

She didn’t have much, but what she did have was adorable.

“Really?” Kristen’s eyes widened, and she raised her eyebrows.

Stefani chuckled as she walked over and opened her side of the closet. She flipped through everything and grabbed a leather jacket. “You’ll rock the shit out of this. Turn every head in the club.”

Kristen took the jacket with a smile. “Thanks. I’ll take good care of it.” She slipped it on and looked in the mirror, trying not to criticize herself too much.

Stefani stood behind her and smiled. “You look smokin’. Maybe you’ll find someone even better than Jordan.”

Kristen smiled. “It does look good.”

“Good? You wear that jacket, and you call the shots. It’s made for a boss.” They both cracked up.

“Is it okay to ditch one date for another?”

Stefani gave her a mischievous look. “You can do whatever the hell you want. Especially if the other date is hotter. Is it even a date?”

“I don’t know. It really sounded more like he was asking me to hang out with a group.”

“There you go. Take your pick.”

Kristen sat there, smiling. She was glad she’d decided to open up and tell her roommate about what’d happened. Kristen hadn’t thought it would go anywhere near this well.

She was so used to keeping things to herself that she never opened up to anyone.

She could still feel anxiety in her stomach when she thought about Wiseman, but it was a little less than before. She would need to move on at some point, and better sooner rather than later.

Kristen took her time pairing her jeans with boots and finding the right shirt to wear with the jacket. For a minute, she entertained how nice it would be if Wiseman happened to see her out somewhere while she looked hot as fuck in Stef’s jacket and the rest of her outfit.

She scolded herself for the thought. The last thing she hoped was that he was suffering the way she was. She didn’t want that for him, and she’d probably already worried him. She could tell by the sound of his voice he was disappointed when she’d left with Jordan.

As mad as she was, she wanted him to be happy.

She stared at herself in the mirror one last time. Damn, she did look good. And while she didn’t want Wiseman to see her, she definitely wanted to turn heads at the bar. It would remind her that she was still desirable to some men. Maybe she would go back to Jordan’s place with him. Or maybe Stefani was right and she’d find some other hottie to take her home. And she’d forget all about her professor.

If Wiseman didn’t want her, that was his loss, not hers.

She didn’t have the time to worry about it.

But one thing lingered on her mind. She knew if another man fucked her tonight, she’d most definitely be pretending it was the professor.

* * *

Grant paced back and forth. He was restless, stalking first to his living room, then back out to the kitchen. He ended up in the bedroom and didn’t even remember where all he’d been. His dinner sat untouched on the table, already cold from neglect. She’d disrupted his entire routine, and he was usually a creature of habit. He would go home, have dinner, grade any papers he hadn’t finished at the office, then maybe read or watch something on television, if he didn’t have any other plans.

He had few visitors in his life—no surprises. Apart from Hank stopping by earlier in the week, he couldn’t remember the last time he had anyone over. He liked it that way. If life was predictable, he knew what came next. Knew how to handle it and what to expect.

As he ran his hand down the curtain, Grant’s mind drifted to Mercedes Hutchins, a young woman he’d known when he was in college. Her parents wanted to give her a name that would be different. Little did they know, twenty years later it’d be a fairly common name. But then again, it was California, so it didn’t surprise him that parents named their children after luxury cars.

Grant hadn’t thought about Mercedes in years. She was one of the only women he’d ever fallen for. They were young and in love, so to speak. He’d dated other women and always thought about whether they might be the one for him in the beginning, but nothing ever came of it. Mercedes was different though. He truly thought he might spend the rest of his life with her. He was an idiot back then.

They’d followed the usual path of social encounters—dating, sex, falling in love.

Like all young relationships in high school, they began to talk about schools and after-high-school plans. She was accepted at one college. He would be going to a different school. They would be thousands of miles apart. It seemed a lifetime away for them while they dated, at least it’d felt like it, until the time had finally come.

As the time came, it became very emotional for them. The sex was more than sex. They were both in love, though they’d refused to admit it to one another. They didn’t want to break up and didn’t want to think about it. They put it off until the day before she was supposed to leave.

They had a long conversation the night before Mercedes was going to school.

“This sucks.”

“I know,” said Grant.

“What are we going to do?”

“What can we do? You’re going.” His voice was dry and raspy, but he refused to cry in front of her.

“I don’t want to go. I have to.” Her head angled to the ground. “What about us?” The word hung in the air.

“Us? There is no us, is there?” He looked over at her as he spoke, expecting her to have some sort of answer that would solve all their problems. But she didn’t have a response right then. She just sat there. They’d never even acknowledged they were dating out loud.

What were they?

They were having sex. They went out often. They were on the phone all night long.

Mercedes shook her head. “I don’t know. Friends? Two people having fun to pass the time? What would you call it?” She looked over at Grant with expectation in her eyes, but he lost his nerve.

There were so many things he’d wanted to tell her. Things he wanted to ask her. Things he had blatantly assumed about their relationship that evidently wasn’t the case. She’d just admitted they weren’t anything but friends.

He shrugged and turned away as he looked across the football field, wishing the pain in his chest would go away. His heart constricted thinking about it, and no matter how much air he took in, it felt like he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t the same excitement they’d had in the beginning. His life was over. He couldn’t live without her. He wasn’t the same person.

“Are you going to date at the new school?” He shouldn’t have asked her that, but he couldn’t help it. A jealous rage came over him at even the thought of her being with someone else. He was the only man she’d ever been with, and likewise for him.

They shared something, and he didn’t want to lose it.

“I’m sure you’ll have someone new before me.” She chuckled half-heartedly at her joke, but Grant could see the same pain in her eyes. He had to look away.

Nothing could stop the passing of time, and neither of them were ready. The sun was coming up, and the sky turned gray.

They had sex for the last time. Then she got up, grabbed her things, and left.

She’d called when she landed in Florida, but that was one of the only phone calls he received. They drifted apart fast. Too fast. He figured she’d replaced him the second she got there.

He was wrong.

Six months later, she wrote him a lengthy letter detailing her pregnancy. One she’d found out about right before she went to Florida. She’d wanted to tell him before but couldn’t figure out how.

She’d meant to tell him everything as soon as she got to Florida, but for some reason, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it—kept putting it off. She met someone else shortly after. It was fireworks from the beginning, and she decided to terminate the pregnancy before her new fling found out. Grant read through the letter several times in disbelief, shocked at what he saw.

She’d taken the life of his unborn baby, all without telling him. She’d made decisions that affected the outcome of his life, stating it was all because they weren’t officially in a relationship when she’d left. If he’d just told her he loved her and wanted to be with her, maybe it would’ve all turned out differently.

Because of that, he lost his chance at having a family. He lost his chance at love. He gave up on the hope of ever finding something like that again—it’d crushed him.

Why was she on his mind now? He hadn’t thought about her in years. Why think about Mercedes when his real problem was Kristen going downtown with some college idiot? It didn’t make any sense. Grant knew it, but he couldn’t shake her from his mind.

Why couldn’t he just go to bed? She was nothing but a young student that he’d turned down.

Why was he thinking about women at all? It shouldn’t be that hard to just forget about women as a species, for that matter. Kristen, young as she was, reminded him of Mercedes in so many ways. The way she looked at him. The way she nervously flirted. As much as he wanted to deny it, it seemed Mercedes had found a way to creep back into his life again.

And he was allowing it to happen. Grant poured himself a whiskey and swirled it around in a rocks glass. He stared down at the two ice cubes clinking against the sides. The more he tried to purge Kristen from his mind, the more she consumed him. She planted herself in his thoughts, grew roots, and refused to go anywhere, no matter how hard he tried to yank her out.

She gave him no choice but to open himself up to the torture and allow her to take over. She consumed every thought in his head with her looks, passion, and lust. He poured the whiskey down his throat. It burned perfectly all the way down to his stomach, and he walked back to the kitchen for another. He thought about his behavior the past few months. It was no wonder the girl thought of him the way she did.

And now she’d be out on the town, retaliating against him. He needed to let it go, but he couldn’t. He thought about how the Jordan kid looked at her and no doubt wanted to fuck her. That was the way the guys on the campus were. Notches on the bedpost. He couldn’t allow it to happen. She couldn’t make a potential life-long mistake because of him.

There was a bar downtown known for not checking IDs. He was almost certain that’s where they’d be. He drained the second glass of whiskey, sighed, and threw it in the sink.

What would it hurt to stop by? It’d been forever since he’d gone to a bar, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. If she asked him what he was doing there, he could pretend he went to bars all the time. Maybe he wouldn’t even see her.

He was just getting out of the house and changing things up. Living a little. He’d pretty much do the same thing in his own house, anyway. Sit there and stare at a glass full of whiskey. He wasn’t going to see her at his own house, but if he was out on the town, the possibility existed.

* * *

Lights flashed all around the room in time with the blasting music, and Kristen could barely keep everything straight in her mind. There were people crammed in the place from wall to wall. There was limited space on the dance floor for those brave enough to venture out. Jordan was trying to get laid and made no attempt at hiding that fact. It was a mistake. She shouldn’t have gone.

She wanted revenge on Grant. That’s why she’d agreed to go, but she could imagine him now. He was probably sitting at home, relaxing, doing whatever it was he did. Probably didn’t even give her a second thought. And why would he? He’d told her he enjoyed having her as a student, and that was it.

She also felt betrayed. He’d had a little fun flirting with her and then casted her aside. That didn’t sit right with her at all. He shouldn’t have put out all those signals if he wasn’t interested.

“Want another one?” Jordan shouted in her ear after finally making his way to her through the crowd.

She held up the half-full drink she still had in her hand and shook her head. “I’m good.”

She had to shout to be heard. There was no way to have a decent conversation with the music so loud and such a huge crowd in the small building. Wasn’t there a fire code or something? They had to be in violation. It wasn’t the type of place she enjoyed at all. Not that she wanted to have a conversation with Jordan anyway.

She didn’t even like him that much.

He wasn’t the man she wanted, and she wasn’t the kind of girl to go out and have revenge sex, no matter what she made Grant believe in the classroom.

“I’m going to go sit down.” A wave of nausea slammed into her stomach. She hadn’t had this much to drink since the first day of school. At the pace she was going, she was going to end up with a massive hangover.

Jordan had already found another girl to hit on. Kristen rolled her eyes and walked over to the bar to sit down.

“Can I get a water?” Her words came out slurred.

The guy looked at her for a second. Heat rushed into her face and the nausea was getting worse. She felt her cheeks flush. It’d been a long time since she was the slobbering drunk girl at the bar, trying to flag down a glass of water.

“Good choice.” The voice came from two seats down.

She quickly turned and nearly fell off the barstool, sloshing her drink out of the cup and onto the counter.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Grant leapt from his chair and grabbed her shoulders, righting her before she fell to the ground.

“What are you doing here?” Kristen tried to catch her balance, and she shrugged his hands off her.

Electricity rushed through her body, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. The pain from earlier flooded back into her. Her face heated, and she glared up at his blue eyes behind the glasses.

“You’re drunk. I’m getting you out of here.” He reached for her arm.

She yanked it away. “No.”

His eyes narrowed.

Fuck him. He wasn’t her dad. She was allowed to go out and have a good time all she wanted. She was in college after all. And he’d missed his chance and broken her heart in the process. “You don’t get to follow me around. I practically throw myself at you, and you tell me I’m no more important than any of your other students. The fuck kind of thing is that to say to someone?” She shook her head at him.

“You’re acting like an idiot. Let’s go. Now!” He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the front door.

She stumbled along the way, halfway pissed, halfway loving the way he was manhandling her.

“Where are you taking me? I’m not leaving yet.”

He turned, and his palms landed on the side of her face. Their eyes met, and she just wanted to get lost in them for a little while. He was concerned about her. He’d gone to the bar just to look for her. He did like her.

“You’re not staying here like this. Stop acting like a child. You want to be with an adult, then grow up.”

He pulled her through the front door of the place. The cold air slammed into her face and halfway sobered her up in one instant.

She raised her eyebrow, wondering if she had heard him properly. He said “with” an adult. As in be with him? She stared at him as he guided her forcefully to the car, his hand never leaving her elbow. Had he meant to say, “you want to be an adult?”

Her pussy was already wet by the time they got to the car, but she couldn’t just let him get away with yanking her out of the bar like that. It wasn’t how the game was played. It was leverage she planned to use. Maybe if she pissed him off enough, he’d stop being such a pussy and fuck her the way she needed it.

He opened the passenger door of his car and tossed her into the front seat like she weighed nothing. She heard him swear under his breath as he stalked around the hood. All of it heated her up in ways she’d never felt before. The anticipation was slowly swirling down to her center, and her thighs squeezed together just thinking about him and the animosity between them.

“This is kidnapping.” She whipped her head his direction the second his door opened.

“This is preventing you from being a fucking idiot.” He climbed into the car and shook his head for a second, staring straight ahead. Then he turned to her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Fucking psycho, just pulling me out of there like that.”

She watched a small muscle jump in his cheek where he was clearly grinding his jaw. She wanted to lick it. She wanted to feel all of him on top of her, his cock pounding into her while he released all that pent-up frustration.

Grant took in a deep breath, refusing to look at her. She stared over at him and bit her lip unconsciously at his intensity.

“If you don’t get that lip out of your mouth, I’m going to bite the fucking thing myself.”

Her breath hitched. It was the first time he’d actually said anything out loud about his attraction to her.

She spread her legs apart and leaned back against the leather seat. His eyes darted over to her and then straight ahead. But he wasn’t driving. He wasn’t going anywhere, not yet.

“What else do you want to do to me, professor?” If he thought he could just come yank her out of the bar without giving her what she wanted, he was dead wrong. She would torture him, if necessary, to get him. She knew men. They couldn’t control themselves, no matter how much they thought they could.

He turned to look at her just as one of her hands slid down between her legs. She ran her fingers over the tops of her jeans where her pussy ached for him just below a layer of denim.

“You’re playing a dangerous game right now, Miss Monroe.”

“I can go back in the bar. Show this to someone else. Let them fuck me. If you want.”

His face hardened and turned fiery red. God, what was it about having that power over him? She wanted more of it. She loved how badly he wanted her and how restrained he was. When he finally cracked, gave into it, it was going to be better than anything she’d ever experienced.

“I’m all hot and wet now. Someone has to fuck me.” Her eyes rolled over to the neon lights at the bar. “I know someone in there will want me.” Her eyes darted back to his. “If it’s not professional for you to do it.”

One hand.

It fisted in her hair before she knew what’d happened. How had he moved so fast? His other hand smacked her arm out from between her legs, and he cupped her entire pussy in the palm of his hand over her jeans. His mouth was inches from her ear.

“This is mine. You understand me?”

She nodded against the hand gripping her hair. His knuckles dug into her scalp, and she found herself pushing back against his hand, wanting him to grab more of her hair, squeeze it harder. The stinging pain was heaven.

“Tell me then, Miss Monroe. Who does this pussy belong to?”

“Whoever I want it to.” Her heart was like an Olympic sprinter, running a world-record time. Fuck, she had no idea he was this possessive. She had to stoke the flames even higher. She had to push him past the edge so he’d fuck her, spank her, tie her up—all the things she needed.

His hand wrenched her head back so that she was staring up at the roof of the car. His breath was even hotter in her ear. “You like acting like a naughty little bitch, don’t you?”

“Y-y-yes.”

He licked from her collar bone up to the shell of her ear.

Goosebumps pebbled up and down her arms, and she squeezed her thighs against the hand that now cupped her pussy hard enough to bruise it.

“Yes, sir.” He smiled against her neck as he said it.

She shook her head, refusing to call him sir, all the while wanting to scream it at the top of her lungs.

“Keep testing me and you’ll find out just how cruel I can be, Miss Monroe.”

She turned and looked him in the eye. “Fuck you, sir.”

He grinned like the devil himself.

“Just take me home.” She glowered at him from the passenger seat, an obviously fake gesture, but she wasn’t about to break character while it was still working.

He smirked and started driving as if she didn’t matter.

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever the fuck I want.”

“I’ll call the police.”

“I’m sure they’ll believe an underage drunk girl over a tenured professor.”

To hell with this. She was tired of waiting. She reached over and palmed his cock. It was already huge and stiff in his pants, and he smiled at her as calmly as he could possibly be, took her by the wrist, and moved her hand back to her lap.

What the fuck?

Did he want her or not? The man was utterly confusing.

He stared straight ahead. “Patience is a virtue, Miss Monroe.”

“What the hell are we even doing? I thought you wanted to fuck me? I thought you liked me? You’re just sitting there.”

He glanced over at her. “You’re going to be punished for everything you did tonight. If you behave, maybe I’ll let you come later.”

“Let me?”

“Correct.”

She slid her hand between her legs and stared over at his cock. Before long she’d began to moan, as if he were fucking her right then and there.

“If you come right now, I’ll take you and drop you off at your dorm. You can let Jordan and the whole football team finish you off for all I fucking care.”

What the fuck was this? Was he playing the same game as her? It was like they were trying to one up each other with who had the most will power. She knew he wanted her. She could tell by the way he pulled her out of the bar.

“Fuck this shit.”

The car swerved into a parking lot, and the tires squealed when he hit the brakes in a service alley behind a building.

His hands were on her before he even took his seatbelt off, and it yanked him back toward the seat when he tried to lunge at her. He unbuckled it and flung his car door open. Her heart came alive as he stomped around the car.

The passenger door flew open, and one of his big, strong hands reached in and unhooked her seat belt. He yanked her up by her shoulders and stood her in front of him.

“What the hell?”

“Shut up.” His words were a growl, and with two hands on her waist, he flipped her around so that she was staring down at the hood of the car.

He glanced around. It was dark out, and they were in a concealed area. She could’ve sworn he was checking to see if they could possibly be caught.

Once satisfied nobody was around, he shoved her down so that she was bent over the hood of the car, and his mouth was right next to her ear again. “You have to be punished for what you did tonight, Miss Monroe.”

She squirmed against his hold, but his strong chest had her pinned down to the car. She smiled against it, knowing she was finally going to get everything she wanted, and then some from the looks of things.

She knew men loved it when she’d fight against them. They wanted her to be a challenge. If they said one thing, she said the other. Professor Wiseman seemed even more in tune to the game than anyone she’d ever met.

“Let me go.”

He wrenched both of her arms behind her back and pinned her wrists there in one hand.

“You go out to a bar. Get drunk. Plan to fuck another man.”

“I can fuck whoever I want. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

The air stilled behind her. Everything went quiet. She couldn’t even hear him breathing. The only way she knew he was still there was because his hand was still gripping her wrists.

She had to admit she loved the way it felt. She’d never been tied up or manhandled before, even though she’d always thought she’d love that. What girl didn’t dream of a man just tossing her around, completely owning her body and mind in every single way?

“When you fuck up, Miss Monroe, there must be a consequence for your actions.” He leaned forward and pushed a few stray hairs gently behind her ear so she could see his eyes. “That’s how this works. Otherwise, your poor behavior will continue. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Her entire body was alive for the first time since she could remember. Her pussy ached for him, and nothing but pure need and desire pulsed down into her clit. But she could see in his eyes he wanted her to defy him. He wanted her to resist. It made it so much hotter.

She shook her head. “You’re not my boss.”

“I’ll show you who’s the fucking boss.”

Crack!

A sizzling pain raced through her right ass cheek, and the stinging ripped up her spine. The sound of his open palm connecting with her ass echoed down through the alley. She winced at the initial strike, but the corners of her mouth curled into a smile. She’d thought she would enjoy it, but this was a whole new level of euphoria running through her veins.

Maybe it was just because it was Professor Wiseman, or maybe she just loved the intimacy, surrender—probably a combination of all variables. But she was an addict. She knew it immediately.

She squirmed against his hold. “Oh my God. You can’t fucking spank me like that. I’m not a kid.”

“If it walks like a child, and behaves like a child, it must be reprimanded like a child.”

Crack!

“Oh my God.” Her words came out on a breathy exhale, and she found her body beginning to relax with the pain.

His warm breath was in her ear once more, and she swore she could feel him grinning. “Why, Miss Monroe, I think you actually enjoy being spanked. Don’t you? You naughty little bitch.”

“Holy fuck.” She couldn’t even resist anymore. She arched her back, offering her ass up for more of the delicious pain.

He let go of her wrists, and her arms fell to her sides. Being spanked was like a release for her.

He gripped her hair, and she cooed.

“You like it, don’t you?”

She shook her head slowly from side-to-side, still in defiance.

She glanced back and didn’t see him. What the hell?

Fingers gripped the waistline of her jeans, and he yanked them so hard down her legs the inseam scratched at her thigh. Cool night air met her ass and pussy, and she was fully exposed in the moonlight.

“Fuck,” she gasped.

He was behind her in an instant, and his rough, calloused palm gripped her pussy with the same force he’d used in the car.

Words caught in her throat, and it came out as a jumbled gasp.

“You may say you don’t like it, but your wet cunt says otherwise.” He plunged two fingers into her, and her entire body stiffened at the initial intrusion. “Fuck me, that’s good.” He slid his fingers out and gripped her ass, then spread her cheeks apart.

“What are you going to do to it, sir?” She couldn’t help but notice her words were like a soft, inviting purr.

“You’ve been shaving, haven’t you? Just in case you got your little moment with me.”

She nodded.

He smacked her bare ass this time. Not because she’d done anything to deserve it. Simply because he could, and he wanted to. It was even better on her bare ass.

“Are you going to punish me some more?” She craned her head back to him and bit her lip when she knew he was looking.

“Yes.” He nodded as he spoke.

Before she knew what’d happened, he’d forced her down to her knees. He unzipped his pants while she waited patiently. She sat there and wondered what it would look like, how big it would be, how it would taste. He couldn’t get it out fast enough, and he didn’t even bother to take his pants off. He pulled it through the opening, and it sprang out, rock-hard and huge in front of her face.

She’d had enough of the charade. She licked her lips and lunged out for his cock, wanting to take it all in her mouth. He held her back by the hair, keeping her mouth just inches away from it.

“You want this cock in your mouth? Don’t you? You filthy little slut?”

She nodded furiously.

He yanked her hair back so that her chin tilted and her face angled up toward the sky. He fisted his dick in his palm, and it still had inches of length to spare that didn’t fit in his hand.

“Open up.”

Her mouth flew open as wide as she could, so much it strained her jaw.

He teased around the edge of her mouth with the head and then slapped it lightly on her lips a few times. “You’re going to suck this dick and swallow it all. Understood?”

Yes, fuck! Just give it to me!

She nodded in understanding and stuck her tongue out for emphasis.

He smacked her tongue a few times with the crown, and she already loved how he tasted. A bead of precome glistened at the tip, and she was going to lose her mind soon if she wasn’t sucking on it.

She stared up at his eyes, seemingly begging with only a look. She wanted to suck his cock. She wanted to please him. Make his toes curl when he lost control. She wanted him to come undone and just completely let loose on her.

He inched into her mouth slowly, and his eyes rolled up in the back of his head. “My God, that’s fucking good.”

She took him deeper and deeper. Her tongue swirled around his shaft, while she sucked her cheeks tight around his length. There were slurping sounds, and saliva hung from her mouth, and she didn’t give a fuck. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted, but even better was watching his face react while she pleased him.

His hands raked through her hair, gently at first, and they tightened when she sped up on him. Before long, his hips were driving into her face, and her eyes began to water. He fucked into her throat so hard she choked but willed herself to not stop.

“Fucking hell.” He stared down at her, and their eyes locked while she bobbed on his dick. He angled his hips to the side and pressed the head of his cock into her cheek, then applied pressure until it popped out of her mouth.

“Fuck yes, right there.” He did it again—once, then twice, then she opened her mouth, and he drove his cock right back between her lips.

“Jesus, you’re good at that. You dirty bitch.”

His words only had her clit throbbing harder, and she reached down and stroked it with her free hand, while she moaned on his cock.

“Don’t you fucking come.”

She nodded on his dick, and then lifted the shaft and sucked on both of his smooth balls, practically juggling them with her tongue. She licked, sucked, hummed. Anything she could do that might reward her with his hot come in the back of her throat.

“Jesus, fucking, Kristen. Fuck.”

“I want you to come in my mouth. I want to taste you.” Her words were practically begging for his release.

He nodded slightly, gripped the back of her hair, and drove her head onto him as far and as deep as she could take him, until her nose smashed up against his body, and her lips wrapped around the base.

His cock kicked against the roof of her mouth. “Fuck, Kristen.” His hot, salty load exploded in the back of her throat.

She willed herself not to gag and tried to relax. She swallowed over and over, as fast as she could—wave after wave that never seemed to end.

His whole body was completely stiff, every muscle constricted, and his fingers squeezed her hair so hard she thought he might actually pull it out of her scalp.

He couldn’t even speak at the end, just groaned and grunted. Some of his come was still in her mouth when she released him, and some of it had spilled out around the edges of her lips and dangled from her chin.

She stared up at him as he opened his eyes and looked at her in amazement.

She fucking loved every second of that feeling, watching him, the way he looked at her like he couldn’t believe she’d just sucked him off that good. She opened her mouth to show that she still had some of it left, and then made a show of gulping it down.

He bent down to wipe her chin off for her, and she shook her head at him. He stood there with a confused look for a second, but she grabbed his cock and proceeded to clean the tip of it for him with her tongue.

“We have to get you cleaned up first, sir.”

His eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. She used the head of his cock to wipe up the rest of his come from her chin and then sucked it off him once more.

When she was finished, he brushed his thumb across her mouth and chin to get the rest. She held her mouth open, and he plunged his thumb between her lips. She sucked his finger dry and looked at him as if to ask was that good?

He stood her up, and to her disappointment, he pulled her jeans back up over her hips. “Time to go home.”

She frowned but got back into the car.

She sat in the front seat, practically pouting the entire drive, until she realized they’d pulled up to his house. There was no way he was going to get his own rocks off, and then go to bed without fucking her.

She knew he’d never do something like that.

When they got to the house, he showed her around, and then handed her one of his shirts to put on. “Time for bed.”

He stripped down to nothing but his boxer briefs, and she ogled everything about him. He slid his glasses off and laid them on the counter.

She walked up to him for a kiss, but he held his finger out and pressed it to her lips and shook his head.

“There’s no way we’re going to bed without you getting me off.” She glared at him.

He smiled. “Yes, there is. And you will not come until I tell you.”

“What the fuck?” She folded her arms over her chest and pressed her tits together in his shirt.

He stared right at them, and she could tell it was a struggle for him to keep from grabbing her right then and there.

He shook his head, though, and his eyes remained cold and hard. Then they widened, as if in surprise. “Oh, you thought the spanking was the punishment for what you did tonight?”

Her heart sank. She realized immediately what he was doing.

“Wait, what?”

He snickered and climbed into bed. “You loved the spanking way too much for that to be a punishment. Like I said, you can come when I tell you. If you don’t like it—” He pointed toward the hallway. “There’s the door.”

She crawled into bed next to him, completely defeated. He’d gotten the best of her. How the fuck was she supposed to sleep with a throbbing clit she wasn’t allowed to touch? It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Grant’s eyes opened to meet the day. The events of the previous night flooded into his mind all at once, and a wave of guilt rushed over him. He didn’t even know where to begin with where he’d gone off the rails.

It’d been a lot of fun, other than not fucking her, of course, plus the time he spent worried before he’d yanked her out of the club. She lay there in his bed, the light from the window haloing her hair. She looked like an angel. A dirty, naughty little angel.

The worst part was she’d been intoxicated. Not much, but enough to make him question things. He knew she’d been cognizant enough to know what she was doing, and he knew how bad she wanted him.

He’d been slightly intoxicated too. Enough to lower his inhibitions to where he had no problem fucking her mouth. Regret settled in the pit of his stomach. He’d lowered the walls of self-control just enough to let a student suck his dick, and now she lay in his bed.

What’s done is done.

What was he going to do now? Talk to her about it? Do it again?

Of course not. He couldn’t. It was a horrible idea.

It didn’t matter if they both wanted each other. He had a career to think about, and her future as well.

What he wanted was to leave it at that. They had some fun. Now, the fun was over. There was no way she was going to go for it, though. The age gap and the ethical considerations all pointed to the obvious answer.

He tried to rationalize a possible relationship, but it only stoked the flames of regret higher. She was going to wake up thinking there would be a relationship.

This is bad.

How did he think she’d react? She was going to suck his cock and that’d be the end of it? He should’ve gone ahead and fucked her last night, and then ended it today. So at least there would be finality.

But, he stared at her in his bed. His button-down rode up her thigh, and he already had a morning erection from hell. The sight of her only sent more tension straight into his dick. He wanted to yank that shirt up and fuck an orgasm out of her.

But this could turn into a scandal unlike anything he wanted to even think about. Once word got out, it would ruin them both.

Whether she was an adult or not, it went against university policy. He’d be dismissed immediately, and it would follow him around wherever he went. And now, if he passed her, everyone would claim nepotism.

He stormed out of the room to make a cup of coffee. If he remained any longer, he’d have to find out what it felt like to be inside her sweet pussy. And the worst part was, he knew she’d let him. She’d beg him if she had to. That was too much for any man to handle.

He pulled out a filter and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. It would be fine. They could figure this out. He had to find a way to let her down easy. He had to make her understand. Maybe after the semester, they could start something up, when she was out of his class and school had let out. At least, he could make her think it’d happen. It would be a shitty thing to do, but maybe she’d have moved past her infatuation by then.

He shook his head and pressed the start button on the coffee pot. His last idea wasn’t a possibility. It wasn’t the type of guy he was. He was a man who stood up to his mistakes and took responsibility for his actions.

Kristen wasn’t a mistake, though. He’d sought her out and yanked her out of that bar for a reason more than attraction. What was it about her? He gripped the coffee mug so hard he could see the whites of his knuckles.

I should’ve kept my ass at home.

He walked back into the room, and she was still lying there.

Grant took his coffee into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. He dragged the razor down his cheeks, getting rid of the five o’clock shadow.

He grabbed a towel and dried his face, trying to rid himself of the guilt hanging thick in the air like a cloud. He glanced through the door, and she’d flipped over onto her back. Her legs were spread, and the shirt was bunched up to her breasts, revealing her cotton panties and flat stomach.

He stared at her from the doorway and damn near had to bite down on his forearm to stifle a groan. Jesus, she was so fucking sexy.

How easy would it be for him to go over and fuck her? She’d be wet in an instant for him. She was probably dreaming about him at that moment.

Deep down inside, he doubted Kristen was going to say anything about what they’d done, but another part of him worried she would.

Finally, being responsible, he grabbed some clothes. He buttoned his shirt, questioning whether the night before had been worth the anxiety. He had to fix this shit.

But how?

He turned back to the mirror and studied himself. Then he heard the one word he wasn’t ready for.

“Professor?”

* * *

He stood there looking sexy as fuck, halfway dressed in his suit. She smiled, welcoming the warm sunlight through the window on her skin, and stretched her arms back against his bedsheets.

She could feel a slight hangover, but nothing she couldn’t manage. It’d been worth it. She could still practically feel his hard cock thrusting into her throat. She’d done everything possible to please him, but now he needed to fuck her. Kristen hadn’t come like he instructed, and she needed a release now, or it might kill her.

“Professor?”

He turned around, and his face was pale as a ghost.

No.

No way was he going to pull this shit now. He’d punished her, but now she was off the hook. She’d done what he told her.

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. It looked like it was painful for him to even look at her.

“Look, Kristen, we need to—”

Her eyes had already begun to well with tears. “No!”

He jolted. “What?”

“You owe me. You’re not about to back out of this now. We’ve gone too far.”

His eyes glanced down her body, which she refused to cover up, and back up to her face. “You need to go.”

She gritted her teeth. “I’m not going anywhere. I did what you said. I didn’t come. I sucked your cock in that fucking parking lot. Hell no.”

“We need to discuss this like adults.”

“What the hell are you so afraid of? I see the way you look at me. The way you pulled me out of the bar.” She glared. “And you know what you did in that alley. I know you want me as bad as I want you. Don’t deny it.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It just can’t happen.”

She sat there for a moment, thinking about it, shaking her head. “You’re just trying to cover your own ass.”

“I know you don’t believe this, but I’m looking out for you too.”

Her jaw flexed. Then she had a brilliant idea. Her body relaxed, and she stared him right in the eye, and started to unbutton the shirt. The top button went first. “Oops.”

“I know what you’re trying—”

Second button.

“Sorry, it’s just so damn hot in here.” She pretended to fan her face.

She saw his pulse speed up on his neck, and his collar practically tightened around his throat.

“You need to stop. It can’t happen.”

She ran a hand down to her panties and slipped her fingers underneath. She was already wet, just from staring at him in his half-dressed state, and the tension, the need for release, it all rushed down into her pussy. She circled her clit and moaned. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Grant’s face tensed, and she watched his eyes behind his glasses. They were locked in a staring match. He hadn’t looked down at her hand yet. It was a battle of wills, and she would win it.

Her hips rolled, and her pussy ground against her hand. “You can watch me, sir.” Her eyes closed. “You’re fucking me so hard right now.”

He got onto the bed and crawled over toward her.

Her mind turned to fuzz, and adrenaline coursed through her body. She was seconds away from coming all over her fingers. Her pussy soaked her panties, and her wetness ran down her inner thighs and onto the sheets. Her moans grew more intense, and her fingers sped up as he neared.

He hovered a few inches from her face, looking like he might kiss her.

“Fuck me, sir. I need it.”

He blinked, and his face hardened. “Get out.”

His words crushed her. A million things hammered into her at once—guilt, shame, embarrassment. But fuck him. He’d put her in this state. She could punish him too. If he wasn’t going to join in, he could fucking watch what he was missing out on and be tortured along with her.

Two fingers slipped inside of her, and her thumb stroked over her clit. He stared with those steely blue eyes locked onto hers.

“Oh, fuck, Grant—” Her words trailed off on a squeak as her pussy clamped down on her fingers. She could smell her own arousal and saw his nostrils flare as if he was taking in her scent. She shuddered and convulsed, all with his face just inches from hers.

Her eyes closed on instinct, and fireworks went off behind her eyelids, as she came multiple times in waves, all from the tension that’d built from the previous night.

When her eyes opened, he still watched her, his face still hardened steel.

She pulled her hand from her panties, still coated in her pussy. She placed her palm on his cheek and smiled. “Too bad for you.” She made a show of slightly wiping her wetness down his cheek as her fingers trailed over his jaw.

Then she stood from the bed, put her clothes on, and walked right out the front door.

She practically ran down the block and called a cab. She fought back the tears until after she’d paid the cabbie at the dorm, and once he was out of sight, she burst into tears.

How could he do this to her? Make her feel this way? He was the biggest asshole she’d ever met in her life. Why would he come to her rescue, let her suck his fucking cock and swallow every last drop, take her home, and then just discard her like a piece of garbage?

She sprinted to her dorm room, hoping Stef wasn’t there. She just wanted to crawl under her covers and hide for the day.

“You were out late last night.” Stefani yawned as Kristen walked into the room.

So much for wallowing in shame all alone.

Stef was in her pajamas eating cereal. “Hangover?”