In Session

1

Hot For Teacher

“Oh god yes! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!”

Okay, let me back up for a minute, because I’m not the type of girl to scream out obscenities—well, unless I’m getting pounded by a seriously hot guy…which I was. You might be wondering who this guy is, the guy railing me in to his couch since we were too hot and heavy to make it to the bedroom. The guy with sexy, tousled, sandy blond hair and eyes a dark blue that rivaled the ocean. Who is this guy?

I don’t know.

I met him at a bar earlier in the night and never caught his name.

I’m also not the kind of girl that picks up random strangers and follows them back to their place to engage in scorchingly hot sex. All of this was insanely out of character for me.

Earlier I went out for a celebratory drink with my friend Rachael. The next day was our first day of classes; we would officially be college girls. I worked my ass off to get a full-ride scholarship and Rachael… well, she showed up to most of her classes.

Rachael scored me a fake ID to match hers and we entered The Beer Hive. It wasn’t the first bar I’d been to, nor was it my first time drinking, but the night felt different. I couldn’t put a finger on it at first, but then he showed up.

Rachael was already long gone, flirting with some guy with piercings and tattoos and what appeared to be a bad attitude. I sat on a bar stool, drinking my third martini and imagining my college life. It was going to be hard, but it would be so worth it in the end. I would be a nurse. I would help people. After my mom died, it was everything I ever wanted to do.

“Want to buy me a drink?” he had asked. I turned slightly on my stool to get a better look at the forward jerk. My breath left me instantly. Wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his tanned arms were on display. The linen was so thin I could almost make out the skin beneath. He was absolutely gorgeous. I could faintly make out a tattoo on his muscular forearm, but it disappeared in to his shirt.

Despite his gorgeous appearance, I couldn’t get over the brazen assumption he’d made. I rolled my eyes. “Why would I buy you a drink?”

He smiled, showing off perfect pearly whites. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but you already have one and”—he leaned in so close I could smell his intoxicating scent—“why is it that the man always has to buy the drink? That’s a little sexist, don’t you think?”

I sipped my martini, contemplating the man before me. After a few beats, I responded. “It’s not about the drink, it’s the assumption. Why do you think I even want you to buy me a drink, or that I want to buy you one?”

The man grinned, a crooked smile that had my thighs clenching. “It’s not an assumption if I know you want me.”

After that I was toast. We went to his house, a gorgeous two story Craftsman, and he gave me the best sex of my life. All right, my life hadn’t been that long or filled with sex, but I couldn’t imagine sex ever being better than that. That’s like a mountain being higher than Everest.

I gripped the couch, preparing for another orgasm. My nails dug in to the couch and for a moment I felt bad, afraid that I was tearing the nice rusty leather, but that moment quickly fled as the orgasm spilled through me. My legs felt like melted butter. My teeth tingled.

“Oh fuck!” I screamed. Mister No Name sex god gripped my hips and plunged even deeper as his own orgasm rocked him. A sound halfway between a scream and a groan fell from my lips as I felt him twitch inside me. At last he stilled and I sunk in to the leather, utterly exhausted—that is, until I felt him pull me up. I whined half-heartedly. Why was he moving me? Couldn’t he tell that I wanted to melt in to the couch and never move?

“Time for round two.” He winked, pulling me off the couch and throwing me over his shoulder. I was about to protest when I felt his hands slide across my naked bum. I let him carry me across his house, naked. After all, it was time for round two.

* * *

Shit. In search of my panties, I nearly knocked over a lamp. I put both hands on either side of the ceramic body and held it still, hoping the noise hadn’t woken my one-night-stand. As the lamp steadied, I gazed around the living room; everything looked so much brighter and more accusatory in the morning.

“You’re a crazy person, Nora.” Rachael’s voice carried through my phone. I picked it up off the couch—the couch—and put it back to my ear. “Who takes organic chemistry first thing Monday morning?”

“You know I don’t have a choice,” I responded. “If I want to graduate with honors in three years—”

Rachael cut me off. “Then you have to follow the schedule exactly. I know. You know, you could just be a normal person and graduate in five years.”

“My scholarship only works if I do the accelerated track, and I don’t want to graduate with a boatload of debt; thanks but no thanks. God dammit, where is my underwear?”

Rachael laughed into the phone. “You’re starting your academic career off with quite a bang.”

“Not helping,” I grumbled, rifling through the wake of the previous night but trying to keep quiet so I didn’t wake Mr. No Name up. The last thing I wanted to do was have that awkward morning-after conversation. I was already running late and I didn’t need to exchange awkward pleasantries.

“Hey,” Rachael said with faux pain lacing her tone. “I’m turning around and driving all the way back to pick your ass up from some random dude’s house. Be grateful.”

“I am…” I turned over another cushion. “I’m just freaking out. I have Professor Khan and everyone says he’s a major dick and that if you’re late to his first class he’ll kick you out.”

“I doubt that will happen,” Rachael mused. “I’m almost there, keep your panties on. Oh wait!” Rachael started laughing again. Before I could yell at her, a deep male voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Looking for these?” I spun around to see my one-night-stand. How long had he been standing there?

“Gotta go.” I hung up on Rachael before she could protest. Hand on hip, I took in the sight of my one-night stand holding my black lace thong. He had a sheet wrapped around his waist, but the sun was shining bright and it illuminated his naked figure through the bright white linen. I blinked, looking away from the erotic sight and up to his face. Mistake! His sandy blond hair was tussled; clearly he’d just woken up. The bedhead was working for him and he looked absolutely delectable.

Heat crept up to my cheeks and my eyes scanned everywhere but him. Not many people hoped they’d wake up the next morning and their 10 would be a 3, but I had. I seriously couldn’t handle the situat

ion. I’d remembered him as a 10, but he was actually a 20. Way too hot to handle. I had things to do today! I had to be at school, but this brilliantly sexy guy was holding my black lace panties and all I could think was how I wanted to jump all over him.

“Yes,” I said, coughing to get control of my faculties. “As a matter of fact I am looking for those. I’m running late.” I tried to convey that I was in no mood for shenanigans, but I failed. My head hurt from bathing my brain in too much tequila, I’m sure I smelled like it too, and I generally felt gross. Still, I wanted to rip that sheet from his hands and crawl back to bed with him.

I reached for my thong, only to have Mr. No Name pull back playfully. I glared. If I was going to go to my first day of school hungover and smelling like it, I at least wanted to be wearing underwear.

“Seriously, I’m not in the mood.”

“Where are you running off to so quickly?” He grinned; my heart skipped and my thighs clenched.

“School,” I huffed impatiently. “It’s my first day and I’m running late.”