“Because I have class—we have class in a few hours. I’ve got nothing to wear, not to mention the fact that all my books and my laptop are back at home.”
I nod. She’s right. I’ll see her in just a few hours, anyway.
In the classroom.
Because I’m her professor.
It’s easy to forget that small complication, because she’s so much older than my other students. But it doesn’t make it any less forbidden. And it doesn’t make the consequences any less severe. Especially when my father is looking for any excuse to fire me. I watch her climb out of the bed and walk across to the door, her naked silhouette making my cock react. She walks out into the hallway, then reappears with her clothes a few seconds later. I watch her dress, enjoying the show she’s putting on for me.
“Would you stop staring at me?” she chastises, but I can tell she’s enjoying the attention.
She buttons up her jeans and then walks back over to the bed and climbs on top of me, so she’s straddling me. I groan, stroking her the curve of her back, while she kisses me, her movements both slow and deliberate. I groan as she grinds her hips into me, my erection throbbing as it presses against her pussy, through her jeans.
“Maybe I should cancel class today,” I mutter. “I can teach you a few lessons instead.”
“Yes, I’m sure the president would love that.”
She’s only teasing, but the mention of my father is an instant erection killer.
“Well, that went downhill quickly,” she says, her eyes lit with amusement as she stares at my limp dick.
“Because fucking you all day isn’t something I want to think about, unless we can actually do it.”
She smiles as she eases herself off me, letting me stand up. I throw on a pair of pants, so I can walk her out, then take her hand and walk out into the living room.
“Sure you won’t stay?” I ask her one last time.
“I better not.” She grimaces.
Outside, I walk her to her car. I kiss her, my mouth lingering on hers, until she opens the car door. I sigh, because I can’t get enough of those soft, sweet lips. I smirk, because the same comment applies to the ones down below, too.
“I guess I'll see you soon,” she says, gazing into my eyes.
She gets into the car and lowers the window. I lean on the frame as she starts the ignition. She turns on the headlights, then looks up at me when she’s ready to go.
“Text me when you get home,” I request. “I’ll see you in class. And Becca?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll be reading every single message you send.”
She lifts her eyebrows and smiles, her eyes narrowing as they settle on mine.
“In that case, I’ll make them extra dirty.”Chapter SixteenBeccaI stand out in front of the lecture hall the next morning, waiting for Amy to arrive. I don’t want to walk in there alone, because I don’t know what we’re facing. The last few students slowly trickle in. I glance at my phone, aware that I’m running out of time. I know Liam is in there already. I didn’t think I’d be nervous about seeing him, but I’m stressing about that as well, to the point where I barely slept last night anyway.
Maybe I should’ve just stayed over.
Maybe seeing him this morning would have made this less difficult. My biggest fear is that everyone knows. I’m probably being paranoid, but having that photo on Facebook, and that video…I’d been trying to get the video removed, but no such luck. What if someone saw it?
I glance at my phone. It’s after nine, so I’m technically late, and the few texts I’ve sent Amy have gone unanswered. I have to go in. I take a deep breath and push through the heavy, glass doors. I walk up the stairs, to my seat, my body tense and on alert. But there’s no whispers or giggles. Nobody is staring at me. Nobody calls me out for sleeping with the professor. Nobody seems to be paying attention to me at all. Well, one person is, but I’m okay with that.
Liam sits at his desk, his eyes following me as I move across the room. I sit down, my gaze briefly meeting his. He lifts his eyebrows, then turns his attention to whatever is on his desk. I sink into my seat and smile.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
I look up as Amy breezes through the doors. She sinks into the seat next to me, out of breath and red faced. I smile, because I’m happy to see her.
“Jesus, what a fucking day,” she whispers. “I lost my fucking phone and then the car wouldn’t start.” She pants and shrugs off her jacket, stuffing it under the chair. “Is it bad I don’t even know your number? Without my contacts list, I’m fucked. I couldn’t even call my mother.”