Bad Teacher

“Okay, just give it to me straight,” I say.

“Oh, I will …” he muses, placing the pencil on the desk.

“What do you want from me? No games.”

“I’m not playing games. If I were, you’d know.” He circles around his desk, inching closer to me.

I don’t even dare blink; afraid he’ll be right behind me and pounce me on the desk.

I’m not afraid of him or what he can do. I’m afraid of my own resistance because I have none when it comes to him.

“You skipped class today. Again,” he says. “I told you not to do that. So why did you? Do you like getting under my skin?”

He paces behind me while I keep staring ahead, not wanting to look at him … Because every time I do, I feel weak in the knees.

“Do you dislike my classes? Think you can’t learn anything? Or are you just not interested?”

“None of those.”

“Then what?”

It’s almost as if he’s genuinely curious. Like he really cares what I think.

But why would he … he’s my professor, and I’m his student. That’s all, right?

Because he said that’s all we were … or all we should be.

And professors don’t care about their student’s interest the way he cares about mine.

I’m almost inclined to answer him, but when I think back to this morning, I remember the car and the woman who drove him to work. I can’t help but wonder …

“This morning … I saw you step out of a car. A woman was driving.”

“Oh …” He smiles briefly as I turn my head. “So that’s what this is all about.”

I don’t say a word. I’m not going to reveal my feelings to him.

Suddenly, I feel his fingers on my neck again, and his lips are so close to my ear I stop breathing for a second. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not,” I retort.

“It’s okay … You don’t have to worry about her,” he whispers in my ear.

His fingers snake down my neck, my shoulders, and my entire back, leaving goose bumps everywhere until they rest on my waist. His body towers behind me, and I can’t help but lean back into his grasp as he holds me.

“But you broke my rules, Hailey. You didn’t come to class, even when I told you to. Do you understand what that means?”

I nod slowly. Not because I know what it means, but because I want to know.

“I’m going to teach you my rules,” he whispers, and his tongue briefly darts out to lick my earlobe, sending waves of heat down my body.

Then he steps back, leaving the air thick with desire.

Before I can glance over my shoulder, his commanding voice takes over.

“Bend over.”

I hesitate.

Three seconds.

That’s all it takes for me to actually go through with it.

My body leans over on its own while my brain shouts at me. What am I doing? Why am I doing this?

“Lower. Facedown on the desk.”

I don’t know why, but I listen.

With my head and tits on the desk, I suck in a breath, awaiting the next move.

I’m insane. Lost my fucking mind.

His hand gently pets my back, gliding down until he’s on my ass … where he grasps me firmly, squeezing tight. I hiss, biting my lip. Memories of our night together resurface, my panties getting wet with just his touch.

“You tempt me too much, Hailey …” he murmurs with a deliciously low voice.

His hand skims down my skirt and roughly shoves it up, pulling it over my back.

I freeze.

What the fuck.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

I shiver as his hand travels over my panties and across my ass, and my heart beat shoots through the roof. This is crazy. We’re in a room that can’t be locked. Anyone could come in at any time. Anyone could see us.

And still, I don’t stop him.

I don’t say no.

And I don’t want to.

But then his hand comes down on my ass.

Hard.

“You make me do bad … bad things, Hailey.”

Again.

I slam my lips together to prevent any sound from spilling out.

His hand is rough and ruthless as it spanks my ass again and again.

One after the other until both my cheeks zing with red-hot pain.

My body bucks against the table each time his hand strikes my ass. It hurts, but not enough to make me cry. Enough to make my legs shake with desire, though.

It’s sick, completely twisted, yet I still don’t want to tell him to stop.

Maybe I just don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning our argument. Or maybe I’m willing to take whatever he’s willing to give.

“You have such a nice ass …” he says softly, rubbing my painful ass with his flat hand. Every movement makes me twitch with excitement. “It should be cherished. Especially when red. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

I shake my head.

He fists my hair and pulls my head back enough for me to gasp. “Answer when I ask you a question.”