Dirty Professor

It was hard to keep from gawking at the luxurious splendor all around me as the concierge led me from the lobby to the elevator to my room. Everything was splendid – there was more gold and marble together than I’d ever seen in my life. I couldn’t believe that it was real – that I was really there, in such a nice place.

“And here we are,” the concierge said lightly. She pushed open the door. “Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

I nodded. Stepping into the apartment made me mute. It was the grandest place I’d ever seen. My shoes sank into the plush white carpeting and there were floor-to-ceiling windows with a beautiful view of the park. It made me feel small, almost agoraphobic. I stepped hastily back from the windows and looked around the rest of the apartment in similar awe.

It was all beautiful. The couches were upholstered in Italian silk and there was real art on the walls – all too gorgeous for me to even look at for more than a few seconds. The kitchen was stocked with artisanal food and wine, and I gasped when I realized the fridge was stocked with bottles of Dom Perignon.

“Wow,” I whispered softly. “This can’t all be for me. This is too much!”

The bedroom was the best yet. The large, king-sized bed was covered in a duvet of purple silk and the walls were draped with tapestries, also silk. The windows overlooked a beautiful meadow in Central Park, and even the closet was stocked with designer clothing, shoes, and handbags.

I figured that maybe this was Jackson’s apartment that he owned just for the sole purpose of having someplace to bring women.

The phone rang and I jumped at the sound.

“Hello, Miss Harrington?”

“Yes?”

“I have a message for you, from Mr. Rhodes,” the concierge said. “He’ll be there in half an hour. He requested that you be ready for him.”

I frowned and blushed. “What…what exactly does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, miss,” the concierge replied. “Would you like me to call him?”

My blush deepened to one of crimson red. “No! I mean, no, thank you.” I gritted my teeth. “And thanks for passing along the message.”

When I hung up the phone, my heart was slamming against the walls of my ribs. I couldn’t make it stop – I didn’t know what to do. What the hell did he mean, “ready”?

With a sigh, I walked into the bathroom. There was a silk gown with ostrich trip hanging on the back of the door, and I blushed when I saw it. The tub was huge – big enough for four people, at least – and even though I knew I didn’t have much time, I felt like taking a bath would relax me.

After soaking in the hot water for twenty minutes, I climbed out, dried off, and put the robe on. My heart was still thudding like a jackhammer, but at least it would be over soon. I looked at myself in the mirror, hating my unruly brown hair.

“Not much longer now,” I said softly to my reflection. “Everything’s going to be okay, just get it over with and then you can go home.”

The sound of the apartment door opening made me jump. With a shriek, I ran into the living room.

Jackson was standing there, looking hotter than I’d ever seen him. His blonde hair was swept perfectly off his forehead and his grey eyes were shining in the morning sun. He gazed at me – first, my face, then his eyes slid down my body, lingering on my exposed cleavage.

I shivered under his intense scrutiny. My stomach was tied into knots of nervous panic and my hands were shaking but I somehow managed to untie the knot in the silk belt of the robe. I let the robe drop noiselessly to the carpet below.

The room was cold. My nipples hardened into stiff little points and I shuddered as goose bumps broke out over my skin. The hair between my legs was still damp from the bath and I could smell the rose-scented body wash lingering on my skin.

Jackson licked his lips. The way he was looking at me was making me feel more naked than ever before. My pussy was tingling in anticipation as Jackson stepped closer.

I closed my eyes, suddenly fearing his touch. But when I felt something brush against my shoulders, I gasped. It wasn’t skin, but silk.

Jackson had put the robe back on me.

He smiled. “Not now, Belle,” Jackson said. “We’re going to take our time.” He raised his eyebrow. “I thought you would appreciate that.”

I blushed bright red as Jackson tied a clumsy knot at my waist. I was so confused! What the hell was his problem?

“Let’s watch a movie,” Jackson said. He slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “In here,” he added, pointing towards the bedroom.

The sight of the bed made my heart start going crazy once more. I couldn’t believe this – what the hell was going on? Did he want me or not? Was he trying to drag this out, to make it deliberately uncomfortable for me? Why couldn’t he have just fucked me in the back of a Town Car?

“Why are you doing this?” I asked in a quavering voice. “Why can’t you just, I don’t know, fuck me and get it over with?”