Obsessed with my Professor (Class is in Session Book 4)

by Remi Grey

  Obsessed with my Professor

  REMI GREY

  Copyright © 2019 Remi Grey – All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Created By Embrace the Pace Designs

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  EPILOGUE

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  About the Book

  An Alpha Older Male and Younger Curvy Woman Romance

  Neil:

  I've taught the same classes for four years straight, and every year I've met hundreds of students. They came in with either a passion for psychology or simply wanted the credit to move forward with their degree program, but Leyla was different.

  The first day she came into my classroom, I started questioning everything I knew to be true as a professor at the university.

  I started to question if it was okay to fall in love with my student.

  Leyla:

  As soon as I entered class on the first day, my eyes found his.

  The way we connected was as satisfying as the click of a pen in a quiet classroom and just as instant.

  I hadn’t planned on falling for my professor during my first semester at the university, but some things were inevitable.

  Obsessed with my Professor is a hot and steamy romance about a professor and a student who has to bend the rules a little after they fall for each other. They learn how hard it is to keep feelings pent up and how easy it is for things to get out of control. This is the fourth story in the Class is in Session series.

  Chapter 1

  Leyla

  I rolled over on my bed with a pulsing headache and a fading memory of the previous night, groaning as I stretched my limbs over the open area of the bed and buried my head into a pillow. It seemed the sliver of light that was escaping from around the window blinds was enough to pain me back to reality. I rolled over with another groan and let my eyes slowly awaken to the sight before me.

  After a few beats of collecting myself, I turned to my nightstand to see several notifications. My eyes scrolled the screen as I picked out messages from my best friend Casey in the sea of random people I seemed to have added to my social media throughout the night. I pressed on a video she sent and progressively got more and more embarrassed. My phone rang just as the video was winding to a stop.

  “Leyla,” I heard when I answered the phone. It was none other than Casey.

  “Yeah,” I said, rolling over on my side.

  “Are you good? ‘Cause last night was… Shit. Remind me not to take that many shots back to back again.” She laughed at the thought. I couldn’t believe I had let Casey drag me to yet another one of those bars. Especially on a Tuesday night. Not that I didn’t have fun, but I just always seemed to hate myself in the morning. And on top of that, there was this overwhelming feeling that I had something to do today.

  “Next week, my friend is having a party at her loft in the city…” Casey began rambling about the next event. I’d probably say that I couldn’t make it because of work or something and then she’d convince me that it’d be worthwhile because we were young and we could afford to be dumb, so I’d agree. Then, I’d be here. Again. Feeling as though I needed to get sick but having nothing in my stomach to throw up. That reminded me of breakfast.

  “You know, I don’t know, Case,” I trailed.

  My phone buzzed while it was over my ear. A quick glance displayed a message about me being tagged in a photo on Instagram. I hoped I didn't look too drunk in the picture. Casey was going on in the background while I pondered this idea, but another buzz took my attention away from addressing her.

  “Fuck,” I said, sitting up. A wave of nausea hit me after I did so, and I groaned again.

  "What?" Casey questioned as I bolted out of bed and ran into the shower. I connected her to the speaker hanging on the side of my shower, so instead of music, I heard her screeching at me. "What? What happened?"

  “I have class, Casey,” I said as I let the water run over my body. It felt good, but I couldn’t stay too long.

  “Oh, shit! I forgot you’re a college student now,” she said with a laugh.

  I clenched my teeth, feeling slightly frustrated with how lightly she was taking everything but softened when I realized that Casey didn’t get what it was like to be a student again going back to college after all this time. It’s been four years since I’ve been in school.

  My peers had all graduated last year, including Casey, but I was going to be a freshman. I was too stressed about potentially being late to let my anxiety about the first day of class take over.

  “You’re going to do great!” Casey exclaimed over the speaker as I pulled open the curtain and dried off. After wrapping my towel around my chest and brushing my teeth, I said goodbye so that I could focus on actually making it out of the house.

  Just as I was about to leave with my keys dangling between my fingers and my bag hanging off my shoulder, I turned and looked at my apartment. Despite having become so accustomed to living in it this past year, nothing could take away from the fact that it was an accomplishment. It was something that I had worked hard for even without my degree. But now, I was looking at the beginning of what was to come, and I was excited.

  ***

  Psychology. The only thing that I knew about it was something about Freud. But it wasn’t my fault that the only available course that I could take that would count for my major was either that or Environmental Science. The answer just seemed obvious.

  "Henry 105," I said under my breath, looking down at my schedule and then up at the vast campus around me. I moved forward to make the building name come into focus before continuing my path.

  When I arrived at the door of the classroom, I was ten minutes late. I took a breath and prepared to slip in quietly and sit all the way in the back before pulling open the door. The class was smaller than I expected. About forty students crammed into the small lecture hall rather than one hundred in an auditorium. I took a sharp breath as all forty turned and looked at me, feeling the anxiety creeping in but not letting it prevent me from moving forward.

  “Welcome in,” I heard from the front of the classroom as I took a step forward.

  My eyes moved up to the figure standing in front of the podium. He had his hands shoved into his gray slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. The way his eyes held mine as he spoke brought chills to my spine and made the stares from the class fall from significance. “We were just talking about the tardy policy.” He flashed me a crooked grin while the rest of the crowd filled with scattered laughter. As my heartbeat sped up and thumped ag
ainst my chest, the heat rose in my body and filled my cheeks.

  He raised an eyebrow at me, almost challengingly, and kept his gaze focused on me while I let my lips pull into a soft smile. I moved down the aisle and settled into a seat at the end of the row. Professor Neil Jamison… I remembered the name typed on my schedule and now on my syllabus as he came up and handed me one himself.

  "For future reference, there's always space in the front," he said just before turned away. "And class starts promptly at 11 o'clock." Maybe it was the way his eyes seemed to glimmer when he was closer like a diamond in the rough begging to be explored, or perhaps it was the way his aroma encircled me like an embrace I wanted to surrender in. Still, everything he did felt intentional, and everything he said felt like an invitation, and I could only accept.

  Chapter 2

  Neil

  “I will allow no more than three unexcused tardies per semester. After that, it is considered an absence for which you have no more than three as well. So, for a better idea, nine tardies is equal to three absences, which will deduct your grade by twenty points of the two hundred allotted for the semester…" I shifted my eyes from the syllabus on the podium and scanned the crowd for understanding.

  “Now I realize how this sounds,” I continued with a laugh. “But I promise that so long as you guys show up, there shouldn’t be any problems.”

  The door creaked up, grabbing the attention of the students before I could follow their gaze up. A young woman made her way out of the shadows, finding my eyes as quickly as I could greet her. I smiled up at her to welcome her in. From afar, I could only see her silhouette revealing her curves in her nude dress. With her long, dark hair laced up into two long braids that gracefully fell to her chest, accentuating the generous curves there. “We were just talking about the tardy policy.” I smiled while the class snickered, finding humor in my innocent comment.

  Even from the front of the classroom, I could see her cheeks blossoming a soft rouge. A smile followed soon after, brightening up her face. Surprisingly, heat began to surge through my body. Her gaze locked on mine as she moved down the aisle and found a seat. I cleared my throat when I realized I was watching her make her way there and looked down at the stack of syllabi I had left.

  I traveled up the stairs and handed one to her. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes taking me in. “For future reference, there’s always space in the front,” I explained. She was distracting me. It seemed that everything she did was intentional. The way she licked her lips, the way she searched my eyes like she was looking for answers to questions she had yet to ask. And I felt naked. I wondered if she could see that she was tempting me in the worst ways... “And class starts promptly at 11 o’clock,” I added, putting a halt to my unwinding thoughts. She is a student, I told myself. That seemed to be enough to tame my thoughts for the remainder of the class.

  ***

  “Professor Jamison." My office hours were until five, and with it being fifteen minutes till five, I wasn't expecting any more students. I glanced up when I heard my name and immediately felt my body light up. The thoughts I had hoped I had suppressed jumped out like a thief in the night, but I forced them to retreat after I shifted my attention to the figure standing at the door.

  “Good evening,” she said with a sly smile. “Can I…?”

  “Of course.” I offered her a seat. She shut the door and sat across from me. Unlike earlier in the day when she was wearing a dress, she had on a skirt and a cropped top. With her cheeks lightly blushed and hair curled, I assumed she had plans for later that night. “How may I help you this evening, Miss...?”

  “Morris--erm, Leyla,” she said with a soft laugh.

  “How may I help you this evening, Leyla?” I said with the added professionalism more for me than her.

  “Well, I wanted to sort of apologize for today…” she started. I raised an eyebrow at her. I wasn’t expecting an apology for her behaving like a student.

  "Life happens," I responded.

  She paused and bit down on her lips, turning the bottom a deep red. I was thankful that I was seated because the way her eyes shifted up to mine was starting to make me hard.

  “I know that I’m a little older than the rest of the students, but I don’t want you to think that I’m not dedicated just because of the late start,” she added. “And I promise that I won’t be late again. I just woke up late and…” She sighed while thinking about it. “11 o’clock,” she concluded.

  I smiled at her. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you on time for class." As much as I didn't want her to leave, I also didn't want to know what would happen if she stayed any longer because the way she was looking at me…

  “You actually have a copy of this?” Her eyes darted past me as she stood up and made her way to my bookshelf.

  Grateful for the diversion, I laughed. “I like to reference it.”

  She slid a copy of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, or DSM-V, from the shelf. She ran her hand on the cover before flipping it open, looking for nothing in particular but expectant of a revelation. "Ah, insanity," she said, pausing at a specific spot on the page.

  I kept seated, thinking it would help conceal the growing bulge in my pants, but instead, the view of her standing above me a few feet away only seemed to make things worse. She laughed, then turned her head to me.

  "What?" I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Well, Einstein said that insanity is doing something over and over and expecting a different result. And even though it’s not in this book, it makes me wonder if love is kind of like insanity. A synonym in a way.”

  "How?" I asked. I couldn't help but dig for an answer. I was a scientist, after all. The why's, the how's, the when's, the who's...it kept me interested. And with her eyes held over mine, taking in my question, but withholding her answer, I was on the tip of my toes.

  "Because," she started after a beat. "We expect different from the same kinds of people." She pulled away from the wall and slowly approached me. With my chair swiveled in her direction and the bookshelf positioned across from me, I could only focus on Leyla. Her legs stretched on forever, her hips poked out from her skirt, her breasts sat idly, and it all teased me.

  My eyes shifted up to her, intensifying my heartbeat. She is a student, I reminded myself, but the words just sounded like a meaningless jumble. "I spent my whole life being crazy. Is it bad to use that word in front of a psychology professor…?" The last part, she said more to herself than me. She placed her hand on my shoulder and let it fall down to my chest.

  "I want to be in love one day. Not crazy in love, but sanely in love. Mutually in love. And trying something different may be what I need to get me there." I could no longer hide my secret. Instead, she was enthralled at the sight of the bulge in my pants. Now, a mere few inches away, she lowered herself and let her hands ride on top of my pants, creeping dangerously close to my crotch. The line between student and professor felt so blurry with her this close to me, the sweet smell of vanilla making me light in the head. Fuck, I thought, if only I could…

  She leaned into me slowly. Her lips, plump and pink, whispered to me as the distance between us lessened. And right when we were about to close it, I stood up.

  "Okay," I said, placing a few feet between the two of us. "It's five o'clock, which means that it is the end of my office hours, Miss Morris." At the sound of her last name, her face fell slightly. I moved across the room and held the door open for her. She made a face and didn't move from her spot, keeping her attention on me as though expecting me to change my mind. Then, she walked toward the door before pausing by it and turning to me.

  “You want different, too,” she said. “See you in class.”

  I let out a breath after she left, holding my head and replaying the events of the evening. I wanted to scold myself for being foolish enough to let it get this far, but the pulsing I felt below my waist was enough to remind me of other needs.

  I sat
back at my desk with the door shut and slipped my hand in my pants, finishing the job that I couldn’t let her start.

  Chapter 3

  Leyla

  At my directive, Casey poured me another shot, which I threw back without a second thought. It wasn't my idea to go to the bar for the second time in a row this week, but I needed the distraction after my evening with Professor Neil Jamison. I grimaced as the liquor flowed down my throat, scorching it as it warmed the pit of my stomach.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Casey said, her face recovering from the convulsions the liquor forced her into. I glanced at her. Could she really tell that something was up? I thought I looked like I was having fun.

  “Well…” I started. Where did I start with the whole I-wanna-fuck-my-professor topic? "Erm…" The shots from earlier were beginning to take effect and making it, so the logic of it all seemed irrelevant. I pulled out my phone, typing a few things into it, and then holding it up to her when I was successful with my search.