Forbidden Professors Boxed Set: A Forbidden Professor Student Romance Collection

by Penelope Wylde

  Beneath me, Rosalee doesn’t say anything. Her panting breaths warm my neck and her hands have found their way under my shirt.

  “Son of a bitch, I’m a bastard.” I continue my charade, biting my tongue, nearly letting her given name slip from my lips. No way I should know that information.

  Her tiny nails bite into my back, forcing me to drive my hips forward. Her nipples draw to a hard point, pressing into my chest when I drop my head to her shoulder, and it’s taking every fucking once of my self-control to stay still as her body accommodates my large size. And yet there’s a part of me wanting to drag my needy cock from her tight channel, pull her over my knee and spank that beautiful ass of hers for giving herself to a stranger.

  When she circles her hips, I can feel her walls tighten like a vise around my cock and drag cum from the tip.

  “Stop,” I beg. “God, what have I done?”

  “Nothing I don’t want,” she says, unaware of the mental battle warring inside me.

  And with that, I physically feel the wall separating us as professor and student lift even if I am the only one who knows it.

  I go to push up from her, but she drags me back into her arms, wrapping her silky legs around my waist, holding me deep inside her.

  “Make me come again. Like you did before. Make me feel like I’m wanted.”

  God, that did it. No way I’m walking out of here without another stain on my soul for taking something so precious, and might I add barely legal, under the guise of a mask.

  Like I said, I don’t have the strength to stop now. She’s as delicious as I dreamed she would be, and my morals only go so far before the primal animal inside takes over. And that side of me is starved for her.

  I pull us both up to where she is straddling me, and I pump my hips, holding her in place with my hands on either side of her hips. Her tight body is made for fucking, and there’s no way this beautiful angel will ever belong to another man. I don’t know how, but she will be mine long after tonight is over.

  I groan in the back of my throat, seeing her juices drip down my cock to wet us both, and I’m ready to cum, but I hold myself to the line. I want her pussy pulsating around my shaft as I give her my load.

  Her head falls back as she winds her arms around my neck. With one arm around her waist and another around her thigh, I withdraw before slamming back in, hitting her clit.

  She arches, jutting her nipples forward in just the right spot.

  “You have the most beautiful breasts.” I dip my head and feast on the pink tips, sucking and nipping all that juicy flesh.

  “Yes, Gideon, God, yes, do it again! Please!”

  The blood in my veins nearly freezes in shock when I hear my real name come from her lips. But I can’t stop. I’m too far gone, and I would risk giving myself away if I do. Because I quickly realize it is not me she’s addressing but the fantasy in her head. It’s not me, the stranger in the mask she’s fucking, it’s the man she sees when she closes her eyes. It has to be. What else would drive her to scream my name?

  And that truth puts a smile of satisfaction on my face.

  I reach between us and brush her sweet clit with the pad of my thumb. “Cum for me sweetness, give it to me now,” I command gruffly.

  My balls draw up and the need to fill her cunt with my seed drives me into her hard and fast. I hold nothing back. Hearing my name once again being screamed from her lips makes my dick impossibly harder and when my climax hits, I shoot my own release into the confines of the rubber, her velvety walls milking me dry.

  “I’ve got you, sweetness,” I soothe as we both float back down. I rub my hands up and down her back and pull her into my arms. Leaning close to her ear I whisper, “Next time I’ll have that pussy bare and taking all of me.”

  She pulls back, her expressive eyes wide in surprise behind the mask, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she crashes her lips against mine. I take over, driving my tongue into her mouth, stroking, licking and tongue fucking her mouth. I know she tastes her own release on my tongue when she moans a delicate sound that has my cock stirring again.

  I grasp the back of her head and break the kiss, moving her off my lap gently. My cock slips from her body, and I’m already hard, wanting her again. I toss the rubber in the trash and look away when I see the hurt on her face.

  “It’s time for you to leave now.” I keep my voice low, steady with a rougher edge than usual as I’ve done all night. The husked voice of a mystery lover, not a university professor.

  “As soon as you are dressed I’ll have someone drive you safely home,” I say, with my back toward her. “Your money will be deposited for you by morning as promised in the contract.” I don’t know why I say that, but I want her to know she will be taken care of so she can get a good night’s rest.

  Apparently, she doesn’t see it my way.

  “Wow. I know you paid for my time, but you didn’t have to make me feel like a paid escort. You can forget a next time.”

  My head swivels but I make no move to go to her, though I’m dying to kiss the firm line of her lips.

  Tears shimmer in her eyes, and I hear the sheets rustle as she climbs off the bed.

  Fuckkk.

  “That’s not what I meant.” I can’t find it in me to cross the room. If I let that happen, I’ll do something regrettable like take both our masks off and ruin both our futures. How would it look for me, a Blackthorne, taking a student to a sex club? Not good is how, and the stain on her reputation would never be removed.

  “Oh, I see,” she says with a noticeable tremor.

  No, she didn’t, I know that for a fact, but what the hell can I do about it?

  “I’ll look for the money and there’s no need for a ride. I came here alone—I can see myself home.”

  Every word she says come out harsher than the last, and I want to kick my own ass for ruining such a beautiful night, but I see no other way. Her reaction is what I expect, but that doesn’t take away the rage I feel having to turn her away or cause her to feel embarrassed from what we shared.

  What kind of son of a bitch am I?

  She’s too smart to be fooled for much longer, and I’m already running the risk of her figuring out my identity by taking her the way I did. That and I can only disguise my voice so much.

  I catch a glimpse of her crossing the room and jerking on her robe with rigid movements, covering all that beautiful skin from my view. I should feel relieved we made it through the evening, but it’s anger pumping through my veins, not relief.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening, sir. I hope you enjoyed your time with me.”

  Ouch.

  I all but hear the metal curtain fall into place between us with a grinding clink of the lock.

  Fuck this. I’m not about to let her walk out of here feeling like some disposable hooker. Anyone who says I can’t have her can fuck right off.

  I turn around and open my mouth to say as much but it’s too damn late. The little minx moves fast and is already out the door with it closing behind her.

  Let her run for now. I’ll catch her.

  Chapter Six

  Rosalee

  I spent the better part of the morning in a state of numbness. Only sheer willpower and the need for the credit for the class drags me out of bed. Last night left me a mess of emotions I haven’t quite been able to comb through. Hell, how could I?

  There was guilt first and then a burst of leftover pleasure, and let’s not forget embarrassment and a healthy helping of shame. My momma raised me better. But let’s be honest, no sane woman would be able to look herself in the mirror in the morning after what I did last night and not feel all that and more.

  And if that isn’t confusing enough, there’s a dash of excitement and pure one-hundred percent bliss every time I think about my mystery man’s scent and the way his touch felt on my skin. The feeling is burned into my memory. The hum running through my body agrees with the latter and screams for my brain to shut the hell up.<
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  None of that changes the fact someone paid me for my virginity, knowingly or not. My mother would be so ashamed, but I can’t help but feel a little thrill at the naughtiness and totally secrecy of it all. To add more confusion to my already overflowing pot, all last night I dreamed about how my mystery man’s lips felt on my flesh and when he looked up my body and his gaze connected with mine, I saw Professor Blackthorne looking back at me and this time there was no mask.

  I make my way to the psychology department and find my usual seat. Other students are filing in.

  The very man who has worked deeper into my fantasies is at the head of the class, sleeves firmly rolled down and fastened at the wrist. Today he’s wearing tailored white slacks and a navy blue shirt with the top couple of buttons popped open. He starts his lecture, and I’m barely aware of what he’s saying, lost in my own thoughts.

  Hot on the heels of my wet dream, the first thing I did after waking this morning was touch my newly pleasured body. I’d closed my eyes and stroked a finger over my still swollen clit and as soon as my eyes slipped shut, it was Gideon’s face I saw. His voice I heard.

  “Ms. Johnson.”

  I blink and raise my eyes. “Oh, sorry, Professor, I missed your question.” Because I was fantasizing about you going down on me. But I leave that off. I feel all eyes are on me, and I blush redder than a tomato as I stare back into my professor’s dark eyes. He holds my gaze a fraction longer than needed, and I’m powerless to look away and instantly turned on.

  The sudden warm feeling pooling between my legs has me remembering the hungry, wolfish look in my lover’s eyes last night. The same dark look the professor is giving me now. I can see his fingers tighten around the edge of the podium and my breath catches. The muscles of his forearm ripple with the strength he is using on the innocent wood.

  He’s stolen the air from my lungs, and I’m crossing my legs to help with the sudden throbbing of my clit. Chills rush over me even, and right this second I think it’s safe to say last night’s goal of fucking Professor Blackthorne out of system didn’t work. Thank God I’m working to become a psychologist, because there’s something definitely something wrong with my head.

  He’s off on another topic, but his gaze comes back to me every few seconds and I see that look again. It’s the same look my bidder had when he bared my nipples to his hungry gaze.

  But I blink and he’s turned away, off on another point as if nothing happened.

  I know what I just saw. Right? No two people can have those same dark eyes. Right?

  Grr. I’m going crazy here. I shake my head. God, what is wrong with me? I was wrapped around another man last night, and here I am wanting someone else. Instead of feeling free, I’m pressing my thighs together as I watch my professor walk around the room passing out our next assignment.

  Was he my mystery man? I spend the rest of the class watching for all the little clues, but all I manage to do is mount more questions. If he was my lover, did he know it was me? He’d kept his clothes on, but at the time I didn’t question the reasons why. If he had any. Maybe he didn’t want me to see a scar or maybe he didn’t like something about his body.

  Or maybe I need to consider the obvious. Whoever my lover was didn’t want me touching his body. A bought and paid for woman. Maybe he thought I was dirty in some way and that thought breaks my heart.

  My brow knit together as I watch Blackthorne running a finger along the rim of his collar, flashing me a hint of the ink I know he hides.

  Another thought occurs. Maybe my lover had tattoos he didn’t want seen?

  The second class is over, I’m out the back door, my mind already kicking up a plan on how to get to the bottom of this. Not like I can walk up to his desk and ask what he was doing last night at oh, say around ten-ish.

  Where’s the fun in that. A plan comes together as I recall Amber telling me there is another auction this evening, and I still have my little black card tucked away safely at home.

  Those burning eyes, that deep baritone. I have to know and there’s only one way that will happen. I don’t know if he’ll be there, but I’m going to try. There’s a fifty-fifty chance I’m wrong and what’s the worst that can happen? An encore of last night?

  Whether it’s my mystery man or my professor who will greet me on the other side of the door I’m about to knock on, I can handle some hot sex.

  I’m hooked.

  Chapter Seven

  Rosalee

  I don’t make much small talk at the club entrance as the bouncer checks me and my credentials over for the fifth time.

  I’m taking a risk that I’m wrong, but my gut says I’m totally on point when I say, “Gideon Blackthorne is expecting me.” Lucky for me, I got to keep my card from the previous night when I snagged it off my mystery man’s table on the way out. I’d meant it as a memento.

  The doorman hands me a mask and I tie it on as he waves me through the opened heavy slabs of marble with fine traces of gold woven through it, and I don’t stop until I’m standing outside the black door with the golden number 501.

  Before knocking I take a moment and check my hair in a hallway mirror and straighten my skirt and blouse. I know one of two men are on the other side or will be soon, and a dirty idea hits. You don’t get anything if you’re not bold, right? Well here goes nothing. I reach under my skirt and slide off my panties, stuffing them in my clutch.

  I try the handle and find it unlocked and let myself in.

  At first everything looks the same, and I smell the hint of the same cologne as I did the previous night.

  My eyes drift to the bed, and that’s when my heart plunges to my toes, dead.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” A very beautiful, very naked blonde with shapely hips and berry-tipped tits is spread out on what I know is Professor Blackthorne’s bed. Her silky blonde hair is a sight of perfection on the black silk of his sheets. At least he’d had them changed.

  What the fuck? My limbs freeze right along with my brain.

  “I didn’t realize this room was occupied,” I stutter and back out of the room just as she sits up, her mouth poised open as if to say something.

  Yep. don’t care. I don’t want to know what she has to say, because I’m not sure I can handle words at the moment I’m so mad. Mad at myself for how stupid I am to get so caught up in a man when I should be focused on my family. And mad at letting my body carry me so far into a fantasy I have lost all sense of myself. Chasing after a man is not me.

  And I’m mad at the professor for hiding his identity from me when he had to have known it was me last night.

  But still, I don’t have the proof I came here looking for either. Or do I? The doorman didn’t refute my claim when I used the professor’s name. Grrr. I just want out of here.

  I trudge through the halls, backtracking my steps. I am so caught up in my thoughts and anger I don’t see the wall of muscle in front of me until my nose is buried in all that glorious hardness.

  Damn my fingers for flexing around two taut pecs.

  And that’s when I smell it. The cologne. His cologne. My mystery lover’s. On my professor.

  My lover’s.

  Two words as foreign to me as the feeling they stir.

  I raise my gaze, up and up a little further until my gaze lands on a set of dark, piercing eyes.

  “Professor Blackthorne.”

  There’s my proof, I suppose. But my heart wants to cry. This night is not going how I planned or thought it would.

  I shove all that aside and sidestep the man. No need to say anything. I’ll just drop out, go home and find another way to bring my family back on their feet.

  Apparently, my brain decided it wanted to take over for my heart, because when I open my mouth to apologize for running into him, something else entirely comes out.

  “Your new fuck of the night is upstairs waiting on you. You’ll love her tits. Promise.”

  I have to give him credit. He looks perplexed at first as he takes me in, b
ut I don’t buy it and shove his massive size to the side so I can get by. Or at least I try. He doesn’t move, as expected. Instead he lords his large size over me like a bull and is huffing like one too.

  I crank my chin high and shove my shoulders back. I’m no charity case, and I can’t help but feel played or pitied. “Don’t play stupid. I know what goes on here and had I known it was you at the auction last night buying me for the evening, I would have never let you between my legs. And take that look of confusion off your face. I didn’t know it was you, but you sure the hell knew it was me. You’re the one that picked my card off the floor two days ago in your lecture hall with my name on it. Remember?”

  “Make up your mind, Ms. Johnson. Are you mad because someone else was taking your virginity last night when you wanted it to be me or that there’s someone else in my private rooms this evening? You need to pick.”

  Why, the sheer arrogance! “Why do you think I wanted it to be you to take my virginity? A little full of yourself, Professor.”

  “Because you screamed my name not once but all three times I made you cum around my cock last night.”

  My face falls.

  “I did what?” I gasp.

  I wrap my arms over my chest protectively, and his gaze dips to my breasts where my hard nipples are peaking through the thin material of my blouse, thoroughly betraying me. “Don’t get too excited. My nipples react to a varying degree of emotions, and I don’t believe you.”

  Blackthorne drops his chin to his chest and stalks forward, pushing me deeper into a small alcove off the side of the long corridor. Partially tucked out of sight, he raises his hands and anchors his arms on either side of me until I can do nothing but glare back at him through the eyes of my silk mask.

  “You moaned the first. It was a delicious sound. Fuck, it made me harder. Then when you cried the second, I fucked you faster until you screamed my name a third time. Then I released my cum and filled your tight pussy with all of me.”

  I shudder at his filthy words. “I remember that part, thank you very much and we used a condom.”