Forbidden Professors Boxed Set: A Forbidden Professor Student Romance Collection

by Penelope Wylde

  It’s been a long night and it’s barely after midnight. My stomach rumbles, so I make quick work of finding a shirt and pulling it on. The ends brush to mid-thigh with the words US MARINES across my breasts. It’s old, worn and perfect. He’s brought my purse and small satchel in from the truck, so I dig out a clean pair of panties and pull them on.

  I go for the sweats but they are too big and I don’t want to give the rule of three plaguing me an easy target. Tripping over a pair of pants around my ankles is not the way I want to go when I leave this earth.

  I make my way back downstairs and patter barefoot to the kitchen to find his back turned to me and his wet shirt draped over a kitchen chair.

  Until that moment I thought he was bare of any tattoos but I was wrong. So very very wrong. Maddox Spencer is not the strait-laced never-break-a-stigma type as everyone thinks, I muse. Or at least I do.

  Over the wide expanse of his sculpted back is a huge eagle with unfurled wings spread from one side to the other, showing a fierce look in the eyes of the beast. From his days in the military, no doubt.

  It’s stunning and I can’t help but stare.

  That hovering need to climax tingles deep inside my core, letting me know it’s there. I bite my lip to keep from groaning out loud.

  Sexy as hell.

  I wonder what it would be like to trace every line and feel his muscle bunch and roll under my touch?

  When I enter the kitchen, he’s leaning over the stove concentrating so hard he doesn’t hear me approach until I’m right beside him.

  “Mmm…it smells divine,” I say in greeting than anything else to kind of break the ice again between us after he stormed out of the bathroom like a man on fire.

  He turns with a tight smile we both know is forced. A stab of annoyance runs through me when he nails me with a pinched look, but it doesn’t last long. I swing my hair over my shoulder and the fire in his eyes brightens when that small movement draws his attention to what I’m wearing.

  First his gaze rakes over my legs and then up until he sees the hard tips of my nipples poking against the confines of his shirt. One thing my satchel didn’t contain was a fresh bra, and Maddox just figured that out.

  He ignores my greeting altogether. “What are you wearing?”

  I thought it obvious. “Uh… your shirt,” I answer dryly, not liking his tone or the way the heat of his visual examination has me shifting my weight from one foot to the other like I’ve been a bad girl. “We left all my clothes in my car, remember?” I keep my tone cool, even.

  “I see that but,” he growls, waving a sauce-dipped wooden spatula in my direction. “I mean that.”

  His eyes are on my bare legs and my nipples are hard to miss.

  “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked, professor.”

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not your professor.”

  “Oookaaayyy, Dean Spencer,” I draw out. “Doesn’t make much difference, right? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked,” I repeat. “…licked my pussy juices off your fingers or made me orgasm so hard I saw stars in the middle of the school parking lot. Sorry, but I didn’t think wearing a T-shirt in front of you would make much difference.”

  He turns back around but I can see the tension in his neck and tell he’s gritting his teeth from my choice of words. I didn’t mean to push the man, or at least not tonight but it seems it doesn’t matter what I do the same result happens so I might as well stick to the truth.

  “Look,” I begin, really not sure what to say to make him drop his guard even a fraction. I thought I was having a rough night, but it didn’t look like he faired any better.

  Maddox’s jaw twitched and up came the spatula again. This time to point toward a table in the corner. “Just have a seat, Amber.”

  I pull out a chair closest to the window. Beyond the large glass is probably a million-dollar view that’s stunning during daylight hours, but at this hour its pitch-black outside with only a few beams of moonshine breaking through the clouds.

  It doesn’t matter. All my attention is on the man and his low-slung jeans dropped over powerful hips. So he does own a pair. And they are a dream.

  He turns with two plates in hand, and I have to swallow to keep my jaw from hitting my chest. The top button is popped open and his pants ride just low enough to highlight those crazy sexy dips that lead into a V on either side of his hips. You know the ones I’m talking about that make a woman lose track of her own thoughts. Yep. Those. So I might not have a wealth of experience in the bedroom department, but I know sexy, and this man is every definition of the word.

  For the first time in my life I think I just came in my panties by proxy alone.

  As hard as it is, I drag my eyes up to find him staring down at me.

  “Oh, let me help.” I jump up, causing my shirt to rise up my thigh and my uncorralled tits to sway under my shirt, and his eagle-sharp eye catches it all.

  My face reddens as I reach out for our plates and return to the table adding a little sashay to my hips.

  His bright eyes blaze hotter the sun as he levels them on me when he takes a seat next to me. “I hope you like chicken alfredo.”

  Not what I expect to come from his lips with a look like that on his face. Like it’s me he’d rather devour for dinner than the food he prepared.

  “Anything is heaven, thank you.” And I mean that. I hold his gaze several beats to make sure he feels the sincerity in my words.

  He frowns but doesn’t respond other than a curt nod.

  “Humor me and tell me again how you ended up with that bruise on your face.”

  Nice try. I never told him how, just that I would be fine and not to worry.

  I shrug nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal, nothing I can’t handle.” I try to play it off, but his sharp scowl says he’s not buying it and something tells me he won’t take a simple answer.

  “You deserve a better answer than that, I guess.” And it’s true. He took me in when he could have sent me to a shelter.

  I hold his blue eyes, and for a second I realize they are not truly blue. Not through and through. Gold specs are buried in the depths. Stunning.

  He points to my plate and I savor the first bit, swirling the fresh sauce and buttery noodle over my tongue.

  I moan and let my eyes slide close for a moment in sheer bliss. When I open them again, he’s watching me intently. The heat hiding under the surface buried by worry and doubt rises.

  I sigh and wash down my food with a glass of ice water he set in front of me.

  One by one, I went through each event that led up to me sitting at his table in his T-shirt and with the nice shiner on my face. How I managed to leave SoCal behind to why I’m currently stripping to pay my way through school.

  He nods while staying silent for a moment longer than my nerves can take. He’s looking at the dark bruise on my face and down at his plate like he’s talking himself out of a bad idea that involves someone else getting hurt.

  “Why didn't you ask the committee for a meeting and get an extension earlier? You know the rules.”

  “I do and yes, you’re right. It's my fault, I know. Time got away, and I didn’t realize I actually would need an extension. I thought I would be able to pay today. I’ve been doing okay till now.”

  Finished, he takes our plates and sets them in the sink. Turning to another cupboard, he pulls out a first-aid kit and returns to the table.

  “What changed?” he asks, pulling my chair closer until my knees are between his spread thighs.

  “I didn't receive my paycheck on time and because you don't know you're going to have a problem until it's on top of you 99% of the time, I didn’t know to ask for an extension. There was no warning management would withhold payment until the new owner took over.”

  “That’s illegal, you know.”

  “I don’t think they are worried about a handful of strippers with no bankroll for lawyers or a wannabe lawyer in training,” I say, meaning me.
>
  The gleam in his eyes tells me there’s more going on in his head than the few short questions he’s tossing my way.

  “Why didn’t you get help from your other family? There has to be someone?”

  I scoff. “Who? My druggie father who just asked me for bail money? Brothers, aunts, grandparents? I’m an only child and thank God for the small miracle. All the others haven't cared about me since… frankly, I have no idea. One of them could walk through your front door right now and I wouldn't recognize them, that's how well I know my extended family.” I sounded like some droning on whiny child, and that pisses me off. I don’t let the bad get to me. I’m a silver lining kind of girl and I need to remember that.

  “But to ease those worry lines that keep appearing on your forehead, I tried as you know. Only I was a day off, apparently. Kind of stupid of me, really. But come Monday I’ll be speaking with my boss and try with the school again. I’ll go from there.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  He pulls out a small bottle of some kind of cream that smells like mint and a mix of other soothing ingredients that smell familiar.

  “How ’bout I pay tuition? Problem solved and you can repay me by keeping your nose in the books and your perfect ass off the stage for good.”

  What was that? My jaw hinges open stunned, but he carries on like he offers to help everyone pay their bills.

  “This should help with the bruising and make it go down a little faster.”

  “Really? And you know this because you’ve had a handsy bookie backhand you?” I let the idle chitchat take over on autopilot as I absorb his offer.

  Thankfully he doesn’t push the offer and lets it slide. Good, because right now I don’t know how to answer it one way or the other.

  “Not quite. I managed to get banged up a few times in my military days. My brother too and my father before us. My grandmother got tired of seeing all the bruises and made this concoction that works better than anything I’ve bought from the pharmacy.”

  “Do you have a big family?”

  He nods. Hmm. A man of so many words.

  The plain truth of it is my face doesn’t really hurt unless I smiled a bit too hard, but there’s no use in spoiling the moment. His strong hands on my feel too good and I’m not about to throw on the brakes.

  And he left it at that, applying the cream with gentle strokes with one hand, the other resting on my bare knee protectively. No, it’s not the way he’s resting his hand but how he’s cocooned me between him and the wall at my back. His massive shoulders block out the view of the living room. I’d be lying if I said his bulky size didn’t turn me on. He’s like a protective wall. A shield…my shield.

  I think on that for a minute. I’ve never had anyone care for me so tenderly. Not my mom or my dad. Maybe the nurse back in third grade when I fell and skinned my knees and palms. That is not even in the same realm as this, though.

  I shiver when he turns my head to the side and inspects his work with a light touch. “I’ll apply more in the morning after breakfast. You’ll sleep in my room and I’ll take the couch.”

  My eyes widen. All that space for me? No Maddox to share it with? “I didn’t realize there was only one bed. You know we can share,” I state coolly.

  He holds a hand up with a frown. “No arguing. I’ll take the couch.”

  Completely puzzled by his hot and cold spurts I’m starting to get irritated. “What are you afraid of? Look, let’s not pretend I’m the innocent little student you think had some white picket fence childhood. I’m not some fragile doll you need to protect.”

  “Your face says otherwise. What kind of man hits a woman anyway? I hope you nailed him in the balls for his efforts.”

  “Not exactly, I’m not as brave you think,” I answer. I push to my feet, needing air that isn’t saturated with his consuming scent. It clogs up the gears and I’m having a hard time thinking straight. I pace the small area between the stove and table.

  I feel his gaze on me tracking my movements. And the way his shirt rides high on my thigh.

  He moves in, not touching me but close all the same. “Where the hell are the pants I told you to put on, anyway?”

  He crosses the room, putting away the first-aid kit.

  “They kept falling off.”

  He hisses something inaudible, but I pick up on the tone all the same.

  I spot my phone where I left it on the counter when we first arrived and pick it up. I clear my throat uneasily. “Look, I appreciate your kindness, but I don’t think this is going to work out. I seem to be putting you on edge, and you shouldn’t feel that way in your own home. I have a friend that might be able to put me up for a night or two.”

  I turn to walk out of the kitchen and find my clothes, wet or not, and get the hell out of here. What was I thinking? I may have thought I could handle a man like Maddox, but I was wrong. Plus there’s no way I want to stay in a house where the tension is so thick I can’t breathe.

  Unshed tears burn the rims of my eyes. Stupid heart for letting myself care for someone. Gah. I flick the screen on and pull up Rosalee’s number.

  “Like hell you are. No fucking way I'm letting you go stay at some frat boy’s house.” He turns me around, his nostrils flaring like a raging bull. “I never said you were not welcomed here, so don’t even try that angle, sweetheart.”

  His arms are around me and my face pressed into his chest as he hugs me tight. Just human to human contact feels so nice. It's strange and oddly so right. For a moment we are not the Dean of Blackthorne and a down-and-out stripper/college student about to lose my future.

  We’re simply Maddox and Amber caught up in the moment of a real connection, and the magic is as tangible as the man holding me like I’m a treasure.

  And then it's gone. I peer up at him and see something shift behind those thick, black lashes, and he's the untouchable dean and I guess that makes me the off-limits girl again.

  “How the fuck have you survived this long looking so damn innocent?”

  He doesn’t wait for an answer. He grabs my hand and leads me to his room in silence, and my heartbeat jackhammers like it wants to beat a hole through my chest. At the door he swings me around from behind him and releases my hand once I’m inside. With his hand on the knob, he says, “We'll talk in the morning. Get some rest.”

  And then I’m all alone again.

  Anger and frustration well inside me. “Grr…tonight is going to be a very long night.”

  Chapter Seven

  Amber

  I jerk awake, not sure what has me sitting up in bed, clutching the sheet.

  Then I hear it again, and for a brief moment I think I hear my father. He’s found me or my landlord has broken into my apartment and has all his trash friends with him. I’m gulping for air as the room comes into view. I left a light on in the corner and I start to breathe again when I realize where I am and whose bed I’m snuggled in.

  There it goes again. Faint and deep, almost breathy.

  I guess I’m still half asleep when I reach the middle of the stairs because I don’t fully understand what I’m hearing until the very deep and utterly pussy-clenching grunt reaches my ears.

  And just like that everything I shoved to the back of mind so I could grab a few hours of sleep comes roaring back to life in a wave of heat, and my panties are instantly drenched.

  Masculine grunts and groans carry over to where I stand now at the foot of the stairs, my hand gripping the railing for support.

  My breath catches in my throat at the beautiful, erotic view I find in the middle of the living room. Moonlight spills through the skylights overtop the sofa where Maddox lays sprawled out naked. Silver light kisses rippling muscle and the rock-hard cock in his hand.

  Oh God. This is bad. I know this is a private moment, but I can’t help but watch.

  My pulse hammers erratically and shoots a bolt of electricity to my clit, making the little nub throb.

  And then he does the unthin
kable and I hear the last thing I expect.

  “That’s it, my sweet sugar. Take my cock in your mouth. Lick it as you suck. Draw my milk out.”

  Heat tingles through me, starting near my heart and working its way south from there. Was he talking about me? Is someone else in the room that I can’t see? I step closer only to find the space in front of the couch bare of anyone else.

  “Fuck, yeah, Amber, take all your professor’s big cock in that hot mouth and drink every drop down that beautiful throat. That’s my girl, lick me clean.”

  Every single muscle in his body is strained, tight and bulging. His angry cock looks ready to explode in his hand, but he hasn’t reached that point yet. But he’s close.

  His veined shaft is raging hard in his hand as he pumps the full length from root to head, causing a rivet of cum to spill from the slit. He’s picking up speed, aiming for a fast release. I lick my lips and slide my fingers into my panties. He’s jerking off to a fantasy of me. Oh my God. I’ve never seen anything sexier.

  Do I go to him? Help relieve the pressure or hold myself back and pretend I don’t see him working his beautiful cock?

  My nub is throbbing and the second my finger touches the bundle of nerves buried between my folds, I cry out into the night. Everything in me comes alive. My nipples harden, and liquid spills over my fingers as I stroke myself.

  My gaze shoots to his over the edge of the couch and even in the pale light I can read the fire and heat in his gaze. His expression is an odd mix of pleasure and fury. “What the fuck are you doing, Amber? Go to bed!”

  I can tell he’s angry and probably embarrassed, but right now I don’t care and I am about to make him not care either.

  I’m on my knees beside him, ripping my shirt off and taking his cock in my hand before he has a chance of protesting further.

  “I need this. I need you, professor. Please. It must hurt. Let me…” I whisper, flicking my tongue out to catch the pearl of cum cresting the fat, bulbous head. I brush my lips over the silky flesh, and his cock grows bigger in my hand.