by Alex Wolf
“Why don’t you ask someone for help?” Stefani was being tutored for two other classes.
“This shit is one of the easiest classes, and I can barely keep up.” Kristen sighed and shook her head, staring at the page in front of her.
“Yeah, you didn’t get off to a great start.”
Kristen could hear a half-joking tone in Stefani’s words, and she sighed. She hated the fact she’d been late on her first day. It felt like a curse.
“I was good at this stuff in high school. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know where to look for a tutor.” Kristen knew what happened, and so did Stefani, but neither would ever address the problem in a conversation. She’d partied and been lazy, and as a consequence, she fell behind. Now, it felt impossible to save her grades.
“Why don’t you go talk to the professor?”
“What?” She didn’t bother to mask the shocked tone in her voice.
Stefani stopped what she was doing and gave Kristen a strange look, and Kristen quickly angled her gaze back down to the book.
She’d told her she thought Professor Wiseman was hot, but she hadn’t told her anything about the feelings she’d had for him—or what she wanted to do to him.
“It would be the logical first choice. Students can talk to professors, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah. I just—”
“Do you know another journalism professor or TA? It’s normal to ask a professor for help.”
Her eyes lingered on her friend for a few seconds, then she turned her attention to her breakfast. She hadn’t considered it, but now that the possibility was in front of her, butterflies swarmed into the pit of her stomach. What would she say to him?
It would be embarrassing. Over the course of the month, she’d done everything she could to flirt with him without it being obvious, and he’d been nothing but rude to her.
Still, she’d noticed, after the first day, he looked perfectly put together every morning after that. The few occasions she’d seen him at other times on campus, he wasn’t dressed nearly as sharp. She could’ve sworn he was doing it because of her.
“I don’t know. The whole class is subjective. I don’t want him to fail me if I ask for help. He’ll know I’ve been behind.” Kristen kept her head down as she spoke. She didn’t want Stef to be able to read her expressions and figure out the real issue she faced. She wasn’t worried about him failing her. She just didn’t want him to think she was stupid. Which wasn’t true at all. She retained every word he’d spoken and the way he’d said it.
Sure, she might have daydreamed about what she wanted him to do to her too, but that was different. She made an effort to learn everything she could. She wanted to impress him. She’d fallen behind on her assignments because she didn’t want to turn in subpar work. She’d only turned in one in the beginning, and the result had been horrible. She hadn’t given him anything since.
She had zero confidence in the test she was about to take. No matter what she did, it wouldn’t be good enough.
She was convinced she was going to bomb.
“Anyone have questions?” Professor Wiseman glanced around the classroom with raised eyebrows as he spoke. He had a way of simultaneously staring at everyone and no one. Every time he did it, Kristen pretended they were the only two people in the room. That his gaze was intently fixed on her, but her eyes always dropped if he lingered in her direction.
“Nobody? Okay then, class is dismissed. Don’t forget about the test coming up Friday.” Professor Wiseman spoke loud enough that his voice carried over the din created as students gathered their things and prepared to leave the class. Kristen’s heart kicked into overdrive, pounding in her chest, and a lump formed in her throat. She wiped her sweaty palms down her skirt.
She’d decided to ask for help, but she couldn’t think of the right thing to say. How would she open the conversation? What would he say back to her? So many thoughts whirled through her brain that it went blank.
As she walked up to his desk, the smell of his cologne landed in her nose, and she just wanted to breathe him in. A sudden wave of adrenaline coursed through her limbs when he looked up at her with his cold, blue eyes sitting behind his glasses.
“Something I can help you with?” He looked up at her. His words were harsh and uninviting, and his tone suggested no bullshit.
Why was he so mean to her?
The knot in her throat swelled. “Y-yes.”
Her hand trembled when she held out the one assignment she’d turned in. She quickly sat it on the desk in front of him, trying to hide her shaky fingers. Despite being nervous, she walked around his desk so she could stand next to him. He was like a magnet, the force yanking her closer, despite the fact her brain screamed for her to keep a safe distance.
A vein popped out on his neck, and she could practically feel his heartbeat on it as she neared. His entire body tensed for a quick second, and his hands balled into fists before returning to a relaxed state.
I’m making him nervous too.
Calm washed over her, and her anxiety melted away, knowing she affected him the same way he did her.
Kristen leaned over his desk and pointed at a few sentences she remembered working hard on but was still ashamed to admit were her own.
“I don’t understand the grading on these.”
He glanced over at her and gulped. His eyes darted back to the paper. “What do you not understand?”
He was back to using his asshole tone. What was his deal? If he liked her, why was he being a dick? Two could play at this game.
“Everything. I worked hard on those. Is it my form?” She arched her back and stretched like a cat, as if she were sore and needed a massage. Kristen grinned on the inside, knowing the words would stir him even more.
He tried to control himself, but she noticed every little detail about him. His breathing sped up, and she wondered if his heart beat in his chest as hard as hers.
She pointed at a semi-colon on the page and breathed him in once more. Her pussy was already wet just because of the close proximity. She could easily grab him by his hair and pull his head down to where she needed it. Her clit swelled and throbbed just at the sound of him breathing. Goosebumps pebbled along the backs of her arms thinking about his rough fingers digging into her hips.
Her eyes followed from the paper up to his face where he studied what she’d written.
He didn’t say anything for a few moments, then handed her the paper.
“It’s not terrible. Just not great.”
She stood there, staring nervously.
He sighed. “What would you like me to do? You’ve only turned in one assignment. Maybe you’re not putting forth enough effort.”
She should’ve felt embarrassed at what he’d said, but all she could think was that he’d paid enough attention to realize she’d only turned in one paper. The class was huge. There was no way he could keep track of everyone personally, but he had for her.
Her hands were clammy once more. Why was it so hard to just fucking breathe around him? And he’d asked her a simple question that heated her up even more.
“What would you like me to do?”
Everything. Do anything you want to me.
She wasn’t sure how to actually answer. Her brain was nothing but a giant mass of exposed wires.
“Umm, is there—I mean, maybe you know a tutor?”
He let out another exasperated sigh. “Well, did you go to student services?”
“No.”
“You’re aware there’s a department for helping out with problems like these, right?” He glanced up at her and seared her with those eyes. “So that you don’t bother your professor with it.”
Of course, she knew that. But she didn’t want to go to student services. She wanted to be in the room with him. She wanted any opportunity she could get to ask him questions.
“S-sorry. I didn’t know.”
He smirked as if to say, we both know damn well what’s
happening here.
She rose and smoothed down the front of her skirt.
She caught his eyes glancing to her legs and then back up to her face as quickly as possible.
God, there was something about this man that made her ramble like an idiot. Part of her worried he’d think of her as some kind of helpless airhead.
They both sat there, staring at one another for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. His eyes raked up and down her body, this time without any attempts to avert his stare.
His gaze moved up to her face, still perfectly framed in his hot-as-all-fuck glasses. He let out a breathy sigh. “I normally don’t do this. But I can help you with a few things.”
Houston, we have lift off.
A wave of delicious tension swam through her body and funneled straight down into her pussy. It was like floating on air. Everything became bright and more radiant. Colors were vivid.
“You would do that?” She blinked. “For me?” Her face had to be pink with excitement.
He smiled. Not a warm, happy smile. It was more like a devilish grin. But it was still the first time he’d ever smiled at her. “Stop by after class tomorrow. We can go over a few things.”
She nodded, unable to even think of classes she had the next day. It didn’t matter. She would clear her schedule for him.
“Thank you. I really appreciate this.” She scurried away as fast as she could.
What had she just done? What had he just done?
It had to be nothing. He was just being nice, showing her some kind of mercy. But the way his eyes seared into her flesh and warmed her all over. The tone of his voice. She hadn’t seen this coming at all, him offering to help her personally.
“I expect you to work, Miss Monroe.”
She whipped back around to face him.
His face was tense, and his eyes narrowed. “Do not waste my time.”
She nodded. “I promise.”
She turned on her heel and pushed through the door.
Holy fuck, he was so intense. And she was going to be given time with him, alone.
She had him entirely to herself.
The thought ran through her mind once more.
Alone. Tomorrow.
Chapter Five
Grant flipped through the book on the table in front of him. Ever since that morning, he’d been unable to get Kristen out of his mind. He’d noticed her lack of effort in his class, even though her writing had shown promise. He graded everyone with a high level of scrutiny. How else would it prepare his students for the real world? He hadn’t thought she was struggling with concepts though, figured it was just chalked up to the usual laziness.
Was that it, though? If she were just being lazy, why would she come and ask for help?
There were many times after class where he thought about offering help, but he couldn’t trust himself. And he didn’t want any other students to overhear. It’d be a nightmare. People lined up outside during office hours, needing the same help they could get from a tutor.
He also didn’t want it to come off as hitting on her. He’d been trying to keep her at a distance the entire semester. But when she walked up in that fucking skirt and stretched her goddamn back like a cat on a scratching post, he knew he was done for.
He’d had to calmly sit there while she openly flirted, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. His fingers itched to yank her over his knee and spank her ass for not turning in her assignments on time.
He knew it was all ridiculous, but with the way she consumed his thoughts every damn day of the week—it was impossible to know how to behave toward her without being inappropriate or hinting that he was attracted to her.
He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head.
What the hell did you do?
His brain had struggled for the past month and went back and forth on what to do about Miss Monroe.
Fuck, even her name was sexy.
Wearing skimpy outfits and sitting with her legs spread open on the front row—she’d practically turned him into a salivating teenager.
He’d debated it over and over in his mind. Obviously, his cock argued it was perfectly fine. They were two consenting adults. Then the mature part of him would take over and remind him it was like walking along the edge of a cliff with hundred-mile-an-hour headwinds.
One day he would be determined he wouldn’t give her another thought and focus solely on the class in its entirety. He was her superior and those moral walls had to be sturdy and firm. But then, the next day, she would flounce into the room in a mini skirt and a tight, button-down blouse, with her perky tits half hanging out, and it was like his brain overwrote all the moral bullshit from the day before.
As the days had passed, Grant worked tirelessly to keep his ridiculous fantasies to a minimum, and with each day that’d passed, it’d grown easier. Easier to control his actions, anyway. There was little he could do when she sat in the front row, and even when he fought to keep his mind under his control, it didn’t always happen the way he wanted it to.
But he’d remained strong through all of that, kept it all bottled inside him. So, what could it hurt to help her out personally? He was a grown man with self-control. There was nothing wrong with aiding a student in a one-on-one environment. If that’s what the student needed, he had an obligation to see that they learned and retained the material from his class.
It was on a whim that he’d agreed to tutor her privately. The words came out of his mouth before he’d thought them through. But it would be fine. They would both be at the school, in a classroom anyone could walk into at any moment. He was safe there.
He would keep his distance in case anyone walked in on a study session. It wasn’t uncommon to have people in classes accuse him of playing favorites. He would be certain to keep the discussion on the subject at hand. In this case, it would be all about her journalism assignments and nothing about their personal lives.
A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts, and he rose to see who it was. He never had company and expected it to be a solicitor looking to sell him something he didn’t want.
He opened the door with an angry sigh that slowly morphed into a smile. “What are you doing here? Thought you were in Canada.”
His good friend Hank Burton returned his grin.
“Come in.”
He stepped out of the way and opened the door wider. He and Hank went way back and often spoke on the phone or texted. But Hank was known to take long fishing trips—a.k.a. vacations—around the world, and the last Grant knew, he wasn’t anywhere near California.
“Cut it short. Nothing but issues. They already have snow up there. Wanna beer?” He held up a six pack in his hand.
Grant swept his arm out, ushering in his guest as Hank walked past. He definitely could use a drink.
“Not surprised. Late enough in the year there.” They walked to the kitchen, and Hank let out a whistle.
“You ever take a break?” He stared at the pile of papers spread out on the table.
Grant snickered as he cracked open one of the beers.
“Yeah, but this is important. Have a student that’s not keeping up with her work. Thought I’d give her a hand.”
Hank smirked. “She hot?”
“Yeah.” He’d answered quickly without thinking. “I mean, no, not really. I never really thought about it. I’m old enough to be her dad.”
He grinned back as though Hank had been teasing him, but for some reason his words had come out incredibly defensive. He didn’t mean for his reply to be so sharp.
Hank stared back with a devilish smile, like he wanted more information about the mysterious hot student. The fact Hank even asked what she looked like had Grant grinding his teeth.
“Fuck, man. Was just kidding.”
Grant’s entire body was stiff. He needed to change the subject. Nothing screamed guilt like acting defensive, and if they stayed on the subject, it was only goin
g to piss him off further.
“Sorry. Just a little stressed. And I have to be really careful about shit like that. Rumors start flying, and it never looks good for the professor. But yeah, she’s hot, and she damn well knows it.” He sipped his beer and stared off at the wall.
He wasn’t concerned with rumors, because there wouldn’t be any if he could keep his cock in his pants. He was far more worried about being unable to control himself around her than what other teachers and students would think. She was an adult, and she could do whatever she wanted.
And so was he.
“Yeah.” Hank’s forehead wrinkled, like he was confused. “Thought you only had to worry about shit like that when kids were in high school.”
Change the fucking subject.
For some reason, he couldn’t. He wanted to talk about Kristen every minute of every damn day. “Yeah, as far as the legal end is concerned, but it’s an ethical gray area. I’m twice her age and in a position of authority over her.”
Change the fucking subject, idiot.
Hank smiled and shrugged. “Hey, some chicks dig older guys.” He chuckled. “Hell, when I was in Africa, some of the women banged dudes their grandfather’s age. They were all about it.”
“I doubt they were students of theirs.”
“What are you working on with her?”
“It’s an intro to journalism course.”
“Shouldn’t they all be journalism majors in a class like that? If they struggle with the intro course, it might be a good idea to think about a new career path.”
Grant rubbed his temples. It irritated him that the conversation still lingered, but he didn’t want to make it obvious he was trying to change the topic. “Yeah. Some of them struggle with sentence structure and things like that. Did you read the last email you sent me? You should know how easy it is to butcher the English language.”
Hank shrugged and laughed. “I’m not a fucking journalist, dickhead.”
“Fair enough.”
Hank walked around the living room and checked out the place. “So, you’re helping the girl out with her sentence structure. Very noble of you.”