by Alex Wolf
Grant didn’t ignore the sarcasm in his voice but went along with it anyway. “She’ll need it. If she’s going to be a journalist. It’s all writing, so grammar will be important if she wants to succeed.”
The two men sat down.
“If she’s hot, she’ll be fine. All the ones on TV are always smokin’. Look at Kathryn Hobbs.”
They both laughed. Kathryn Hobbs was a local news anchor with no talent at all, but she had huge tits and a ditzy smile—and quite the following.
“I don’t know if she’s going for TV or print. Haven’t discussed it.” Grant finished his beer and opened another.
Hank tossed him a side-eye. “Do you ask students about stuff like that?”
In the past, Grant had always made a point of keeping separation between himself and his students. His philosophy was they were there to learn, and he was there to teach. There was no reason to have any kind of personal relationship with them. There were too many to keep up with, and his job was to weed out the ones who wouldn’t hack it at a higher level. It was doing them a favor, before they wasted years only to find out they didn’t have what it took. His job was to teach them how to write correctly and introduce them to the field of journalism.
“I’ve been trying to be better. The dean encourages it.”
He could feel Hank’s gaze on him but chose to ignore it. Hank could smell bullshit a mile away, and he’d just fabricated another excuse for his actions.
He could sense by the way Hank was looking at him that he was being defensive again. His entire life seemed like conversations with ninety percent of the context hidden under the surface.
“Well, hell. You’re a grown man. You know what you should and shouldn’t do.”
They left it at that.
Chapter Six
Wow.”
Kristen didn’t respond to Stefani.
Stefani stared as Kristen walked out of the bathroom. “You have a date? Don’t usually see you so dressed up for a Wednesday.”
Kristen glanced down at her outfit. It was a chilly day outside. She’d chosen her best pair of leggings under her skirt, and the one tight sweater that showed off every curve of her body.
It left little to the imagination of what she was working with underneath. She wasn’t showing much skin, though, and she knew she looked hot in it. This was her confidence outfit. She waved Stefani off, like it was something she’d just thrown on in the spur of the moment. “No. I’ve worn this outfit before.” It wasn’t a lie, she just hadn’t worn it to class. She’d put a lot of thought into her clothes, though. She’d spent a lot of time picking it out. Something she’d done every night before his class the past month.
“It’s comfortable.” Another lie. “I’m going to spend most of the day studying. You were right about talking to Professor Wiseman about a tutor. He offered to help me himself.” Kristen kept her tone natural and neutral so she wouldn’t be hit with more questions. It wasn’t that she minded answering, but she didn’t want rumors spreading. The last thing she needed was to be labeled as a whore who slept her way to good grades.
Stefani nodded. Her eyes lingered on Kristen for a few quick seconds before she turned back to her books. An awkward silence permeated through the room for a few moments before Stefani got her things together for class.
Kristen didn’t know what was going on inside her head, but she thought she might be judging her.
It was true. She did look really nice in the outfit, and it did cling to her like a second skin.
But it didn’t mean she’d gotten dressed up for her professor. Maybe it was for another boy in the class. Or maybe it was just because it was comfortable to Kristen.
If Stefani accused her of something, she could easily deny it. It wasn’t any of Stefani’s business anyway.
When Stefani left, relief flooded her body. It wasn’t easy hiding her feelings, even though it should’ve been. She wanted to talk to one of her girlfriends about him, but she worried what they’d think. He was a professor and she was the student. What would they think of her? It wasn’t like they didn’t have the same kinds of crushes. She knew they had to. Everyone thought about it at some point. It was normal to be infatuated with a hot professor. Despite her attempts to tell herself it was all okay, she still felt like she was doing something wrong.
Her phone chimed, and she glanced down. She’d have to hurry to make it to class on time. Professor Wiseman would have to wait for her outfit.
She had to get through the rest of her schedule first—but once she did, she would be there. With him.
And she would get as much of his time as possible.
“Am I interrupting?” Kristen leaned against the doorframe.
Her heart came alive when she saw him sitting there at his desk alone, going over papers. Fuck, he was hot.
She held her books close to her chest and found herself attempting to look as seductive as possible.
He always wore some variation of the same thing to school. Blue or black suit, perfectly pressed, and he alternated the button-downs and ties.
He had a new shirt on today. She would’ve known. His wardrobe was practically catalogued in her brain. She’d seen him cycle through a few shirts over the last month, but this cornflower blue was different.
He bought it for me.
Her cheeks warmed at the thought.
He looked up and smiled, a real, genuine smile this time. “Perfect timing.” He collected the papers in his hands, lining up the edges, and sat them down.
“Just finished grading a paper. I’ll go back to the others after I get you going.”
You already have me going, professor.
“Did you grade mine yet?” she asked. “Was it an A?”
He stood and just seemed to admire her from his desk. His hands were in his pockets, and his icy-blue gaze seared her from the inside out. “I don’t hand out grades. They’re earned.” He paused. “Can’t earn them with your looks.”
Kristen couldn’t tell if he’d just flirted with her or not. Was he suggesting she was hot enough to earn high grades with her outfit? He was such a mystery, and it stirred her.
He walked over. “This way.” His hand landed on her lower back as he guided her toward the table.
She thought she might die. His hand was electric, placed just above her ass. If she shifted the right way, or lifted on her toes, he’d be able to grip her from behind.
“It’ll be easier if I show you at the front of the class.”
Show me, please.
A twinge of excitement shot through her at the fact he hadn’t moved his hand. It stayed affixed to her the entire walk. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she had to hide the smile forming on her lips. She carefully avoided eye contact with him as they walked to one of the tables at the front of the room.
“I took the time to put some notes up for you. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Kristen smiled, hoping her cheeks weren’t bright pink. She smelled his cologne again when he’d walked up. It was woodsy and smelled like, just—male. Her heart pounded, and she hoped her perfume did the same to him.
She took a seat near the front of the class with her book open in front of her, but she found it difficult to concentrate.
“Let me know if you get stuck, and I’ll come over and see what we can do.” Professor Wiseman sat at his desk in the front of the room and continued grading papers.
She couldn’t help but glance up at him every few minutes. She tried to concentrate on the large multimedia screen where he’d put up handwritten notes, but even his scrawled-out sentences and explanations didn’t make sense.
Or maybe her subconscious didn’t want them to make sense.
She managed to keep herself occupied for a bit, but finally, she couldn’t take it any longer.
“Can you give me a hand with this?”
He glanced up at her, and his eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong?”
“Can you just come look?”
Adrenaline shot through her chest and down into her legs when he rose from his seat. As he walked over, all her senses heightened, and she could practically feel each one of his footsteps hit the ground.
She thought she might faint when he leaned over her to get a look. She closed her eyes and inhaled a huge breath.
“I don’t understand your notes on my punctuation.” She pointed to various places on the paper.
He leaned in for a closer look, and she realized he didn’t have his glasses on.
“Could you explain it?” She looked up at him and saw his eyes dart away from her chest.
He’d been staring right down her shirt. Her sweater wasn’t super revealing, but from his angle, he would’ve been able to make out some of her cleavage, and possibly her bra.
His eyes shifted back to the paper.
It was incredibly difficult for her to read him. He always sent out signals, then he would pull back every time she started to act. He wasn’t exactly teasing or leading her on, but in another way, he was.
What was with the new shirt? Him dressing up nicely for class? And the comment about not being able to buy a grade with looks?
She saw that he was clearly doing things to make himself appear more attractive to her, and every time they were in close proximity to one another, the tension was off the charts.
She wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her so she could show him just how amazing she could be. Of course, the inside of his mouth wasn’t the only place she wanted to put her tongue, and the inside of her mouth wasn’t the only place she wanted his.
Though Kristen was inexperienced, she wasn’t a virgin, and the football player boyfriend she’d dated in high school had opened her mind to trying different things. She was ready to give it a try with someone else now. Someone much older, who knew even more ways to explore her body.
But, each time they were near each other, like now, he seemed to pull back, hesitate.
Was it something she was doing? Or not doing? Was that pushing him away instead of drawing him closer? She knew all men loved tits. There was no way around that, and she knew hers were well-above average.
She sometimes used them to get what she wanted, and it was always incredibly effective. Men’s brains seemed to turn to shit the second they saw even a hint of her cleavage, and most would do just about anything she asked when she showed them off. Of course, she’d learned how to work this to her advantage.
But Professor Wiseman was different. She had no doubt in her mind he was having difficulty keeping his eyes off them. She wondered if he was thinking about what he wanted to do with them. Would he want them in his mouth? Wrapped around his cock? Did he want to put his face between them?
She looked up at him as he answered her question about the assignment, hoping he would stare at them again.
Her heart sank as he finished his explanation and walked back to his desk. He avoided eye contact the entire time.
“Thank you, professor.” She tried to keep her tone somewhat neutral but added a little emphasis on the word professor. She didn’t want to overdo it, but fuck, she wanted him to take her, touch her, own her. Or just acknowledge he was attracted to her, so she’d know for sure. She was hurt that he didn’t seem to take the bait. It confused her.
Perhaps she’d been wrong about the signals from him. Maybe he didn’t care for her and was just being kind. Maybe he’d just bought a new shirt, and he offered to help any student that asked. Maybe class was on shaving day, and that’s why he was so neat and trimmed during class, when she’d seen him with a five o’clock shadow on campus at other times during the week.
Men were strange, no matter how old they were—and maybe Professor Wiseman was no different.
Chapter Seven
He hated to admit it, but he was relieved when his time with Kristen was almost up.
“Anything else I can help with?”
“No, thank you.” She almost sounded sad as she gathered her books and once again clutched them to her perfect set of tits She walked over by his desk. “Goodbye, professor.”
Professor.
Fuck, the way she added emphasis on the word. He desperately hoped she would leave, but instead, she lingered. He could tell by the way she hovered she wanted to say more, but she didn’t appear to have the courage to do it.
Hoping to speed her along, Grant steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the table as he looked at her, waiting for her to spit out whatever it was.
“I really appreciate you taking the time to help me. I’ve been struggling a lot.” She gave him a nervous nod as she spoke.
She was clearly finding any reason to stay there a little longer, and her nerves were getting the best of her.
“Wasn’t a problem. I enjoy having you in class and would hate to see you drop.”
Her eyes lit up the second he told her he enjoyed having her in class. Why’d he do that? He shouldn’t be sending out signals he knew she might misinterpret. Except for one little fact—he wanted her to interpret them the exact way she had.
“Are you sure? There are times when I wonder—” She bit her lip.
His cock rose in his slacks. She needed to stop doing that before he did it for her.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way. But—”
More lip biting.
Fuck, he wanted to groan. His cock stiffened to the point it was painful the way he was sitting.
“You’re a very good-looking man, and I’m glad I took this class.”
Jesus.
She was practically begging for him to bend her over the desk and fuck an orgasm out of her.
She rocked back and forth nervously on her heels, as if waiting for a response.
“Thank you for the compliment.” He couldn’t even look up at her. If he did, he might not be able to control himself, and she’d definitely see his cock tenting his pants.
He made the mistake of glancing up and caught her biting her lip once more. What was her deal? Did she get off on teasing men who shouldn’t touch her? Was that her little game?
Tease and tease, with little compliments and gestures, like spreading her legs open while wearing a skirt for him to see. He stared at her plump lip, held captive between her teeth. If she went much further, he’d have to punish her. Grab her by the back of her hair and shove his cock between those lips. Ram it so deep tears would form in her eyes as she swallowed him in the back of her throat and tried not to gag. He’d have to bend her over, make her beg for him to fuck her, and ask permission before she came.
Pull yourself together.
“You’re welcome, sir.”
The little bitch. Goading him on by saying sir that way. It was almost enough to make him leap from the chair and order her to bend over his desk.
He tried to slow his breathing. He couldn’t give off even a hint of how he felt. It was a bad idea, unprofessional, and ethically wrong.
“Like I said, no problem.” Somehow, he managed to remain calm and collected. He stared down at the desk, ignoring her clingy sweater and the tights she wore under her skirt.
She started to walk away and then turned back with a smile. “You really enjoy having me?”
He hadn’t thought she would be so forward as to compliment him on his looks earlier. He wasn’t prepared for that, especially with the way she would usually duck out of the class as soon as he dismissed them. She would always flirt just enough to get his attention, then leave before she had to deal with any consequences for her actions. He’d told himself it was something she was doing because she was so young and innocent. He hadn’t dreamed she might work up the courage to be so straightforward.
He could lie to himself about what he might do when he admired her from a distance—but fuck, her standing right in front of him, practically demanding he repeat he enjoyed her in his class. He couldn’t help but be truthful. He had to be strong and set the tone.
“Of course, Miss Monroe. I enjoy having
you as a student.”
Maybe the last sentence would get her out of the room so he could get his wits back about him. He had to be forceful and clear, didn’t want to stumble over his words. He had to appear confident, and he knew if he was going to get his point across, now was the time to do it.
But this was one of the toughest things he’d ever done. His stomach twisted when she looked like he’d just crushed her. Like she’d taken it as a rejection. He didn’t want to hurt her. He cared about her feelings more than he’d realized. Sure, he wanted to fuck her, but it seemed more than just sexual attraction. He wanted her happy and doing what she loved. He couldn’t help but think he was making things worse.
He glanced up at her fingers on her book. They practically trembled against it. “Well, umm—” She took a deep breath. “That’s the thing—”
Jesus, this girl. Was she really going to push him over the edge?
“I just, umm, it seems like maybe you think of me as more than just a student. You’ve been doing things differently since I came to class.” Her voice trembled as she spoke. Her eyes were glassy and looked like they might fill with tears.
She sniffed and smiled, though it was clear she was hiding pain or doing her best to hide it anyway.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had to let a student down easy, but it was definitely the hardest.
She looked so innocent, even standing there in her tight outfit with her perfectly toned body.
But what did she expect? He was her professor. He had to be responsible, and it was the right thing to do. He’d tried to scare her off by being cold and distant. She hadn’t taken the hint.
No matter how bad he wanted to fuck a smile onto her face, he couldn’t.
“Listen, I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I’m doing everything I can to help you. But nothing can happen between us. It’s got nothing to do with you.” He sighed, trying to find the right words to say. The more he talked, the worse he seemed to make it.