by Riley Love
He’d called me in to discuss the upcoming course load and I hadn’t expected this at all. I mean, I expected it because I’d busted my ass publishing and researching and doing everything it took to make it in academia, but I hadn’t expected it because I was only thirty-six, making me the youngest faculty member by at least a decade. Or two.
“Oh, thank you. I don’t know the details surrounding Mark leaving us, but I suppose I won’t question them now.”
“He was caught sleeping with his graduate student,” Dr. Phillips said, leaning across his broad oak desk. “I can tell you that now that you’re one of us. He was banging her like a broken door every chance he got. His wife found out, turned him in, and he was brought in front of the ethics committee.”
“This was his first time though,” I said, forgetting I wasn’t supposed to know anything about it, but it was a small campus. Everybody knew everybody’s business.
“Come on, Lock.” Dr. Phillips smirked. “You know how politically charged the world is right now. There’s no way we could let this slide. If that student had let it out that she’d been sexually harassed by her professor, enrollment would plummet, and shit would get messy.”
I nodded and listened to him talk while thinking to myself how stupid Mark had been. He’d destroyed an exceptional academic career over some girl—how ridiculous and cliché was that?
I managed to get away from Dr. Phillips before he talked my ear completely off. I signed all the paperwork with the HR department, and it was done. I was officially a full-time, tenured professor of languages and life seemed pretty complete.
I strolled to my office, parked myself in my chair, and enjoyed the afternoon of congratulations from my colleagues and friends.
Eventually, as I knew he would, Troy found his way down the hall, swept in, and hooted. “I knew it! Your father’s money would come in handy some time. So, what did it take, a new wing for the library? A brand-new science building? How much did your tenure cost your old man?”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Nothing, I did this on my own.”
Troy smirked, and I could have slapped him, but he was one of my oldest and closest friends in spite of being a grade A douche.
“Well, if that’s the case, you need to celebrate. We’re getting you laid this weekend, my friend!”
“Classes start next week, I don’t have time for…getting laid.” I hated using his terminology. It was crude, but that was Troy in a nutshell. His world revolved around his dick. How he’d managed to get a job as an assistant professor in the business department was beyond me.
“I don’t care; I’m rounding up the usual suspects and we’re taking you to that strip club down on Broadway.”
“I don’t do strip clubs.”
“I know, that’s why it’s perfect. We’re going to bust your stripper cherry at last. You’re the only guy I know who didn’t get up to no good in college or as a bachelor. It’s ridiculous. You’re loaded, you come from old school family money, and you’ve got those abs that make women fucking crazy.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” I sighed.
“No, you know I’m not,” he grinned and started to walk out. “Clear your schedule, I’m gonna get you some grade A pussy!”
I cringed at his crude language yet again and shook my head. I couldn’t help but laugh though. If Troy did anything, it was keep me down to earth. Without him I would have spent my youth with my nose in a book; even with his influence I barely dated.
I was no virgin, but I wasn’t one for relationships either. Maybe a strip club would be a good way to celebrate. I could have a little fun and then get back to my career. No woman was going to derail me. I wasn’t as stupid as Mark or as desperate as Troy.
I was a confirmed bachelor and that’s the way I liked it.
Click here to be notified when STRIPPED BY THE PROFESSOR goes live.
MY THREE STEPBROTHERS
I watch her out of the corner of my eye. Gaby has the unique ability to annoy the fuck out of me, and keep my eyes trained on her at the same time. My baby sister. Stepsister, I correct myself.
Don’t even go there.
I’m a cop. And a damn good one. I don’t have time for this shit. And yet here I am horny as hell with a hard-on for the one person I need to keep my distance from. It’s wrong on every level, but my body responds regardless. I meet girls like Gaby every day on the job. Giggling little girl-women on the cusp of maturity with a power they had no idea they possess.
But Gaby is different.
Whip smart and sassy as hell. Long lean legs, muscular from years of cheerleading and volleyball, tanned from lazy afternoons lounging beside my mother and stepfather’s pool. I can no longer deny the changes over the last five years since my mom married Greg, and dragged a kicking screaming, gorgeous teen girl into our lives.
Gaby stood out even then, in her youth, but now she’s a knockout of magazine-cover-worthy proportions. Brunette, with natural highlights, wide green eyes like a cat, and lips that always seemed a little bit too big for her face. She’d grown into them now and was all woman. I find myself growling at my friends who come to visit, drooling over Gabby, their eyes following her every move. I spend far too much time wondering if she had a lover in college. Far too much time fucking other women in the spare room of the house when I visit. As much as I will pretend it’s not for any reason, the face of my lovers always ends up looking the same, caramel-colored hair, soft full lips and green eyes. Gaby stand-ins.
Man, I needed a fucking hobby. Watching her from the window, her electric blue bikini that covers nothing more than half her ample breasts. She turns over on her belly and reaches a hand back to pull the bow. I slap my hand off the kitchen countertop in frustration making Archie, our golden lab, jump and bark. Bending down, I stroke his head gently and I cock my head to one side.
“I know dude, I’m a dirty fiend.” Alfie pants in response, and flops down, savoring the cool tiled floor. I can’t get her out of my head, I’m not a man to give in to my baser instincts, but watching Gaby blossom from a teen to a woman is enough to drive a priest into confession. The things I’ve done to her in my head are feral and animalistic. The need to possess her is a wound, opening and bleeding from my skin, festering and nagging at me.
I wander outside and find myself standing over her sun lounger. “You’re burning,” I say.
Gaby turns her head to the side and draws her sunglasses down her nose. “Well, don’t just stand there like a douche canoe then; grab the lotion and rub it on my back.”
My mouth drops open, and I stand glued to the spot. My hand itches to smack her behind.
“Ker?” She questions, putting her sunglasses back over her eyes. Sitting down beside her on the corner of the lounger, I grab the bottle and squirt lotion on one palm. My hand hovers above her skin and, Jesus forgive me, but I trace a palm down her back smoothing it on. My fingers work of their own volition as I knead and rub it on her shoulders and back. Immediately my body responds to the feel of her, the closeness of her, hard and visceral. Moving to adjust my package, I sigh. Damn the next three months are going to be one hell of a struggle. My fingers move lower and I cover the back of her leg with sun cream.
“If anyone is a douche, it’s your father leaving you here for the summer,” I quip.
“Oh Ker, that is so good. Oh … you’ve got the touch,” she sighs.
I pull my hands back sharply and throw a towel over Gaby’s tight ass. “Cover yourself up. You’ll burn,” I practically yell. Gaby jumps and turns over, pulling the towel to cover her chest, but not before I got a flash of her tits. My eyes fix on them, and my breath comes out in hot waves. Swallowing deeply, I stand up and turn from her before she can see the evidence of my arousal.
“What the hell?” She shouts after me. “That was a rude!”
I grunt in response and make my way into the house and up to the spare bedroom. Slamming the door, I push my back against it, and fumble with m
y zipper. Releasing my cock, I palm it furiously.
“Fuck … fuck!” I cry out, pumping my cock between my fist, jerking and stroking the warm velveteen flesh. I see her naked, naked with her glistening pussy open in front of me. I want her, I want her in a way no stepbrother should ever want their stepsister. I imagine wrapping her hair around my cock, as I come, loud and grunting. Sliding down the door, I rest on the floor, like a teenage boy, sitting with my shorts around my ankles and cum all over my hand. Snorting at the ridiculousness of my situation, I fill my cheeks with breath and then push it out between my clenched teeth.
I’m falling hard for Gaby. I’m obsessing about her in a way that scares me. Not just in a sexual way. I love her wit, her sass, her intelligence. But man, right now all I can think about is her pussy and what it would feel like wrapped around my cock. I’m sick of the women with wet lipped greasy hands in the bars we hang out in. “Cop whores,” we call them. Women with tight leather skirts and no conversation. Give me a woman with a brain any day. Someone who can talk to me, laugh with me and at me, someone with hair like a caramel frappe, rich with golds and bronze, someone with eyes like the lightest jade green, someone with gentle hands. Someone like Gaby. I eye-roll myself. Man, fuck the fuck up. Seriously.
Cleaning myself up in the restroom, I lean my head against the mirror. Gaby, you better stay the hell away from me this summer. I consider myself a man of integrity, but fuck me, I’m made of flesh and bone.
Showering and changing into a white linen shirt and beige chinos, I pad down to the kitchen and make a cold pasta salad.
“What was that all about?”
I turn around sharply to find Gaby, now wearing an adorable white sundress that barely covers her ass, standing before me. I clench my hands by my sides and think of Jesus. She holds a frosted cold water bottle up to her mouth and gulps down eagerly. I swallow, mirroring her movements, as she replaces the cap and runs the bottle down her neck, leaving droplets of condensation on her skin.
“What was what? It’s hot out, I needed a shower. I’m not here to be at your beck and call princess Gaby,” I murmur, shoving a forkful of pasta and lettuce soaked in ranch dressing into my lying mouth.
Gaby raises an eyebrow and dips her fingers into my bowl of pasta. I follow the movement of her fingers as they enter her mouth, and mentally stop myself from moving forward and licking the dressing that has collected on her top lip.
“You’ve got …” I say, motioning to her mouth.
“What?” She mutters, her pupils dilating to make her eyes look black.
I point at her lip and she darts her tongue out to her bottom lip. I groan, laugh and shake my head. “Here,” I say, running my thumb against the top one. My cock jerks when the tip of her tongue brushes lightly off the pad of my thumb. And then it happens, just like that. One minute I’m gazing into her eyes, the next my body is against hers, hard and unyielding. I can’t fight this thing, whatever the hell it is. My lips capture hers and she moans into my open mouth. I bite down on her bottom lip. “You…” It was all I can manage, words seem unnecessary and redundant. Walking her backwards until her back hits the refrigerator door, I grind into her soft body.
“Ker, Jesus,” she moans, and I catch the sound in my mouth and growl in response. She tastes like peaches and honey, and a whole lot of wrong. I’m her protector, her stepbrother, her safety net while the ‘rents are away.
Pulling back from her, I drop my head, sigh, and wipe my thumb across her mouth feeling the tenderness with my tongue. My cock strains against the material of my pants, hard and ready to find a home within her.
She moves towards me, and I hold out a palm holding her off. “I’m sorry. Gaby, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong.” I shake my head, and move away from her. I can’t stop my body from trembling, waves of desire course through me, like electricity.
“Ker,” she says, her eyes wide and glazed over with desire. Gaby reaches her hand to my arm, but I shake it off. I can’t trust myself with her. I can’t be around her without burying my cock deep inside her.
“No. No!” I turn my back on her and walk away. Like a coward. My parents are leaving tomorrow for three months. Three frickin’ months of this! And I’m already fucking up. Walking down the driveway, I run my hands roughly through my hair and kick at stones in my path.
One chance. I’m giving her one chance to stay the hell away from me. If she doesn’t then things are going to get messy, quickly.
Click here to be notified when MY THREE STEPBROTHERS go live.