Page 24 of Hot Professor (Tainted Professors)

Flipping through the papers before me, I try to absorb the words. But they blur into a meaningless jumble, taunting me with their clarity when all I feel is muddled. Will Harrison give up on me before I find the courage to tell him how I really feel? Will he even believe me this early in our relationship—if what we've done and the little time we've spent together could even be defined as a relationship.

It's getting late, and I've been alone in the office for two hours; my only company is the hum of traffic and the occasional far-off siren. Swiveling in the chair, I stretch, and my fingers graze something unexpected. I turn my head—Harrison's leather jacket is draped over the back of the neighboring chair.

It's such an ordinary thing, but my heart stutters. His scent clings to the fabric—a mix of sandalwood and something distinctly him—and hits me like a freight train, reigniting memories of tangled sheets, whispered promises, and the thrill of my first time. The multiple orgasms. How it felt when he was deep inside my body.

“Damn it,”I curse under my breath, standing abruptly. My legs carry me to the chair before my brain can catch up, my fingers tracing the jacket's lapel. Lifting it off the chair as though it's the most precious item ever, I bring it to my face, shove it under my nose, close my eyes, and inhale deeply.

My body responds instantly. My nipples tighten. My pussy flutters and a hefty sigh falls from my lips.

I want him.

Logic screams that this is crazy, but desire is louder in my brain. I look around the empty office—the desk with its neatly stacked files and papers, the soft glow of my computer screen, the door I forgot to lock—and a reckless urge takes hold.

My skirt, a plaid number that's more cute than practical, rucks up easily and without a moment’s hesitation or any sense of caution, I slide a hand down my waist, past the elastic of my panties. As my fingers find the heat between my thighs, I bite my lip to stifle a moan and lean back against the desk, widening my legs.

Good lord, all I need are a pair of black Mary Janes, and I probably look like the classic schoolgirl in a porno.

“God, Harrison,”I whisper to the four walls, imagining it's his hand, not mine, caressing my folds. His fingers, not mine, slipping between my slick lips. The pad of his thumb, not mine, dancing over my stiff clit.

The image in my mind is enough to send a rush of pleasure cascading through me, and I'm lost to it, chasing the high that only he has ever given me.

Outside, the city may be alive with a million stories, but here, it's me and the ghost of his touch frantically fluttering over my wet flesh, climbing toward a release that threatens to be woefully inadequate in comparison.

The sharp metallic clink of the doorknob jolts me back to reality, and before I can even process what's happening, the door swings open.

I blink open my eyes to find Harrison standing there,hiseyes big and round as they take in the scene—me, skirt bunched around my hips, panting and flushed, two fingers plunged deep in my pussy.

“Fuck, Ivy...”His voice sounds more growl than words, and it hits me right in the sweet spot. He doesn’t ask questions. Thedoor slams shut, and the lock clicks into place with a definitive sound that echoes in the charged air.

My heart hammers against my ribs, racing with anticipation and a touch of fear. But it's too late for second thoughts; Harrison's already crossing the room, his gaze laser focused on my fingers, predatory and intense.

He drops to his knees in front of me, his hands sliding up my thighs with purpose. “I can smell how needy you are,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin, his face right in there. “God, Ivy, do you know how often I dream of this? How many times I've wanted to bring you to this office to do this? Or how many times since the other night I've thought about finding you, and begging you to simply let me kiss you again?”

“Harrison,”I whisper, half-protest, half-plea, but then his mouth is on me, and coherent thought evaporates. He devours me with an urgency that borders on desperation, and I'm helpless under the onslaught, gripping the edge of the desk to keep from sliding to the floor. The world narrows down to the sensation of his tongue, the pressure of his lips, the relentless drive of his fingers. I'm close, so close, teetering on the brink when he rears back, leaving me bereft and wanting.

“Stand up.”His voice is so rough with lust that I hardly recognize it.

My limbs are shaky as he spins me around and bends me over the desk. Papers scatter as he sweeps them aside, his actions deliberate and frenzied. All I hear is the tearing of foil, then there's no time for niceties, no slow build-up, no testing to see if I'm ready. It's raw and primal, and when he enters me, it's with a force that steals my breath.

“Yes!”I gasp, gripping the opposite edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

“Say it again.”He sets a punishing pace that has everything inside me tightening, coiling like a spring, ready to explode.

“Yes, Harrison, yes,”I repeat louder this time, and it spurs him on. He drives deeper, pumps harder, faster, obliterating any lingering doubts or fears. It doesn't matter that hundreds of students are walking the halls outside that door. Or that outside, the rain starts to pelt the window amid a sea of red taillights as people end their workday and start the trek home. At this moment, we're the only two people in the world, lost in each other, in the reckless abandonment that consumes us both. It's not gentle or sweet—it's passion stripped down to its most elemental form and perfect in its intensity.

“Come for me, Ivy,”He urges, his hand slipping between us to strum my clit, a quick flutter designed to push me over the edge.

I fall apart, breaking into countless fragments as he joins me, his name a mantra on my tongue as we weather the storm together, our bodies glistening. Our hearts pounding. His chest heaving against my back as he fights for air.

For those precious seconds, nothing else matters—not the rules we're breaking, not the consequences we'll probably face. It's just us, here and now, the rest of the world be damned. I'm exactly where I want to be.

But I'm also smart enough to know this can't last.

Chapter 12

Harrison

Long before the afternoon sex in my office, a specific fantasy I’ll admit, I’d taken precautionary measures to make sure this thing I have with Ivy lasts.

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