Page 11 of No, For An Answer
“Too soon?” she smirks.
I blow out a frustrated breath and begin packing my things up again. “I’ll need you in class tomorrow at eight AM, no later. Please read chapters one through seven of-”
“The Psychology of Criminal Conduct by James Bonta and D. A. Andrews as well as the Psychology of Crime by Philip Feldman. Done.”
I snap my head to her, and she grins. “Done?” I query. Surely not.
“Yeah, done. I’ve read them both twice. Both extremely contradictory in their own right. However, I did enjoy Feldman’s analysis on criminal behaviour based on the biological aspect better.”
If I didn’t want to fuck her before, I definitely want to now.
“Impressive,” I nod.
“Go hard or go home, right?” her shoulder lifting in a delicate shrug.
“You’ll be prepared for tomorrows lecture then.” It’s not a question. Pulling my tan, leather satchel from the desk, I hold out my palm, indicating for her to walk first. Turning on her heel, her hair flicks over her shoulder and I’m greeted with that fucking coconut shampoo that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. She’s absolutely perfect in every way but it can never happen again. I have to keep repeating that as I follow her out the door, eyes strained to that perfectly round ass of hers. Locking the door to my classroom, I turn to face her. “I’ll see you tomorrow Miss Porter-”
“Eight AM bright and early.” She winks as she walks backwards. Swinging back around after a few steps and disappearing around the corner.
I’m completely fucked.
Ashley
Ilook up as the door to the classroom opens and Professor Danvers walks in. A coffee in one hand and his leather bag in the other. It’s been a week since I started working as his TA and kudos to him, Nathan has stuck to his previous statement of us never happening again. He hasn’t looked at me or touched me inappropriately at all. Much to my dismay and utter frustration.
I’ve tried everything I can over the past week to get him to crack. We have spent a lot of time together. Grading papers to which I’ve always made sure to sit as close to him as possible. Grazing his hand, leaning over the table to grab a highlighter I really had no necessity for. I’ve even worn clothes that were the tightest fit I could muster.
I’ve made sexual innuendos, flirted, bent over his desk so my ass was high on show and the man still refuses to crack. Jesus, I’ve made sure my fucking tits were on show at one point, and nothing. But I still have time. I’m not one for giving up. When I want something, I always get it and I don’t just want this man, I need him. I know what he’s capable of and I’m willing to bet that a little push over the edge will clear things up.
Most of the time, if Mia is at cheer practice or in class and when I have a free period, I find myself laying on my bed, fingerfucking myself while thinking about all of the nasty little things I’m going to do to him when I get the chance. Last week I fucked myself vigorously with the eight-inch dildo I have under my bed. Fucked myself raw and it still wasn’t enough.
Nothing has been able to stop the burning need to have him stuffed inside of me again because the more he fucks me, the more he will want me and the more addicted he becomes, the more I havehimright where I want him. I need to focus though, and not let things distract me from my end goal. I’m on a hiatus right now and soon enough, I’ll eventually get what I came here for.
I always do. He’s not the first man, and he definitely won’t be the last. Complete the task at hand and be free to move on and continue with the next one on my bucket list.
I’ve been here since Seven AM.
The janitor Steve didn’t take much convincing after I begged him to let me in early so I could get some of my paperwork done and prep for the class. Nathan, sorry, Professor Danvers emailed me over a list last night of things that I needed to get complete for him. Ready for his morning lesson. He explained in the thread, I would only need to complete the top three and the rest he would take care of.
However, I had a feeling that after finding out the particulars of my age, and pretty much having a stroke on the spot, he might not have the brain power to complete them. So, considering I barely sleep, I did.
“Miss Porter. You’re early,” he states. God this Miss Porter shit really is annoying. I plaster a smile on my face and stand, gathering the paperwork and meet him at his desk as he places his coffee in the middle.
“Couldn’t sleep.” I respond.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your cock.
And my plans.
And everything else.
“Am I working you too hard?” he asks, and as I smirk, he realises his mistake.
“Not hard enough,” I mumble, looking back down to my laptop.
“What was that?” he chuckles.
“I said… You’re not working me nearly as hard as I want.” I watch as the thoughts running through his mind contradict themselves over and over again as he stares into my eyes. Debating whether he should continue this barrage of sexual insinuations. I stand up from the small table in front of him and pace over.
