Page 70 of Teacher's Pet
“Professor…” I let it roll off my tongue, slow and warm, giving him a look that said I’d been picturing him like this all day. “Mmm. Looking good.”
He was taller than me, but not by much. Close enough that I could read every flicker in his expression as he tried to decide what to do with me.
“Didn’t I tell you my home was off-limits?”
I stepped closer anyway, fingers threading into the back of his hair. He didn’t move. His eyes stayed on me, steady, but there was heat there, buried under all that professor calm.
I pulled gently, just enough to feel the give. His hair was soft. I tilted his chin, studying his face, and then leaned in to bite his neck. Hard enough to leave something he couldn’t hide.
His hands tensed at his sides, and I smiled against his skin. My fingers brushed his zipper, testing.
“That’s enough, Ryan.” His voice was low. He pulled my hand away, wouldn’t look down, like that would stop me from noticing how hard he was.
“That was further than you usually let me go,” I murmured. toying with the bottom buttons of his shirt. “I think you’re learning. Good boy.”
He sighed, took my wrists, and put my hands back at my sides. “Do not come to my house. Understand? Leave.”
“No.” I walked backward until I hit the bed, then sat and patted the spot next to me, biting my lip.
He stayed where he was. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, snapped a quick photo, and set it down before he could reach for it.
“If you kick me out, I’ll send that to my father. Tell him a certain professor likes inviting students over.”
His jaw tightened. That look, that mix of anger and something darker, made my chest go warm. I knew he wanted to grab me, and when he finally moved toward the bed, I straightened, ready.
The hit came sharp across my face, and I let the sting linger before sliding to my knees in front of him. My eyes found his. “Please,” I said softly. “Can I? I’ll leave after…”
He hesitated, but I could see the decision forming. “Fine.”
I smiled, unbuttoning his pants. “Daddy,” I whispered.
His hand was in my hair almost instantly, guiding me. I hummed against him, slow, unhurried, watching him from under my lashes.
“Did you let that older man at the bar fuck you before you came here?” he asked.
I pulled back just enough to smirk. “So what if I did?” I kissed the tip, slow and mocking. “You’re not jealous, are you, Professor?”
He bit his cheek, his hand pulling my hair strands a bit, “Should I be?”
I smirked, “I don't know, should I be about Claire?”
I peppered his balls, and he groaned.
“No.”
I stand up, catching him off guard, and push him back onto the bed, his pants around his ankles. He lands with a low thud, eyes on me as I climb on top, rolling my hips against his.
His dick is out and I'm naked, so the friction feels amazing.
His gaze is hazy, his breath uneven, the kind of look that usually means I’ve already won.
My hand slides down, fingers finding the nightstand drawer. I fish out a condom, tearing it from the box with a smirk.
That’s when his hand shoots up, catching my wrist.
His eyes darkened, but he stayed still. “Ryan… you’re my student. That line matters. You know it does.”
I stepped back, my jaw tightening. “So that’s it? You can touch me, kiss me, let me get on my knees for you, but when it comes to actually having me, you’re suddenly Saint Nathan?”
