Page 5 of The Professor
“I didn’t think you had time to do this today?” I butted my legs against his solid desk and found it was the right height to hit my pussy. I pressed a little more, enjoying the heated dampness that was growing.
“Turns out my evening plans are much later than expected.” He continued reading.
“Oh, I see.” What plans? God, it was eating me up not knowing. In fact, I had to know. “Are you—?”
He held up a finger, silencing me.
I stood stock-still, my pulse loud in my ears, my aching pussy trembling as I remembered my earlier orgasm while watching him lecture. If I thought I could get away with it now, watching him read and standing so close to him, I would grind against the desk and eke out a quick one.
“You need to increase the sample size or explain why you are using such a small group.” He flipped the page again.
“Okay.”
After a few minutes he spoke once more. “And you’ll need to add clear definitions into a glossary.”
“I can do that.”
He turned his chair and handed the file back to me.
“But do you think it’s okay?” I asked. “Passable?” I pulled back from the desk, my belly clenching and my skin tingling.
“It has legs, sure, it just needs to be perfectly presented.”
I flicked my hair over my shoulders and nodded. “I appreciate your help and advice, Professor.”
He stood and set his hands on his hips. His brown leather belt had a snake’s head for a buckle. “That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “Help and advice.”
I cocked my head. “Do you enjoy your job?”
“Sure.” A tendon flexed in his jaw, and once again he looked at my tits. It was blatant this time, he wasn’t even hiding his study of me. “I like it. A lot.”
I sent a quick prayer heavenward that my nipples were hard and poking through my bra. “I was wondering, now that I’m a postgraduate, if I could call you Andrew, or is that too forward?”
“I get the feeling you’re in the habit of being forward.”
“Don’t ask, don’t get.” I half shrugged and bit on my bottom lip.
“And daddy gives you everything you ask for, so I guess it’s learned behavior?”
I frowned. My father was the last person I wanted to talk about when my body was primed for a decent fucking or at least a conversation to get myself off to later. “Andrew,” I said, setting back my shoulders. “My father may be rich, but he has never bought me a certificate or qualification. I can do that for myself. I have a damn good brain, amongst other things.” My cheeks were flushing, they always did when the family fortunes were brought up. It was all well and good having money, but money couldn’t bring people you loved back from the dead.
“So you’re going with Andrew now?” He raised his left eyebrow.
“Do you have a problem with that? We’re both adults, consenting adults.” I let my gaze dip down his body, to his groin, ogling him the way he had my chest, then I turned to the window again.
The cat was trotting away, its limp prey captured in its mouth.
“We are consenting adults,” he said from suddenly very close behind me. “That is a truth.”
“I prefer to deal in truths.”
“So do I. It’s the foundation for everything.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” An excited swarm of butterflies attacked my belly. This was a new type of conversation between us.
“So tell me one?” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “Tell me a truth, right here, right now.”
I could feel his breaths beside my ear. If I leaned back my shoulders would hit his broad chest. Oh, how I longed to feel that, to be so close to him, but I didn’t move. There was a spell wrapped around us, and I had no intention of breaking it. Not when it was something I’d longed for during so many lonely nights.
