Page 35 of Yes! Professor Hendrix
“Don’t.” She pointed at the door. “Just… leave. Your money’s still welcome here, but your dick ain’t.”
“I’ll send the check.” I grabbed Lena’s hand, ready to walk out.
“Thank you,” she called behind us. “And good luck, Mrs. Hendrix. You’re gonna need it.”
Out in the hallway, Lena’s grip tightened.
“Nolan… I don’t understand.”
“I know, baby,” I said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “All you need to know is—since the moment I saw you, I wanted you and Marisa. And I made it happen.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But what does that mean? What does it have to do with the principal? What was that deal for? How did you make think happened?”
I stopped walking. Turned to face her. My wife. The baddest woman I ever laid eyes on. She had no fucking clue how obsessed I’d been with her since day one. Couldn’t know how hard I craved her from that open door day—so bad that I made one crazy-ass decision that flipped everything.
A few months ago, I wasn’t supposed to be there.
But there I was, standing in the middle of St. Gabrielle Academy like some bored-ass uncle with nothing better to do. I’d been passing by, lost in thoughts about my non-exciting ass life, when I noticed some kind of open house going on. No idea what made me wanna walk in—what the hell could an elementary school offer me? Not a damn thing, I figured. But for whatever reason, it felt like the right place to wastetime and think about anything other than my copy-paste ass routine.
I’d just left a University board meeting, where they told me again that I’d be heading the three main departments at the University of Chicago. Big-ass deal, right? Except I’d done it before. Too many times. I kept doing that shit like clockwork, but deep down I knew—I needed something different. Something that’d fuck with my patterns and jolt me out this loop.
So yeah, walking into a damn elementary school wasn’t in my schedule. But somehow, it felt right. It felt… necessary.
Parents were milling around, kids running wild like the building was a damn jungle gym. Teachers were trying to keep control, but the exhaustion was thick in the air. I overheard one of them whispering, something like, “We need more staff. This is unsustainable.”
Compared to my quiet, controlled lectures in applied statistics, this place was war. Whining kids, anxious parents, harassed teachers. All of it made me want to leave. Until I saw her.
She stepped in like she didn’t belong to this place either.
She had her daughter’s hand locked in hers, her body moving with purpose, hips swaying like temptation had found its final form. That skin—soft golden, radiant like she was born in the sun. Tight jeans hugging a body made to fuck with the lights on. A blouse that barely tamed those tits. And that mouth… full, glossy, shaped like sin. Her hair was pulled back halfway, loose curls spilling down her shoulders, thick enough to grip. She smiled gently at her daughter, said something I couldn’t hear, and my heartbeat fucking spiked.
It was instant.
No fair warning. Just a gut punch of raw, chemical hunger.
She walked past me, didn’t notice me. She didn’t need to. My whole fucking system lit up like I’d just seen the blueprint to ruin. I couldn’t move. I just stared, completely hypnotized. Like my eyes were starved and she was the feast.
Then I heard her voice.
"Hi, my name is Lena Morrow, and this is my daughter Marisa. Where can I find the information for fourth grade ? I want to make sure we’ve got everything.”
Fuck. Even her voice was soft like silk and honey mixed with just a little edge.
The teacher pointed her toward a room down the hall. And guess what? My legs had their own ideas. I followed. I just… needed to see more. Needed to study her. Memorize her.
Not just her ass or her tits—though I was memorizing the fuck out of those too—but her whole presence. The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The way she stood when she was serious. The way her lips moved when she spoke to the teacher inside.
And God… those lips.
I wondered how they’d look wrapped around my dick. If she moaned when she sucked. If her throat would tighten when I pushed deeper. My mouth went dry thinking about it.
She smiled. Just a little. Just enough for my dick to get fucking hard.
And I wanted it. All of it. Her smile. Her stress. Her bad days. Her pussy. Her attitude. Her.
I wanted to break every rule for her.
I wanted to fuck the taste of her name off my own tongue and hear her say “Please, Professor Hendrix.” I wanted her lips under mine, her thighs around my waist, and her pussy dripping on my dick while I whispered things she shouldn’t ever let a teacher say.
