4. Harrison
Chapter 4
Harrison
I t doesn’t matter if you’re five, eighteen, thirty-four, or older; the first day of school is exciting. The halls are packed with groups of students recounting their day, and the hum of their chatter is a soundtrack to my internal pep talk as I head to my office to find some notes I think I left there this morning.
An image of Ivy Kendrick sitting in the front row pops into my mind like it’s been doing since I met her earlier today. I’ve always been drawn to redheads, curious if they’re fiery under pressure or when they’re aroused—or if they melt. That long red hair she continuously tucked behind her ear—so soft looking, I can picture it gliding through my fingers.
I know I promised Dean Martens that I would be a good boy, but fuck me, being around that gorgeous young woman almost every day is going to be a test of my will. I’m still a man who can appreciate a beautiful woman.
For probably the first time in my life, I could give a rat’s ass about books. I’d love to learn what Ivy’s ass looks like. How it would feel beneath my hands as she rides my cock.I’d love to see how round those stunning eyes get when she comes. Breasts, not too large, but bigger than a handful, and those luscious lips I can picture moving up and down my length.
Mom and Dad would tell me to stay focused.
My friends would tell me, screw focus—get laid.
My boss would terminate me on the spot.
She’s my student. I’m the professor. I’m the one in control here.
She’s not that young.
When she called out to me, her voice a melody in my ears, I turned and spotted her, and my heart thumped in my chest, and my cock sprang to attention. I’m sure I have zipper marks on my flesh.
I knew she and all the other young female students had their eyes glued to my back during the lecture, it’s nothing new, but it was only hers I felt. Only her eyes I sought whenever I turned to address the class. They drilled into me, warmed me, shooting jolts of awareness to the tips of my fingers until the numbness made me fumble the chalk.
The poor girl just wants to learn, and I would love to teach her… oh so many things… and none of them have to do with English literature.
I’ve never been so instantly fascinated by a woman before. I’ve never even considered risking my future for a woman before. Why now? Why Ivy?
Why did I suggest she come to my office today? It’s early. We could have had this discussion next week after I’ve had a few days to compel her out of my system and find a way to ignore this visceral attraction I feel.
Maybe Mom had a point the last time I saw her when told me straight up, even included a frustrated huff, that if I put as much attention on my personal life as I do on my academic life, I might have a girlfriend, maybe even a wife, and she’d be a grandmother by now.
I’ve had a handful of girlfriends, but nobody special. Not a single one garnered the physical and mental reaction I experienced today when I turned around and saw Ivy. A few minutes alone in my office before she meets me will hopefully clear my head and help set me back on track.
As I swing open the door to my office, the sight that greets me is straight out of every guy’s cliché fantasy, but damn if it doesn’t punch the air from my lungs. There she is—Ivy—in all her unsuspecting glory, bent over, ass twitching enticingly as she reaches for something on the floor next to my filing cabinet. Those tight jeans that looked more relaxed earlier today are molded to her curves like they’re holding on for dear life, and my traitorous body reacts instantly.
“Shit,”I mutter under my breath, my gaze riveted to her butt as if it’s the last piece of cheesecake at a dieter’s group meeting. My cock betrays my noble intentions, hardening without consent.
This can’t happen.
Maybe my friends are right, and it’s been too long since I’ve been with a woman. And then I remember, the last one tricked me and got me in trouble. Maybe my friends are right, and I need to have sex with the right woman and more frequently than once every six to twelve months.
I quickly adjust myself before I clear my throat.
Ivy jumps up and spins around so quickly she wobbles. “Professor Ashe!”Dust smudges her cheek, and her hair is tousled in a way that screams, ‘I just rolled out of bed,’which only adds fuel to the fire burning through my veins.
“Ivy,”I manage to say, trying to sound more collected than I feel. “I didn’t expect you so early. Classes finished already?”
“Um, yes. My last one got out early today, so I thought I’d organize some things while I waited,”she replies, her voice laced with embarrassment as she brushes off her hands. The gesture is innocent enough, but it sends all the wrong messages to my already overstimulated brain. “I figured I’d do some filing for you.”
“Right, right,”I acknowledge, forcing my eyes away from her body and onto the stack of papers on my desk, another on top of the cabinet. “Good initiative.”
“Thanks,”she says softly, and I catch the faint pink coloring her cheeks.
Is she aware of the effect she has on me? No, can’t be. I’m the picture of restraint, aren’t I? But if she were to drop her eyes…
“But some pages fell behind the filing cabinet.”
“What?”My gaze jerks up to her lips, and the bottom one she’s biting.
“I was trying to reach them when you came in and surprised me.”
“Oh. Here, let me give you a hand with that.”I drop my things onto the extra guest chair and walk over to her. The closer I get, the stronger the scent of lavender becomes. Is that her hair or her body wash? Maybe a spray? It doesn’t matter. I want to sniff her all over.
She steps aside with a grateful smile.
I grab the heavy cabinet and jostle it, rocking it side to side so I can inch it far enough from the wall to reach the pages that fell behind.
“Thanks, Professor Ashe,”she murmurs her voice a delicate chime that reverberates through the suddenly too-small office.
“Every time you call me Professor Ashe, I feel old.” Her proximity is wreaking havoc on my senses, and each brush of her skin against mine is like a live wire to my self-control. Maybe I shouldn’t be so anal about being called Professor Ashe. The distance it creates might be the solution to my problem. And the problem is that I want to fuck my student right here in my office. I want her bent over my desk while I cram my cock into her wet pussy.
“Sorry… Harrison. Was your father a professor, too?”
The way my name rolls off her tongue has my heart hammering in my chest.My hands slide a bit on the metal. I’m so fucked.
“No, he’s a senator.”I grunt with the effort of shifting the damn cabinet until it’s finally a few inches out from that wall.
“Oh, that’s cool.”Ivy suddenly inserts herself between me and the cabinet. She bends forward, intending to drop to her knees so she can grab the pages. But her backside wiggles back and forth as she’s maneuvering, and she inadvertently brushes against the front of my pants.
Jesus.
I close my eyes and swallow hard, rolling my eyes back. It takes every ounce of my being—too late. My body betrays me with an all-too-obvious twitch, and I swear silently, praying she doesn’t notice.
“Got them!”Ivy exclaims triumphantly as she backs straight into me, pauses— yup, that’s my cock —and then straightens like she just got prodded— because she did —with the stack of loose papers clutched in her hand.
“Great work, Ivy,”I manage, my voice croaking like a frog. I step back swiftly to put some much-needed distance between us. Removing my briefcase from the chair, I invite her to take a seat. Holding my bag in front of my crotch, I step around to sit at my desk putting a significant barrier between us. The relief I’d hope I’d feel is non-existent.
Ivy sits, crossing her legs demurely, but it’s her heaving chest that catches my attention. I drag my eyes up to her red cheeks. A thick, charged energy zips through the air as we stare at each other.
Maybe it’s me.
“Do you live in one of the dorms?”I ask, desperate for some semblance of normalcy to get us back on solid teacher-student footing.
“No. I have an apartment in the Bronx. I’m from a small town in Ohio. This is actually my first time in a big city,”she replies, tucking a few strands of her long hair behind her ear. “I wanted to get my own place and not feel obligated to stick around the campus when I didn’t have to. Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving it. But it’s my first time on my own, and I really want the full experience.”
“I can understand that.”
“I also love the idea of traveling and seeing the world. Maybe because I’ve never been farther than, well, here now.”
“Travel’s the best education,”I say, nodding along. “Opens your mind to new perspectives.”
“Exactly.”Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself leaning closer despite the warning bell clanging in my head. “That’s why I’m here. To learn. About everything... and from everyone. I don’t have any… any experience… in anything .” She shifts around in the chair.
My throat goes dry. I choose to ignore the implication she tossed out and take it at face value. This gorgeous young woman seems genuinely interested in absorbing knowledge, like I did. And damn if I don’t want to be her personal encyclopedia.
“Professor... I mean, Harrison,”she starts, biting her lip in a way that demands a scolding for potentially damaging such beautiful flesh. She glances up at me through long, thick lashes, her green eyes glowing. “I really want to excel in your class. I want to be the perfect pupil and the best TA you’ve ever had.”
Is she purposely emphasizing those words, trying to trip me up, or is she as innocent as she looks, and it’s all my imagination? The double meaning isn’t lost on me; it twists something deep inside. It’s probably just my cock hearing something that’s not there. She’s asking for guidance and mentorship, but I can only think about how sweet it would be to teach her things no classroom could ever cover.
“Trust me, Ivy,”I rasp, my voice barely a thread of sound as it hangs in the charged space between us. “There’s so much I could teach you.”
But as the last syllable trembles into silence, reality crashes over me like a cruel slap of ice-cold water. This is precisely what I can’t do. The memory of that blog post—the sharp sting of being the subject of campus gossip—still burns fresh in my mind.
And Dean Martens won’t let me forget it.
“Harrison?”Her voice is like a siren call, pulling me toward the rocky shore of temptation. “Did you want to discuss a schedule or tasks you’d like me to work on during the term?”
All I can picture is Ivy on her knees between mine, my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, my fist wrapped in her soft lavender-smelling hair as she sucks me off, her tongue rimming the head of my dick with velvety licks.
I’m so fired.
“I’m sorry, Ivy.”It’s like pushing words through a mouthful of cotton. “I need to... ah… I forgot I had… something.”It’s lame, but it’s all I’ve got. “Excuse me.”
I push back from my desk and rise like I’ve been shot out of a canon. Leaving her gaping at me, her brows drawn tight in confusion, is like tearing myself away from a powerful magnet. My feet carry me out of the office before my brain fully catches up with my hasty and rude as fuck retreat. But I desperately need distance, space, anything to cool the fire she unwittingly stoked so quickly.
The men’s room is mercifully around the corner and empty. I lock myself in the end stall, smacking my forehead against the cool, scraped, and graffitied metal door for support. With my eyes squeezed shut, my hands fumble at my belt, urgency propelling every move. I think of Ivy’s expectant eyes, the curve of her smile, the press of her ass against me, and it’s all I can do not to groan out loud as I strangle my cock in my fist.
“Fuck,”I whisper into the empty space, the word echoing slightly as I brace myself against the wall with my free hand and start to stroke with the other. It’s fast and furious, withno elegance, no emotion, literally a hard jerk off to extinguish the burning desire. Images of Ivy, sweet and innocent yet wrapped in sensuality, flash behind my eyelids, fueling the flames I’m frantically trying to extinguish.
It’s over quickly and not at all satisfying, but when it’s done, I’m left panting. Shame barrels through me as I shove myself back into my pants. At least nobody walked in on my less-than-stellar moment. My hands are shaking as I zip up and then grab some toilet paper to clean up the mess before I exit the stall. At the sink, my reflection glares back at me in the mirror as I see a man usually in control coming apart at the seams. Taking a few minutes, willing my heartbeat to slow, commanding my body to behave, I wash my hands and splash cold water on my face.
I just met this girl.
I’ve already been warned to stay away from her.
I have to keep her at arm’s length.
“Get it together,”I mutter, smoothing my hair and straightening my shirt.
When I return to the office, Ivy is sitting where I left her. She looks up, concern etched into her perfect features, but I offer her nothing but a brisk nod as I take my seat.
“Let’s focus on the syllabus for the year and the schedule of assignments.”At least my outward appearance is steady. Inside, I’m rattled.
“Of course, Professor,”she replies, oblivious to the storm of arousal and conflict brewing inside me.