The Professor’s Surprise Baby (The Secret Babies of Daddy’s Hearts #1)

Chapter 1

The pictures are far, far better than I expected. They’re really stunning. They’re all risqué but they range from slightly sexual to overtly near pornographic. There are drawings, painting, photos, and mixed-media pieces. T-Angle is a multi-disciplined artist, and I can understand why the gallery decided on this exhibition even though he’s an unknown. This gallery actually shows several unknown artists. Several hide their identities so their art is judged on its own merits without reputation. My best friend got me into the gallery tonight as a going-away present. I just graduated and my flight leaves tomorrow night at eight.

Kayla knew I wanted to see this, though.

I see there’s a program book that has full-page pictures of the pieces on display. I take one and text Kayla to tell her I’m buying it.

Then, I hear a voice behind me. “How do you get in here? This isn’t open until tomorrow.”

“Oh, my friend took care of it for me, and…” I stop talking when I’m fully turned around and I see Vance French standing in front of me. It’s no exaggeration for me to say that I’ve been crushing on him forever. “Dr. French,” I say, “It’s great to see you one last time.”

He smiles. “Emily, wow. It’s good to see you. How are you here?”

“Probably the same way you are,” I say. “Kayla told me I could look at T-Angle’s art tonight since I’ll be on a plane tomorrow. She’s helping you avoid the crowd, too? Something like that?”

He smiles and says, “Something like that.”

“Oh, Vance. I’m sorry,” she says. “I should have warned you that Emily was here.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he says. Why would it be a problem?

“Do you have the list for me?” she asks with a smile. List? She graduated last year.

“Actually, I think everything looks fine. The only thing I wonder is if the books need to be quite as expensive. It’ll mostly be students here tomorrow, right?”

Kayla nods and says, “What if we create a deep discount for students?”

“That’ll work,” he says with a smile, “and I’m really happy with how you’ve displayed everything.”

Then it clicks. “You! You’re T-Angle!” I say in shock.

He smiles at me. “Guilty as charged.”

This is a pretty darned significant realization. I turn around and stare at the picture in front of me. It’s a woman’s face in watercolor, and she’s very clearly experiencing an orgasm. This man is… Well, he’s a scientist focused on genetics and… Well, who cares? The point is that he’s a genius in the hard sciences. The university has equipment and laboratories paid for by grants he’s received. There are certain medical developments linked directly to his research but some of the applications of his research affect industries unrelated to the medical field.

So, the fact that he has drawings that include a woman’s face during orgasm or the bulge of her throat when she’s performing fellatio or a girl masturbating while a group of men watches… I mean, you can see the disconnect, right? It’s tastefully done and artistic but the subject matter is still risqué as hell for a guy who’s famous in certain scientific circles.

But what really seems disconnected for me is about me, not him. I am so desperately enamored of him. I mean, from my first class with him four years ago to this moment, I’ve wanted him. I’ve taken every class he offers, and I’ve studied molecular biology because I’m inspired by him. Speaking of inspiration, I think it’s fair to say a good number of guys received orgasms because of how turned on after his classes.

But this… This adds a whole new element to the man, a whole new dimension. I mean, I’m not saying that I never thought of him sexually before now. I’m just saying that there’s something about those pictures that change that up. He’s not just a brilliant scientist and teacher who also has sex. Not anymore. Now, he’s a fully sexual being and… “It’s my last night in town,” I say.

“Yeah. I’ll miss you in class,” he says.

I turn to face him. “I’m not your student anymore.” Damn, I feel confident!

He nods. “Yes. That’s why I’ll miss you in class.”

Okay, not so confident anymore. I say nervously, “That means you can… um… you can make my last night in town special, right?” He looks surprised and I quickly say, “I mean, if you want to do something and I’m not saying that you have to or that I deserve to be treated like… It’s just that I can…”

I stop talking.

I stop talking because his lips are on mine.

His tongue flicks lightly over them as they part. Then, he pulls back and says, “Wanting me to make your last night special is the sweetest and kindest gift anyone could ever do for me. I want to buy you dinner, anything you would like. What are you in the mood for?”

It isn’t confidence that guides my response. I’m just in shock. It’s almost absent-mindedness that makes me respond in a voice of wonder, “Room service.”

He smiles.

We don’t get around to the room service right away because twenty minutes later, his mouth is occupied with something else! I mean, we get to the hotel and I’m nervous, of course, the way you get when you’re about to be intimate with someone. He’s sweet and wonderful, kissing me gently and then passionately and then gently again.

But he never stops getting me undressed.

It’s the craziest thing to end up completely naked while he’s still totally dressed. I feel very, very vulnerable. He lifts me up and puts me on the bed. I’m still feeling vulnerable. Well, that doesn’t change as he strips in front of me. His eyes keep scanning my body and the way he looks at me is powerful. Talk about the vulnerable! The guy I fantasize about is looking at my naked body with eyes that tell me he’s going to take anything he wants from me.

But what he wants is to put his mouth on my pussy. There are no words to really describe things. His tongue moves up and down my slit. It wriggles about. He thrusts it into me. He teases along my inner labia and then on the outer labia. He explores every bit of me and I’m moaning in a weird, almost panicked and mournful way because he’s studiously avoiding my clit, and the desperation I feel is astounding.

All I can say is that the experience is really amazing. I mean, on one level, it’s an infuriating, impossible exercise in frustration. I’m desperate for him to show my clit attention. On another level, and I think this level is stronger, it’s the best experience of all my life. I’m discovering that my pussy has a remarkable capacity for pleasure. I mean that areas of my pussy I never knew could be so powerfully stimulated are affected in ways that overpower me left and right.

And up.

And down.

How long does that go on? One minute? Five minutes? Ten minutes?

All I know is that it’s felt like ten seconds as far as how much I love it but ten years because of how much I need more from him. Hell, I don’t know. My desperation makes it feel like an eternity. When he moves his lips up, though, and closes them over my clit, I scream. The orgasm is instantaneous, and it’s far, far more powerful than any in my past. Hell, it’s more powerful than I thought orgasms could even be!

And then he’s kissing my mouth and his cock is inside of me and my world is spinning.