Chapter Ten
Lacey
I stare at my phone. Olly didn’t stop me.
Why would he? We said one time; did I really expect him to declare his undying love?
No, but telling me to call him with all the dirty details makes my chest ache in a way I’ve never felt before. Doesn’t he care that another guy will touch me?
My skin tingles with the memory of Olly’s pressed against it.
“Don’t go there.” I hold up a finger like I’m scolding a child, but I’m pretty sure I look like a crazy woman talking to herself in the street.
It’s time to do what Olly keeps pushing me toward and go after what I want.
Standing outside the professor’s door—knuckles ready to knock—I hesitate. I need to write this outline, but is seducing the professor really what I want?
The door opens in a rush before I can consider the answer.
“Miss Wright.” Professor Gibson stands in the doorway, eyes wide, almost panicked.
Well, this seduction is off to a good start.
His grip tightens on the coffee mug in his hands. “What can I do for you?”
I steel myself for the role I’m about to play—a leading lady, confident enough to turn a good boy bad.
“I have a few questions about, uh… the assignment.” My voice is shaky, nothing like a confident seductress.
His throat bobs. “I was about to break for lunch.”
My skin turns cold and clammy. He’s going to turn me away. My outline will be boring as shit again. I’ll never get in the box set, never have my own experiences, and spend my future pretending that listening to Olly’s exploits isn’t breaking my heart.
But I said one time and promised I wouldn’t fall in love with him.
I channel my sweetest smile and hope I don’t look as unsure as I feel. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Professor Gibson hesitates, then looks into the empty hall, checking both directions as though allowing a student into his office is forbidden.
Is it because he’s expecting another performance?
Confidence makes me stand a little taller, makes me stick my chest out a little further, knowing shy Lacey made her professor flustered.
He nods and steps aside so I can enter. Leaving the door ajar, he makes the short walk to his chair and lowers himself into it, the wide gray desk standing like a barrier between us.
He clasps his hands on the desk in what I assume is supposed to look like a professional pose, but it only lasts a moment before he leans back, gripping the arms of his chair. He fidgets as though he’s nervous, yet the way his gaze darts from my mouth to my breasts hints at a hidden excitement.
Confident Seductress.
Leading Lady.
The author in me takes over, and scenes begin to play in my head.
I grip the door handle. “Do you mind?”
He clears his throat and shakes his head. “This is your time.”
I close the door and turn the lock, the click almost as loud as the thunder of blood behind my ears.
His eyes linger on the lock for a moment before looking at me. “What do you need assistance with?”
My nerves crumble with each breath, and my skin hums to life, electrified as I consider previous scenes I’ve written like this, and now I’m actually in one…
Channeling my inner protagonist, I rest my shoulder blades on the door, hands behind my back, chest pointing out at an enticing angle. “I was wondering if you enjoyed the show yesterday.”
His eyes widen in shock, and his throat bobs. He shifts in his chair.
Is his cock hardening?
If he were a character I’d written, it would be.
There’s a small love seat against the far wall. I picture my protagonist casually sitting, knees slightly spread.
I follow the plot in my head and sit.
His eyes settle on the bare skin of my knees as the skirt dips between.
The memory of Olly’s thighs between mine makes my pulse skip, and something spasms in my chest. I ignore it.
Confident Seductress.
Leading Lady.
Slowly, I let my legs fall apart, just enough to give the professor a glimpse of my inner thighs. “I didn’t wear panties today.”
I’ve written dialogue like this a lot, but I barely recognize the words in my own voice.
Professor Gibson makes a strangled sound. It reminds me of Olly’s low rumble as he pulsed inside me. “Do you make that sound when you come?”
He shakes his head, almost in disbelief, then relaxes into the chair. He runs a hand over his chin, his mouth twitching in an almost smile. “Do you talk to all of your professors like this?”
“Just the ones I like,” I say, playing the lead character. “Maybe you should put your cock in my mouth to shut me up.”
His eyes flare, and his gaze drops to my mouth.
The Naughty Professor outline begins forming in my mind. The student walks behind her professor’s desk, his chair already turned to face her as though waiting. She drops to her knees.
His throat bobs, and his tongue flicks across his bottom lip in a nervous twitch.
I’m affecting him, just like a protagonist affects her love interest.
Just like Olly affects me…
“You’re my student…”
“And I need some tutoring…”
The outline builds and fleshes out more as I take a step toward him. Every scene forms into something worthy of that box set.
And Olly will be there to listen to all the dirty details when I’m done.
I hate the way my throat thickens.
Professor Gibson’s eyes follow me as I lower to my knees in front of him. Carpet scrapes at my skin, reminding me that this moment is real, not some fantasy I’ve written on paper.
I’m about to become the leading lady in my own story, to explore and experience a new side of myself. It’s everything I want… isn’t it?
Uncertainty makes my hands waver as Olly’s question reverberates in my thoughts.
What do you want, Lacey?
Being a leading lady is hard work, but not as hard as figuring out the answer to one simple question.
I can’t think about that now. Not with the professor’s eyes boring into me and the hard outline of his cock beckoning me.
I push all thoughts of Olly out of my head and reach for the professor’s belt buckle.
I offer him a questioning look, a moment to say no.
His teeth clamp onto his bottom lip, and he arches his hips in response.
His belt buckle loosens beneath my fingers, then his button, until I’m dragging the zipper down.
My professor’s swollen cock head pokes out of the top of his boxer briefs.
There’s my Naughty Professor.
Scene after scene plays out in my head—his cock in my mouth, my hard nipples bouncing against his cold desk as he bends me over it.
A thrill pulses low in my belly, but nerves trickle down my spine as the professor looks at me expectantly. Olly took the lead yesterday, giving me what I wanted without needing to ask, but at this moment, I’m painfully aware of how inexperienced I really am.
What would Olly do if he were here?
He’d take the professor’s cock in his mouth and not let go until he’d sucked every last drop of cum from his balls.
Play the part, Lacey…
I tug the professor’s underwear and jeans down to his ankles and curl my fingers around his shaft. He’s not as thick as Olly, but he’s long and hard.
Professor Gibson moans, his head falling back onto his chair as his hips arch toward me.
His reaction to my touch sends a heady rush of desire to my core. Excitement fills me—I’m about to have my own experience, to find my own inspiration.
I brush my nose from the base of his shaft to the swollen tip and breathe in his scent.
There is no hint of cherry cola.
Stop it.
I slide my fingers up his thighs, deliberately scraping my nails on the sensitive inner flesh as his cock twitches and bobs.
I open my mouth, roll my tongue over his head, slide my lips down, and suck.
“Ohh…” His fingers flex and squeeze on the chair arms, almost like he is too scared to touch me.
Power and arousal surge through me. I feel like the teacher, the guide, a storyteller living out her own erotic scenes in real life.
I am turning my professor naughty.
The beginning and middle of my story are fully formed in my head, ready to be drafted, but the ending eludes me. There is some element I’m missing, a spark that will incite my story and make it impossible for the box set collaborators to turn it away.
I lift one of the professor’s hands and place it on my head. Understanding, he grips my hair. The roots burn almost as deliciously as when Olly pulled my hair back and kissed me for the first time.
The familiar coils of arousal tighten in my belly.
My tongue rolls around the professor’s cock the way it tangled with Olly’s tongue.
Heat builds between my thighs.
Professor Gibson groans, using both hands to grip the sides of my head.
His sounds are soft and muted, unlike the primal grunts Olly tried to muffle against my shoulder.
Desire clenches and unclenches inside of me, seeking relief from the growing ache.
I slip two fingers beneath the hem of my dress, the burning need too intense to ignore. Arousal leaks from me, coating my fingers as they slide and stroke. Pressure builds low in my belly the way it did when Olly touched me for the first time.
I tighten my grip on the base of Professor Gibson’s cock and stroke, my head bobbing, my lips sucking.
What would Olly feel like, pushing against the back of my throat?
A spiral of desire coils inside of me, tightening with promise. My fingers switch between sliding in and out and swirling around the outer edges of my clit.
His shaft pulses on the back of my tongue—so close.
What would Olly’s cum taste like? Cherry cola?
I moan around the cock in my mouth, imagining Olly’s sweet cream coating my tongue, my face… shooting inside my ass.
Desire burns in my veins as wetness seeps between my fingers. I stroke and slide, pinch and tease, seeking that crest of relief.
I look up, the professor’s eyes hooded and glassy, full of hunger.
Olly’s were even more intense as he thrust into me so hard that tiny scrapes from the brick wall marked my back, tattooed to my skin like decadent memories.
What would it have been like to feel a second body pressed to my skin instead of a brick wall?
Heat fills my chest, and my nipples tighten as I realize where my thoughts are heading. Two guys at once is a scenario I’ve never even written about.
But it’s the one description of Olly’s that always leaves me breathless whenever I remember it.
Warmth tickles my clit, the tiny bud now a swollen ball. One flick, and I snap. White dots blur my vision as my walls grip and pulse around my fingers, sucking them like they milked Olly’s cock.
Professor Gibson grips my head and shudders, his shaft pulsing in my mouth and spurting his naughtiness onto my tongue.
I swallow his cream, but instead of the sweet taste of empowerment, a bitter dose of reality slides down my throat.
I got what I needed, my own inspiration and two-thirds of my story outlined, but it’s clear that the ending is impossible without the missing spark—Olly.
All the reasons for why we won’t work are still there, but there is one reason why we will work that I hadn’t considered…
I want Olly.
It’s time to answer my crush’s question.