Chapter 25
SUMMER
Dating my professor—while I recognize it is problematic—is incredibly hot.
Asher stands at the front of the classroom, collecting assignments as students slowly bring them up to him.
He’s wearing a dark green button-up that matches his eyes perfectly, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, of course.
His black slacks hug him in all the right places.
I try my best to covertly check out his ass, but Sam definitely catches me.
Asher’s dark hair is mussed, and my fingers itch to style it back into place. A light shadowing of stubble runs across his jaw—seeing him with a slight smattering of facial hair has me fantasizing about what it would feel like against my cheeks, my neck… my thighs.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the sinful thoughts that keep popping into my mind. But it’s hard when your partner looks like Asher Stirling.
I tap my pencil against my desk, mulling over a devious plan I’ve had all morning, and decide to follow through.
I shoot off the text that’s been sitting in our text thread unsent, and pocket my phone, waiting to see if he’ll open it now or later.
He finishes speaking to a student before pulling his phone from the back pocket of his slacks.
I watch him read the message, and his face darkens.
His gaze darts up to me, and his jaw clenches.
He places his phone face down on his desk and starts organizing the papers that other students have already turned in.
I slowly rise to my feet and make my way toward the front of the classroom. I hand over the assignment, and his fingers gently graze mine as he takes it from me. I turn on my heel—and okay, maybe there’s an extra swing to my hips as I walk away.
“Ms. Nyx,” he says without looking up as I sit back down at my desk. “Please see me after class.”
Sam and Matt both look at me, Sam with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow and Matt with furrowed brows of confusion. I shrug before plopping back in my seat as though I haven’t the slightest clue as to why our professor would need to speak with me.
Asher’s calm demeanor belies his impatience. He still hasn’t looked at me, but there’s a tenseness in his shoulders that shows how affected he is by my message. Butterflies erupt in my stomach. I have never been excited when a teacher says they need to see me after class.
But being punished doesn’t sound half bad.
I wait patiently at my desk for everyone to leave before rising to my feet. He glares at me as he raises his phone. “I’m not wearing any underwear?” he hisses.
I shrug. “I thought maybe that was something you’d like to know.”
He tosses the phone on his desk before leaning against the dark wood and crossing his arms. “Did you get off on that?” He smirks. “Watching me open that text in class?”
“Maybe,” I murmur. I start slowly making my way toward the door, but he stops me with a growl. I freeze.
“If you walk away now,” he warns. “I’m going to have to chase you.”
I have half a mind to run, just to see if he’ll follow through with his threat, but the opportunity disappears when he slams the classroom door shut, clicks the lock into place, and makes his way to me in three quick strides.
My thighs clench together as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms. Lust and desire seem to roll off of him in waves.
My knees tremble with impatience, and I feel flushed by all the attention he’s giving me.
His gaze rakes over my body, slowing at the bare skin of my legs and settling on my lips.
“Didn’t I ask,” he starts in a low grumble. “That you stop wearing these ridiculously short skirts in my class?”
“They make me feel invincible,” I whisper, as I take a step back, a mischievous grin plastered across my face. His hand shoots out and grips my throat, not hard, but squeezing just slightly to let me know he wants to be in control. My pulse thrums excitedly against his fingers.
“I told you what would happen if you tried to run.” His voice is low and smooth, like velvet sliding over bare skin in a dimly lit room. A breathy giggle escapes my lips, and his pupils dilate. His eyes are the color of new leaves, after spring’s first rain, bright and impossibly alive.
He pulls me over to his desk and pushes me up against it, his hand never leaving my neck. “What now?” I tease, daring him.
“Now, you stop being a brat and listen to me,” he commands. “Turn around.”
I slowly turn around, bracing my hands on the desk.
His fingertips gradually trail up the bare skin of my thighs, pulling the material of my skirt up with them. He takes in a sharp breath as he reaches the apex between my legs. “I thought you were lying when you said you weren’t wearing any underwear. Just trying to get a rise out of me.”
“I’d never lie to you,” I say cheekily.
He places a firm hand between my shoulder blades, pushing me down against his desk, bending me at the waist. “You do know that we don’t have much time in here, don’t you?” he asks.
“Mmhm,” I hum, desperately wanting his touch.
I hear him fumbling with his belt, and my heart rate picks up. I clench my thighs harder at the slick feeling between my legs. Asher’s fingers run up my slit, and I try to move, to get him where I need him, but the hand on my back remains firmly in place.
“God, you’re always so ready for me,” he groans.
“Only for you. Only ever for you,” I promise.
“Shit,” he hisses. “I don’t have a condom on me.”
I bite my lip and glance at him over my shoulder, a slight flush coloring my cheeks. “I have an IUD, and I haven’t been with anyone else since the last time I got tested. I’m clean.”
“I’m clean too,” he responds, tracing a hand down my back. “I haven’t been with anyone else but you.”
Then I feel him at my entrance, and I eagerly raise my hips, encouraging him to surge forward and plant himself inside me to the hilt. A loud moan escapes my lips, and the hand that had been holding me down snaps in front of me to cover my mouth.
“Shh,” he warns. “If you want me to let you come, we can’t be interrupted.”
I clench around him and his hips stutter before picking up a faster, harsher pace.
He brutally pistons into me, and I can feel my body chasing an orgasm that is just out of reach. I need more. I can never get enough of this man.
I push back against him to try and meet his thrusts, and he slams my hips against the unforgiving wood. “Asher!” I cry.
His hand tangles in my hair, and he pulls me up against him, my back against his front.
And despite how hot this is with the risk of being caught, there’s a part of me that’s addicted to the feeling of his skin on mine, and I wish we were in a position to remove all of our clothing.
His fingers twist in the blonde strands of my hair before yanking my head back and baring my neck to him.
“Behave,” he growls before dipping his head and sucking at the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder.
And even though this has all been one hot punishment for my bad behavior, he slips his hand down my abdomen to find my clit. I open my mouth to moan again, but he covers it with his hand, slipping two fingers past my lips. I eagerly suck on them, and he swears against my neck.
He rubs hard circles against that sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs, and suddenly I’m gasping around his fingers and seeing stars.
I dig my nails into the dark wood of his desk; my eyes clench shut as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. Asher groans, and I can feel his cock pulsing as he releases inside of me.
“Fuck, fuck,” he curses as he pulls out of me suddenly. My pussy clenches at the loss, still coming down from my orgasm. He pulls up his pants, trying to catch his breath.
He pushes my hair behind my ear. “We probably shouldn’t do that again,” he murmurs. Affection lights up his emerald eyes, and a small smile graces his lips. “No matter how hot it was.”
I give him a playful pout as I pull my skirt back into place. “I promise… no more sexy texts during class.”
He leans in to give me a sweet, short kiss. “Feel free to surprise me at home.”
Home.
My heart skips a beat. Asher is already turning away from me, redoing his belt and smoothing out his button-up. I try not to let my feelings get carried away with such a simple word.
But a home with Asher wouldn’t be half bad.