My Dirty Professor

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My Dirty Professor Page 14

by Cassandra Dee


  And slowly, sanity returns. Quietly, I pad down the hallway in silence, socks slippery on the parquet floor. My reflection stares back at me from a decorative mirror in the hallway.

  See? The voice in my head scoffs. Gray would never be interested in you.

  Because what was I thinking? My brown curls are tangled, a bird’s nest perched on my head. Plus, I’m curvy with a lot to spare. Big Double Ds. An ass that puts Kim Kardashian to shame.

  By contrast, Gray likes women like my mom, slender and tall. He’d probably be disgusted by my poochy belly and thick thighs.

  Oh god, what came over me? Why did I just do that? Shame fills my chest, hot and heavy. Gray is so handsome, and I’m nowhere near good enough for him. It’s probably best he didn’t see me, because he’d be disgusted by my body.

  Shaking my head, I make my way back to the safety of my bedroom. What’s gotten into me? How could I think my stepdad would be interested? They were the fantasies of a misguided teen girl, one who’s never really known a man. Not to mention these thoughts are probably criminal and could land me in jail.

  Could I go to prison?

  Could they put me in the slammer for wanting my stepdad?

  But once under the covers, my cheeks flush hot. Because I wasn’t supposed to, but I did. And it felt unbelievably good, a thrill in the pit of my stomach. My pussy throbs, pulsing under the covers, and a secret smile crosses my face. Grayson, the voice in my head chants. Grayson, Grayson, Grayson …

  And gradually, sleep claims me, images of the handsome billionaire dancing in my mind.

  Their Secret is LIVE! Get your copy here.

  A Sneak Peek: Beg Me

  ~Sold to My Dad’s Boss~

  A May December Romance

  © 2016

  By Cassandra Dee

  Want to hear about my newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join my mailing list at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE BOOK unavailable elsewhere!

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Beg Me: Sold to My Dad’s Boss

  Ten days. I had to spend ten days with Mr. Jones, my dad’s boss, so that my dad could keep his job.

  My dad was caught stealing from his company and Mr. Jones fired him on the spot. But that meant financial ruin for my family. We’d have no place to live, nothing to eat, and I’d have to drop out of school.

  But then Mr. Jones proposed a solution. I’d spend ten days with him at his mansion and everything would be forgiven.

  Except the alpha male had rules.

  I had to wear his clothes.

  Eat his food.

  And worst of all, beg when he asked.

  I’m ashamed to say … but I desperately wanted it!

  Hey Readers -- This is a sexy, smutty romance that will make your cheeks burn and your panties melt! As always, there’s a guaranteed HEA. Enjoy! Love, Cassie

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lindy

  I struggled into my swimsuit. It was kind of obscene, I had to admit. I’ve grown a lot in the last year, horizontally mostly, and my boobs, which had been tiny before now went out to here, while my ass went out to there. Basically I was the proverbial hourglass: sassy, curvy, and busting out in all places.

  But I sighed. What choice did I have? It was my parents’ twentieth anniversary and I’d rushed home for the party after finals. I’d been so busy studying and trying to do well that I hadn’t had a chance to buy myself a new swimsuit. I scrutinized myself again. Okay, well if I hiked the top up a little at the neck, and made sure the butt part stayed down, at least most of me would be covered … almost. Barring any accidents or any slippery mishaps, I’d be okay.

  I sighed again, turning away from the mirror in my childhood bedroom. Yep, the space was exactly as I’d left it last year. It was a blast from the past. In high school, I’d been really nerdy, studying all the time so that I could get into a good college and the room showed it. The walls were bare but I had a huge bookshelf filled with textbooks and “serious” reading like Charles Dickens and some Russian authors whose names I couldn’t pronounce, then or now. Go figure.

  But despite the boring exterior, I’m still a fun girl … it’s just fun of a personal kind. Because I got a Kindle for Christmas and suddenly there was unlimited access to all sorts of naughty stories. There were steamy times with my hand tucked between my legs, bringing myself to heaven as I devoured the words while eating up the dirty pictures and videos. So I was the proverbial good girl with a bad side – innocent on the outside but filthy within.

  But I shook myself, sighing. Right, back to business. This swimsuit. I looked kind of looked like a pornstar even though it was a modest black one-piece, something that was supposed to cover real acreage and totally appropriate for a family setting. The problem was me. There was so much of me now that the conservative cut was now racy, my flesh jiggling this way and that, creamy and exposed. But sighing again, I gave up, tying my brown curls into a ponytail while grabbing a towel and leaving the room. I’d just have to be careful, I reminded myself, padding downstairs to the kitchen and glancing through the back window to the patio outside.

  The party was already in full swing, people splashing in the pool, my dad at the grill looking jovial, chatting up a storm. It was mostly older folks: my parents’ friends, middle aged couples in their forties, wrinkled and tired.

  But then I saw him. Christopher Jones is my dad’s boss at United Electric, although I think he’s actually a few years younger than my dad. I’d always had a crush on him and at this moment, the gorgeous man was hauling himself out of the pool, his arms strong as he dragged that muscular torso from the water. I gasped, my breath coming fast, knees literally going weak because the man was like a god come to life, so gorgeous and dominant emerging from the water.

  Rivulets of liquid sluiced off his hard muscles. His arms strained and flexed as he pulled himself to hip height, level with the pool’s edge before maneuvering himself out all the way, rising to stand on the deck. He was like a warrior come to life, his body muscled and perfectly proportioned, with broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist and the thick, heavy thighs. As if feeling my gaze on him, he turned sparkling blue eyes to me, meeting my eyes through the window. His look was knowing and warm. I flushed, growing bright red, forcing myself to stay still instead of instinctively ducking out of sight. Oh my god, had he seen me or was it just a trick of the light, like a reflection of the window pane?

  It was impossible to know for sure, but my inner parts tingled suddenly, wetly moist from that masculine stare. Oh god, how did Mr. Jones do this to me? There were boys at school who’d been interested but they did nothing. I’d shared a couple kisses, wet and slobbery, and a few had felt up my boobs, moaning with ecstasy as they grabbed fistfuls of breastflesh, making me squeal with pain, pull away at the manhandling.

  But I knew with certainty that Mr. Jones would be completely different. Reflexively, my gaze dropped to his large, square hands, dripping with water and my mouth went dry, a fire lighting within my body. Because those hands would be so smooth, so agile on my curves, stroking me to heaven, making me come again and again, my body moist, open, begging him for more.

  And oh god, that package. The big man was wearing board shorts, the kind that looked like regular shorts, coming to his knee. But even through the loose canvas material, I could see a hard edge, an outline of something massive. It was a promise so hard, hot and hungry that my pussy began to tingle, responding to the call of this male animal.

  As if reading my mind, Mr. Jones grinned at me through the window, winking before turning away to talk to someone, nonchalant, like nothing was wrong. I snapped back to reality. Holy shit, he had seen me, I hadn’t been imagining the eye contact, those blue eyes had read my desire, how I’d grown flushed with heat, needing him, my breasts heaving with excitement. My mind went crazy, spinning into various scenarios where I imagined being entangled with him in all sorts of illicit, crazy positions.

  But real life str
uck. I was a nineteen year old college girl whereas he was an experienced, dominant alpha male. What did I have to offer? Chris could get any woman he wanted. Any female would be happy for a few minutes alone with that hard, male body. So I snapped myself back to reality. What had felt like a slow-mo scene to me, a fantasy sequence complete with flashbacks and flash forwards, had probably been two seconds of real life at most. I’d probably imagined the whole thing. It’d been nothing but a daydream, the fantasies of an inexperienced girl. Because of course, Mr. Jones was already chatting up some middle-aged woman. She was a skinny blonde chick with an orange tan who looked him up and down hungrily, eyeing him lasciviously while licking her lips, hanging onto his every word and devouring him with her eyes.

  Embarrassed suddenly, I turned away with my head down, grabbing my towel before making my way outside to sit behind a tree to make myself inconspicuous. Mr. Jones had so many options. The world was at his fingertips and there were women dying to meet him. As for me? I was a teenage girl, a complete nobody, and absolutely, utterly out of my league. But still, my pussy tingled from the memory of that one look, and my body grew hot all over. I knew there’d be more between me and this gorgeous man. The only question was when?

  Got you hot and bothered? Beg Me is LIVE! Pick up your copy here.

  A Sneak Peek: Pregnant By My Boss

  ~A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance~

  By Cassandra Dee and Kendall Blake

  Want to hear about our newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join our mailing lists at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE book just for joining!

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  Pregnant By My Boss: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance

  I got pregnant at a masquerade ball by a man in a mask.

  Katie’s a party planner with only one goal: to put together soirees that are so extravagant and unforgettable that her clients hire her again and again. But when she gets pregnant after a steamy night with a man in a mask, the curvy girl’s not sure what to do next.

  Trent Moore has everything at his fingertips, including wealth, fame, and an overabundance of women. But when a feisty party planner comes to work for him, he decides to take matters into his own hands … including putting a baby in her belly by any means possible.

  Hey Readers -- This one is off-the-charts crazy and ridiculous between our innocent virgin and the alpha billionaire who always gets what he wants. As always, read with an ice cold drink nearby because you’re going to need it! :) Love, Cassie and Kendall

  Chapter One

  Katie

  When the bitchy assistant for whatever rich jerk owns this insane mansion called me to handle an extravagant masquerade ball, I strongly considered saying no. But the many zeroes on the huge check Amanda promised I’d get at the end made me reconsider in a heartbeat—and that was on top of the budget they already set for the party. All in all, I was making out like a bandit, which makes it a little easier for me to stomach Amanda’s attitude.

  Because she’s absolutely terrible. The woman is your classic snobby blonde bitch with pin-straight hair and a sneer permanently glued to her face. But I won’t let her get to me. Even if she reminds me of all the mean girls back in high school, I’ve moved past that phase of my life. All I need to do is focus on the check I’ll be snatching from her perfectly manicured fingers by the end of this night, and I’ll be fine.

  Standing at the mansion’s entrance, I tilt my head to observe the building, trying to see the place as the masked guests will see it. The entryway is a huge circular area with a giant, glittering chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling, and across from the entrance is a long hallway finished in dark woods and antiques my grandmother would drool over. I can practically see the multimillion-dollar price tag on everything lining the walls. I can’t even imagine what having this much money would be like. I certainly wouldn’t have to skip out on the guacamole at Chipotle anymore.

  But the vintage feel of the mansion is actually perfect for a masquerade ball. When I found out the party was being hosted by a rich tech guy with a big wallet and an even bigger reputation, I was a little worried about what I’d have to work with. I’ve put together parties for tech guys before, so I’m familiar with their lifestyles. It’s either utterly lavish with over-the-top crazy gadgets and top-of-the-line everything, or totally spare and Spartan. You’re lucky if you have furniture sometimes. I’ve seen guys living with a mattress on the floor and one chair, despite being worth billions.

  So during my first tour of this place a couple weeks ago, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Fortunately, seeing the actual building took my breath away and eased my worries. The outside walls were ivy-covered and imposing, with literal turrets reaching into the sky. A sweeping driveway circled the front of the house, a perfect setting for the Bentleys and Porsches that were sure to pull up.

  Inside was even better. The expansive hallway across the entryway had a few doorways leading to different parts of the house. Right when you enter, you’re greeted by a giant mirror and an old coat rack that’s unnecessary given the number of maids bustling around to take your coat. On either side of the large foyer are two wide, winding staircases. I didn’t get to tour the upstairs rooms because Amanda said those were the bedrooms, which wouldn’t be part of the festivities—I stifled a snort then, because what kind of extravaganza doesn’t end in debauchery and a bit of raunchiness? But then again, this was a sophisticated gathering with lots of important people attending. As much as I wanted to take a peek, based on the rest of the house, I could already formulate a mental picture of the luxurious antique furniture in every nook and cranny. I didn’t need to see it to know what it looked like in my mind’s eye.

  Just past the entryway and into the hallway, a doorway on the left leads to a huge library that’s probably worth almost as much as the property itself. When I had the initial tour, I saw at least seven first editions placed carefully throughout the book-filled room.

  But the library isn’t going to be the setting for today’s party, per Amanda’s request. After all, this is a masquerade ball, so they’ll be using the grand ballroom with its lofty ceiling and gracious, paneled walls.

  Frankly, there isn’t need for much decoration because the house itself is already magnificent and imposing, with its ornate wooden bannisters and gleaming marble floors. But, hey, I have to earn my keep, so I decided to put in some window accents. I used black and white crepe paper, twisted together like for a birthday party, and draped the strands across the windows. In the center, I used expensive, hand-painted masks to accentuate the party theme. The masks and colors match the room’s ambiance, and I think they add to the costume party feel of the entire event.

  All the tables are clothed with black and white linen and the table centerpieces are adorned with black and white roses and real peacock feathers imported from India. The feathers were my idea, and Amanda reluctantly admitted they looked nice.

  Again, as long as she’s happy, then I’m happy because my business is a full-service party planning and catering company. We set everything up, serve the food, and then take it all down afterwards. I started the company fresh out of college and it’s grown beyond my wildest dreams. I have twenty employees for big events like this one, four chefs taking care of the food, and eight highly trained servers. It took me a lot of work to get here, but every grueling step was worth it. After all, this is my passion, and my success has been unexpected but gratifying. The only problem is the financial aspect of the business. Every cent of profit either goes into expanding my company or paying off my student loans, so I don’t have much left over. I get by, but sometimes it’s a choice between a shower and air conditioning during the hot summer months. Definitely not both, seeing that cash is tight.

  I survey my work proudly for a few moments longer. My employees are scurrying around, putting the finishing touches on all of the tables and wall decorations. This isn’t the biggest venue we’ve ever worked, but it’s certainly th
e most grand. I trust my employees not to break anything valuable, but seeing the antiques everywhere still makes me nervous. I’m so ready for this night to be over. Once we clear out and cash the check, I can forget this place ever existed.

  Amanda saunters out of nowhere, dressed in a slinky floor-length gown. Her face crumples into a frown as she looks me up and down.

  “Is that what you’re wearing, Katie? Guests will be arriving soon. Everyone needs to get to their party posts. You need to change into something appropriate, otherwise you’ll stick out like a sore thumb, and I can’t trust you to stay out of all the photos. Hopefully you have something?”

  I force myself not to roll my eyes and keep my voice neutral. “Of course, Amanda. Happy to. I have a dress in the kitchen. I just didn’t want to ruin it during setup.”

  “Well, go get it on, then. And get your people to their posts!” she snaps, clearly enjoying her position bossing me around.

  I sigh as Amanda stalks away. I’ve worked with some terrible customers, but Amanda takes the cake as the worst. Her tall, skinny frame and perfect blonde hair just add to my dislike of her. She’s like a Barbie come to life. That is, if Barbie never smiled and only ate lemons.

  Plus, at five feet five, I’m not super short, but I’m not model tall like her. I’m a healthy weight for my height, with curves in all the right places. My brown hair is straight without needing to fry it with an iron every morning. I keep my makeup light, only using enough to subtly enhance my natural features. By all accounts, I’m an attractive woman. But I still look like a slouch next to Amanda with her modelesque frame.

 

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