Dominant Professor

by Mia Luxe

  I fuck her slowly, powerfully, and all I can picture is her breasts growing fuller, her belly expanding because of me.

  Together we are going to create something beautiful, and protect it against this insane world.

  She whimpers as my balls slap against her ass, her eyes staring at me with wild lust. I plunge every inch of my cock deep inside of her, wanting to feel her with my seed again, and Willow reaches and grabs my full balls and squeezes, making me groan.

  “I love when you cum in me,” she moans, massaging my balls as I pound her tight pussy.

  “I love you, Willow,” I say, and her inner walls grab my cock even harder. She looks into my eyes with wild abandon.

  “I love you too, Connor,” she says, and I cum with her words, filling her with my seed. She massages my balls as I growl and pound her hard and slow, draining my balls inside of her and knowing that at this point it doesn’t matter.

  She’s pregnant with my child.

  I hold her close, letting my cock soften inside of her, kissing her slowly, deeply as we luxuriate in our togetherness.

  I’m going to be a father.

  My life suddenly feels complete.

  Home

  Willow - Friday, January 29

  The last two months passed in a blur. I finished my term at WCU and Connor and I moved into a beautiful little bungalow in Portland. Joe Maturi was convicted and sentenced to three consecutive life sentences.

  “Honey, I’m home!”

  I roll my eyes at the greeting that makes me feel like a housewife as the door opens and Connor walks in in his fitted suit and tie, his briefcase at his side. He kicks off his shoes and rushes the to kitchen, picking me up and twirling me as he kisses me.

  “Connor! I’m listening to a lecture,” I say with mock anger, and he puts me down. The laptop beside me shows an older man, my online criminology 201 professor, wrapping up his lecture. I decided to move in with Connor as soon as possible, signing up for online courses while I worked on getting into Portland University.

  “My apologies, you just looked too damn good to resist,” he says with a smile, kissing me again.

  “Go get changed, dinner’s in the oven,” I reply, shaking my head. He’s a decade older than me, but the sheer joy he exudes makes him feel the same age. The whirlwind of him quitting his job at WCU and joining the FBI as a behavioral consultant, the speedy trial, and the move made the last two months pass quicker than I thought humanly possible. The smell of the roast in the oven makes my mouth water and I smile, closing the laptop as the online lecture comes to an end.

  I touch my belly lightly, feeling the little bump of our future growing.

  I plate the dinner and Connor returns in slacks and a t-shirt.

  “This is amazing,” he says around a bite of food.

  “Chew with your mouth closed! What kind of example are you going to set for our child?”

  He laughs, taking a sip of water.

  “I guess you’ll have to make up for my lack of manners,” he replies.

  The fire roars in our little living room. The bungalow is cozy and comfortable, a place where there are no secrets.

  A place where my baby is going to be safe and secure.

  When we finish dinner, I’m about to get into my pyjamas when Connor gets serious.

  “Hold on. I need to show you something tonight.”

  “What is it?”

  He shrugs. “A surprise. Get your coat on, we’re going for a drive.”

  We drive into the city, and as the stars glimmer above I smile. I fell in love with Portland at first sight, and the city has transformed from the place where we nearly lost each other to one where we are going to build our future together.

  He takes me downtown in front of a big building I’ve never seen before.

  “Where are we?”

  “You’ll see.”

  We step out of the car into the crisp night air, and he presses the buzzer on the front door. The building is large, grey, and without any markings as to what it could be.

  “It’s Connor,” he says, and the door buzzes open.

  I’m so confused as I follow him into a large lobby. A striking blond woman is at the front desk, and she smiles wide when she sees Connor.

  “Connor! And this must be Willow!” She has a faint accent, eastern European.

  What is happening? Who is she?

  Connor turns to me. “You wanted to know what happened to the 15 million dollars. Let me show you.”

  “Please, follow me. The board of directors all flew in.”

  I follow her into a large conference room. Around the table are beautiful, leggy women in business dress.

  “Connor, Willow. Meet the team,” says the front desk lady. The five women in the conference smile and introduce themselves, and we sit down. Every name is foreign. I try to keep track of them all.

  Olga, Sofia, Yulia, um…

  I’m stunned, and take a seat weakly.

  What is this place?

  The screen in the room turns on, and I’m walked through the history of the center. Founded five years ago, it is responsible for helping the victims of human trafficking and preventing further abuses.

  “We have programs set up to find work for women who have been abused, sold into sexual slavery, and need to find a new life.”

  One of the ladies, Olga, smiles wide.

  “At first, the programs we founded weren’t doing well. We started small, with a business selling hand-knit scarfs, and a small bakery. Despite the first year losing over one hundred thousand dollars, with Connor’s help, we were able to show a profit of two hundred thousand.”

  Connor nods. He looks at me, nodding. “I broke the law. I laundered the money into this foundation. I didn’t want the fifteen million to be confiscated by the police and turned into new squad cars and guns. I… I needed to atone for the five women I couldn’t save.”

  I try to stop myself, but tears start streaming down my cheeks. I’m so embarrassed, but I can’t stop them. Connor holds me.

  “Connor, I’m so sorry I doubted you. I had no idea.”

  He smiles, and one of the women, I think named Yulia, passes a box of tissues to me.

  “We were all shipped from Ukraine five years ago on a cargo ship. If it wasn’t for Connor, we would be in a horrible life right now. He saved us. And now we are saving other women.”

  The oldest, a woman who I can’t remember her name, stands up, pressing a button to switch to another slide.

  “As you can see, our second year was a great success, even without Connor’s help. So we opened a new business, a tutoring service for Russian and Ukrainian languages. Then, we opened a cleaning service that has become a huge success. We take girls and young women who have suffered abuse and horrific circumstances, and we match them with jobs that work well with them.”

  Yulia nods. “We offer therapy, counselling, and a support service. Most of these girls don’t have families. We are the family for them.”

  I’m absolutely stunned. I can’t process words as I sit, understanding the magnitude of what Connor created, what these women were able to achieve with his help.

  “Let me show you the rest of the building,” says Connor, helping me out of my chair. We say our goodbyes, leaving the conference room and he tours me through the different parts of the building. A play-centre for children. A daycare for women who have to work while raising children. He points me down a hall we don’t go down, explaining that it’s an emergency shelter place for women without homes to sleep.

  “The mansion I brought you to when we came to Portland - it’s a safe house owned by the foundation. It wasn’t in use during the trip, so I used it for us.”

  I look up at Connor, my eyes wet.

  “I can’t believe I suspected you.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I wish I could have told you sooner. You have no idea how hard it was to keep it from you.”

  I nod, finally knowing everything about Connor
. If there was ever any doubt in my mind about our future, it’s all disappeared.

  Connor smiles, eager. “Let me show you the roof! There’s a view of the city and river you wouldn’t believe.”

  We take an elevator up floor after floor, and then he helps me up the stairs. I gasp as I walk to the top of the roof. The foundation is in a building by the water, and I stare out at the river and bridges, happiness filling me. I always knew I wanted to live somewhere like this.

  I can’t believe how lucky I am. Everything about the night is perfect. A snowflake lands on my nose, surprising me, and I look up, the grey clouds breaking opening up to let slow, huge snowflakes fall down softly.

  “Connor, it’s perfect here,” I say, turning with a sigh.

  He’s on his knee, looking up at me. The ring glitters in its little box, a snowflake drifting past it slowly.

  Oh my God.

  “Willow. I knew from the first time I saw you that you were special. I knew you would give my life meaning again. I love you more than I thought possible. Will you marry me?”

  Tears stream down my face again, and my smile is so wide my cheeks hurt.

  “Yes, Connor, yes,” I say, the diamond glittering in the night. He stands and slides the ring on my finger, and we kiss, melting into each other’s warmth as the snow drifts down on us.

  Thank you from the author :)

  Thank you so much for reading Dominant Professor!

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  Because you purchased Dominant Professor within the opening 5 days of release, please enjoy the following bonus content: Strict Professor!

  Strict Professor

  My academic future is in the palm of the most arrogant man alive

  Mia Luxe

  More Than Just a Bruised Ego

  Olivia Abernathy - Monday Morning

  This wasn’t how I pictured my first semester of college. Bone tired, black eye and full of regrets? I was supposed to leave the drama back home.

  It’s him. It’s always him. The one Professor who won’t give me an A. Nothing I do is ever good enough for him!

  I always keep my makeup light. Today, that isn’t an option. My eye twinges in discomfort with every brush of the yellow concealer. Google told me that yellow cancels out purple. Google lied. The black eye is sticking around like a drunk frat guy who can’t take the hint.

  “It doesn’t look that bad,” says my dorm-mate Zoe sleepily from her favorite spot in the room. I swear she would never leave bed if it was an option. She scrutinizes my reflection from under her blankets.

  “I look hideous.”

  “Professor Harrison will still think you’re sexy,” she teases, sitting up in bed with a huge yawn.

  I glare at her in the mirror. The last thing I want on my mind is arrogant, know-it-all Professor Harrison.

  “I don’t care what he thinks as long as he gives me a good mark. This project is worth twenty percent of my grade!”

  “You’ll be fine Olivia. Stop stressing.”

  “I have no idea how you can be so relaxed. Speaking of projects, shouldn’t you work on your assignment? The one that was due two days ago?”

  “Ugggggh. Maybe I’d care more about this assignment if I had a sexy Professor like you do! I’m stuck looking at Santa while you get to stare at Professor Rippling Muscles.”

  The quick laugh that bursts from my mouth catches me by surprise. Only Zoe could pull me out of my misery with the image of her philosophy teacher, Professor Bertrand. He looks exactly like Santa, complete with a massive belly and white beard.

  “You’d also care more about your assignments if your scholarship depended on your grades. You have no idea how stressed I am.”

  I put down the concealer brush for a second and peek my head out of the bathroom to check on my assignment. It's still right where I left it, protected by a file folder.

  Zoe snorts in disbelief as she stands up. Her tall frame is perfect for the volleyball court, but it makes our dorm room feel small. The tiny little rooms they cram first-year students into are not exactly made for volleyball girls.

  “Olivia, you have straight fucking A’s. You say the same thing every time! I’m so stressed about my assignment, my project, my test. And then you crush it. Stop looking at that stupid file folder. It’s there, it’s been there the last ten times you poked your head out of the bathroom, and it’s going to be there the next time you look. Your only problem is you get so stressed you lose focus.”

  Is that what happened last night? I got stressed out and couldn’t focus? I made some of the worst mistakes of my life on the volleyball court. Mistakes that cost my team the chance to make it to the post-season.

  Unless we somehow manage to pull back to back wins against the strongest teams in the league.

  I deserve this black eye.

  The bruise is starting to get the hint and disappear under the concealer. It’s far from perfect, but it’s going to have to do. The icepack I slept with barely reduced the swelling and my face stings almost as bad as when I first took the spike to the face. My body aches from last night’s game.

  When you win there’s nothing sweeter than the burning soreness. It’s a mark of victory. When you’re the reason your team won’t make playoffs… it’s a reminder of your shame.

  I push last night’s game out of my mind. I have more pressing worries.

  “I don’t have straight A’s. I have a B in Professor Harrison’s class! Nothing I ever do is good enough.”

  “I would kill for a B,” she responds, standing at the bathroom door. I’ve been hogging the mirror. I put down my brush and step past her with a sigh.

  “I know you’re going to call me entitled. But I really thought I deserved an A on my last assignment. I spent weeks perfecting my breakdown of the auto industry.”

  Zoe perks up as she brushes her teeth. For a second, I’m almost fooled that she cares about my business and finance class.

  “Speaking of the auto industry,” she says through a mouthful of toothpaste, “Brandy saw Professor Harrison with another new car today! That’s two this year!”

  “Probably a lease,” I respond dryly.

  “I don’t know,” she manages to say between spitting out toothpaste and rinsing her mouth. “Even a lease is expensive. There’s no way he’s on a teacher’s salary. Brandy and I both agree he’s got a side hustle.”

  “Well if Brandy and you agree, it must be true” I say, rolling my eyes. I look at myself critically in the little dorm mirror. Unless you look really closely, my black eye is hard to see. All in all, it could be worse. I put back a stray hair that fell out of place and do my best to ignore the persistent hint of the black eye that blemishes my face.

  I’m only in my first year, but I want to dress for success. That means looking professional, even when other students show up in sweats and hoodies, groaning from hangovers. It means not partying or chasing boys.

  It means not getting your heart broken by another asshole.

  “Seriously. He’s getting big bucks from something. I bet he’s rich from doing porn. God knows he has the body for it.”

  “You’d love that,” I say, and Zoe has broken her record, causing me to roll my eyes twice in a minute. Only Zoe would think you could afford two luxury cars from doing porn. I grab the neat file
folder that contains hundreds of hours of my work and open the door.

  “I would love that,” Zoe responds with a day-dreamy look in her eyes.

  “You better stop thinking about my Professor and get your ass to class! I’m off. Wish me luck!”

  “Good luck Olivia, but you won’t need it.”

  I clutch my assignment and walk down the stairs to the ground floor, and soon I am out in the brisk autumn air.

  Time to face the biggest ego in the world.

  Rules, Rules, Rules

  Bruce Harrison - Monday Morning

  I rap my knuckles against my solid oak desk. It’s flawless. One of a kind. It also came with a hefty price tag. The college was happy to let me bend the rules a little when they realized I’d foot the bill for a custom desk.

  Rules, rules, rules. The only downside to teaching. Still, someone has to show these students what’s really going on. They’ve heard enough bullshit from profs who went straight from high school to college to teaching and never once made it in the real world.

  I open my briefcase and arrange my lecture notes on my desk.

  They try their best, but only a few of them are going to make it big. Those few standout students are why I do this job. Plus, I’ve got my teaching assistant to read through the sea of mediocrity while I get to focus on the good stuff.

  Lecturing is nothing like putting together a big deal. There’s no thrill to it. No competition. No one to outsmart.

  You don’t teach for yourself. You teach for them.

  The main set of doors at the top of the auditorium opens. I know who it is before she even walks in.

  Olivia.

  She’s been the first student to class since day one. Her heels click down the stairs while she clutches a file folder so tight it’s getting warped.