My Hot Hero: A Hot Heroes Boxed Set

by Adele Hart

  I nod enthusiastically.

  He drives us to his house where we spend the evening in his bed. When our stomachs roar in tandem, he slides out from next to me and jumps into a pair of sweatpants that accent the perfect globes of his ass.

  Fit isn’t a word I’d use to describe Hugh. He’s perfect from his tousled brown hair to his size ten feet.

  “Omelets okay?” He tosses me his shirt and tells me to join him in the kitchen. It all feels so perfect and domestic. He makes everything so easy.

  “Omelets are perfect. You want some help?”

  “Love, if you try to help, we’ll be another hour away from eating. I can’t seem to get enough of you.” He takes eggs, milk, cheese and bacon out of the refrigerator. “Have a seat at the table.” He looks over at the piles of papers and shakes his head. “Just push that stuff to the side.”

  I take a seat where I can watch this man make me breakfast. He’s barefoot and bare-chested, and I’m barely in control of myself. We’ve shared so much in the last few weeks—our hopes and dreams and desires along with our bodies.

  I snap a picture of him whipping up eggs and send it to my sister. She’s a huge believer in fate and thinks that it is no accident I met Hugh in a bar and fucked his brains out that same day.

  I’m not sure if I’m on board with fate, but I do believe that Hugh is the perfect fit for me. He relaxes me, and I don’t feel nearly as stressed out about graduating.

  My sister texts back. “Aren’t you glad you stepped out of your comfort zone?”

  “Yes, I am. He’s one sexy professor, and I would have missed him if I’d remained the mouse.”

  Lisa responds back with, “He’s one naughty professor you little lioness.” I haven’t told Lisa everything, but she knows enough to know that Hugh isn’t reading me sonnets at night.

  I look at him again. His arms flex as he flips the omelet. I’ve been in those arms. I’ve grabbed that perfect butt. Something territorial inside me says, “He’s my naughty professor.”

  While he whips and flexes, I glance at the top of his papers and see my graded assignment. A big fat C- stares back at me.

  “I’m going to fail your class.” I let my head fall with a thunk to the table.

  He pushes a plate toward me. The smell of bacon makes me sit up and take notice.

  He sits across the table like we’re at a formal meeting.

  “I was going to talk to you earlier at dinner, but we got distracted.” He looks at the paper sitting between us. “It’s a passing grade, Kat. You have no idea how much it pains me to grade you so low, but I won’t give you special treatment in class. I can’t honestly say the work is better than a C-. In fact, I’d say I was pretty generous.”

  He takes a bite of his omelet and turns the paper to face him. His eyes scan down the page and he shakes his head.

  “It’s not that you lack intelligence. You lack expression. Everything is black and white for you, like there should always be a sequence that will give you one particular answer.”

  “It’s how I am—expressionless.” I push the paper to the side not wanting to let it ruin our moment together.

  “You are anything but expressionless. You should see your face when I make you come.”

  “That’s different because with you I feel something.”

  “And you don’t feel anything when you read or write?”

  “I feel bored.”

  “It shows. You lack passion in your writing.”

  “I don’t get it. How am I supposed to infuse passion into my words?”

  “Let’s do an experiment.” He walks up behind me, teasing and touching my body. All the while he tells me to describe what he’s doing and how it makes me feel, even if it doesn’t sound like it makes sense.

  I close my eyes and describe his touch from the way my skin tingles to the way my heart races. Somehow, his touch makes me feel like I’m more than I am. His words whisper sweet messages to my heart. My life feels hollow without him.

  “Kat, those are powerful words. They make the reader want to continue on. You have passion in you, but it falls flat when it hits the paper.”

  “I’m not writing about you in my paper. I’m writing about test tubes and diseases. It’s a technical paper. It’s not supposed to be full of passion.” I shouldn’t be arguing with him, but sitting in front of me in nothing but sweatpants makes it hard to see him as my professor. Right now, he’s Hugh, the man I love. Oh, God. I love him.

  “Do you want someone to read it? If so, you’ll want to put your passion on the page. What’s the point in being published if no one reads your words?”

  Two days later, I sit in his class and look down at my C-. He walks around the lecture hall and picks up papers from random desks and reads the passages he likes.

  “Passion is not only found on the sheets of your bed,” he says, and looks directly at me. “Passion is found in everything, and it better be found on the sheets of paper for your next assignment.” He walks to the podium and closes his binder. “Mid-term due in three days. Bring the passion.”

  I gather my stuff and hurry to catch up with him. We generally go to his office right after class and have lunch. The dates don’t always end with me naked on his desk, but the ones that do are my favorite.

  Sometimes I curl up in the leather chair in the corner while he grades papers. It doesn’t matter what we do together, it’s always right. Except today, today doesn’t feel perfect. When I look up, he’s gone. I rush to his office to find the door locked.

  I text him to ask where he’s gone off to?

  “Sorry Katy, I had to run. Can you meet me in my office in thirty minutes?”

  Relief washes over me. There’s nothing wrong after all, he just had some place to go.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m waiting outside his office when he shows up with one of my classmates. Chris is one of Hugh’s star students, and I wonder why he’s here. The only students that generally show up for office hours are the ones struggling, the ass-kissers, or ones like me who are sleeping with the professor. Chris fits into none of the categories.

  Hugh looks at me like he would any other student. He smiles kindly, not the smile that says I want to lay you on my desk so I can pound you until your hips hurt, but the smile that says, glad you could make it.

  “Come on in, both of you.” He opens the door and walks in ahead of us. It’s an out of character action for the man who always puts me before him. He points to the two chairs in front of his desk.

  Chris and I exchange hellos.

  “Katy, I’ve asked Chris to help you with your next assignment. He has the highest grade in the class and you…well... it never hurts to get a second opinion.”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I sit like a mute.

  “I have time right now if you want to bounce some ideas off me.”

  “I’d love to, but I was hoping to get some time alone with Professor Fletcher.” I looked toward Hugh who was already standing.

  “I wish I could Ms. Trent, but I’m swamped today.” He waits for us to stand and ushers us to the door. “If Chris has time, I’d take advantage of that. I asked him to help because I want what's best for you, Katy.” He locks the door and walks in the opposite direction of Chris and me.

  I spend the next hour in misery as Chris drones on about power words and parts of speech. I leave for home feeling like this was it. Hugh broke up with me.

  Ten

  Hugh

  The students arrive, and I watch for Kat. It’s been days since I’ve seen her, and it crushes my heart when she comes into the lecture hall with hurt in her eyes.

  We’ve exchanged several emails over the last few days. I’ve done everything to convince her nothing is wrong. I explained that I wanted her to have the time to focus on her assignment. That is my only objective to staying away. She is my addiction. I am hers. When we are together, we don’t do anything but each other, and that’s not good time management for a woman who wants
to graduate with a degree in molecular biology. I’m a distraction, and I have to remove myself from her temporarily.

  After a short lecture on technical writing, about why it needs to elicit passion, I dismiss the class, but Kat stays behind.

  “Can I talk to you?” Her voice is slow and melancholic.

  I look around at the empty hall. “Sure, what do you need, Katy.” She winces when I use her full name. I use it because Kat is too familiar. It’s what I call her when she curls up on my lap. When I pull back from a slow kiss. When I look into her eyes just before I give myself to her.

  I collect the papers and put them in my briefcase.

  “Can we go to your office?” she asks.

  I want to tell her no. Going to my office will completely disintegrate any space I’ve put between us, but I can’t tell her no because I see the pain in her eyes.

  “Sure love, let’s go.”

  The minute I close the door behind us, she cries. And through her tears she says,“Why did you pawn me off on someone else? You could have just broken up with me to make this easier.”

  I drop my briefcase and fold her into my arms. “Kat, I’m not breaking up with you. I told you that already.”

  “I haven’t kissed you for days. You avoid me like I’m a recent outbreak of Ebola.”

  I walk her to the corner chair and pull her into my lap. “Don’t you think staying away from you has been hard on me too? Geez Kat, I haven’t said the words, but don’t you feel it? I’m in love with you.”

  She swipes at the tears running down her cheeks. “You love me?”

  I let out a frustrated breath. “Yes, Kat. I’m head over heals in love with you and that’s why I put up a temporary wall. I told you I wanted to give you time so you could focus on the assignment. If you don’t pass my class, you don’t graduate, and I’m not going to pass you just because I love you.”

  “You love me.” She grips my cheeks and presses her lips to mine. “I love you too, and that space you wanted to give me sucks. I don’t want it. I want you, Hugh. I need you.”

  “Oh, Kat. I’m sorry. I saw how tired you are when we’re together. It’s not like we get much sleep. I just thought—”

  “Don’t think for me anymore.” She runs her hands up my shirt. Her touch is like sunshine against my skin.

  I pull us down to the carpeted floor and make love to her. It’s different this time because the words have been said. I remind her many times through this moment that she is mine. When we finish, I hold her in my arms until she falls asleep.

  Not wanting to disturb her, I cover her with my jacket and go to my desk to grade her paper. If she does better with the space I've given her we’ll have to come up with a plan that allows for the things she needs and the things she wants. We have to find a balance.

  I am just finalizing her grade when she stirs.

  “Unbelievable,” I say. I push the paper to the edge of the desk.

  “What?” She rises from the floor and pulls on her clothes.

  “Your paper.”

  She narrows her eyes and walks up to my desk to see the big red F across the top. “My grade dropped.”

  I laugh because staying away from her didn’t help. It only made it worse. “Your paper is awful, and I’m glad because that means I’m not bad for you. In fact, my presence might help you after all. Grab your stuff. We’re going home.”

  “Home?”

  “Kat, I’ve lived without you, and I don’t plan to any more. You’re right, the separation sucked. You’re mine, love, and you belong with me. Now grab your stuff. I’ve got papers to grade, and I want you to read something for fun.”

  “You’re giving me an extra assignment? Will I get extra credit?”

  “No, Kat, I don’t believe in extra credit.” I pull a book from my shelf and hand it to her. “Have you read his stuff?”

  She looks at the author’s name, which says Fletch Hughson, and shakes her head.

  “Nope, I don’t have time to read for pleasure.”

  I take the book from her hands and push it into her backpack. “Baby, tonight is all about pleasure.”

  While I grade papers, Kat curls up to my side and reads. I feel her body shudder when she laughs and her breath hitch when she’s in a scary part.

  “Do you like the book?” I set the paper I’m grading on the table and run my fingers through her hair.

  “I love it. It’s been so long since I’ve read for fun.”

  “I figured as much. You have to be a reader to be a writer.”

  “I don’t want to be a writer,” She tucks the book jacket into the book to hold her place. “I want to do stem cell research and cure cancer.”

  “I know you do, but when you write up your research for publication, it has to be good.”

  “No it doesn’t. I have a boyfriend who specializes in writing. Maybe I can persuade him to help me put passion on the page.” She turns over so she faces the aching hard-on I’ve ignored for hours.

  “Is that right? And how will you persuade this boyfriend of yours to write your paper?”

  She pulls and tugs at my pants until my dick pops free. “I’ll explain to him that not everyone can be good at everything.” She wraps her lips around the head, and licks up the glistening drop seeping from my slit.

  “Oh, God, you’re very good at pleading your case, but your boyfriend believes there are some things you have to own yourself and publishing your work is one of them.”

  She lowers her head pulling my cock to the back of her throat. The woman has zero gag reflex, and that makes this experience one of my favorites. I’m too thick for her to completely engulf, but when she nearly swallows my cock, I might as well be balls deep in her mouth.

  She pulls back and lets me pop free. Her saliva glistens around my dick. “You want me to own my words like I own your cock?”

  To a lesser man her statement would have been offensive, but Kat does own me — every piece of me from my cock to my heart. “Yes, love. I want you to own it.”

  She looks up at me through the fringe of her bangs and smiles around my dick. It’s a look that says watch-me-own-you, and she does with every lick and swirl and suck. My thighs shake, and I can’t stop my toes from curling when she presses me into her throat and caresses my balls until I spill into her mouth. Kat is greedy. She doesn’t let me go until every drop is gone, and she’s had her fill.

  Epilogue

  Katy - Three Months Later

  I slam the book closed and say, “Done!” triumphantly. We are at our home, the one he moved me into after he gave me an F on my paper. We both are in the living room where he now grades papers. I’ve been curled up on the sofa, reading, just keeping him company while he pushes through at least a hundred assignments.

  “How did you like the book?” He sets the paper he’s recently graded on the table next to him and runs his fingers through my hair.

  “It was amazing. I would have finished it weeks ago if my English professor wasn’t so damn demanding.”

  “Is that right?” His fingers trace down the edge of my jaw and brush against my lips.

  I dart my tongue out to lick his finger. “Yes, he actually expects me to write a paper every few weeks and pass.”

  His fingers fall to my chest where they skirt the edge of my shirt. “Imagine that. He wants you to be successful. I hate him already.”

  He shifts his body so I’m no longer lying in his lap, but he’s lying by my side.

  “I could never hate him. I love him. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I love you too, Kat.” He gives me a gentle kiss. Warm lips that linger against mine like he’s savoring the moment. “Will you still love me if I fail you?”

  My mouth drops open and my heart halts a beat. “Shit, Hugh, did I fail?”

  He gives me his serious professor expression. The one he shows when he’s passing out poor grades or rough assignments.

  “No, love, you squeaked by.” He reaches ab
ove his head for the paper he left on the table and he holds it in front of my face. In big green lettering there’s a B-. “I wanted to give you an A, but you know me.”

  I snuggle into his chest and hug him tight. “I know. I have to own it.”

  “You do. You own it all, Kat. You own the grade, and me, and now I have to own something myself.”

  He slides from the couch to kneel on the floor. He pulls a pen from his pocket and opens the book I’ve been reading called Forever Girl by Fletch Hughson. He inscribes something on the front page.

  “What are you doing to that book?”

  “I’m signing it. I’m owning it. I’m Fletch Hughson, Kat. I wrote it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I really wanted you to like it because of the words not because I wrote it. I wanted to be graded using the same rubric I do with you. Love it because it speaks of passion to your soul, not because the hands that bring you pleasure penned it.”

  I look down at the inscription. “You own all of me, Kat. Can I own you too?”

  “Professor Fletcher, I’d like you to take me to bed and show me how talented those fingers are.”

  “Is that right? Are you trying to get extra credit again?”

  “Would I do that?”

  “Come here you.” Hugh picks me up and carries me to our bed. “I’ve got a big extra credit project for you.”

  I laugh because I know what he’s talking about, and it is big. “You’re so naughty.”

  He tosses me to the bed and walks to the closet. He comes out with a bouquet and something palmed in his hand.

  “Love, I wasn’t talking about my cock.” He pulls me to a sitting position at the end of the bed and kneels in front of me. I lift one of my favorite colored yellow roses to my nose.

  “What are you doing?” His eyes are soft and full of passion and he looks at me with such depth of emotion.