Dirty Professor

by North, Paige

  I lead Addison into the bathroom, kissing her shoulders as we walk. I can feel her nipples poking out through her bra, and I give them soft twists as we near the shower. She lets out breaths of pleasure as I play with her tits before reaching around and unfastening her bra.

  Her body is soft and supple, and I love the way her breasts feel in my hands-- not silicone, and not huge, but round and pert. Her pink rosebud tips feel even better in my mouth. I reach between her legs. She's already soaked through her panties. "Won't be needing these," I whisper, pulling at them, and she maneuvers her way out of them, kicking them across the bathroom. She must have shaved again because she's the same unreal level of smoothness that she was a few days ago.

  She gives me that Mmmm I like, and whispers "More."

  I nudge her toward the shower. "Get in there." She obeys. I follow her and let the water pour over us while I play with her clit. All I want to do is drive into her, but I wait it out, teasing both of us, fingering every part of her curves and crevice, keeping my touch light and then shoving my finger inside her.

  Addison moans and leans her head back. Shit, that's so hot.

  "Tell me," I say above the water. "Did you get an attitude with me earlier?"

  "Maybe." I stick another finger inside her and she gasps. "Yes!"

  "Are you sorry?"

  Addison nods, which I would accept, but the way I'm making her answer me is making me so rock hard and she feels too good around my fingers. "Say it."

  "Sorry," she rasps, licking her lips like she's absorbing the sensations I'm sending through her.

  I work my fingers in her, doing circles, a little rough, like I mean business. "You really shouldn't get too snarky with me," I say in her ear. "I'm your professor."

  "Ohh, Gooddd."

  I send her over the edge with that. She bucks against me and fights to catch her breath, and then leans against me, eyes closed.

  We stand together for a few minutes, just feeling the water splash over our skin.

  My cock is rock hard, and I push her up against the side of the shower, her cheek pressed against the hard granite.

  I slide the head of my cock over her ass, being careful not to go in, but letting her know I could if I wanted to.

  I can’t take it any longer, and I push into her, hard, and she arches her back into me as I start to fuck her, the water sliding over our bodies, the steam rising around us.

  She feels amazing around me, snug and tight and so fucking smooth.

  I pull her back toward me and kiss her mouth, her tight supple body pressed against mine as I come inside of her.

  Finally, I turn the faucet off, step outside for towels, and wrap her naked body up in one of the giant white terrycloth sheets. "Good girl," I tell her, before scooping her up and carrying her to the bed.

  ADDISON

  I feel kind of dazed after that shower. The heat on top of the steam we generated ourselves zapped my energy, and I've been enjoying laying here on this huge bed with my head nestled in the crook of Chase's elbow.

  I can sense him looking at me. "What?" I ask.

  He just smiles and shrugs. "Can't I just look at you?"

  "I guess so," I say. I still can't believe Chase Brooks wants to spend his time looking at me. He could have any woman in the world, and he’s here with me. I never thought I'd get to come in a luxury hotel suite shower. With Chase Brooks.

  "I think Roger Moore is my least favorite Bond," he tells me, flipping through the channels. "How about you?"

  "I'm ambivalent, as long as Daniel Craig wins best Bond."

  "No way. Connery."

  "Is it hard to watch these?" I ask as Chase lingers on the Bond movie for a minute. "Do you constantly weigh every element of these films against Bryce when you watch, or are you able to relax and enjoy them?" I’m running my fingers down over his naked chest, enjoying the feel of his body. Every muscle is defined, every part of him chiseled and worked to perfection. I wonder what it would feel like to be that beautiful, to be so perfect. Does it get old? I wonder. Being able to get anything you want because you’re so damn good looking?

  "I can't turn my mind off," he says. "Not completely. So I've never been able to relax all the way. The back of my mind is looking for similarities and wondering who's better."

  "Bryce is in a class of his own," I assure him. "Trust me." I run my hand further down his body to his stomach, counting the muscles of his abdomen. One, two, three, four, five, six pack.

  "That he is," Chase agrees, but his tone is flat.

  I know he's been struggling to write his next book, but maybe it's going worse than I thought. "Still not in the groove yet with number fifteen?" I ask gently.

  He shakes his head, saying nothing. I lift my head to look at his face. It's twisted into disgust.

  "What's happening with that?" I ask.

  "Nothing." He lets out a sigh and looks away. "I just want to kill off my main character. No big deal."

  What?!

  "I don't think I heard you properl,” I say, trying not to show my surprise. “Did you just say you want to kill off Bryce Bowker?"

  "Yes."

  "But--" I can't wrap my head around this. "But that would be like killing off Jack Reacher!"

  "Yeah, well."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Dead serious."

  "Why?"

  "Because I fucking can't take his shit anymore." I almost smile, because Chase could be bitching about a real person, the way he sounds. But after so many books and movies, and worldwide love, Bryce almost is a real person. "He's the same bastard in every book, and I can't do anything new with him. He's an egomaniac and pretty fucking narcissistic. You know?"

  "I..." I never thought about this before. "He could be, but that wouldn't be my first complaint with him."

  "Oh? And what would be your first complaint?"

  "He has way too much sex. Like, sex with people he only looked at two seconds before. And there's never any mention of condoms, and he never seems to worry about getting someone pregnant or-- or worse. You'd think a scientist of all people would be the first person to consider those possibilities." I feel my face turning red, because of course I’m not talking about Bryce. I’m talking about Chase.

  Chase is studying my face with a look of faint amusement on his face, like he wore for a few seconds while Luna and I debated over cliche endings. "He's selfish as fuck, that's for sure."

  "Does he?" I prop myself up with my elbow. "Ever think about sexually-transmitted... stuff?"

  Chase nods. "I'm sure," he says, "that as a chemist, with all the pussy he gets, he is on top of his sexual health."

  "I'm sure."

  "And I'm sure that the next lady he keeps company with has nothing to worry about."

  "Good," I say.

  "You really think rubbing Bryce out would be on the same level as killing Reacher?"

  "For sure! Or Bond. Or-- or Inspector Gadget."

  "Inspector Gadget?" Chase laughs silently, his chest jumping. "Really?"

  "You can't tell me you can resist that show. Or the theme song. Do do do doo, Inspector Gad-get. Do do do do do do dooo, oooh ooooohhh."

  "It's true. Bryce never had a theme song remotely that awesome."

  "Are you sure you want to kill him?" I can't fathom it. "After everything?"

  "He's done a lot for me, sure. But I think maybe it's time."

  I lean against Chase, absorbing this news. "Who else knows you're considering this?"

  "Only you."

  Only me. I'm the only one in the world besides Chase himself who knows that the end is nigh for Dr. Bryce Bowker? I can't even. I don't know how Chase can even. Kill off one of the world's most beloved heroes?

  ...Only me.

  My heart flutters a little. I can't help it. This beautiful man, this bestselling author and Hollywood favorite, just told me out of everyone else on this planet, and now I'm the only one who knows.

  That is a gigantic turn-on. I push my body closer to
him, tangling my legs with his. He’s warm and strong, and the ache between my legs pulses harder.

  I sit up on the bed and face Chase. He reaches up and pulls my towel down, his blue eyes traveling from my face to my bare chest. I trace the sculpted lines of his abdomen once more, then gently pull his towel away from his lower body.

  His cock is already standing up for me. I love the way it feels in my grip. He's so beautifully endowed, so perfectly shaped, and I revel in the wet droplets that seep out onto my fingers.

  Chase coaxes me on top of him, and I straddle him, still stroking his erection with my hand. I look down at my instructor. His eyes close and open, close and open, and he finally narrows them to slits. "If you're going to do that, then at least do what I tell you."

  "What's that?"

  "Put your hands above your head."

  I oblige him, giving him an unobstructed view of my breasts.

  "Fuck," he mutters.

  I close my eyes, blushing again at the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel so beautiful, the way he makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world he could ever look at the way he’s looking at me now, with a mixture of desire and lust and protection.

  "Make them bounce."

  I move up and down a little, making my breasts bounce, and Chase reaches up to grab my nipples. I lose myself in his touch-- the way he fondles me sends almost as much electricity through me as when he makes me come.

  I rub against his dick for awhile, enjoying the slippery feeling, until Chase reaches down and moves himself to enter me.

  I sit down around him, taking in the tip and slowly enveloping his shaft. Was I a virgin less than a week ago? How is that possible? Because this feels like the most natural thing in the universe.

  I glide up and down, following his cues. "Slow, baby," he instructs me. I move from base to tip, gripping him, until he can't take anymore and tells me to go a little faster. I enjoy speeding up and slowing down again when he demands it.

  "Faster," he commands. "And don't stop. Don't stop."

  I rock back and forth until my knees are screaming, but I don't stop. I can't get enough of his expression-- he looks so blissed out, like he's never known how amazing this is. His eyes roll back in his head, and his panting might be the best thing I've ever heard.

  "That's it," he huffs. "Keep fucking me."

  I hear the slap before I feel it. He spanks me as I bounce on him, and then does it again, harder.

  I feel his dick shove into me over and over, and he moves with me, so hard that our skin slaps together and then finally he cries out and whips himself out of me. "Grab it!"

  I clasp his wet cock between my hands as the first ribbons of white splash onto me. I feel Chase's essence land on my stomach, and ease my grip on him as more warmth splatters onto my hands.

  "My God." Chase's chest heaves, and I collapse forward onto him, my face in his neck.

  "I'm sorry I got an attitude," I whisper, and he runs his fingers through my hair.

  CHASE

  I wonder what Addison's dorm looks like. Probably small and shitty. That thought pops into my head during my workout this morning, and I'm not sure why. I'm seized by the following thought that if I really want to know, I'll have to ask her to take a picture, because no way can I risk being seen going to her dorm. Out of the question.

  She spent the night with me at the Promenade. I wonder what lie she told her friend Kensie.

  I've seen her once more this weekend, at my house again on Sunday. She came over and I think she wanted to talk about Bryce Bowker-- she asked about my book more than once, looking worried. But I told her it's fine, and I haven't made any decisions yet, and started unzipping her jeans, and she forgot about my book.

  God damn, I love spanking her. I didn’t go as hard as I wanted to, because I know I have to ease her into it. But I can’t get enough of her. My cock has been rock hard whenever she’s not around, thinking about the bright red handprints I’m leaving all over tight little ass. I wonder if she’ll be able to sit down in class.

  The morning fog this Tuesday is dreary and gross, but burns off into sun by the afternoon. I think about holding class outside somewhere, but I don't want to make my students read their work in front of other students who might happen by. I'm finding myself actually intrigued by their progress, and curious as to how their stories will shape up. I came here not really caring one way or the other, if I'm honest. I just needed to concentrate on Bryce Bowker without the unwanted attention I usually get. But this is a good group, despite some of the more milennial-sounding shit. And despite the way they've edged Addison out.

  I watch her as she enters our classroom, in a tight pair of jeans and a long-sleeved pink t-shirt, her skin fresh and dewy. Her shirt hugs those pert little tits of hers, and I remember them bouncing above me at the Promenade.

  Fuck.

  Now I’m hard.

  She's the last one again, but still before three, so she's good on that score. I notice the others' reactions when she takes her seat. Most don't look at her, except Tommy Chen, who looks like he feels bad. I focus on Luna and Emme. Smug smiles. I don't know who posted the photo of everyone having a grand old time at Taco Tavern or wherever it was, but I'm betting it was one of those two.

  I begin today's class by asking about books we've been reading, and discussion dominated by Emme and Luna flows, but Addison remains still, eyes poised on the papers in front of her. When I ask the group to read their work, I have to bring her into it. "Addison? You've been quiet so far. Let's hear from you first."

  Her hair is pulled back today, in one of those top knot bun things, with tresses spilling down. She looks effortlessly beautiful, and I have to make myself look utterly disinterested in anything but her writing.

  "I'd never had sex before. I mean, sure, I'd messed around with guys, including a night at Cannon Beach with the waves lapping in the background and the sun dropping into the ocean like anyone's ideal scenario would go. But I didn't then-- go all the way, that is. I jerked Brady off-- the guy from the baseball game, whose little brother played against mine, remember him? Well, I gave him my number when you weren't watching me, and... oh, that time I went to meet Maddie at the movies? That was Brady. Sorry, not sorry. And then we ended up at the beach, and I finished him off, and then he went to college and forgot me, and I went to college and tried to forget home and everything about it. And when I met Court, I almost did forget."

  She goes on, reading about how intimidating this guy Court was, and how spellbound her character is by his presence. Court hasn't appeared in her story until now. A star athlete, an Olympic swimmer-- where did that come from? But Addison has improved, no doubt about it.

  Her writing is so good that I can’t help feel a little jealous of this imaginary Court person, the way she describes him. I tell myself it’s because of her writing, not because I’m starting to get feelings for her. But it’s still unnerving.

  Addison comes to her stopping point and bites her lip in uncertainty, waiting for the first commentary. Or, as I'm sure she's expecting, the first assailant.

  "Court is named after the guy in The Man in the Moon," Addison adds. "I love that movie."

  "I love it too." Emme's agreement is soft-spoken, but it's there.

  "Better." Tommy nods slowly, like he's still thinking about Addison's words. "Way better."

  "Really?!" Addison lights up, and I have to hold myself in check not to laugh. She's too cute for this class.

  "I agree," I say. Her eyes meet mine and she smiles for what might be the first time in this classroom. "Definitely felt more emotion there. I like how she sounds almost angry, kind of justified in whatever it is she's done. Kind of vindicated."

  Addison nods in enthusiasm. "She is."

  "I can't wait to find out how that unfolds."

  "She's talking to someone," Emme observes. "That's new."

  "It sounds almost like a journal," Tommy puts in.

  After the whole class gives input
except for Luna, I have to prompt her. "Luna," I say. "Can you give us your thoughts?"

  "Eh." Luna shrugs, picking at her nail polish, which is blood red today. "I couldn't tell where she was going with it."

  To her credit, Addison doesn't let her shoulders slump, or pull a face, or start crying or something. She doesn't roll her eyes. She just smiles and says "That's okay. I know where I'm going with it."

  "Sorry," Luna retorts, her tone indicating she's not at all. "I just couldn't really follow what you were doing there. It didn't grab me."

  "All right, Luna," I say. "There's plenty of time--"

  "I'm happy with it." Addison's voice is calm, totally in control. "So far, at least."

  "Good for you."

  "What is your problem?" Addison keeps her voice level, but clearly can't let this go unchecked anymore.

  "I don't know." Luna looks somewhere between annoyed and surprised to be called out so directly. "Your writing? Your skill level?"

  "My skill level?"

  "Okay, you know what? I'm just going to say it. I've been holding my tongue, but if you want to know, we can take it there. I don't get how you got into this group."

  Addison flinches. I'm sure she knew that was coming, but hearing it like that has to suck. I should save her. "Luna--"

  "Sorry, Chase, but it's the truth. I thought this course was for serious writers."

  "What makes you think I'm not serious?" Addison's face is a storm cloud now. So much for the calm and collected look.

  "You sashay in here with your sorority self and your Chanel bag and you don't have the talent. Not that I can see."

  "I'm not in a sorority," Addison shoots back. "I like my Chanel bag, and who the hell made you the judge of who has talent and who doesn't?"

  "I’ve been listening to your work for a few classes now."

  "And I've had to listen to yours."

  "Had to?"

  "I might be in the minority on this, but your writing isn't my cup of tea. But I'm not trying to get your seat at this table reconsidered. So why are you doing that to me?"