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It would have to do.
I hurried through the rest of getting dressed, putting on the extra clothes, looking like a perfectly polished professor by the time I was done.
God, what a joke I was. How far I had fallen. It disgusted me. Enraged me.
My long strides got me to my classroom quicker than I’d hoped, and now that I was here, standing outside, staring at the door, I didn’t want to go in. The rubber band felt too tight, and the clothes against my skin felt too rough, and the lights were too bright, and the air was too thin.
Everything was magnified. Sounds too loud. Smells too intense.
My hand wrapped around the cool handle, and I pulled the door open. I didn’t know what I expected—maybe every set of eyes turning toward me when I entered. But that didn’t happen. Actually, the opposite did.
The same boys talked to the same girls, and the same loners kept their heads down. Cassandra smiled at me, looking a bit too flirtatious for my liking. I continued looking through the rows of people, panic filling my chest when I couldn’t find Winona.
Where was she?
Had the coffee burned her so badly she had to leave?
Was she freezing?
Was she okay?
But then there, in the very back corner, she sat slumped in her chair, trying to make herself as small and invisible as possible. My chest loosened, and I let out a long breath.
She’s alright.
“Good afternoon, everyone. I hope your first week has been alright so far.” I strode toward the blackboard, ignoring the way the band around my cock seemed to tighten with each step.
“Hi, Professor Ashford.” I didn’t have to look to know who said it. I glanced at Cassandra as she leaned toward her friend and erupted into a fit of giggles.
I used to like that, the girlish way freshmen flirted. But something about it now rubbed me the wrong way. It did nothing but fill me with annoyance. Somehow, despite having only said a few words to her, I knew Winona wouldn’t flirt like that. She might not even flirt, being too shy to even attempt it.
It seemed that’s what I now craved.
I leaned against my desk, crossing one ankle over the other and clasping my hands together. “Did everyone go over the syllabus?” I asked, watching as people glanced at each other and a few others sat straighter in their chairs, realizing class was beginning.
“I did,” Cassandra piped up, but I ignored her.
“Anyone else?”
I looked around, expecting hands to go up. I glanced at Winona, finding her looking directly at me, a notebook on her desk. It was so unlike the other students, with their Macbooks proudly displayed before them. My brows raised imperceptibly, but she must’ve understood the silent question because she dipped her chin in a slight nod.
Good girl. I knew she’d do the reading.
“If you read it, you’d know we have a pop quiz today.” I nodded, rolling my eyes as everyone let out groans. “I know, I know. But it’s just a simple questionnaire. It’ll take you ten minutes, then you can leave.”
“Really?” a boy said, sounding shocked.
“Yep.” I snapped my fingers, grinning. “I almost forgot. You need to have read Beowulf by Monday.” Another round of groans, but I ignored them as I grabbed the stack of papers sitting beside me. Standing, I gave a stack to each row, instructing them to pass it behind them so each student got one.
After everyone had one on their desk, I returned to mine and sank into my chair. My cock shifted, the band rubbing against me painfully. The only sounds filling the lecture hall was the faint whisper of pens on paper and the voices of students who shouldn’t have been talking.
Minutes passed, and slowly, I began to forget about the painful ache in my pants. I read the questionnaires from my previous class, learning about my students' hobbies, their favorite authors, what classics they’ve read, and which ones they were excited to learn about. Even if I didn’t know them yet, I at least had an intimate glimpse into their minds.
“I’m done.” The soft voice startled me, and I dropped the stack of papers in my hands. Looking up, my gaze clashed with Winona’s.
“Already? That was quick.” She shrugged, shifting slightly. She still smelled like coffee, but there was something else—a lingering undertone of coconut—that made my cock want to harden.
Reaching out, she handed me the stapled papers. It was too long for our fingers to touch, but I sorely wished they would. I needed to feel her again—her warmth, her softness.
