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Chapter One
Becca
Amy: Okay. Would you rather masturbate in public or lick Professor Sullivan’s asshole?
I choke back a laugh and screw up my nose, not finding either of those options particularly appealing. Not that I’m going to tell Amy that. I glance up to make sure Professor Sullivan is still talking before I type out my response.
Me: Lick Professor Sullivan’s asshole, preferably while stroking his cock. Then again, I’ve always had a thing for exhibitionism. Can I just say both? Or maybe lick his ass in public, while getting myself off?
Amy: I knew you were a kinky bitch.
I attempt to turn a burst of laughter into a cough, but I end up swallowing air the wrong way and spluttering so loudly that half the room turns around to look at me. I sink farther down into my seat and focus on my laptop, pretending I can’t feel everyone staring. I shoot a glare at Amy, who sits three rows away, chuckling to herself.
“Is everything okay, Ms. Chambers?”
I freeze as I look up right into the intense blue eyes of Professor Sullivan. We stare at each other for a moment, until his lips lift into a grin. I flush, somehow managing to nod my head.
“As I was saying…”
Another message from Amy pings through, but I close it, not wanting to risk getting myself into more trouble. I last five minutes before my curiosity gets the better of me and I have to open it.
Amy: You’re such a dick. Want to hang out tonight?
Amy and I hit it off after we were paired up for a group project earlier in the year. Like most of my peers, she’s a few years younger than me, though some of the shit I get myself into, you’d think I was the younger one.
Me: I can’t. Jake’s bachelor party, remember?
Amy: I still think you should’ve gone with Sacked.
I laugh softly, because I could just imagine the look on Jake’s face if I’d arranged his party at the hot new gay strip club. Twenty guys standing around awkwardly, looking anywhere but at the cock swinging in their faces? It would have been pretty fucking funny. For me, at least.
I’d been looking forward to planning this since Jake got engaged. He’s one of my best friends, and I’m determined to throw him a night he’ll remember. It’s not like anything I do will make his fiancée hate me any less, so what have I got to lose?
I’ve tried everything to get along with Brooke, but she just flat-out hates me. I’m not sure why, and I’m past the point of caring. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there were times I wished he would find someone else. That sounds awful, but Jake’s my friend and I want to share everything with him, including his partners—in a totally nonsexual way, of course, because my fantasies are reserved for Professor Sullivan.
I’m kidding…sort of.
I fiddle with a loose thread on my shirt as anxiety shifts through my stomach. I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who had a crush on a teacher, but here I am, a twenty-seven-year-old college student, lusting after her professor. Yes, my life is that sad. I sneak a look in his direction, sucking in a mouthful of air when his eyes meet mine.
His lips twitch, highlighting his strong jawline and the undeniably sexy layer of stubble that covers it. He’s definitely attractive, but beyond that? I have no idea. These feelings I’ve developed for him are definitely infatuation. For all I know, he might be a total asshole. Still, a little fantasizing never hurt anyone. And it’s not like he’d ever find out about my crush, right?
The end of the lecture can’t come soon enough. When it’s over, I stand up and follow the crowd to the door, my mind preoccupied with everything I still have to do for tonight. Why do I leave shit till the last minute? You’d think I would eventually learn, but I never seem to. Just as I’m about to walk out of the hall, I hear my name. I freeze, because that voice…
Why is Professor Sullivan calling out my name?
I’d had this fantasy before, but we were both wearing much less clothing.
I turn around and clutch at the strap of my backpack so tightly that my knuckles turn white, and then I saunter over to his desk, ignoring the looks and giggles I’m getting from passing students. Amy mouths good luck to me. I roll my eyes, hoping to God I look calmer and more in control than I feel.
“You wanted to see me?” I say.
Professor Sullivan looks up, his expression giving nothing away. Then he nods and runs his hand through his thick, dark hair as he leans back in his chair. “I did.”
He looks at me in such a way that I feel dirty—or maybe that’s the naughty thoughts that smirk is putting into my head?
