Page 5 of His to Teach

"Professor Davis." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. "Do you have a moment to discuss my revision?"

I lean back in my chair, gesturing to the seat across from my desk. "Of course, Miss Darling. That's what office hours are for."

She walks toward me, and I track the sway of her hips, the nervous way she tucks her hair behind one ear. As she nears my desk, her pen slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She freezes for a second, then bends to retrieve it—a slow, deliberate movement that makes her sundress ride up her thighs. My mouth goes dry as I glimpse the curve where thigh meets ass, a flash of pale blue underwear.

It's not an accident. She knows exactly what she's doing.

I'm out of my chair before she straightens, moving around the desk. She rises, pen in hand, eyes wide with faux innocence. We stand too close, the space between us charged with something dangerous.

"Your pen," she says, holding it out.

I ignore it, reaching past her to push the door closed. The lock clicks with a sound of finality.

"Professor?" Her voice wavers, but she doesn't step back.

"You're begging to be taught a lesson, princess." The nickname slips out unbidden, rough with desire. "Bending over like that in my office. What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?"

Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes hold mine. "I don't know what you mean."

"Liar." I take the pen from her hand, toss it onto my desk. "You've been playing this game for weeks. Staying after class. Challenging me. Watching me with those big innocent eyes while wearing skirts that should be illegal."

"I'm not⁠—"

"You are." I step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "And now you're here, alone, in my locked office. Why?"

She swallows hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "To discuss my paper."

"Bullshit."

Another step, and she's backed against my desk, nowhere to retreat. I place my hands on either side of her, caging her in without touching her. I can smell her perfume—something light and floral—mixed with the scent of her arousal. Yes, she wants this as badly as I do.

"Tell me the truth, Flower. Why are you here?"

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "Because I can't stop thinking about you." The confession rushes out of her, almost desperate. "About the way you look at me. The way you call me Miss Darling. The way you called me 'little girl' that day after class."

My cock hardens instantly at the reminder. "And how did that make you feel? Being called little girl?"

"It should have made me angry." Her voice drops to a whisper. "But it made me wet."

Fuck. I grab her waist and lift her onto my desk in one fluid motion, papers scattering. Her sundress rides up her thighs as she gasps in surprise.

"Professor—"

"Gordon," I growl. "If we're doing this, you call me Gordon."

"Gordon," she repeats, testing the name on her tongue.

I step between her parted knees, one hand sliding into her hair, tilting her face up to mine. "Last chance to walk away, princess."

Her response is to reach for me, small hands gripping my shirt. "I don't want to walk away."

I crush my mouth to hers. She makes a small, surprised sound against my lips, then melts into me. Her lips are soft, pliant, and utterly inexperienced. I slow down, gentling my approach, teaching her with my tongue how to open for me. When I finally pull back, she's breathing hard, eyes dazed.

"Have you ever been kissed before? Properly?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

She shakes her head. "Not like that."

"What about touched?" My hand finds her knee, slides up her thigh. "Has anyone touched you, princess?"