MY HOT TEACHER: (Volume 5 of the "My Hot..." series; a stand-alone, New Adult novel) (7 page)

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For helping me and being my friend.”

“Perhaps I wasn’t a good enough friend.”

He replies with his usual post-incident insight, “You’re better than most.  I’m just fucked up.”

At Public Safety I’m comforted that Lieutenant Majors is there.  She removes the knife, pats Benjamin down while wearing latex gloves, cuffs him and takes him to a separate room.  She looks at me gratefully, as if I’ve done all of this good detective work and finally reeled in the right man.  If the lieutenant only knew.  The local police come, take my statement, then take Benjamin away.

College is the last thing he needs.

Lieutenant Majors insists that I let a Public Safety officer drive me to the dorm.  I prefer to walk in the fresh New Hampshire air, made spectacular by falling snow, but I’m in no condition to be alone.  Being in the Public Safety car postpones the inevitable.  Once in the dorm, I manage to make it to the bathroom on my floor, lock myself in a stall, and let the tears flow.

Being the practical me held off these feelings as I escorted Benjamin to Public Safety and gave short, specific answers to everyone’s questions.

But I’m alone now and that’s the problem.  One of my friends turned out to be the ultimate creep and it’s probably my fault for neglecting him.  My best friend, and I’m eternally grateful for Katia, is hundreds of miles away.  And at the height of my fright, after seeing the empty car, I believed that the person I love, the one I open to completely and allow into my body, was trying to hurt me.

I dry my eyes with torn strips of toilet paper.  I go to my room, tiptoe in the dark because my roommate is sleeping, find my charger, charge my phone for several minutes.  Then I step out in the hallway and do something I can’t help, something that I’m sure will have a profound effect on my immediate future...one way or the other. 

I call Professor Beard and ask him if he can please come pick me up so I can spend the night at his place.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

How awful if he says
no
to picking me up this late, or makes some lame excuse, or simply comes right out and declares that I’m asking for too much, or even worse tells me I have too much baggage for us to continue.

He meets me right outside the dorm just a few minutes after I call, no questions asked, even though it’s 2am, as if saying
to hell with being caught, Celine needs me
!

I get into the warmth and comfort of his car. 

“I never should’ve dropped you so far from the dorm,” he says with deep regret as he drives back to his house.  “I wanted to pick up milk at the store.”

It takes an emotional seatbelt to keep from leaping onto his lap and showering him with kisses of infinite gratitude. 

Instead I reply, “I’m a big girl.  We both know we have to be discreet.  I wanted to be dropped off by the Caf.”

Once inside his living room he gives me a gracious hug, a Professor Beard hug, comforting but not sensual.

I say, “Thanks so much for being there.” 

In his classroom voice he says, “I’m glad I could.”

“I just couldn’t be alone.”

“I understand.”  We sit on the couch.  “So you know this guy?”

“We hang out sometimes.  He’s a lot easier to be around when he takes his Adderall.”

“East coast kids seem to have their own particular problems.”

“Is it that different on the west coast?”

“How do you know I’m from the west coast?”

“Google.”

He laughs.  “What would I find if I Google you?”

I like this.  He’s all Professor Beard but I don’t mind.  I need to talk, to relax, to distance myself from the craziness of this night. 

“Probably a few items about the Bethesda chapter of the Harry Potter fan club and my one locally published essay in favor of
Team Edward
and that’s about it.”

“You keep a low profile?”

“Not deliberately.”

He lets out a deep sigh, asks, “Was I your first?”

“Yes.”

He closes his eyes, his expression suddenly pained and weary.  “I don’t want to hurt you in anyway.  I don’t want to complicate your emotional life.”

“It’s my choice and a wonderful one.”

He opens his eyes.  I love their deep blue.  He says, “If there’s any sort of problem, just say the word and we can--”

“Stop?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”  I feel a phantom cautionary kick in the butt from Katia, but if I don’t get it out now I never will.  “I would be devastated.  I think you could handle it quite well.”

“I’m very fond of you, Celine.”

“I think you’re incredible.  At school and in your bedroom where I feel as if I’m taking a master class.”

He smiles.  “You’re wonderful inspiration.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He emulates one of my frequent moves and averts his eyes.  “My relationships just seem to go, to bounce around like a rubber ball.”

“Meaning you don’t see or plan a future for them?”

“You’re a very insightful young lady, Celine.  I see that in class.  And you blew me away with your first kiss.”  I love hearing this.  “There’s so much in you that is untapped.”

“So you want to keep tapping it?”

He laughs.

I add, “You know I’ve applied to grad school at the University of New Hampshire.”

“Really?”

“Don’t panic.  Also about five other Masters literature programs, including ones in California and Florida.  But I could definitely see myself going to UNH.”

“Good school.”

“And I could definitely see myself spending time with you.”

“That would be nice.”

“But you can’t see it?  Your vision doesn’t stretch that far?”

He leans back against the couch and stares at the ceiling.  It’s really all over now.  Katia’s foot needs to be pried out of my ass and stuffed down my throat.  I might as well head straight out the door and walk home.

He answers with the patience of Professor Beard responding to an inquisitive student.  “There are things about my past that I prefer to keep to myself.  I realize that it’s frustrating for you.  I think it’s clear what I can give and what I can’t.  You do deserve better.” 

After a short pause he adds, “
You may want to consider seeing other people.”

Not quite on par with
let’s take a break
but almost as painful.

He gets up, heads toward the stairs.  In a flat tone that I’m unable to read he says, “It’s very late.  We should try to get some sleep.”

His walk up the stairs is like the bathroom door closing behind him.  The discussion is over.  He indulged my questions probably out of concern for my state of mind, intuiting that talking would help me calm down.  I can probably leave now and he would not invite me back and this could be tucked neatly away as a first semester fling for us both.  It’s thrilling that he sees special qualities in me and that he didn’t get defensive and tell me I ‘m just a college kid, but I also see clearly, once again, how difficult it would be to have anything further than these extra credit sessions that leave us both mutually satisfied but only me longing for more. 

He probably wants me to sleep on the couch.  At best, he will let me share his bed, but will be all Professor B., polite, the proper amount of space between us. 

I should go. 

I’m in no position to hurt him; he’s perfectly situated to maim me deeply.

But I don’t want to go. 

I climb up the stairs to his room.  He’s in the bathroom, door closed, water running.  I undress, remove everything except my sheer, lacy, violet panties.  I lie on my stomach, legs off the side of his bed.  I slide the panties halfway down my tight, apple-bottomed ass and point it right toward the bathroom door.

It’s the first thing he sees as he exits.

“Oh, shit,” he says, exhaling his surprised delight.  “No, baby girl, we shouldn’t.  Really.  It’s late.  We’re exhausted.  Way too emotional an evening to—”

I arch my back, my curves undulating in perfect symmetry, raise my sweet ass off the bed...and offer it to him.

He takes me up on it, as I knew he would once I heard his Professor tone, his use of my pet name.

He kneels between my legs, lowers his mouth, tenderly licks and caresses my butt cheeks and soft opening with his thick hot tongue.  I moan loudly, from the sensations, from the joy of knowing the Professor still wants me.

He’s soon going in and out with his tongue and the feelings are delicious, making my pussy throb with need as well.  He makes my ass so very wet I know what he’s going to do.  I want him to do it.  I wanted it this way since the very first time he teased me close to there with his finger.  He knows everything about my needs.  He touches every place within me. 
             

And now, as I rise up on my knees, fully present this most intimate place to him, I grant him yet another chance to take my virginity.

I feel the mushroom head at the opening, full, round, thick.  His mouth made me soaked there, inside and out.  It turns me on even more that he’s hard just from licking me.

“You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” asks the Professor.

That’s all who’s here now.  Our conversation touched on me the student and Professor Beard the teacher, real people with real needs and issues.  Perhaps there was even a little of Alan in there, but I can’t be sure, as I don’t know who Alan is.  This moment of personal intimacy is over and perhaps will never return.  He indulged me because of the trauma of him and his knives and tee shirt, a disturbed friend and his knife.  Now it’s the pure intimacy of a Sub in deep need for her Dom.

“I’m very dirty,” I reply.

“Dirty to lie here for me face down?”

“Yes.”

“Dirty to offer your ass to me?”

“Yes, Professor.”

Calling him this elicits a pleased moan from his throat and I feel slightly more pressure at my opening.  He tugs my panties down even farther, but leaves them on, stretched across my ankles to make it even filthier. 

I can have Professor Beard in class and the Professor at Seven Echo Lane.  That’s it.  I must accept the wonderfulness of both and rein in my most intimate feelings.

Yet deep down is another instinct, my inner voice of optimism that delights in all the clear possibilities I see for myself in the future, that tells me that no man can be oblivious to love, that I need only to be patient and enjoy this lover as much as I can and that perhaps someday it can be all I hope for. 

For now I can only say, “I need you to fuck my ass, Sir, please.  Fuck it the way only you can.  Make me need it.  Make me want it this way.”

He pushes the head of his cock past the ring of my opening and I inhale sharply at the size of him. 

“You sexy, hot bitch, you’re going to get all you ask for.”

As much as he is in his Dom persona, I can sense his patience, his care, as he slowly lets me get used to his size, not wanting to hurt me in anyway.

“More,” I say.

“More what?”

“More, Professor.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a dirty, sexy, slutty college girl who needs a good ass fucking from her hot teacher.”

He releases an uncontrolled grunt of pleasure.

“Beg for my cock.  Beg like you want nothing else in the world but this ass fucking.”

He pushes in farther and I close my eyes, now oblivious to what’s turning him on, to saying things that heighten his pleasure.  He claims my ass and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.

“Fuck me, please, Professor,” I whimper with true sincere need, the need to be penetrated by my Dom, the need to be shown what a true Sub I am for my man, the need to have him take me over completely and dissipate all of the stress and tension burdening me these past weeks...no, maybe since middle school.

“Take more,” he says as he goes deeper, the pressure of him overwhelming, splitting me, forcing all of my focus to this one place on my body.

I take it willingly.  Though I really have no force of will at this moment.  How can anyone with her teacher inside her?

“I love you!” I cry out.  He knows it and I can’t help myself anyway.  He doesn’t seem to mind, unlike Katia’s immature boyfriend.  Probably all Doms want their Subs to love them.

Forward he pushes, slowly, inch by inch, the power of this penetration taking over my entire body.  I arch my back to get him deeper.

He leans down and I can feel his chest press against my shoulder blades.  He whispers, as his right hand cups and teases my breast.  “You’re so fucking sexy.”

I do love this man, love how much turning him on turns me on.

“If every man knew,” he continues, “if every man had some sense of the passion in you they would all want to make love to you.”  He’s almost all the way in and I moan deeply with pleasure mixed with the tension from his size.  “But you’re all mine now.”

Yes, totally, where I want to be, what I want to be, his.  He begins a rhythmic thrusting in, out, and I’ve never felt so completely possessed, the sense that my ass exists only for his enjoyment and because it does I can feel unlimited gratification.

The pulling out sends deeper jolts and the thrusts in make me feel totally claimed.  He grunts steadily now and I sense he would like to continue with our wordplay, something we both love, but the feelings are overwhelming him as well.

He does me deep, alternating between keeping his strong hands on my hips to guide his thrusts, making me feel even more pliant and malleable, and leaning forward to kiss my neck and grab my earlobe with his teeth.

I can’t do without this.  I will do anything to keep this.  I never want this to stop.  I never want to leave this man.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!” I cry in rhythm with his thrusts.

He obliges, penetrating deep, slipping into an animal frenzy where both of us are all need without control.

Then he does something that is absolutely the sexiest thing he has ever done, or maybe it seems that way because he does it precisely at the moment I’m ready for the ultimate surrender.

He grabs a handful of my hair in his fist, pulls back firmly, arches my neck up, and rides our fury all the way home.

I come long and hard, even minutes after he has spilled his seed with a lion-like roar.  Yes his cum belongs there, too.  My orgasm is once again unlike any other I have felt, rising from the back, climbing deep into me then exploding in a wrenching scream of complete submission.

He withdraws and we collapse next to each other.

On our backs now, looking up at the ceiling, our chests expand and collapse in unison, like twin balloons repeatedly being pumped then deflated.

Despite how fragile my emotions can be at this most vulnerable point—the time when he departs—I can’t help feeling a great sense of calm, a burden of insecurity lifted, a physical and mental release inspired by this powerful man who forced it all out and allows me full peace because I’m in his bed, next to his strong body, not alone, taken care of.