Chapter 170 Bent Over Professor's Desk
I’d spent the entire week trying to convince myself I could keep control. Every time I pictured Lila walking back into my office—those cherry-red lips, that tiny skirt, the way she’d crawled to me last time like she was starving—I had to grip the edge of my desk and breathe through it. I’d jerked off in the shower twice a day, hand rough and fast, imagining her gagging on me again, her mascara running, her throat squeezing around my cock until I couldn’t think straight. But I always stopped short of coming. I saved it. Told myself if she came back acting like a brat again, I’d make her pay for every second I’d spent denying myself.
She showed up at 5:50 on Friday, just like last week. The building was dead quiet—most faculty had cleared out for the weekend, the janitor wouldn’t start rounds until seven. Perfect timing for what I had planned. Or maybe the worst possible timing, because the risk made my blood run hotter.
She didn’t knock. Just pushed the door open, stepped inside, and locked it behind her with a soft click that sounded louder than it should have. Today’s outfit was criminal: a pleated navy skirt so short it barely skimmed the curve of her ass, a white blouse knotted under her tits so the bottom swell of them peeked out every time she breathed, and those same thigh-highs that made her legs look endless. No bra—I could see the stiff peaks of her nipples pressing against the thin cotton. And when she turned to face me, I caught the flash of bare skin between her thighs. No panties. Again.
My cock twitched hard enough to hurt.
She smiled that bratty little smile, the one that said she knew exactly what she was doing to me. “Professor Hale,” she purred, stepping closer, hips swaying. “I tried to fix the paper. Really. But I kept getting distracted.” She bit her lip, eyes dropping to my lap where I was already half-hard. “Thinking about how good your cock felt in my throat. How you tasted when I swallowed your pre-cum. How I almost came just from choking on you.”
I stayed seated, fingers steepled, forcing myself to look calm even though my pulse hammered in my ears. “You didn’t bring the paper.”
She shrugged, the motion making her tits jiggle just enough to draw my gaze. “Nope. Guess I’m still a bad girl.”
The words snapped something in me. I stood slowly, chair scraping back, and rounded the desk. She didn’t back up. Just tilted her chin, daring me.
I caught her by the waist, spun her around, and pushed her forward until her hips hit the edge of the desk. She gasped, hands flying out to brace herself on the wood. I kicked her feet wider, flipped that ridiculous skirt up over her ass, and groaned low in my throat at the sight. Her pussy was already glistening, lips swollen and pink, a thin string of wetness stretching between her thighs like she’d been dripping the whole walk here.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered. “Look at this mess. You walked through the halls like this? Bare and soaked for your professor?”
She pushed back against me, grinding her ass against my cock through my slacks. “Maybe someone saw. Maybe they smelled how wet I am. Would that make you mad, Daddy? Knowing other people know what a slut I am for you?”
The word Daddy coming out of her mouth in that breathy whine almost made me lose it right there. I pressed my hips forward, letting her feel how thick and hard I was, trapping her against the desk. My hand came down on her ass—hard, the crack echoing in the quiet office. She yelped, but arched into it, pushing back for more.
“You want to play risky?” I growled, spanking her again, harder, watching the skin bloom pink under my palm. “You want to act like a brat in my office where anyone could hear?” Another smack, then another, until her ass was glowing red and she was whimpering, thighs trembling.
“Yes—fuck—yes, Daddy, please—”
I slid my fingers between her legs, found her clit swollen and slick, and pinched it lightly. She cried out, hips bucking. She was so wet my fingers slipped right inside her—two at once, curling deep, feeling her walls flutter and clench around me like she was trying to pull me in.
“You’re dripping down my wrist,” I said, voice rough. “Such a filthy little cunt. Been aching for this all week, haven’t you?”
She nodded frantically, forehead pressed to the desk, ass still in the air. “Every night. I touched myself thinking about you. Edged until I cried. Couldn’t come without you.”
I pumped my fingers harder, thumb rubbing circles on her clit. Her moans got louder, breathy little gasps that filled the room. I clamped my other hand over her mouth, muffling the sound.
“Quiet,” I ordered against her ear. “Unless you want the whole floor to know I’ve got my fingers buried in my student’s greedy pussy. Unless you want them to hear you beg your professor to fuck you.”
She moaned into my palm, the vibration traveling straight to my cock. I pulled my fingers out—slow, so she felt every inch—and brought them to her lips. “Taste yourself. Show me how much you need it.”