**Sara**
Meanwhile, Tom – no, Professor Blackwood – was writing something on the board. I couldn't focus on the words; I could only see how his shoulders moved under his shirt, remembering how they felt under my hands just a few nights ago.
I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on anything else, but my mind drifted back to that night. I remembered the way his hands had roamed over my body, mapping every curve and valley with expert precision. I remembered the scorching trail his lips had blazed across my skin, igniting a fire that had raged for hours. A flush crept up my neck as the memories flooded back, vivid and unrelenting.
His gaze swept over the class, his eyes briefly meeting mine. For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze. Did he recognize me? Of course, he did - that slight quirk of his eyebrow said it all. I could practically hear the internal smirk as our eyes locked, a silent acknowledgment of the delicious secret we now shared. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a familiar warmth spreading through my body, a tingling sensation that started in my core and radiated outward.
With a subtle clearing of his throat, he broke our connection and continued his class. His voice, deep and resonant, filled the room as he delved into the day's topic. I watched, mesmerized, as his hands moved gracefully, emphasizing key points on the whiteboard.
I tried to focus on the lecture desperately. But it was a futile effort, as my mind kept wandering to the fact that he had already seen me naked, intimately knowing every inch of my body. We had shared moments of passion, a frenzied exploration of each other, and now, here I was, trying to maintain a facade of normalcy. I wondered what he was thinking about me now. Was he remembering the way I tasted, the feel of my skin against his, the way I moaned his name? My legs felt weak at the thought, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
I stole a glance in his direction, and our eyes met briefly. That slight quirk of his eyebrow sent a jolt through me. He knew. He knew exactly what I was thinking and was enjoying the power he held over me. I could feel my face flushing, and I quickly looked away, my heart pounding.
As the lecture continued, I wondered what it would be like to be with him again. I thought about the feel of his hands on my body, the way he would gently trace the curves of my waist and hips with his fingers, the way he would pull me close, his breath warm on my neck. I bit my lip, my body responding to these forbidden thoughts with a familiar warmth and a tingling sensation that spread throughout my limbs.
I knew I should be paying attention to the lecture, but I was helpless to resist the pull of these fantasies. I imagined him whispering in my ear, his deep voice, his hands spreading me open, exposing me, claiming me as his. I shifted again, crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying to discreetly adjust my clothing to accommodate my growing discomfort.
The more I tried to focus on the lecture, the more my mind rebelled, filling my head with images of us together—the way he would look at me with intense desire, the feel of his lips against mine, the sound of his breath quickening as he lost himself in the moment. I felt myself getting lost in these thoughts, drowning in a sea of lust and desire, and I knew there was no escape. Not today, not anytime soon.
"That's why understanding the time value of money is crucial in corporate finance," Tom said, his voice smooth and confident. "Do you have any questions so far?"
The class remained silent, with most of the students too busy ogling him to process what he was teaching. On the other hand, I was desperately trying to make myself invisible.
Jessica leaned in close, her breath tickling my ear. "So, spill. How was he in bed? How much pleasure did Professor Hottie give you on a scale of 'meh' to 'earth-shattering'?"
I nearly choked on air. "Jess!" I hissed, feeling my face burn. "Shut up!" I swear, if Jessica didn't lower her voice, I was going to melt into a puddle of embarrassment right there in the lecture hall.
She just grinned, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Oh, come on, Sara. You got a professor for pleasure. That's like every college girl's fantasy!"
"It wasn't like that. He wasn't a professor when I... you know."
"When you did the horizontal tango?" Jessica supplied helpfully, wiggling her eyebrows.
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "I hate you so much right now."
"No, you don't," she chirped. "You love me because I'm the only one who knows your dirty little secret."
I peeked through my fingers, watching as Tom—no, Professor Blackwood—continued his lecture. He was talking about interest rates, but all I could focus on was the way his lips moved as he spoke.
Jessica noticed my staring and nudged me with her elbow. "So, are you gonna go for another one-night stand with Professor Hottie?"
"What? No!" I whisper-yelled, a bit louder than I intended. A few heads turned our way, and I slouched in my seat. "Absolutely not. It was a one-time thing, and that's how it's staying."
"But why?" Jessica whined. "He's gorgeous, smart, and you already know he's good in bed. What's the problem?"
I sighed, trying to find the words to explain. "The problem is that he's our professor now. It would be completely inappropriate. Plus, we agreed it was just a casual thing."
"Oh, please. Casual things can turn into not-so-casual things. Haven't you ever seen a rom-com?"
"Yeah, because my life is totally a Hollywood movie. Next thing you know, I'll be running through an airport to profess my undying love."
"I'd pay to see that," Jessica giggled.
I tried to focus on Tom's lecture, but my mind kept wandering. It didn't help that every time he turned to write on the board, I got a perfect view of his... assets.
"Stop staring at his butt," Jessica whispered, nudging me.
"I wasn't!" I hissed back at Jessica, feeling my cheeks burn. But who was I kidding? Of course, I was staring. It's not like I could forget what that butt looked like without clothes.
Jessica just smirked, clearly not buying my denial. "Sure, and I'm the Queen of England."