Chapter 142 PROFESSOR x STUDENT
1
Professor Marcus Bennett's POV
I'm going to hell for this. I know I am.
But when Isla walked into my office wearing that skirt—that fucking skirt that barely covered her ass—I stopped caring about salvation, tenure, or the ethical code I'd signed when I became a professor at this university.
All I could think about was bending her over my mahogany desk and making her scream my name while I fucked every ounce of innocence out of her tight little body.
God forgive me, but I'd been fantasizing about it for weeks.
Every Tuesday and Thursday when she sat in the front row of my Ethics and Philosophy lecture—the irony wasn't lost on me—crossing those long, smooth legs that seemed to go on forever. Every time she bit that plump bottom lip while taking notes. Every time she stayed after class to ask questions, standing just a little too close, her perfume invading my senses and making my cock strain against my slacks.
I told myself it was nothing. That I was a professional. That she was my student—twenty-two years old to my thirty-eight—and this was a line I couldn't cross.
But then she showed up at my office hours wearing that goddamn skirt.
Red. Tight. Short enough that when she sat down in the chair across from my desk, I could see the edge of her black lace panties.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
And I was about to show her what happened when good girls teased men like me.
"Professor Bennett?" Her voice was soft, almost innocent, but her eyes betrayed her. Dark. Hungry. Challenging me.
I leaned back in my leather chair, fingers steepled under my chin, trying to maintain some semblance of control even though my dick was already rock hard. "Miss Rivers. What can I help you with today?"
She crossed her legs slowly, deliberately, and I watched that skirt ride up another inch. My jaw clenched.
"I'm struggling with the assignment," she said, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "The one about moral boundaries and when it's acceptable to cross them."
Fucking hell.
"Is that so?" I kept my voice steady, professional, even as every fiber of my being screamed to grab her, throw her on this desk, and show her exactly where my moral boundaries were.
"Mmhmm." She leaned forward, giving me a perfect view down her white blouse. No bra. Just the swell of those perky tits that I'd imagined sucking on more times than I could count. "I was hoping you could give me some... private guidance."
My cock throbbed painfully. She was playing a dangerous game, and we both knew it.
I should have told her to leave. Should have maintained my professionalism. Should have remembered that I was her professor and she was my student.
But I didn't.
Instead, I stood up slowly, watching her eyes widen as she took in my full height—six-foot-three of barely restrained hunger. I walked around my desk, each step deliberate, predatory, until I was standing directly in front of her.
"Stand up," I commanded, my voice low and rough.
She obeyed immediately, rising from her chair, those beautiful eyes locked on mine.
"Do you know what you're doing, Isla?" I asked, stepping closer until there were only inches between us. "Coming to my office dressed like this? Teasing me like you have been for weeks?"
Her breath hitched, but she didn't back down. "Maybe I wanted to see if you'd finally stop being such a gentleman."
Fuck.
Something inside me snapped.
I grabbed her by the throat—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make her gasp—and backed her against the wall. Her pulse raced under my palm, and when I looked into her eyes, I saw nothing but raw desire.
"You want to know about crossing moral boundaries?" I growled, my lips brushing against her ear. "I'm about to destroy every single one of them."
She whimpered, her hands clutching at my shirt. "Please, Professor..."
"Please what?" I demanded, my free hand sliding up her thigh, pushing that sinful skirt higher. "Use your words, Isla. Tell me what you want."
"I want you to fuck me," she breathed, her voice trembling with need. "I've wanted it since the first day of class. Please, Professor Bennett. Stop being professional and just—"
I crashed my mouth onto hers, swallowing her words in a brutal kiss. She tasted like mint and sin, and when her tongue met mine, I groaned into her mouth. My hand tightened on her throat as I devoured her, claiming her mouth the way I'd been dreaming about for weeks.
She moaned against my lips, her body arching into mine, desperate and needy.
I pulled back, looking at her flushed face, her swollen lips, her pupils blown wide with lust. "Lock the door."