clearly.
"Hello, Professor."
"How's your extra credit going?" he asks.
I sit up, avoiding Scott's eyes. "To be honest, I cannot freaking stand writing papers. It's why I went into the sciences. My brain is good with numbers and formulas. Not so much with words."
He nods. "I see. Well, you will notice, if you read the extra credit handout I gave you carefully and thoroughly, I keep special office hours to discuss just these sorts of problems." He stalks off without another word.
I stare after him, completely flabbergasted. "FAHK. Now, I'm super going to have to write that GD assignment."
"No, dude. That was a proposition."
I guffaw. "He wouldn't have done that in front of you."
"Of course he would. For one, it's how he proves he's on the up and up, that it's all innocent. But those special office hours aren't for normal students. My guess is not everyone who requests extra credit, gets anything other than those paper assignments."
"And two?" I cock a brow at him and smirk.
He holds up two fingers, his blue eyes brimming with mischief. His eyes are always full of mischief, the brat. "And two, he saw me touching you. It riled him up and he wanted to show me up even if I don't realize it. He knows you will."
I scoff. "Bull. Freaking. Shit."
"You'll see."
"Side bet?"
"Side bet. Winner gets head." He holds out his hand.
I grasp it and we shake, grinning at each other. What's a bet like that between friends, anyway?
Either way, I win.
8
I smooth the skirt down my legs as I pause in front of the Professor's office. I'd put on my most professional outfit before coming here. An outfit I plan to use for interviewing for jobs once I graduate. I need the armor for this meeting. My teeny tiny outfit had been a complete disaster.
After waking up twisted in sheets from incredibly erotic dreams, I decided to say fuck the fuckit list. It was making me too crazy and now I was in over my head. At this point, I hope he'll softball this paper. The topic is way above and beyond my usual coursework and I have no interest in a Masters in chemistry. I just want to pass with a decent grade.
Nerves flutter in my belly, making me a bit nauseous. It's incredibly early; his office hours are way before the first early classes begin. No one's around, everyone still in bed like sane people.
Telling myself to woman up, I raise my hand and knock on the door.
"Come in."
I open the door and step inside, barely past the door frame.
He's standing behind his desk, only a small lamp giving off a small glow to the room. "Close the door behind you," he says.
I do, stepping in a bit further. His office smells of his vanilla pipe tobacco, like he'd just finished smoking. His walls are covered with leather bound books on brown shelves. A large wooden desk sits in the center of the room, the surface completely bare except for a ruler. A leather chair rests behind it. There's nowhere for me to sit. Am I supposed to stand at attention or something?
"Approach the desk." His voice is frigid and stern.
With an audible gulp, I obey his command after dropping my bag on the floor, my steps slow and tentative. Why is he being so cold and scary? How badly am I screwing up this class? Am I failing? I'll do anything he wants if he'll help me pass. What am I doing here? What have I gotten myself into?
I reach his desk and stare at him across it, my heart beating hard in my chest. So hard I start to worry the buttons on my white shirt will burst open and scatter across the floor.
Before I can open my mouth to throw myself on his mercy, he steps out from around the desk and slams me across the hard surface. My hands shoot out and slap the wood, gripping the edges of it as I squeal in shock.
What in the actual fuck? What is going on? What is he doing? I need to get out of here, this is not what I signed up for.
One of his hands pins me down by the center of my back. His ruler rests right in front of me.
I struggle against him. "Professor?"
"Remain still,
"Hello, Professor."
"How's your extra credit going?" he asks.
I sit up, avoiding Scott's eyes. "To be honest, I cannot freaking stand writing papers. It's why I went into the sciences. My brain is good with numbers and formulas. Not so much with words."
He nods. "I see. Well, you will notice, if you read the extra credit handout I gave you carefully and thoroughly, I keep special office hours to discuss just these sorts of problems." He stalks off without another word.
I stare after him, completely flabbergasted. "FAHK. Now, I'm super going to have to write that GD assignment."
"No, dude. That was a proposition."
I guffaw. "He wouldn't have done that in front of you."
"Of course he would. For one, it's how he proves he's on the up and up, that it's all innocent. But those special office hours aren't for normal students. My guess is not everyone who requests extra credit, gets anything other than those paper assignments."
"And two?" I cock a brow at him and smirk.
He holds up two fingers, his blue eyes brimming with mischief. His eyes are always full of mischief, the brat. "And two, he saw me touching you. It riled him up and he wanted to show me up even if I don't realize it. He knows you will."
I scoff. "Bull. Freaking. Shit."
"You'll see."
"Side bet?"
"Side bet. Winner gets head." He holds out his hand.
I grasp it and we shake, grinning at each other. What's a bet like that between friends, anyway?
Either way, I win.
8
I smooth the skirt down my legs as I pause in front of the Professor's office. I'd put on my most professional outfit before coming here. An outfit I plan to use for interviewing for jobs once I graduate. I need the armor for this meeting. My teeny tiny outfit had been a complete disaster.
After waking up twisted in sheets from incredibly erotic dreams, I decided to say fuck the fuckit list. It was making me too crazy and now I was in over my head. At this point, I hope he'll softball this paper. The topic is way above and beyond my usual coursework and I have no interest in a Masters in chemistry. I just want to pass with a decent grade.
Nerves flutter in my belly, making me a bit nauseous. It's incredibly early; his office hours are way before the first early classes begin. No one's around, everyone still in bed like sane people.
Telling myself to woman up, I raise my hand and knock on the door.
"Come in."
I open the door and step inside, barely past the door frame.
He's standing behind his desk, only a small lamp giving off a small glow to the room. "Close the door behind you," he says.
I do, stepping in a bit further. His office smells of his vanilla pipe tobacco, like he'd just finished smoking. His walls are covered with leather bound books on brown shelves. A large wooden desk sits in the center of the room, the surface completely bare except for a ruler. A leather chair rests behind it. There's nowhere for me to sit. Am I supposed to stand at attention or something?
"Approach the desk." His voice is frigid and stern.
With an audible gulp, I obey his command after dropping my bag on the floor, my steps slow and tentative. Why is he being so cold and scary? How badly am I screwing up this class? Am I failing? I'll do anything he wants if he'll help me pass. What am I doing here? What have I gotten myself into?
I reach his desk and stare at him across it, my heart beating hard in my chest. So hard I start to worry the buttons on my white shirt will burst open and scatter across the floor.
Before I can open my mouth to throw myself on his mercy, he steps out from around the desk and slams me across the hard surface. My hands shoot out and slap the wood, gripping the edges of it as I squeal in shock.
What in the actual fuck? What is going on? What is he doing? I need to get out of here, this is not what I signed up for.
One of his hands pins me down by the center of my back. His ruler rests right in front of me.
I struggle against him. "Professor?"
"Remain still,
Similar Books
