Dear Professor(11)

“Yes, Darcy. I want you. I want to fuck you.” He took a step toward me.

Involuntarily, I drew in a deep breath. My breasts brushed against his chest, and my nipples immediately responded at the contact.

“I want to fuck you badly. If you had any idea how hard it is to teach you when all I can see is you fingering your tight pussy… Believe me when I say that I want to fuck you furiously until you come so hard you can’t even scream.”

My pussy clenched at the words. Jesus, no. I couldn’t react that way. My body was betraying me.

He was my professor.

He was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent forbidden, and there was no way on Earth I was going to allow my pussy to get her claws around his cock. No matter how handsome he was or how fucking fabulously he was talking. It was wrong.

“I want you until the end of the semester,” he continued, his eyes never wavering from mine. “And then you’ll get your letter.”

“And if I don’t agree? What if I tell someone about this conversation?”

“Then your little secret won’t stay a secret, will it? And who’ll believe you over me, hmm?”

Now, he was blackmailing me. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. If my secret got out, I could kiss a top law school goodbye. Perhaps my whole career. I didn’t know the ins and outs, but I didn’t want to know them, either. I never wanted to be in a position to find out.

“So let me get this straight,” I said. “If I let you, what, have your way with me? For the next six or so weeks, I’ll get my letter?”

He nodded.

“And if I don’t, you’ll tell everyone what I do and essentially undo every single thing I’ve worked so hard for.”

“You catch on quickly.”

“You’re a fucking bastard.”

He cupped my jaw and leaned in. His mouth was dangerously close to mine, and it was like temptation being waved right in front of my face.

“Watch it, sweet thing. I might be a bastard, but I have a good chunk of your future in the palm of my hand. And you have until the end of our next class to make your decision.”

That was barely more than twenty-four hours. I felt sick all over again. I should have known that what I was doing would bite me in the ass—after all, Jake had been warning me for two years. I’d just never thought the piranha would be my history professor.

“Do we have a deal?”

“I’ll think about it,” I responded, keeping my voice low. Lower than I should have been able to in my super-pissed mood. It had been a long time since I’d felt the kind of anger that was rumbling through my veins.

Professor Keaton stared at me for one long moment, his eyes threatening to undo me, and then he dipped his head and kissed me. He fucking well kissed me. In the middle of his classroom, right after the sorry son of a bitch had blackmailed me with the rest of my life.

I had a good mind to give his cock a massage—with my fucking kneecap.

Unfortunately for me, the anger couldn’t erase the hot zing of desire that tingled its way across my skin from where his lips were touching mine. It lasted long after he’d pulled away, released me, and took a step back. The smug look in his eyes had my kneecaps itching again, but I just about resisted.#p#分页标题#e#

Instead, I wiped my hand across my mouth. The smugness faded instantly, and I yanked the door open before he could say another word. I left it open as I turned and stormed down the corridor. I was walking faster than I normally did, and the second I found a door leading outside, I threw all of my weight into opening it and stepping outside.

The second the fresh air hit my face, I inhaled a desperate lungful. The crisp fall air was exactly what I needed, and I was going to relish in it for as long as I could.

Relishing wasn’t on the menu, though, as the reality of what had just happened hit me full force and emotionally winded me.

My professor knew I was a cam girl. He was the client I’d performed for at least once a week for the last two and a half months. He’d seen every inch of me as I’d pleasured myself for him, and he’d seen me as another guy had done it for me.

And, now, he was using it as his weapon. Blackmailing me. I was held completely at ransom by his words, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

Worse? I was already considering it. Despite what I’d tried to convince myself, I needed the final letter. It wasn’t like there was another option anyway. If I refused, whether or not I had his letter would be futile.

But the worst part of the whole thing? That kiss. That lightly lingering touch that seemed to bruise me with its heat.