Dear Professor(32)
He was supposed to be able to have her however, wherever, whenever, but all he’d done so far was spread her legs and eat her sweet pussy the way he’d wanted to for so many weeks.
He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand down his face. He was getting hard from just thinking about it. About her. This was dangerous territory. There was a line, and this time, he’d well and truly fucking crossed it.
A smarter man would have handed her the letter and muscled through to the end of the year. A smarter man would have gone out and found someone who wasn’t ten years younger than he was or his student.
“You sick bastard,” he muttered to himself.
He blew out a long breath just as his laptop pinged with a notification. He turned back to the screen and clicked on the shortcut to his inbox. When the page loaded, he skipped past three e-mails from the university, one from the head of the department, and one from his second guilty pleasure: Amazon Prime.
Still, he was pleased to see that his coffee beans had been dispatched. Sometimes, it was the little things.
It was the top e-mail that really caught his attention though. Darcy. He clicked on the bold, highlighted message and waited for it to load. He’d never specified a way of contact for them outside of class, but they’d amicably settled into an e-mail exchange.
To: jkeat@gmail.com
From: darcy_h345@gmail.com
Subject: Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou?
Dear Professor,
You’re awfully quiet today. Can I expect a summons presently or am I allowed to play with myself tonight?
Xoxo, Darcy.
He smirked at the sarcasm in the subject line, even if her wording did have blood pumping into his already semi-hard cock. He hit reply.
To: darcy_h345@gmail.com
From: jkeat@gmail.com
Subject: In his office, working.
Darcy,
You’re very well spoken this evening. Perhaps you switched nationalities since we last spoke.
And no. I don’t require the…pleasure…of your company. Feel free to play with yourself as long as said playing is done privately.
J
Yes—privately. And if she wanted to do it privately for him… Well, he wouldn’t turn that down, either. But he’d be damned if any other man was going to watch her bring herself to her climax. She belonged to him until he said otherwise.
If another man got off to her, it’d be on his word, under his rules, and right in front of him.
To: jkeat@gmail.com
From: darcy_h345@gmail.com
Subject: It would be suspicious for you to be outside my window.
Dear Professor,#p#分页标题#e#
No nationality change. Just some interesting reading today. Shakespeare did enjoy a love story after all… And a tragedy or two.
Your request is heard and understood. I need to log in so I don’t lose my job… I can send you a private link, but you will be staring at my bedroom wall for twenty minutes while I finish my reading.
Xoxo, Darcy
Of course. That other snag in the agreement—his supplementing her income. It was a bitch, but it was a sacrifice he’d had to make in order to get her to agree. It wasn’t his favorite clause. That was the third-party one.
To: darcy_h345@gmail.com
From: jkeat@gmail.com
Darcy,
I’m sure your wall would be much more entertaining than these painful papers I’m grading. Please send the link, and I will ensure to keep to my end of the agreement.
J
For the next few minutes, he gave half of his attention to the paper in front of him, but he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Darcy that it was painful. He wondered whether or not the student had even listened to his lesson, never mind done research.
When Darcy’s e-mail came, it held nothing but a link. Of course, her signature greeting and way of signing off were there too, but no more words. He clicked on the link, and within a few minutes, the familiar chat room page of Dalton Cam Girls filled his screen. The difference was that, this time, her face didn’t fill the camera. His laptop beeped as she sent an instant message through the chat.
D: Sound is off.
He nodded. He didn’t expect that much sound would be necessary if the show was her bedroom wall. He ignored the twinge of disappointment at not getting to see her and responded with a simple, Ok. She didn’t respond—he had known she wouldn’t. But that didn’t stop him from hesitating before looking away.
Just in case.
He minimized the screen and ran his hand down his face. Fuck—he wished he were a better man. He wished he could stop this fucking attraction, obsession, whatever the hell it was turning into. But he couldn’t. Not until he’d had all of her.
He really was the sick bastard he’d called himself earlier.