Hot Professor is My Aunt's Husband

“So, Professor Wolfe, are you saying that desire is only powerful when it is denied?”

I kept my head down, doing my best to concentrate on the words in the open book before me. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d forget about the question.

I had no such luck.

“Professor Wolfe? I asked a question.”

I knew the voice before I even looked up. It belonged to Dorian Vega.

He sat at the back row like it was his throne with one arm stretched out on the chair beside him while his long legs were spread shamelessly wide. His messy dark hair curled at his collar, as if he’d just rolled off from bed, and decided as an afterthought to attend my class.

I often wondered how he was able to make good grades while maintaining his bad boy persona. I looked up the corners of my lips turning down into a frown as I spied a girl sitting at his right ogling him.

“Mis Vnaderkamp? Can you focus? Can you answer Dorian’s question for the class?”

The red haired girl snorted. “No, I have no idea what the answer is.”

I sighed forcing my eyes to meet Dorian’s. “That’s one interpretation,” I replied, slipping the cap back onto my marker. “But not the only one. Literature frames desire as dangerous precisely because it refuses to be denied. Wanting becomes more powerful than having.”

A few students dutifully scribbled notes. Most just looked between me and him, sensing a strain that had nothing to do with Milton or Wilde.

Dorian tilted his head, his mouth curving in a half smile half-smile. “So you’re saying the chase is hotter than the catch.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the room, but he didn’t glance at them like most bad boys did to assert dominance at defying the Professor. Instead he was staring at me, and he wasn’t even blinking.

I rested a hip against the lectern, forcing myself to sound composed. “I’m saying temptation only works if there are consequences. Otherwise, it’s indulgence, and indulgence doesn’t make stories. Sin does.”

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to discuss something that has to do with my sins to you…” The girl that had been staring at him, smiled and shook her head, agreeing with him, even if she had no idea of what he was talking about.

I opened my mouth to mutter a response, but nothing came out. I turned back to the book in front of me, refusing to think about Dorian’s hands on my lap the other day he’d been at the office.

I heard myself talking about Milton’s Paradise Lost, but my mind wasn’t there. It kept going back to the dark haired boy at the back row who kept watching me. Every time he shifted, I noticed the stretch of his arm along the desk, the lazy sprawl of his legs, the way he dragged a finger across his lower lip as if he were bored. He knew what he was doing. He was flirting with me, like he always did.

And damn me, it was working.

By the time the hour ended, my palms were damp against my notes.

“Alright,” I said briskly, clearing my throat. “That’s all for today. We’ll continue with Wilde on Thursday.”

The chatter of students as they filed out of the lecture hall, and the loud scraping of chairs was a relief to me. For the past two weeks, and after Dorian had slid his hand up my thighs in my office after I threatened to get him expelled for malpractice, he was all I could think about.

“Professor, it was a nice reply you gave to me.” Dorian walked up to me, a half smile plastered on his face.

I kept my eyes on the stack of essays in front of me, pretending to shuffle them into order but my shaking hands betrayed me. Finally, I risked a glance up. He was perched on the edge of the front-row desk now, his arms folded across his chest. But his eyes… his eyes burned.

“You really believe that?” he asked.

I set the papers down. “Believe what?” I adjusted my tie and tipped my glass up. 

“That repression makes desire stronger.” His eyes were still digging into mine.

I should have dismissed him, and I should have reminded him of professional boundaries, but instead I found myself saying something back.  “I believe literature mirrors human behavior. People are drawn to what they can’t have. The forbidden isn’t just tempting but it’s irresistible.”

He smiled slowly, like I’d just confirmed a suspicion. He slid off the desk and walked toward me. By the time he reached the desk at the front of the room, my back was pressed against it, my hands flat against its edge. 

Dorian leaned forward, his palms braced on either side of me. He was taller than I had realized. For some reason, I noticed the slight brush of his sleeve against my arm like it was all playing out in slow motion.

“Mr. Vega,” I managed, clearing my throat. “You’re treading dangerous ground.”

“Dangerous,” he repeated, cocking his head to the side as he observed me. I watched his stare dip to my lips, and for a moment it felt like the air was knocked out of me. “So you admit it?”

“Why does he make me feel tihis way, damn it.” I muttered under my breath. I swallowed hard, assaulted by the sweet smell of him. Spicy and a hint of musk. My chest rose and fell a little too quickly. “You should leave,” I said, but it came out weaker than I intended.

He leaned closer, until his breath danced on my ear and I could feel his lip against my skin.  “You talk about forbidden desire like you’ve never tasted it.”

“Wha…what do you mean?” I replied in the same breath. I enjoyed the sound of his voice as it sent hot shivers through me. 

“You want me, Professor Wolfe. I can feel it.” I felt his hand roaming on my lap, and I swallowed again. He didn’t stop even when I moved away. 

But before I could gather a reply, he pushed off the desk and slung his bag over one shoulder. I almost groaned out loud as he pulled away from me. I felt my dick jerk inside my pants. He affected me in ways I had no control over.

“See you tomorrow, Professor.” I watched him as he headed to the door while I struggled to pull myself together. I adjusted my tie again, and played with my left cufflink. He was halfway out of the door when he glanced back at me, that damned smirk playing on his lips. “Professor Wolfe?”

“What is it, Mr Vega?” I heard myself ask, the sound of my voice feeling foreign to my ears. 

“Say hi to your Wife for me, Will you?”