Illicit Cravings

EMMA

I stood outside Professor Hale’s office with my failed paper in my hand. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat. I had worked on that thesis for weeks. Victorian literature. All those long books about strict people and hidden feelings. And he gave me an F. A big red F right on the top.

I raised my hand and knocked. The sound was soft but it felt loud in the quiet hallway.

“Come in,” his voice said from inside. Deep and cold.

I pushed the door open and stepped in. It made a soft click that made my heart jump as it closed behind me. Professor Hale sat at his big wooden desk. Stacks of papers everywhere. Books lined the shelves. The room smelled like old paper and his cologne, something dark and sharp.

He looked up. His eyes moved over me slowly. Over my tight sweater that showed the shape of my breasts. Over my short skirt that stopped high on my thighs. I had picked these clothes on purpose. I wanted him to look. I needed him to look.

“My paper,” I said. My voice came out shaky. “You gave me an F.”

He set his pen down. “Your analysis was weak, Miss Thompson. You barely scratched the surface of the themes. An F is what it earned.”

I stepped closer to the desk. My legs felt wobbly. “Maybe I need… private tutoring.”

The air in the room changed. It got thicker. He stood up and he looked taller. Broader than I remembered from class. His dark shirt stretched across his chest. His eyes stayed on me, cold but something hotter underneath.

“Private tutoring,” he repeated. His voice was low now. “Is that what you think will fix this?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes. Please. I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t fail this. My whole degree—”

He moved around the desk fast. Two long steps and he was right in front of me. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist hard. He pulled me against him. My body hit his solid chest and I could feel the heat of him through our clothes.

“Whatever it takes,” he said, looking down at me. “Be careful what you offer, Emma.”

Then his mouth crashed down on mine. No soft start. Just hard and hungry. His lips forced mine open and his tongue pushed inside. I made a small sound against his mouth, my free hand grabbed his shirt. He tasted like coffee and something darker.

His other hand slid under my short skirt. His fingers found the edge of my panties, then he pushed them aside and touched me right there. I was already wet. Embarrassingly wet. His fingers slid through the slickness and I gasped into the kiss.

“Already this wet?” he growled against my lips. “Did you come here hoping for this? Did you sit in class thinking about my cock while you wrote that weak paper?”

“Yes,” I whispered. The word slipped out before I could stop it. My face burned.

He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were darker now. “Say it properly.”

“I… I hoped you would touch me. I thought about it. About you.”

He made a rough sound and kissed me again, harder. His fingers pushed inside me. Two of them. Stretching me. I moaned into his mouth. My hips moved against his hand without me telling them to.

“Listen to you,” he said, breaking the kiss. His breath was hot on my face. “Soaked and needy. You come into my office with that short skirt and no real argument, just this dripping cunt begging for attention.”

He pulled his fingers out. I almost cried at the loss. Then he spun me around and bent me over his desk. Papers scattered. My chest pressed against the cool wood. My skirt was flipped up. He yanked my panties down to my thighs. The air hit my bare skin and I shivered.

I heard his zipper. The sound made my whole body tense with want and fear mixed together. Then I felt the thick head of his cock press against my entrance.

“You want to pass?” he said, voice rough. “Then take this cock.”

He thrust into me hard. One long, brutal push that filled me completely. I cried out. He was big. Stretching me open in a way that burned and felt so good at the same time. My hands scrambled on the desk, knocking more papers to the floor.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Tight little student cunt. Squeezing me already.”

He started fucking me. Hard and deep. Every thrust pushed me forward on the desk. The wood creaked. My breasts pressed flat against the surface. I could feel every inch of him sliding in and out. Wet sounds filled the room. My own moans got louder.

“Quiet,” he ordered, but he didn’t stop. He kept pounding into me. “Anyone could walk by. You want the whole department to hear how you take professor cock?”

“No—ah—please—” I tried to keep my voice down but it was hard. Every time he slammed in, pleasure shot through me.

His hand came down on my ass. A sharp slap that made me jump and clench around him. He groaned louder.

“That’s it. Squeeze me. Show me how badly you need this grade.”

He fucked me faster. The desk shook. My legs trembled. I could feel the tension building low in my belly, tighter and tighter. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise. He pulled me back onto his cock with every thrust.

“Tell me what you are,” he said between heavy breaths. “Tell me while I fuck this failing grade out of you.”

“I’m… I’m your student,” I gasped. “I’m the girl who needs your cock to pass.”

“Dirtier.”

“I’m a dirty slut who came here wet for her professor. Who wants him to use her over his desk.”

He made a deep sound of approval and reached around. His fingers found my clit and rubbed hard circles while he kept thrusting. The double feeling was too much. The pleasure spiked fast.

“I’m going to cum,” I whimpered. “Professor—please—I’m going to—”

“Cum on my cock then. Show me how much you need this.”

I broke. The orgasm hit me hard. My whole body shook. I clenched around him over and over, moaning into the desk. He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, drawing it out until my legs felt like water.

When I started to soften, he pulled out. I made a soft sound of protest. He turned me around, lifted me to sit on the edge of the desk, and pushed back inside in one smooth motion. Face to face now. My legs wrapped around his waist. He thrust up into me deep.

His hand tangled in my hair and pulled my head back. He kissed my neck, biting lightly.

“Look at me while I fill this cunt,” he ordered.

I looked into his eyes. Cold blue that burned now. He fucked me harder, the desk rocking. My second orgasm built fast. I held onto his shoulders, nails digging in.

“You’re going to come back tomorrow,” he said, voice strained. “Same time. And you’re going to be ready for whatever I decide. Understand?”

“Yes,” I breathed. “I’ll come. I’ll do anything.”

He drove into me three more times and then buried himself deep. I felt him pulse inside me, hot and thick. The feeling triggered my own climax again. I cried out and clung to him as we both came hard.

For a long moment we stayed like that, breathing heavy. His forehead rested against mine. Then he pulled out slowly. I felt empty and messy. Cum slid down my thigh.

He stepped back, tucked himself away, and fixed his clothes like nothing had happened. I sat on the desk, skirt still up, panties around my knees, trying to catch my breath.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, voice back to that cold professor tone. “And get out. Come tomorrow if you want any real chance at passing. Don’t be late.”

I slid off the desk on shaky legs. I pulled my panties up and straightened my skirt. My paper was somewhere on the floor, forgotten. I could still feel him inside me. The taste of his mouth. The marks of his hands.

I walked to the door. My hand trembled on the handle. I looked back once. He was already sitting at his desk again.

I stepped into the hallway and closed the door.