LOGINRosieThe hallway of the department was empty. My footsteps sounded like thunder against the linoleum as I walked toward his office. It was 5:02 p.m. My heart was a frantic bird trapped in my chest, battering against my ribs. I shouldn't be here. I knew that. But when Professor Ashton tells you to come to his office, you don't say no. Not when he has a video of you on his phone that could ruin your entire life.Let's not forget to add⊠that it was a video I willingly sent to him.I reached the heavy wooden door. My hand shook as I knocked."Come in," his voice boomed. It was deep, calm, and terrifying.I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office smelled like expensive leather, old books, and that same sandalwood cologne that made my head spin. Professor Ashton was sitting behind his massive desk. He didn't look up. His eyes were fixed on the laptop in front of him, the blue light reflecting in his sharp, dark eyes. He looked incredibly⊠hot⊠and so fucking professional for s
RosieThe weekend air in the cafĂ© was thick with the smell of roasted beans and the chatter of Saturday customers. I moved behind the counter, clearing tables and steaming milk. It had been three days since Professor Ashton last messaged me. Three days of peace. I finally felt like I could breathe again. I was convinced he had grown bored of his little game. I was just a student, and he was a powerful manâsurely he had better things to do than haunt my phone for nudes.I wiped down the espresso machine, a small smile on my lips. "Itâs over," I whispered to myself.Buzz. Buzz.My heart did a painful flip. I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out my phone. My stomach dropped into my shoes.Talk of the devilâŠProfessor Ashton: Miss Rosie. You didn't think I forgot about you, did you?I froze. The milk steamer hissed, but I didn't hear it. My hands started to shake.Me: Professor Ashton. Respectfully, Sir, Iâm at work. I thought we were done with this.I tried to type a little more b
Rosie I sat in the very back row of the lecture hall. My heart was a drum, beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I stared at the screen of my phone, my hands shaking so much I almost dropped it. The message from Professor Ashton was staring back at me. He wanted a picture. Right now. In the middle of class. My hand moved on the screen, typing⊠Me: Iâm sorry, Sir. I donât understand. I watched him from across the sea of students. He barely even looked up from his notes, and my phone buzzed again instantly. Professor Ashton: You are a smart girl, Rosie. Donât play games with me. I swallowed hard. Me: But Sir... the class is full. Everyone is right here. He raised his phone. Up, a little. He stopped talking. He looked up from the podium, and he looked directly at me. His gaze was stiff, cold, and almost threatening. It felt like he was pinning me to my seat from across the room. Buzz buzz. Professor Ashton: Then you better be very careful, shouldnât you? I am waiting. Sha
Rosie The morning sun was too bright. It felt like a spotlight on my face as I sat at the small kitchen table with Ashton. My boyfriend was sipping his coffee, looking at me with a playful, slightly annoyed pout. My heart was still doing a nervous dance in my chest from yesterdayâs disaster. "I'm still a little disappointed, Rosie," Ashton said, setting his mug down with a clink. "I checked my phone all night. You didn't send me a single picture from your shoot." I forced a laugh, but it sounded thin and fake even to my own ears. "Youâre the one who told me 'no'! You said you didn't want to see them while you were in your meeting, remember?" "That doesn't mean I didn't want them at all," he teased, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "Who wouldn't want to see your hot body? You know Iâm your biggest fan." He leaned over and kissed me. It was a sweet, lingering kiss, but I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. How do I tell him? How do I explain that I actually sent th
Rosie The studio was quiet, except for the soft click-clack of the camera lens. The air felt warm against my skin, and the overhead lights were so bright and white that they made everything look like a dream. I stood right in the center of the room, my skin glowing under the studio lamps. I wasn't wearing a single stitch of clothing, but I felt more powerful than ever. My photographer and best friend, Jax, was crouching on the floor. He moved his camera around, searching for that perfect angle. "Damn, Rosie," Jax whispered, his eyes glued to the small screen. "You need to see this one. The way your boobs point out in this shot... if I wasn't gay, I would fuck you right now." I let out a loud, bubbly laugh and tossed my hair back. "Oh, stop it, Jax! You say that every time we do a nude shoot." "I say it because itâs true," he joked, clicking another picture. "Your body is a work of art. Look at the curve of your waist here. Itâs perfect." I walked over to him, my bare feet silent
"Greg... ahhh... mmm," she whispered. "Yes, right there."âShush, Vicky, shush." Greg teased. His voice was a low rumble in his chest that she could feel against her back. "You said someone could walk in. You better stay still."He didn't stay still, though. He pushed the fingers inside, stretching her. He began to move them in a slow, hooking motion. Every time he pulled back, he grazed a sensitive spot that made Vickyâs toes curl into the straw."Mmm-nnn-gh! Ohhh... god... yes!" Vicky moaned, her voice hitching with every stroke. "Mmm-hmmm... ahhh!" She tried to keep it low, but the pleasure was making her voice break. Her hands reached back, gripping Gregâs thick forearms. She was shaking.Gregâs thumb found her clit. He began to rub it in steady, heavy circles. He was firm and deliberate. He knew exactly how much pressure to use. The friction was like a slow-burning fire spreading through her stomach."Is this what you wanted?" Greg whispered into her ear. Sending sweet vibrations







