Chapter 3

He pulled back just enough to growl at me. “You've been teasing me with those looks, it's time  to see if you can handle it.” His hands were on my waist, yanking me up against him. I felt his hardness press into my thigh, thick and insistent through his pants. My body reacted fast, my cock leaking out precum.

We stumbled back toward his desk, his mouth on my neck, sucking it hard.

"Strip," he ordered, his voice rough. I fumbled with my shirt, pulling it off. My chest bare, with my nipples pebbling in the air. He groaned, his eyes on me as I shoved down my jeans and boxers, my cock springing free, already leaking.

“Good boy,” he murmured, palming my chest, his thumb circling a nipple. I arched into his touch, a whimper escaping my mouth. His other hand slid down, gripping my cock, stroking slowly. I bucked against his hand, nodding frantically. He pumped faster, his thumb swiping the head, and I gripped his shoulders, moaning loudly.

“Quiet.” he warned, but his eyes said he loved it. He squeezed my balls, rolling them, and stars burst behind my lids. I was close already, my body trembling.

But he stopped, pulling away and I whined, desperate for his touch. “Not yet…Get on  the desk, now.”

I hopped up on it, my ass on the cool wood, my legs spreading wide without thinking. He stepped between them, unzipping his pants. His cock sprang free, long and thick with veins standing out. Pre-cum beaded at the tip. He stroked himself once, his eyes locked on mine, then grabbed my thighs, pulling me to the edge.

“You want this?” he asked, rubbing the head against my hole, slick with spit he hawked quickly. 

"Yes, please," I begged, hips lifting.

He thrust in hard, filling me in one go. I cried out, the stretch burning me sweetly. He didn't wait and pounded me deeply, the desk creaking under us. His hands gripped my hips, bruising, as he fucked me steadily, each slam hitting me so hard. 

“You’re so tight.”  he grunted, leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing it. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, my nails digging into his back. The room was filled with wet slaps, our breaths and my moans.

He shifted, angling to hit that spot with every thrust and pressure built fast, coiling tight in my gut.

“Come for me.”  he commanded, one hand sliding down to stroke my cock.

I shattered, ass clenching around his dick, cum shooting across my chest. He kept going, drawing it out, until I was shaking. Then he pulled out, flipping me over quickly. 

“Ass up.” 

I bent forward, my elbows on the desk, presenting myself. He slapped my ass once, the sharp sting making me yelp, then he was back inside, deeper this way. His hand fisted my hair, pulling my head back as he rutted hard.

“Oh, yes.” he growled, the pace brutal. I pushed back, meeting him, loving the fullness. His free hand reached around, jerking my spent cock back to life.

Another orgasm hit me, dry this time, my body spasming. He followed, groaning as he came, hot spurts filling me deep. We stayed like that, panting, his body over mine.

“Lesson over.”  he said finally, kissing my shoulder. But we both knew it was just the start.

I blinked, pulling myself back to the present as I walked across campus. That story had me worked up all over again, my jeans feeling too tight, my cock half-hard. Why did writing it feel like living it? And why couldn't I stop?

I fastened my pace as I took the stairs to the third floor of the clinical theater, to lecture hall 312. I slowed at the door, peeking through the small window. Rooke was at the front, marker in his hand as he drew on the board. Bryce sat in the back row, his arms crossed, observing.

My heart skipped and I contemplated skipping the class but I knew that my attendance would suffer for it and I didn't want that. 

I slipped in as quietly as I could, my head down as I aimed for an empty seat in the back. The door creaked and heads turned. Rooke's voice also paused.

“Mr. Wright,”  Rooke said, not even looking up. “Nice of you to join us.”

I froze, my cheeks on fire. The room was silent, with all eyes on me.

 “I’m sorry, professor.” I mumbled and hurried to a seat. Bryce's gaze followed me, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Rooke continued, his voice sharp. “As I was saying, in a trauma case, hesitation kills. You have to move fast and precisely, with no room for distractions.”  His eyes flicked to mine for a second, hard and I sank lower in my chair, my notebook out but blank. 

The day dragged on after that and lectures blurred together. I scribbled notes in class, but half were ideas for my next writing, how Wyatt and Bryce would corner me, take turns with me and make me beg. 

And before I knew it, right in class, I was already writing one of my fantasies again. I completely focused on it, my hands moving fast on the sheet of paper. 

“See me after your last class today. We need to discuss your performance on your last clerking." Wyatt said to me and my stomach flipped. 

I showed up at his door, my heart racing, knocking softly. 

“Come in.” 

The office was dim, his bookshelves were full and his desk was neat. He looked up from the papers he was reading. “Sit.”

I did, fidgeting. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Your grades are slipping and frankly, you seem... elsewhere during my lectures.” He leaned back, staring at me and that intense gaze made my skin prickle.

“I'm sorry.” I mumbled, heat rising in my cheeks. “I'll do better.”

He stood, walking around the desk. “How do you want to do better? Do you need some motivation?”

His hand was on my shoulder now, squeezing it. I looked up, my breath catching. 

“Professor..”

"Wyatt," he corrected, his thumb brushing my neck. 

Things escalated very fast. His mouth was on mine, hungrily. His hands everywhere, under my shirt, pinching nipples. I stood, pressing against him and feeling his erection.

“Lock the door,”  he said, his voice low.