My Hot Professor pt2

The classroom had emptied out, the echoes of shocked whispers and hurried footsteps fading into the hallway. My heart pounded like a drum in my chest as I stood outside Professor Rynne's office door, my cheeks burning from the humiliation of what I'd done. I'd clicked the wrong link during my presentation—some stupid p**n video blasting moans and wet slaps loud enough for the entire lecture hall to hear. Now, here I was, summoned like a criminal.

I knocked timidly and pushed the door open. Professor Rynne sat behind his desk, his broad shoulders filling out the crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His dark eyes locked onto mine, intense and unreadable. The room smelled of old books and his cologne—something woody and commanding.

“Close the door,” he said, his voice low and authoritative, sending a unexpected thrill through me.

I did, my hands trembling. “It’s an accident… I swear I didn’t know about the link,” I blurted out, my palm flying to my cheek in a reflexive slap of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I’d never—”

He rose from his chair in one fluid motion, towering over me as he rounded the desk. Before I could finish, his fingers caught my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His touch was firm, electric. Then, without a word, his lips crashed onto mine—slow at first, exploring, then deepening into a kiss that stole my breath. His tongue parted my lips, tasting me with a passion that made my knees weaken.

God, a shiver raced down my spine, pooling heat between my thighs. I shouldn't, but I kissed him back, my hands clutching his shirt as I pressed into him. What else could I do? The risk, the forbidden pull—it was intoxicating. When I finally pulled away, gasping, his eyes burned with a dangerous hunger, like a predator who'd waited too long for his prey.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this day, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Ever since you walked into my class that first day, swaying those hips in that tight skirt. I’ve imagined bending you over my desk, hearing you beg for it.”

His mouth trailed down my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, then lower to the swell of my cleavage peeking from my blouse. I arched into him, a soft moan escaping as his teeth grazed the edge of my bra. He unbuttoned my shirt with deliberate slowness, exposing my lace bra, and his lips followed the path, sucking lightly on the curve of my breast.

“Professor… Rynne,” I whimpered, my fingers tangling in his hair.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hand sliding up my thigh under my skirt. “Tell me the truth. Did you play that p**n in class just to get my attention? Were you hoping I'd drag you here and fuck you senseless? Admit it—you wanted this cock inside you, hard and deep.”

His words hit like a spark to dry tinder. I bit my lip, nodding as shame and desire twisted inside me. “Yes… maybe. It was an accident, but… God, yes, I’ve thought about you. About you taking me right here.”

A growl rumbled from his throat. “Good girl. Now show me how slutty you can be.”

He spun me around, bending me over the desk with a firm hand on my back. Papers scattered, but I didn't care. His fingers hooked into my panties, yanking them down my thighs. Cool air hit my exposed pussy, already slick with arousal. I heard his zipper, then the rustle of fabric, and felt the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

“Beg for it,” he commanded, teasing me by rubbing along my folds.

“Please, Professor,” I gasped, pushing back against him. “Fuck me. I need your cock so bad.”

He thrust in with one brutal stroke, stretching me wide, filling me completely. I cried out, gripping the desk edges as he set a punishing rhythm—hard, deep pumps that made my breasts bounce against the wood. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me onto him, our skin slapping together in a filthy symphony.

“You're so tight, sweetheart,” he groaned, leaning over me to kiss my shoulder. “This pussy was made for my dick. Squeeze it—milk me like the slut you are.”

I clenched around him, moaning louder as pleasure built. He reached around, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing in tight circles that had me trembling. “That's it. Come for me. Show me how much you wanted this.”

The orgasm hit me like a wave, my walls pulsing around his cock as I screamed his name. He didn't stop, pounding harder, chasing his own release. “Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up,” he grunted, and with a final thrust, he buried himself deep, hot cum flooding my pussy.

We stayed like that for a moment, panting, his body heavy on mine. He pulled out slowly, a trail of our mixed fluids dripping down my thigh. Turning me to face him, he kissed me again—tender this time, but still possessive.

“Next time,” he murmured, “no accidents. Come to my office when you want to be fucked.”

I nodded, breathless and sated, already craving more.