Office hours: Wednesday, 2–4 p.m.The sign on his door read as much, but Sophia was there at 1:55, pulse racing.She knocked once.“Come in.”Professor Grant sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, tie loosened, reading glasses on. A stack of ungraded midterms waited beside him. The door to the outer hallway was closed; the blinds drawn just enough to dim the afternoon light.He didn’t look up from his papers.“On your knees, pet. Under the desk.”Sophia’s breath caught. She slipped inside, locked the door behind her, and dropped her bag by the chair. The space under his large oak desk was generous—plenty of room for her to kneel between his spread legs.She crawled in slowly, skirt riding up her thighs, heart hammering at the thrill of it. Anyone could knock. A colleague. A student with a legitimate question.He pushed his chair back just enough for her to settle between his feet, then rolled forward again, trapping her in warm, dim confinement. The scent of him—cologne, p
最終更新日 : 2026-02-26
