Romans & histoires Academy's Undercover Professor Novel 353

I couldn't explain what happened after that, except that it was almost embarrassingly normal. It started with Theo, of all people, making a dry comment about the academy's combat magic professor — something about how she'd once accidentally transmuted a student's familiar into a ceiling fan, and the familiar had been deeply unbothered by this, which said something concerning about the familiar. I laughed before I could stop myself, and Luca looked at me like I'd done something startling, and then Jax apparently heard us from his room because he wandered in fifteen minutes later in boxers and a t-shirt that said MONROE PACK FISHING TRIP 2019, poured himself juice directly from the carton, and

It was another massive flood, filling me up, a hot rush that spilled out around where we were joined, dripping onto the desk below with soft, wet sounds. He collapsed over me, his weight pressing me into the wood, his breath hot on my neck. We stayed like that, joined, panting, covered in sweat and cum. His dick was still buried in me. I still couldn’t believe it, I had fucked my Professor, I mean I just fucked Professor Reed in his office. He leaned close to my ear. “Looks like your story just got a sequel.”

“Lesson three: complete surrender.” He thrust deep in one long stroke, burying every inch in her tight heat. Lila cried out loud. “Fuck! It’s so deep… You’re stretching me so much, Professor.” He started pounding her hard, his hips slapping loudly against her ass. The desk shook under them. “This is what those old novels were really about. The older, powerful man claiming his young student. Feel how tight you grip me? This sweet pussy was made for your mentor’s cock.” “Harder,” she begged, pushing back to meet every thrust. “Even though it’s so wrong… fuck your student harder, Professor. Please!”

She is currently lounging on the living room sofa, drinking a fresh blood bag and watching a ridiculously gory slasher movie on the flat screen. I am running on the communal treadmill in the corner, burning off my heavy Wagyu dinner, my body drenched in sweat. "So, about our Class 1 teachers," Liviel calls out over the sound of chainsaw massacres on the TV. "The curriculum is split into Academic and Practical training." I increase the speed on the treadmill. "Go on." "Our Academic homeroom Professor is the Awakener of the God of Abundance. He is incredibly gentle and soft-spoken most of the time. But whatever you do, do not piss him off. When he gets angry..."

“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll get you deflowered before finals.” The other girls giggled like hyenas, and I wanted to melt into the carpet. “Actually,” Miranda chimed in, “I heard it’s not just the guys. Apparently Weston has… really hot professors.” “Ohhh, now we’re talking,” Kelly purred. “Details, bitch, don’t hold out.” Miranda leaned forward, whispering. “There’s this one—Professor Hale. Teaches English Lit. He’s only, like, thirty? Everyone says he’s tall, dark, tattoos under his shirts, the whole package.”

I grab the remote, flip to Channel 3. My face fills the screen, a photo from the university website. Then Mateo’s. Then the headline: PROFESSOR’S SECRET STUDIO: STUDENT CLAIMS COERCION IN NUDE MODELING SCANDAL I feel the room spinning. “That’s not…I never claimed…” “Keep watching,” Sofia says. The anchor continues: “In an exclusive interview, an anonymous student alleges Professor Mateo Sandoval of the University of Barcelona created a pattern of inappropriate relationships, using his position to pressure female students into modeling nude for private art projects.”

"Yes, sir. When I mentioned I was researching Academy security incidents, he said his combat strategy expertise might be relevant." It was close enough to the truth to sound believable. "Very well. I'll escort you to his office." "Thank you, sir." As we walked toward the academic wing, my heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. I was about to walk back into the predator's den and pretend to be his willing accomplice. All while knowing he was fully aware of who I really was. Professor Aldrin's office door was open when we arrived. He looked up from his desk, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Before the professor can melt into the shadows, Ryder strips his gloves and helmet, shoving them at a equipment manager, and sprints down the tunnel, his skates clacking harshly against the concrete. He catches Adrian just as he reaches the heavy metal doors leading to the parking lot. "Professor," Ryder calls out, his voice raspy from shouting plays on the ice. Adrian freezes, his hand hovering over the push bar. He turns, and for a split second, his mask of academic composure slips, his eyes widening as they rake over Ryder’s sweaty, disheveled form. He doesn't say a word, just nods stiffly, a flush creeping up his neck, before pushing the door open and disappearing into the night. Ryder g

The same mouth that had been on me last night. Professor Elias Thorne. The man I fucked senseless in a hotel room. The man I was supposed to marry. He scanned the room and his eyes landed on me. I could see the same recognition I had on my face, flash through his. But it was gone in a second as he cleared his throat and stepped onto the podium. “Good morning,” he said calmly. “I’m Professor Thorne. Welcome to Advanced Literary Theory.” For a moment I just remained transfixed. Mara nudged me. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Professor Themis adjusted his wire rimmed spectacles, his fingers hovering just a millimeter above the cracked leather of a tome that had not been requested from the vaults in over three hundred years. Outside, the rain was a relentless percussion against the high, arched windows of the spire. The academy was still screaming. Even through four feet of reinforced granite, Themis could feel the jagged, discordant vibrations of the student body. The lockdown had turned Blackthorn into a pressure cooker. Everyone was curious about what would happen next and they were scared who I would attack next as if I was some beast who had lost its mind and was out for vengeance. I stood at the corner looki