∞∞∞
I have nearly three hours to kill between now and my tutorial with Professor Dickwad, so I head to the library, finding a nice quiet corner where I won’t be disturbed. I somehow manage to stay awake long enough to complete his essay and soon enough, I’m heading to his office, my heart pounding loud enough to hear it in my ears.
I knock on his office door and he calls for me to enter from inside. I drop my bag onto the floor and sit on the opposite side of his desk.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Taylor, I half expected you to bail on me,” he deadpans, locking his fingers together where they rest on the desk.
A flash of gold catches my eye, and my eyes zero in on the wedding ring that bands around his finger. I don’t know why, but I almost feel disappointed and a little bit jealous, though I have no right to be, it’s not like anything could actually happen between us.
“Before we get onto your essay, I want you to tell me what’s going on.” His voice snaps my eyes back up to his, and I’m met with a concerned expression.
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t give me that, Miss Taylor. Our first class and you arrive late, since then I’ve noticed you not paying attention a number of times, so I’ll ask you again, what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing, honesty. I’m just tired.”
His jaw ticks, he’s obviously not happy with my answer, and looks as though he’s going to press the subject, but he must think better of it when he turns to his computer. “Alright, now, I’ve looked over your essay and I’m pleasantly surprised. Your analysis of feminism inThe Bell Jarwas impressive, exactly where I expect you to be at this stage in the semester. Good job. Despite my previous reservations about you, I think you’re going to do well in my class.”
My heart lightens at his words, the weight pressing down on my shoulder has lifted. “Thank you.”
He talks more in depth about my essay, pointing out areas he particularly liked and some that could so with some improvement.
After he excuses me, I near the door but he stops me. “Miss Taylor, I want you know that if there’s anything wrong, youcantalk to me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind Professor, thanks.”
As I walk out, the heat of his gaze that still lingers on me, telling me he’s watching me, prickles my skin and my heart skips a beat.
Chapter 8
Dwight
“Dwight... please...” I peer down at my beautiful wife, her chestnut brown hair fanned across the pillow as she gazes up at me with love in her eyes.
I push in, and we both moan in unison. God, she feels so good. I begin to move in and out slowly, savouring every moment of this bliss.
Her hand reaches up to cup my neck, bringing my mouth down onto hers.
“I love you so damn much, Grace,” I groan.
“More. Fuck me harder.”
I wanted to take it slow, but I don’t need to be told twice.
My head drops forward and I bury my face in the crook of her neck, sucking on the skin there, and the moan that escapes her lips spurs me on and I start to thrust my hips harder, my movements becoming wild as I fuck her into the mattress beneath us.
“Harder, Professor!” she screams.
Wait, what? Since when did Grace call me Professor?
That wasn’t Grace’s voice.
That was…
My thrusts slow and I pull out. I lift my head up to find jet black hair splayed across the light oak wood of my desk and warm brown eyes staring up at me.
“Quinn?”
