Her Possessive Professor by Gena Snow
Chapter 10
Hailey
I’m at my desk working on my smut. As I write, I keep thinking about Jared, who is also the character in my story. My desire for him has never lessened in the past two days, and whenever I’m not doing anything that requires my attention, my mind turns to our passionate moment.
One thing I wonder a lot about is what if Jared hadn’t pulled himself away from me that night. I was disappointed he refused to pop my cherry although he might be doing the right thing. At least he was right about me. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing. I wasn’t sure whether he was worth it. Hell, I didn’t even know the guy well. He’s so complicated. A flirt at the bar, a grumpy professor in the classroom, a gallant knight in the dark night… I’m strongly attracted to all three, but I’m also not thinking straight.
I force myself to compose the scene that takes place in the professor’s office.
“The professor pounds me over and over, stretching my walls with his foot-long cock, until the force I’m holding breaks through and I cry out. Fuck. He lets out a low grunt at the same time, and a gallon of hot cum erupts inside me, filling me to the brim, spilling onto my thighs and dripping onto his desk. Oh God. I imagine one day our babies running in this very office they’re conceived and I smile with content… The end.”
I let out a breath of relief. Done. I’m a day past the deadline I set for myself because I have so much fun writing it that I edit it over and over. But I have to stop because I don’t want to mess up my editor’s schedule again. Besides, it’s four in the morning, and I have to finish the paper on T. S. Eliot that’s due at noon.
After I email my story to my editor, I work on my essay. Shit. I don’t know what to write. I’ve never had writer’s block when I write stories, but it always takes me forever to write critical essays for English classes.
I stare at my computer screen for ten minutes before I start typing. An hour later, I’ve written one paragraph. Damn. I look up my notes and force myself to recall some class discussions and try again. Two hours later, I manage to have the required three pages, although I can’t even make much sense of what I’ve written. I run a spelling and grammar check and close the file. Damn. It’s almost seven in the morning. I head for the bed.
I wake when my alarm screams next to my pillow. I snooze it and go back to bed. When I wake again, it’s fifteen minutes to noon. Shit. There’s no way I can make it to class on time. I’ll be late again. And that isn’t even the main problem.
Professor Price has a strict no-late-work policy, and he’s stressed the fact many times since our first meeting. I think quickly and come up with a plan. I’ll be better off skipping the class and email him the essay instead.
I wake my computer quickly and start the mail app. I find the professor’s email address from the school website and type the message with trembling hands and a groggy head. “I’m very sorry, Professor, I think I’ve come down with the flu. I don’t want to spread the germs, so it’s better I email you my assignment. I hope you’ll accept it. Thanks!” I send the message quickly, without attaching anything. Shit. I curse and quickly attach a file in a new message. By the time I’m done, it’s five minutes to noon. Whew. I inhale deeply, pleased with my quick wit—and then my heart plunges as I realize what file I attached, and I scream. I sent him the smut I wrote last night.
The fog in my brain clears right away as I think of a remedy. The first thing I do is send him a third email titled “Urgent: Please Do Not Open My Last Attachment!!!” I explained it was a mistake and the content of the attachment was supposed to be confidential and he shouldn’t read it, and then I attach the correct file.
I sit by the desk long after I hit the send button. What if he opened the file without seeing my correction? What if he disregarded my plea? Panicked, I get dressed and head for school. I’m positive he wouldn’t be reading email during class time, so if I got to class before it was over, I could warn him in person and maybe even follow him to his office and witness him deleting the message.
