Her Possessive Professor by Gena Snow

Chapter 17

 

Jared

 

 

 

 

The library is my favorite location on campus next to the coffee shop. I sometimes spend hours here browsing among the poetry session. This being a Saturday, it is even quieter. The poetry reading takes place in a conference room on the first floor.

I’m surprised to see the crowd because I didn’t expect many students to care for poetry nowadays. A few of my students are there when I enter the room, chatting with each other. Alex is speaking to a person standing in front of a podium, who might be one of the poets. Hailey isn’t there. I can’t help the disappointment invading me. Despite what she has done, I still crave the sight of her. I try to convince myself it’s better she doesn’t show up, but I can’t lie to myself. She’s the main reason I’m here. Frankly, I don’t care so much for this kind of local poetry readings. I’ve been to many in the past and have never been impressed.

“Professor Price!” Alex is all smiles when he waves at me, beckoning me over.

“Hi, Alex!” I say.

“Thanks for taking the time to come,” he says. “Meet my friend George Murphy. He’s an accomplished poet. His work has appeared in many prestigious journals, including The Paris Review. And he’s an alumnus at Alton.”

George shakes my hand with enthusiasm. “Hi Dr. Price! How have you been?”

I stare at the bearded face for a moment and realized he was one of my past students. “Hi George! Is that you?”

George took my Modern Poetry nearly ten years ago when I first became a professor at Alton. I remember him being one of the few bright students I’ve had in my decade of teaching career.

“Yes, it’s me!” he says, grinning. “I miss your class.”

“Are you kidding?” I raise my eyebrows. I don’t get that often.

“No,” he says with a chuckle. “You were tough, but you were so passionate about poetry. I’m indebted to you for your inspirations.”

Wow. I’m speechless for a second, and then I nod. “Thank you, George. It really means a lot to me.”

After that, I shake hands with another local poet named Sam, who is a college dropout.  He’s frank about his disdain for higher education. “I love literature,” he tells me. “Don’t take it personally, but I just can’t stand the BS they teach at universities.”

“By BS, you mean?”

He shrugs. “Literary criticism and analysis, schools of thoughts, formalism, structuralism, deconstruction, etc. To me, poetry is art, and art is up to interpretation. There isn’t a right or wrong way to understand poetry. So why should I care about the opinions of authorities at Oxford or Harvard?

Well, he might have a point, although I disagree. “You don’t have to agree with them. Knowing their opinions might help you with your own critical thinking.”

“You see. The term critical thinking really bugs me. Why do we have to think critically? When you appreciate a piece of music, you like it and sing along with it, you don’t need to know why you like it and why it sounds good, do you?”

Knowing why makes it more enjoyable, I want to tell him, but I decide not to because he’ll disagree with me anyway. I curse silently. I’m not here to argue with someone I don’t even care for.

I’m thinking of an excuse to get out of here already when a slender woman wafts into the library.

My eyes are glued to her instantly, so are at least two other pairs because Sam has stopped speaking and Alex is walking toward her.

“Hey, Hailey! I’m glad you made it!”

I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help it. Hailey looks stunning in a one-piece tight little green dress that makes her eyes look more brilliant than usual. An elegant crochet bolero drapes over her shoulder, and she wears shoes with thick platforms. I haven’t noticed her long legs before, and I’m absolutely fascinated by them. I could kiss my way up from the ankles, savor every inch of her. Damn. The thought makes my cock swell.

When she comes closer, I see clearly her enticing curves from front to back. I want to pull her to me and feel her, but since I can’t, I clench my teeth to stop a growl. Why the hell isn’t she wearing her glasses? She looks as if she’s attending a party instead of a goddamn poetry reading. Why is she wearing a tight dress? Is she going on a date afterward? With whom? Alex?

Alex wraps his arm around her shoulders when he introduces her to George and Sam. I want to kill the bastard.

Sam’s eyes brighten, and the contempt on his face when he spoke of academics vanishes completely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Carson. Thanks for being here.”

Fuck off. I curse silently and wait for her to turn to look at me.

I’m staring at her so hard I think my eyeballs are going to fall out of my sockets, but the little slut doesn’t even acknowledge me.

“Hi Professor Price.” A male student’s voice distracts me, and I have no choice but to speak to him.

 

The first fifteen minutes of the reading pass with surprising satisfaction. George turns out to be a wonderful poet, and I’m very proud of him. But after that, it becomes excruciating. I don’t care much for Sam’s writings. Frankly, I do not think what he’s written is poetry at all. It’s mostly his ranting about his frustration over the world that doesn’t appreciate his genius. Not only is there no form, the rhyming is also off, and the similes are either stale or ridiculous. He’s a “beacon” that gives off light in a world guided by GPS. He’s a singer whose voice is drowned by electronic music. Whatever. I think he’s a vainglorious narcissist who’s begging to be recognized.

I shift in my seat, and my eyes wander off toward Hailey for the umpteenth time. She’s been extremely attentive. When she isn’t staring at the poets, she’s focusing on the brochure in front of her. I observe her as inconspicuously as possible, but then her eyes suddenly glance my way, and I freeze despite a voice telling me to look away. I search for signs of guilt in her eyes, and I detect a tinge of regret. She’s sorry about what she’s done, but I’m not going to forgive her, I tell myself.

When she stands up and walks toward the back, following the sign of the restrooms, I can’t stop myself from doing the same.

Shit. This is insane. I say to myself. I’m being too obvious. Am I really going to go after her under the watchful eyes of my students?

Hell yes.

The hallway to the restroom is long and winding, and soon I lose sight of her. I hear a door open and close ahead of me before I get to the lady’s room. Seeing no one is around me, I push the door open. Hailey is standing by the sink, looking into the mirror. She gasps when she sees me. “Jared! What’re you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m going to do?” I say as I lock the door.

I stand behind her and grasp her shoulders with both hands. “Isn’t that what you’re hoping I’ll do? Or are you waiting for someone else?”

Nudging her closer towards the counter using my pelvis, I gaze into her eyes in the mirror for a moment. They look startled at first and then suddenly turn dreamy.

I tighten my grasp, fighting my urge to kiss her, although her sweet scent tempts me to do so. Damn. I want her. “Why did you do that to me?”

“Do what?” she asks in a trembling voice.

“Stop playing dumb,” I growl, unable to stop my hand from sliding down to her collarbone. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t,” she whimpers. Her body trembles in response to my rough touch on her delicate skin. I move my hand lower, brushing it against the silk of her dress. She wriggles with a moan, right against my hard-on. Fuck.

“You little slut,” I bend lower to rasp into her ear. “Why do you dress like this? It’s a poetry reading, not a fucking party. Are you trying to seduce someone? You like to play with men, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t!” Tears threaten to roll down her cheeks.

I hesitate temporarily, and then I remind myself she’s just playing a game.

“Yes, you do,” I continue, squeezing her hardened nipple to make her wince. “You almost had me fooled, you little vixen. You looked so innocent. Were you really a virgin?”

“W-what do you mean? I can’t pretend to be that, can I?”

“I’m not sure about that. You might have tricked me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re insane!” she says, anger and embarrassment flash in her green eyes as she tries to pull away.

“Fine. I’ll find out myself, kitty. I bet your ‘cherry’ is back for another guy to pop.” I trap her between my legs, and then I hike up her skirt and palm her ass. Fuck me. She isn’t wearing any panties. I drink in the sight of her bare buttocks and croak, “You come to a poetry reading without panties? Ah, let me guess, it’s another of your fantasies to fuck in a library.”

Tears stream down her eyes as she mutters. “You’re crazy.” But she doesn’t resist as my finger finds its way to her center. “Fuck, Hailey. You’re dripping. Who’s responsible for that? Alex, George, or Sam? Or does poetry reading turn you on?”

She whimpers again but she doesn’t answer my question. “Why are you so mean?”

I push a finger into her tight channel and swirl it up, making her moan louder. Her face relaxes for a second, looking as if she enjoys my touch, although reluctantly. My finger thrusts deeper and deeper, and to my disappointment or delight, there’s no more barrier. What does it mean? She didn’t play tricks on me? She did offer her virginity to me? Why?

“Don’t stop, please,” she murmurs.

I realize I’ve stopped thrusting. Shit. I pull out my finger despite her plea.

I flip her to face me. “Why the hell did you do that? Begging me to pop your cherry and then suing me for harassment?”

Her eyes widen. “W-what are you talking about? I … I didn’t.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter. “Are you a friend of Lora Larson?”

“No,” she says. And then understanding dawns on her. “She came to talk to me last week after your class, and then she told me what you, err, did to her and tried to convince me into joining her in her lawsuit. But I haven’t agreed. In fact, I’m not going to because I found out she was a liar.”

I blink for a moment and then let out a breath of relief. “Then why am I receiving a complaint with your name on it?”

She shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t know. I swear I haven’t talked to her again.”

I gaze into her eyes, trying to decide whether she’s speaking the truth.

“Then why didn’t you answer my calls? And why did you send me that text?”

Her cheeks turn pink. “I believed her at first, and I… hated you.”

Shit. Of course. Lora Larson must’ve taken her by surprise.

I stroke her face with the back of my hand. “Are you saying you don’t believe her anymore?”

She shakes her head. “It’s why I’m here, Jared.”

“You came to see me?” My voice softens.

“Yes,” she says, her voice turning throaty. “And without panties.”

Damn. Being reminded by the fact, my cock throbs in my pants. I stroke her ass and then give her a playful swat.

“Bad girl!” I grunt. “Is it your fantasy to be taken in the library?”

“Yes, Jared,” she says in a throaty voice. “And by a professor.”

“You dirty, dirty, little thing,” I growl into her ear while reaching for my fly.

“Fuck me, please, Jared,” she croaks while slipping her hand into my pants.

I curse. I can hear the applause and voices at the other end of the corridor, but I don’t seem to care what’s right and wrong. All I know is Hailey’s hand feels good, and her pussy is dripping for me. She guides my crown to her slippery gash, and I nearly lose it right there.

Suddenly we hear women speaking outside and then a loud knock on the door. We freeze.

“The door is locked,” says a voice we both recognize. It’s a student in our class.

Hailey stares at me, and I hold her tight.

“Let’s use the one upstairs,” another woman suggests.

A minute later, we hear steps going up the stairs not far from us.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say to Hailey. My cock has wilted, and I shove it back into my pants.

“How?” Hailey is still breathing heavily while limping into my arms.

“There’s a back entrance,” I say as I adjust her dress and smooth her hair.

I give her a quick kiss on her lips before I open the door. I lead her down the back entrance, and soon we’re at the university parking.