Teachin the Burn

The clock ticking loudly on the wall above my office door was the only thing I could focus on this afternoon. I despised office hours.

I knew why they existed—because it was a designated time that my students could get help without having to schedule an appointment—but the days when no one utilized my availability sucked.

It also didn’t help that I’d had difficulty focusing on my job lately. It was frowned upon to fantasize about your students, but I couldn’t help myself.

Every Tuesday morning, the object of my unhealthy obsession would sit in the front row of my two-hundred-student lecture on the Fundamentals of Resistance Training.

Since last semester, I’d been fighting to resist my inappropriate thoughts for a certain dark-haired undergrad.

The student likely didn’t even realize they were the reason for my unhealthy level of eye contact with the front row.

It was so I could watch the undergrad. Study the way they chewed on their lower lip while they took notes. Observe how their snug shirt clung to their chest in a way that let me know the exact contours of what was hidden beneath.

Not that I hadn’t seen more skin when I’d run into them at the gym my friend Jordan owned.

I wanted to chalk it up to a coincidence, but I often caught them studying me intently during the lecture when other students were busy scribbling notes.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking that they might feel a fraction of the attraction I’d been battling.

A soft knock on the glass of my door pulled me out of my thoughts and back into reality. “Come in. It’s open.”

A familiar head of soft, brown hair the color of warm caramel appeared through a crack in the door, a wide smile causing one to spread on my lips.

“What’re you doing here? I thought I texted you that I’d join you after I was done here.”

“Maybe I wanted to see you sooner than that.” Javi grinned, his easy smile not giving any hints as to why he’d shown up in my office.

He’d been here a few times before, but it wasn’t like he made a point of driving across town to the university where I taught.

He was more a student of the human experience than one who enjoyed academic pursuits, but he wasn’t just a pretty face.

Between fucking on every surface of his apartment, and mine, we’d had some deep conversations about everything ranging from philosophy to art theory to modern developments in sports medicine.

“And why were you so eager to see me in my element? Do old buildings with leaky windows suddenly turn you on?”

Javi’s eyes flashed dangerously with barely restrained heat.

It was a look I’d seen dozens of times before, usually when he was contemplating the most efficient method of peeling off my athletic gear after another late-night session at the climbing gym where he was an instructor and silent investor.

I’d originally—mistakenly—thought he was just another pretty boy who took joy in vapid pursuits instead of doing something with his life. That was just the facade he wanted people to see.

“While the lovely aroma of this building is quite unique, I have to say I prefer the scent of the tiny panties I know you’re hiding under that skirt to anything else in this building.”

“Such a sweet talker you are. You came across town to be a questionably creepy panty sniffer instead of spending time with the woman who warms your bed at night.”

He raised an eyebrow as he crossed the room, stopping in front of my desk chair and extending his hand to help me stand.

As I rose to my full height, almost eye to eye with him in my high heels, he ducked down, burying his face in my neck and sucking on the skin behind my ear.

“What did I tell you about your hair, cariño? Sabes que me encanta agarrar tu cabello en mi puño~.”

I shivered as he slowly trailed his lips down the column of my neck, turning us so I could sit on the corner of my desk. He’d found out early into our relationship that I had a thing for him whispering into my skin in Spanish.

I wasn’t confident enough in my linguistic skills to reply in his native language, but I understood enough to interpret the dirty things he said to me sometimes.

“You know I need to wear it up at work.” He rarely saw it down, but my natural curls seemed to bring out his animalistic side when my dark hair formed a soft halo around my head. “It’s easier to tame this way.”

He was quite adept at stripping me by now, although sometimes he didn’t bother, simply moving enough clothing out of the way so he could drive me crazy with his fingers or his tongue or his surprisingly generous uncut cock.

Parker had warned me about tall, skinny guys and the weapons they often hid in their pants, but it’d been years since I’d been with a man, and before that, I hadn’t had many to compare.

“What do you think you’re doing down there?” I laughed, trailing off into a gasp as his teeth bit down on my nipple through my scant lace covering.

While I was all business on the outside, at work, I often preferred to wear frilly, lacy lingerie because it made me feel empowered and feminine.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, Professor Phillips. I’m trying to get in some extra credit before I have you bent over this desk, screaming out my name.

“I think I can have you coming by the time your office hours are over. The halls were deserted on my way in, but I saw a mutual acquaintance downstairs in the lobby.”

“Javi,” I breathed, bracing myself on my locked arms, my hands sliding on the papers behind me as I tried to keep my composure.

“Louder than that, but we can work on it. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you, cariño? Te he visto verla. Ella es muy hermosa~.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I gasped as his fingers slowly drew the hem of my skirt upward, sneaking beneath the material to pull my panties to the side.

“Liar,” he growled, teasing me with the tips of his fingers, barely exerting any effort to make me wet.

I hated that he had this much power over my body, never thinking I’d be attracted to a man, especially one like him, but rope wasn’t the only thing he tied up in knots with his nimble fingers.

“We both know you think about what it’d be like para enterrar tu lengua en su coño~.”

He wasn’t wrong, but I knew he’d also noticed how beautiful my student was.

I’d seen how he flirted with her at the gym when he’d helped behind the desk, watching her classes through the glass wall that extended the room’s length.

I wasn’t the only one dying to get my lips between her long, toned legs.

“I wonder what your response would be if she knocked on your door right now?” he whispered, turning me. He sat in my chair and reclined to give him easier access to unbutton his pants.

I knew I should shut this down, or at least lock my door, but something about pretending I was his naughty professor appealed to me.

I kept my professional life completely separate from my personal one, avoiding any conversations about my sexual orientation because it wasn’t anyone’s fucking business.

Being bisexual, and leaning heavily toward a preference for women for a long time, sometimes clouded people’s perceptions of me.

It was total bullshit, but academics weren’t as open to shirking binary norms as they liked to believe. I wanted my professional reputation to be based on my academic contributions, not on whose face I wanted to sit on.

As Javi parted his zipper, reached into his boxer briefs to pull out his cock, and stroked it twice, the foreskin revealing the plump head already weeping, I decided I didn’t care.

I could live out this fantasy and return to being a badass professor after he left.

“Maybe I should lock the door,” I responded, mesmerized by how he touched himself. It never got old how shameless he was about chasing pleasure—both his and mine.

It was part of the reason I’d agreed to this arrangement.