Chapter 140 On My Knees For Professor

• I couldn’t stop touching myself all week. Every night I’d sprawl on my dorm bed, legs wide, fingers circling my clit while I replayed that moment in his office over and over. The way his hand had closed around my throat, not hurting, just owning. The heat of his cock twitching under my palm when I squeezed it on my way out. The promise in his voice—low, rough, dripping with control—when he said he’d make me swallow every drop. I came so hard the first night I soaked the sheets, biting my pillow to keep from moaning his name loud enough for my roommate to hear. By Wednesday I was edging myself three, four times a day, stopping right before the crest, whispering “Daddy, please” into the dark like a prayer. I wanted to be wrecked when I walked back into that office. I wanted him to smell how desperate I was.
• I didn’t fix the paper. Of course I didn’t.
• Instead I wore the shortest skirt I owned—black pleated, barely grazing the tops of my thighs—and a cropped white button-up tied just under my tits, no bra, no panties again. Nipples already stiff from the AC and the anticipation. I painted my lips cherry red, the kind that smears everywhere. Mascara that would run if I cried. I wanted proof on my face when I left.