Teach Me Better Ch 01

Author's Note: I'm sorry it's been forever since I've posted anything. Life has been challenging me a lot lately... but all I want to do is write, so I'm back! I hope you enjoy this piece! And I want to improve my writing, so any and all suggestions are welcome.

-Lamb

Chapter 1

Does anyone really like speaking up in class? Well, there always seemed to be that one girl who knew the answer to everything the professor asked, but that girl wasn't me. Each time a question was posed to the more-or-less awake students, I furrowed my brow and stared thoughtfully at my book. It would be mean to call on me mid thought, right? This didn't always work, but at least it saved me this time.

"Randy, what do you think the apocalypse would look like to our author?" Professor asked.

I don't think Randy did the reading. He looked down at his book, looked up at Professor, and smiled sheepishly. A few giggles broke out, and someone else raised their hand to answer the question and rescue Randy.

Honestly, I felt bad. Professor Starling was passionate about his studies pertaining to imaginings of the apocalypse from ancient texts to modern novels. While I was supposed to be an English major, I couldn't contribute meaningfully to any conversation. At least, not in my current state, not after everything that happened recently... I brought my mind back from wandering to find class coming to an end.

"Don't forget about dinner tonight. My address is on the board. And don't worry, it'll be over early enough so you all can go and take part in your very fun—very legal—Friday night activities," our professor said as he leaned against the podium at the front of the classroom. A laugh brushed over the room, and everyone began reaching for their bags.

My fingers had barely touched the strap of my backpack when I heard my name.

"Eva, do you have a minute?"

I looked up and made eye contact with my professor who was watching me closely. Only after my classmates had wandered off into the hallway did he step forward, and I shifted in my seat, trying to decide if I should stand or remain sitting. In the end, my butt didn't leave the chair. He lean forward, gripping the sides of my desk with both hands.

"Are you doing all right?" he asked. "You seem quieter than usual. I don't want to overstep, but I am worried."

My heart fluttered as I stared up at him, and my fingers scratched at a groove in my desk. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. That's why I didn't go to office hours. I couldn't be around him without wondering what he'd look like without a shirt... or pants. It's not my fault he was perfect. My classmates and I figured he was about forty years old, but he still looked great. A bit of gray had infiltrated his dark hair, and he had faint smile lines near his eyes. Apparently, he kept in shape according to some guys who mentioned seeing him at the gym pretty often.

I eventually managed to force out a response. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Just a bit stressed, but it's nothing I can't handle."

I cursed the gentle smile that played on his face. His hand came to rest on mine, stopping my fidgeting.

"Well, I'm here if you need someone to talk to. You know where my office is," he said with a wink.

"Thank you, professor." My voice was hardly above a whisper. "I'll see you at dinner."

I might have hesitated in the doorway on my way out...

The rest of the day passed by at a torturous crawl. With no more classes to distract me, I lounged in my dorm room and thought endlessly about our interaction. His hand on mine, his soft gray eyes... Hotter images flitted through my mind. What would have happened if I went to his office in my vulnerable state? Would I have told him everything? Probably. Would I have let him lock the door? Yeah. Would I have let him take me on top of his desk? Definitely.

The heat in my face travelled down through my chest and abdomen before settling between my legs. Every part of me knew it was wrong to think of my professor like this, but that didn't stop my hand from dropping lower and lower. If I closed my eyes I could pretend it was his hand. It was his hand that slid up my thigh and glided over my swollen clit. They were his fingers that slipped inside me. Instead of my moans I could hear his voice encouraging me, bringing me closer to the edge. My release came quickly, but it wasn't enough. My desire stuck with me. I needed him.

Dinner started at six, so I hopped in the shower just before five. It wasn't the biggest shower, but it definitely beat using the communal ones back at the dorms. I moved into my own apartment as soon as I was able to after my sophomore year. Living with a bunch of other budding adults who hadn't quite learned the basics of hygiene or personal space only added to the stress of adjusting to college. Having my own place was much more my speed. It was nice to just exist in a calm, quiet space.

Living alone also gave me the ability to walk around in little more than mismatched lingerie while I airdried my curls. Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I inspected my body. I found myself wondering if professor would like my small waist that flared into wide hips, dragging my hands over each part as I went. What if he preferred a straighter frame? Or what if he liked tall women? I cursed myself for even caring. It didn't matter. Nothing would ever happen between us.

Eventually, I pulled on the same white sweater I had worn all day but swapped my jeans for my favorite pink skirt. I had overheard a lot of my classmates planning to give each other rides to the dinner, but I wasn't really part of the friend group. I had friends in other classes, just not this one. Thus, Uber would have to get me where I was going. With thirty minutes until dinner started, I called for my ride. I threw my hair up into a lazy—but cute—ponytail and stuck a pink bow on it. Maybe I wanted a bit of attention...

Professor's house was bigger than I thought it'd be. My ride pulled up to the cozy Tudor as I checked the address twice. There were a few other cars out front that I assumed belonged to my classmates. A timid voice in the back of my mind wanted to go back home, but this dinner was considered a class meeting and I probably couldn't afford to lose out on the participation points. Sucking in a breath, I hopped out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride," I said to the driver who waved as he pulled away.

Walking up the path to the door, I couldn't help but notice the flowers lining the way. It was cute, really, and it wasn't all that surprising that professor was into gardening. He always struck me as the sensitive type. A plump tuxedo cat lounged in a flowerpot beside the door, crushing whatever was planted in there.

"Hello, not-so-little kitty," I said, reaching down to pat its head, "do you live with Professor Starling?"

The door swung open before I could knock, and I found myself face-to-face with the man himself.

"I see you've met Poutine," was the first thing he said, and I completely forgot about the cat. I almost forgot where I was.

"Uh, hi, Professor," I managed to squeak out.

The corner of his mouth turned up, and his eyes wandered over me. "Hi, Eva, I'm glad you're here. Come in." He stepped to the side, and my shoulder brushed against his as I passed into the entryway. Even the simplest contact made my heart skip. I could smell his cologne, and I almost pounced on him right then. But the sound of voices coming from a room further into the house brought me back to my senses.

We joined the others in the dining room, and I realized I was the last one to arrive. This meant the only open chair left was next to Professor's, as the others had filled in next to and across from their friends. Thankfully, I wasn't actually late, so the food was still hot on the table. I took my seat next to Professor and looked down the table to where a heated debate about our recent readings was taking place, and I pretended to be interested in the discussion. All I could think about, though, was the man directly beside me.

Eventually, after the dispute was more or less settled, dinner began, and Red Jen dominated the conversation like she did in the classroom. We called her Red Jen because there were three girls named Jennifer in our class, but she was the only redhead. She was energetic and made everyone laugh—even Professor. And she was pretty.

As I watched Professor chuckle at one of her jokes, I wondered what he thought of her. I found an angry heat bubbling in my chest. I caught myself and took a deep breath. There was no point in getting jealous. I was creating scenarios to get mad over, and it's not like he belonged to me anyway.

Just like with class, by the time dinner was coming to an end, I had only offered maybe one or two points to the discussion. Despite how idiotic I thought my ideas were, Professor just smiled and nodded along with what I said as if he agreed. He built upon my thoughts and asked the others for their opinions. It was encouraging. He cared about what I said. Not even my ex-boyfriend did that.

We offered to wash our own dishes and, despite our professor's protesting, made sure everything we touched was spotless. Once everything was picked up, my classmates quickly filtered out into the night, excited for a night of loud music and cheap drinks. I lied that my Uber was on the way when Red Jen asked if I needed a ride back to my apartment. In reality, I hadn't quite confirmed my request. You could say I was stalling... or that I didn't have any plans to go home at all.

As the last car pulled away, I became painfully aware of Professor standing in the doorway only a few feet behind me. I rocked back on my heels and glanced over my shoulder.

"Have a seat inside while you wait for your ride. No point waiting out in the cold," he said, tilting his head toward the living room. A cool breeze lifted my skirt as if on cue, and I shuffled back into the warmth of the house.

"Thanks," I mumbled. "I'm sure they'll be here soon."

"Well, maybe you don't have to go so soon." He flashed me a knowing smile, and my heart skipped so many beats I thought it had stopped altogether.

We found our way to the living room, and I sat on the leather couch, leaning into the armrest as far as I could. Professor excused himself to the kitchen and returned a moment later with two glasses of wine. I almost refused the one offered to me, but my nerves begged me to take it. I needed something to calm me.

Professor sat on the opposite side of the couch and took a sip from his glass. I took one from mine. A few sips later, I found my body turning towards him a bit more. My knee had stopped bouncing by the time he spoke up.

"How's your semester going?" he asked.

A simple question. I could answer a simple question.

"Oh, you know. It's school," I said with a small shrug. "It's a little scary being a senior, though."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I can imagine. What do you want to do after?"

"Well, I've always wanted to write, but... you know how parents are. They want me to get a real job, or something, so I'll probably go to grad school." I hadn't realized my glass was already half empty. Maybe that's why I was being so honest. "But it's hard to focus with everything going on."

Professor set his glass on the table in front of us and subtly moved closer to me. "What's going on?"

"My dad's sick, but the doctors can't figure out what's wrong. They have their suspicions—none of them are good. And, this is dumb in comparison, but it doesn't help that my boyfriend dumped me in the middle of all this mess," I told him.

His brow furrowed in concern. He shifted even closer and rested his arm on the cushion behind me.

"That's not dumb. It's not easy when things pile on like that." His voice was so soft.

My heart felt light when I looked in his eyes. I didn't know what to say next, so I went to take another sip of wine only to find my glass empty. With no reason to hold it anymore, I set it on the table.

"If you need it," he continued, "you can take a break from my class. I won't penalize you for any late or missing assignments. Just do what you can. And I know you're in one of Professor Martin's classes this semester. I'll ask her to take it easy on you, too."

I shook my head quickly. "No, I-I can't ask that of you."

"Of course you can," he said, dropping his arm from the cushion to my shoulders. "There's a lot you can ask of me."

I peered up at him, and he looked down at me with those soft gray eyes. My heart was pounding. The room suddenly became unbearably hot. When I found my voice again, I spoke slowly. "What do you mean?"

He leaned forward until our lips were barely touching. I returned the kiss. I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to. He was gentle. I thought my body was melting as heat buzzed through me. His hand came to rest on my thigh. Then, it slid higher.

I gasped and grabbed at his hand, pushing it away halfheartedly. "Professor, we shouldn't."

"I know. But I want to." His hands moved to hold mine gently. His eyes were deep and honest. "Do you?"

My body seemed to answer before my mind did, and the word forced its way out. "Yes."

In the next moment, his lips were on mine and his hand found its place between my thighs again. Any resistance I had a second earlier had completely melted away. I didn't care anymore. It was hot desire that took over.

His mouth dropped too my neck, and a soft moan slipped out of me as he squeezed and rubbed my inner thigh.

"Eva," he said through his next breath, "I've wanted you ever since I first saw you."

"Professor, I want you, too." I shifted, letting the shoulder of my sweater fall down my arm. "Now."

Taking my hand in his, he stood from the couch and pulled me to my feet. My legs tingled and I thought I was going to fall, but I steeled my nerves and followed my professor as he led me to the stairs. We made our way to the second floor, and I couldn't help but look back once. Once at the top, however, I stopped checking over my shoulder.

His bedroom was at the end of a hallway lined with elegant paintings. It was spacious, housing a four-poster bed and a small sitting area with a low table near the window. When the door shut fully behind us, my nerves jolted. I tried to distract myself by admiring the room, but I still found myself trembling.

"Eva, you can change your mind, you know." He dropped my hand and moved further into the room. "I'm not trying to hurt you in any way. I really am fond of you."

"I-I know. I... want to." I stepped towards him and stood on my toes, stretching to kiss him. He ducked his head down to close the distance.

It was gentle but urgent. His arms wrapped around my waist tightly and pulled my body against his. The room seemed to grow hotter, and the heat emboldened me. I knew what I wanted even if it was wrong. My fingers found the buckle of his belt and fumbled for a moment. But I needed it off. The strap of leather was quickly tossed to the side as my professor reached for the bottom of my sweater. It, too, was discarded thoughtlessly. I pushed my skirt to the floor and stepped out of it and my flats. There was a short pause when I realized my position—standing in front of my professor, in the middle of his bedroom, in nothing but my lingerie.

His eyes passed over me. Sudden embarrassment settled in the back of my mind, and I brought my arms up to cover my chest. I always thought my breasts were too big. They spilled out of cute tops and limited my options when shopping for bras. What if he didn't like them? What if he preferred flatter chests like Red Jen's? What if they were just...too much?

Professor calling my name brought me out of my racing thoughts. He grabbed my wrists, pulling them away from their protective position.

"You're beautiful," he muttered.

His hands reached around behind me and unclasped my bra. After a moment of hesitation, I let it fall to the floor. Professor hooked a finger over the edge of my panties, and I helped him pull them off.

I slid my hands up his chest and started pulling at the buttons of his shirt. I was tired of being the only one undressed. Soon, the garment joined the growing pile of clothes, and I got my first glimpse of his bare torso. No overgrown abs, just smooth, toned muscle. A generous dusting of hair covered his chest and trailed down his stomach. I curled my fingers over the edge of his slacks and tugged. He let out a low chuckle before shoving off his pants and boxers in one sweep. I glanced away as his member sprung free. It's not like I was a virgin, but that didn't stop my cheeks from burning up.

"Don't be shy," he said, reaching for my hand. He placed it over his cock, and I stroked it almost instinctively. He stepped back until he found the edge of the bed and sat, gesturing to his manhood again.

I knelt between his legs and leaned forward until my lips made contact with the tip of his cock. My right hand wrapped around the base as I took the head into my mouth. I sucked on it lightly for a moment before dragging my tongue up the underside. I heard my professor moan above me, and it was all the encouragement I needed. I twisted my hand around the base and took ask much as I could down my throat before pulling back and swallowing even more on my second try. I licked and sucked until my hand moved smoothly up and down the shaft. His hand tangled in my hair and helped guide my movements. He groaned, and I felt hotter than ever before.

"Oh, fuck, Eva," he sighed. "I didn't realize you'd be so good at this."

I moaned around his cock, which pulled a louder groan from him.

He tugged on my hair, pulling me off of him. "Come here."

I stood and climbed onto his lap. While one arm wrapped around my waist to hold me in place, the other hand found its way between us and down to my entrance. I whimpered as one of his thick fingers slipped inside me.

"You're already so wet," he said. "I haven't even done anything yet."

A second finger joined the first's exploration, and my head rolled back. His long fingers reached deep inside me and activated every sensitive spot. One particular spot forced a shudder through my body, and I cried out.

"Right there?" he asked, stroking it again.

I gasped and something tightened in my core. But he didn't relent. Instead, he added a third finger and pushed into me deeply before pulling back for only a moment. The hot coil inside me only continued to tighten as he worked his fingers inside me. He dropped his head to my chest and pulled one breast into his mouth. I moaned as he sucked and teased me with small bites.

"Professor," I sighed. "Oh, I'm gonna..."

He didn't slow down. If anything, his movements grew more intense. My fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to. Everything tingled as a wave crashed over me, snapping the coil deep inside me. A series of mewls and whimpers escaped me as my mind went blank.

When my orgasm had passed, I opened my eyes to see my professor watching me closely, his lips parted slightly. I leaned forward, kissing him softly. That seemed to flip a switch inside him. With the arm around my waist, he pulled me down onto the bed and rolled on top of me.

He kissed me with more force. One hand found my breasts and kneaded them roughly. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and mine welcomed it. His other hand dropped to my hip and gave it a hard squeeze. I let out a small yelp, and he pulled back, flashing me a teasing smile.

He guided his member to my slit and pressed the head against me. His eyes met mine and he asked a silent question. No words would come to me, so I just nodded. And he slipped inside me, stretching me open.

"God, you're perfect," he breathed. He pulled back and sank into me again, slowly, deliberately, to the base.