Do I Have A Thing With My Professor?

He sets his rough hand on my cheek and caresses it with his thumb moments before our lips make contact.

The feeling is electrifying, thrilling, and an absolute pleasure.

I can't believe this is my very first kiss, and I can't wrap my head around just how good it feels.

However, I fear I may be clumsy and awkward. I don't even know how to go about it even though Cole leads me well.

His other hand creeps to my waist, and some weird mix of sensations spread from my stomach to between my legs, where all of a sudden feels too wet.

"Something's wrong with me," I mutter against Cole's lips. "I'm wetting my panties. Is that alright?"

The man huffs a smile. I feel his breath fan my face in a good way. "Nothing is wrong with you, Lilac," he says soothingly while leaning back, still caressing my cheek. "What you are experiencing is the start of pleasure." Cole suddenly frowns. "Hold on a sec. You haven't been intimate before?"

I shake my head nervously.

"Then you have a long way to go, Lilac."

I lean into the man, wrapping both hands around his shoulders. "Show me. Please."

I watch Cole's Adam's apple bobble as he gulps hard, and I smile inwardly. I love the fact that he's having a good hard time because of me.

However, he takes me unawares when he suddenly pecks my lips. "You've got to go home now. It's late." He crosses my hands off his shoulders but doesn't let them go as he stands up. "Come on." He pulls me to my feet. "I'll put you in a cab."

I groan out my displeasure. Although I just want to finish what we started right here and now, I'm still happy about how this night turned out.

Henceforth, I know things are about to change.

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Getting reading for school never felt so refreshing. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I scrutinize my looks.

I've always been proud of my ebony black hair and my brown eyes, but I've not been more grateful than I am that I'm quite thick and really curvy.

My insecurities were my baby face and my overly pale skin. But, seeing as the person I like likes me back, I can now look at the mirror and smile at my reflection.

"Hi, Mom!" I greet as I walk past the kitchen.

I don't bother looking at her, but Mom seems to have laid one glance at me and judged.

"What are you putting on, Lily? That is too slutty for school."

Too slutty?

A fitted long-sleeved top tucked into a mini skirt, fashioned with a pair of lace leggings and a pair of knee-length boots, is slutty?

I look down at myself. Well, maybe it is, but who cares? I've been wearing extra large outfits since last year, after all.

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"We need to submit our literature projects, and the course prefect is absent," one student presents a problem. I do know why it's a problem.

"Due to his grumpy habit, I fear Dr. Cole would strangle me if I should step into his office. I rather forfeit the project than go there," another whines.

"Who will go then?"

There are murmurs for a while before...

"Wait! Everyone! Dr. Cole eases up with Lilac. She surely is his best student and may as well be the course prefect. Let her submit the assignments."

"Perfect idea."

"Wait... what?" I try to protest, but, in truth, I was waiting to be elected.

"Do not worry, Lilac. If you don't return, we'll write the perfect eulogy for you. It's literature, remember?"

I smile. Ironic.

If there's anybody whom a eulogy should be written for, it's Cole. He's the one who's about to be murdered by my looks, anyways.

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I knock once on his office door.

"Come in," I hear him say, and my heart skips a beat.

I let myself in and dump the pile of project works in a corner of his desk, setting my hands on the table and leaning on it.

"There's the homework. Your students are afraid to meet you."

Cole regards me for a while. His eyes shift to my breasts, where the material is hiding my cleavages, but the outline is still pretty visible. Then he looks down at a script he's marking.

"Why so?"

"They say you're the reaper. You dismember heads and hearts, they say."

"Then why aren't you scared?" Cole pauses his marking and starts stabbing his pen on the paper, seeming lost in thoughts.

"Cos I want to see the reaper in you come out," I respond.

"Fuck it!" Cole grunts and shifts the scripts aside. Then he pushes his swivel chair backwards so that there is enough space between him and the desk. "Come here." He taps his thigh.

Bloody hell! He wants me to sit on his lap.

"I have weight, you know," I say in feigned hesitation.

Without saying anything, Cole reaches for my wrist and pulls me into his natural seat.

The connection between us starts to spark flames again. Goosebumps spread through my skin as butterflies dance in my belly.

He holds my jaw between his thumb and index finger and brings my head down so that we can kiss while I slip my hands around his neck.

I love the feeling of his other hand tracing my curves. And I love the feeling of pulsating down there as juices leak without my control.

Most of all, I love whatever it is I'm seated on. It's hard and long and jerks from time to time.

I don't need to ask Cole what it is so as not to sound too dumb. I need to use my common sense on this one. After all, what else would be on his crotch aside from his manhood?