My Ruthless Professor English by Miss A

The club lights pulsed overhead. Mr. Daniel couldn’t see exactly how I worked his cock, and from the way his body jerked, he didn’t care.

“Oh fuck yeah,” he groaned into my ear.

I kept moving, slow at first, then faster. His old hands clamped onto my hips.

“Fuck, Rose. Keep going.”

My palm pressed against the soft roll of his pot belly as I rode him harder, tightening around him. A low, animal sound escaped his wrinkled throat.

“Shit, that feels so fucking good.”

We slammed together, the rhythm slower now. A small moan slipped out of me despite everything.

“Oh god.” He gripped the edge of the chair,

This was supposed to be the party of the year...every hot guy in the city packed in, drinking themselves stupid. Instead, I ended up here, screwing my married professor in a dim club room for the extra credit I needed to graduate with a degree I didn’t even want.

His grip tightened. “Be a good girl, Rose. Let me cum inside you.”

His breath burned against my neck, sour with vodka and fish. I pushed down one last time.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

It ended quickly. I felt his semen inside me and I felt nothing but disgust.

I climbed off him, pulled my clothes back on, and started toward the exit.

“Wait, sweetheart.” His voice chased me, slurred and close. “Let me buy you a drink.”

The stench of him...rotten fish and liquor...hit me again. I shivered, sighed, and turned.

“Sure,” I muttered. “Why not.”

But before he could stand properly, I grabbed my jacket from the nearby stool and walked to the bar alone, leaving him fumbling in the shadows.

Once there, I ordered a strong drink...my fifth of the night...and tried to steady my shaking hands. The alcohol burned going down, but it couldn’t wash away the self-loathing.

This had all started earlier that evening. I’d been desperate. Missing that final statistics test had tanked my grade, and Mr. Daniel ...creepy, married, with kids, and that perpetual smug grin...had cornered me at this very bar after class. He’d suggested we “talk” about my options over drinks.

"I'm sorry, Rose, but the grades are already finalized. You’ll just have to accept that," Mr. David said breaking my thoughts his lips curling into that same smug smile I despise.

I sat across from him, hands clenched around my glass, trying not to let the frustration show. I was begging my professor again to reconsider my missed test again, and he was acting like it amused him.

That fucking psycho, I already had sex with him and apparently he wanted more, that disgusting bastard....

God, I hated this school. I hated my college. Maybe it was because I’d never wanted to study Business Administration in the first place. But what choice did I have? I needed a degree, a job...something to keep me from starving.

No family. No safety net. Just me.

An abandoned baby who grew up in an orphanage, now living with a college friend until I could graduate and figure out what came next.

Honestly, I was tired...so tired. Sometimes I wished I could just marry a rich man who’d whisk me away from all this misery so I wouldn’t have to fight so hard for everything.

My daydream shattered when a low, raspy cough pulled me back to reality.

Mr. Daniel Smith. My statistics professor.

The man I hated more than any other on campus. His voice grated on my nerves. His condescending tone. His lingering looks. The way his eyes always followed me when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

And now, sitting here in this dimly lit bar with him after having sex with him, I realized missing that test had given him the perfect excuse to corner me.

"Earth to pretty Rose," he said with that same infuriating grin.

God, I hated the way he said my name.

"Sorry, Mr. Smith. I must’ve gotten lost in thought," I muttered, forcing a polite smile before taking a sip of my drink after taking four sips of alcohol

"We were having a conversation," he reminded me, his tone light . "As I said, the grade can’t be changed. What’s done is done."

We both knew that was a lie. He could change it...if he wanted to. Why did I sleep with him when he isn't going to change his mind

"Please, sir," I said quietly, desperation leaking into my voice despite myself. "Let me retake the test. This grade determines whether I pass or fail. I’ll do… anything."

The moment the word left my mouth, regret hit me

His grin widened, slow and deliberate. "Anything?" he repeated, his eyes gleaming with a look that made my stomach twist.

And just like that, I knew exactly where this was going.

Why did I say that?

The words echoed in my head like a curse. This was exactly what he wanted, and now I’d practically handed it to him. But I couldn’t do it. No matter how much I hated my life, I wasn’t that desperate.

And especially not with him.

This creepy, married man with kids...this old vulture of a professor...was the last person I’d ever sell myself to.

"Why don’t you meet me again tomorrow night at 7 p.m. in my office, Rose," he said smoothly, like he wasn’t dangling poison right in front of me. "We’ll… talk better then."

"I... thought... we've 'talked' about it …" My voice cracked, weak, but I forced myself to meet his eyes.