A Stepbrother for Christmas:The Hard and Dirty Holidays(35)

By: Celia Aaron

The door swung open. She strolled in, seemingly oblivious to the fact she was forty-five minutes late to a fifty minute class. Her blonde hair was pulled half up, the rest allowed to flow down her back. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I knew they were green. Her tits were large and plump, peeking over the top of her white tank top. I bet her nipples were a dark pink. Her pussy even pinker.

She climbed the risers to her seat. Her far too short black skirt swayed when she moved, and her heels made her ass jut out perfectly. I wanted to bury my face in it and lick until she screamed.

She had neither books nor a laptop in her arms.

All forty students in the room focused on her. The men gaped as did some of the women. I gripped the podium until my knuckles turned white. She was mine. All mine. All the gawkers – male and female – needed to know they had no chance with her.

I wanted to work violence on each one of them that dared to look at her. Instead, I stayed put behind the podium out of necessity, my cock having leapt to attention with the first inkling that she was near.

The tables formed a horseshoe in the room, eight rows of them, each higher than the last. She was in the middle, where the rows were extra far apart. I could see her tits, her face. I could also see her skirt, her legs, her hooker heels.

“You’re late, Ms. Finnegan.” I gave her a hard look.

She needed discipline. I would be the one to give it to her. She tempted me day in, day out. Showing up to class late. Playing on her cell phone while I lectured. Never turning in homework. And then she wore the most provocative clothing, just to get to me.

Her cocktease was about to come to an end. I was going to take her, one way or another. I wanted my hands around her throat, constricting her as I rammed my cock so deep into her that my balls slapped against her ass with every stroke. But before I even got to that, I planned on giving her the lashes she deserved. Every single one.

“Sorry, professor.” She smiled innocently, her red lips spreading to reveal her even, white teeth. “Car trouble.”

“Well, Ms. Finnegan, can you tell me what level of scrutiny applies when a government makes a law affecting the right to vote?”

She looked down at her empty desk before slyly looking back up at me. “I seem to have forgotten my book and my notes, professor.”

I scrubbed a shaking hand down my face. Fuck, I wanted to discipline her right then and there in front of everyone. “Ms. Finnegan, you are aware of the rules of my classroom, are you not?”

She smiled again, but didn’t speak. Infuriating.

“You are aware that you are expected to—”

She casually let her legs fall open slightly beneath the table. She wasn’t wearing any panties. In the shadow between her milky thighs, I got a glimpse of blonde curls and sweet, sweet pink. I stifled a groan.


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