Steamy Sessions with My Student 5

The campus was already getting quiet that afternoon, most of the students had left, and the remaining few were those in the library. Most professors had gone home hours ago. I should have left too, but I was still at my desk, papers scattered before me, trying to distract myself with grading the students assignments.

It didn’t work. Every sentence blurred into another, my mind drifting back to him.

Noah.

Our first kiss replayed in my head in a loop. The way he had leaned in, daring me to stop him. The way my lips had parted before I could think better of it. The way my hand had cupped the back of his neck like he belonged to me, like I owned him.

I shivered at the memory and pushed the papers away, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. This has to stop.

A knock at the door broke through my thoughts.

I got up, smoothing my blouse, telling myself it was probably a colleague or a custodian. But when I opened the door, my heart slammed against my chest.

Noah.

Leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved casually in his pockets, that same crazy half-smile curving his lips.

“Professor,” he said smoothly. “Working late?”

My voice caught in my throat. “What are you doing here? You should be at your dorm.”

He shrugged. “I forgot something in class. Thought I’d check if you were still around.” His eyes flicked past me to the stack of papers. “Guess I was right.”

I should have sent him away. Slammed the door in his face, reminded him of boundaries, and maybe threatened to report him. But I stepped aside. “Five minutes. Then you’re gone.”

He entered like he owned the space, shutting the door with a soft click. The room seemed smaller with him in it, the felt air thicker. He strolled to my desk, his eyes lingering on the scattered assignments, then back to me.

“You look tired,” he murmured. “Long day?”

“I don’t need your concern,” I snapped, though my voice lacked confidence.

He moved closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

I forced a laugh. “You’re imagining things.”

“No,” he said simply, his gaze strong, piercing. “You’re scared.”

The word hit me like a wave. I opened my mouth to deny it, but he was already stepping closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“You’re scared of what happens when we’re alone,” he whispered.

I swallowed hard. “This is inappropriate. You’re—”

“Your student?” he cut in. His lips curled into a dangerous smile. “You’ve said it enough times. But that didn’t stop you from kissing me back.”

Heat ran through me, furious and undeniable. “That was a mistake.”

“Then let me make it again.”

I ignored Noah, not giving him any response, and walked back to my seat.

The silence between us didn’t last long.

Noah closed the distance in two huge steps, his hand gripping the edge of my desk before I could even think about protesting. His gaze fixed into mine, daring me to move, daring me to push him away. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

His mouth found mine before I could think. There was no hesitation this time, only fire. His lips pressed hard, claiming, hungry, tasting me like he had been starving since the first time. My body betrayed me instantly, melting into the heat of him. I clutched at his shirt, my fingers curling against the fabric as he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping into my mouth with a dominance that made my knees weak.

I should have stopped him. Instead, I opened wider, let him in, let him take.

His hand left the desk and found my waist, fingers roaming my body possessively, pulling me closer until my hips brushed against his. His hard dick pressed into me, unmistakable, and a shameful moan tore from my throat. His answering growl vibrated against my lips, rough and satisfied.

“Professor,” he whispered against my mouth, low and dangerous. “You taste so much better when you stop pretending.”

The word sent a shiver through me—professor, spoken not as a title of respect but as a filthy reminder of everything that made this wrong. That wrongness only made it hotter.

His mouth left mine to trail down my jaw, hot open-mouthed kisses branding my skin. He nipped at the hollow of my throat, his tongue soothing the sting before dragging lower, lower, until my head tilted back and my breath came out hard.

My hands betrayed me again, sliding up his chest, feeling the flex of muscle beneath his shirt. I tugged at his collar, needing him closer, needing more. Fumbling with his buttons, I needed him shirtless. He answered with a low chuckle that sent jolts of shock through me.

“Look at you,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “The one who sets the rules… falling apart because of me.”

I gasped as his hand moved lower, roaming down to my waist, just above my hip, dangerously close to the hem of my skirt. Every nerve in my body lit up.

“Noah—” I tried, but it came out weak, broken, more plea than a warning.

“Say my name like that again.” His voice was dark and hard, wrapping his arms around me, suffocating me with desire. “Say it while I make you forget where we are.”

His mouth claimed mine again, harder this time, and his hand slid under the edge of my skirt, fingers grazing bare skin. My thighs trembled. My grip on his shirt tightened until I thought the buttons might pop.

His hand rubbed my thighs, moving up to my throbbing pussy, he rubbed over my panties, and I lost it.

“Oh Noah," I moaned.

"Say that again, call me with that tone” he instructed.

His fingers were dangerously close to my clit, tapping lightly and teasing me.

I whimpered against his mouth, my body jerking at the shocking intimacy of his touch. He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, just pushed further, coaxing me open with slow, devastating strokes on my panties that made my knees buckle.

He pulled back just enough to watch my face. “That’s it,” he whispered, his eyes dark and wild. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see how much you need this.”

His fingers pressed harder.

I let myself feel every bit of it.

“Noah please, just do it".

" You're teasing me, please”, I begged.

I broke. A sharp scream left my mouth, and I clutched him tighter like he was the only thing keeping me upright. Every brush of his fingers across my clit pulled another sound from my throat—soft moans, gasps, whispered curses. The forbidden thrill of it, here in my office, him my student, me his professor, it twisted every ounce of guilt into molten pleasure.

He kissed me again, swallowing my sounds, his free hand gripping the back of my neck as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. His body pressed me harder against the desk, trapping me, owning me.

“You’re so wet for me,” he growled into my mouth, now touching my bare pussy. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this? How many nights I’ve wanted to hear you break for me?”

I couldn’t answer. My voice was gone, lost to the rhythm of his touch, to the way he worked me with slow, deliberate cruelty, never enough, always pulling me closer to the edge then easing back.

He pushed one finger inside me. “Ohhhh".

Slow at first, watching the way my mouth fell open around a moan. The stretch burned just enough to make it sinful. Then he added a second, filling me tighter, moving in and out with steady strokes that had my thighs clamping around his wrist.

“Yes baby", “harder please", “fasterrrrrr", “fuck me faster". I moaned.

Every thrust felt just right, brushing that spot that made my whole body shake. His thumb rubbed circles on my clit, perfectly timed, bringing me closer and closer.

My head dropped onto his shoulder, desperate little sounds spilling against his neck. He smelled like heat and danger, like the ruin of everything I had built. And still, I clung to him, hips rocking helplessly into his hand.

“Yes,” I gasped, the word torn from me without thought. “Please—don’t stop—”

That was all he needed. His pace shifted, faster, harder, fingers curling in a way that ripped a cry straight from my chest. My body arched against him, desperate and shameless.

The pressure increased all at once. My back arched off the desk, a cry tearing from my throat as pleasure exploded through me in violent waves.

My pussy walls clenched tight around his fingers, pulsing with every shuddering spasm. I clung to him desperately, riding his hand, grinding against his palm as the orgasm tore me apart.

My toes curled tightly, my squirt and wetness gushed out of me, soaking his fingers, proof of how completely he had dealt me.

The world froze. My legs shook violently, vision blurred, and I came undone against him, moaning his name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

“Oh, Noah," I screamed.

His arm wrapped around me, holding me steady as he drove me through every wave, refusing to let go until I collapsed against him, boneless, trembling, utterly wrecked.

For a long moment, all I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. He kissed the top of my head, gentle now, a sharp contrast to the ruthless way he had just taken me apart.

When I finally lifted my head, his lips curved into a wicked smile. “You’ll never forget this,” he said simply.