PROFESSOR [18+]

‘“A’ Grade: Striking a Deal with the Prof!”

*smirks*

Characters: Lucius Vanderbilt, Cloe West

Genres: Erotica and Sensual

I’m Chloe West, a girl who aced every history test. It was my thing, you know. Miss Marina was my history professor last year, and she was fantastic. She had a way of making history feel like an exciting story.

But this year was different. The new professor, Lucius Vanderbilt, arrived, and things changed. His name sounds grand like he should be a king from medieval history. And in a way, he is. Not a king of lands, but a king of hearts. Everyone, students, even other professors, seemed to be enchanted by him.

Professor Vanderbilt is something else. He’s good-looking, brainy, and he knows his stuff. But there’s a catch. He’s as cold as an ice cube. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything, and he can be pretty blunt—some people like that kind of thing, but not me.

I’ve always been one to speak my mind, and I’ve never been afraid of a challenge. But with Professor Vanderbilt, it’s like stepping into a battle zone. No one ever argues with him, and even the toughest students seem to lose their words when he’s around.

“Morning, class,” And there the king was, I mean my history professor. He had an aura that screamed ‘confident’. Dressed in a well-fitted wood brown shirt that showcased the muscles underneath and black pants that clung to his thighs, and completed the look with a matching Salvatore Ferragamo belt & a tie, and a Rolex on his wrist. Rich? Oh, definitely. The man knew how to dress, no doubt about it.

His dark brown hair framed his face, and his eyes...oh, those eyes. A mesmerizing green, like an enchanting forest, but they had a cold, piercing quality that sent chills down anyone’s spine. His gaze was like a laser, never missing a thing.

“I have checked your history papers, and I’ll be giving them back,” he declared, his voice authoritative, silencing the entire classroom. The room hung in suspense, every student hanging on to his words.

“I’m happy to say you’ve shown improvement since the last time,” he added. It wasn’t just me who felt a tinge of skepticism at that ‘last time’ mention; I could see it in the eyes of a few others as well.

We remembered all too well the very first test when he’d said the same thing, “Everyone did well,” only to hand us back our papers, which revealed a different story. I couldn’t help but let out a scoff, almost echoing the sentiment in the room. Chuckle

Last time, I scored a C grade. Me, the girl who used to breeze through history class. It was like a slap in the face, a bitter reality check. But this time was different. I was determined, and I was confident that I’d score an A. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement.

That confidence was soaring until he said those three words:‘Everyone did well.’My excitement plummeted, and I felt a nervous sweat forming on my palms. I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure, even though my insides were doing a somersault. I had to play it cool, at least on the outside.

The professor continued calling out names in no particular order.

“Kate Anderson.”

“Richard Jones.”

He handed out the graded papers one by one. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice the range of emotions on my classmates’ faces. Some were stoic as if they knew exactly what to expect. Others let out relieved sighs, content with just passing.

I, on the other hand, held onto my belief that I would ace this test.‘Yes, Chloe, yes!’ I cheered myself on silently, picturing that actual, authentic, absolute A grade. I grinned with anticipation, nerves, and excitement all tangled together.

And then, it happened.

“Miss Chloe West.”

He called my name, and I shot up from my seat, practically running to him to collect my paper. In my mind, I was already planning all the ways I’d thank the heavens if it turned out to be the actual, authentic, absolute A grade I so desperately wanted.

He handed me the paper, and I accepted it with trembling hands. I unfolded the sheet and saw the grade, and there it was, a big, glaring ‘D.’My brain seemed to pause for a moment. It couldn’t be mine, I thought. It just couldn’t.

As I stood there, processing this unexpected disappointment, Professor Vanderbilt continued calling other students one by one, distributing their graded papers. My voice finally found its way out, “S-sir,” I stammered, standing next to him, but he appeared to ignore my plea, his focus on the other students.

One by one, he handed back the papers. Then, just as the final student received their sheet, the bell rang. Everyone started to rise from their seats, preparing to leave the class. But Professor Vanderbilt’s voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Those who’ve received grades beneath a ‘C,’ remain seated. The rest, depart.”His words hung heavy in the air. As my classmates gathered their belongings and headed for the door, there were six or seven students, including myself, who stayed behind, our expressions a mix of disbelief and resignation.

With a final word, Professor Vanderbilt left the classroom, leaving those of us with grades below a ‘C’ behind. It felt like an eternity as we waited, and then, he returned, carrying a bundle of practice sheets and books, which he placed on his table.

“Take one of each, and I need them in an hour,” he demanded, and then he exited the room. In a rush, everyone scrambled to grab their materials. However, I remained seated, knowing that I had done nothing wrong.

The issue lay with his biased grading, something that had been a problem ever since he arrived. I couldn’t quite figure out why he had it out for me, but this time, I wouldn’t be left behind. I needed to improve my grade. If I didn’t act now, I would lose even more, and that wasn’t an option.

I walked towards his staff room, clutching my sheet, and knocked on the mahogany door. A stern“come in” reached my ears, and I turned the doorknob to enter. I gently closed it behind me. Professor Vanderbilt sat at his desk, engrossed in piles of papers.

A strand of hair slipped from his perfectly styled locks, covering his forehead. He wore glasses that somehow managed to enhance his already captivating features. I had to admit, he looked undeniably handsome.

“Done staring at me?” he said, and I blinked, taken aback. I had thought he was too absorbed in his papers to notice. I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. “N-no, I mean... I wasn’t staring at you, sir.” I cursed my stuttering, mentally slapping myself for the slip.

As he raised his gaze from the papers, he lowered his glasses to the brim of his nose, his cold, piercing green eyes now fixed on me. It felt as though those eyes were drilling holes right through me.

“What has prompted your presence here, Miss Chloe? You ought to be in your classroom, diligently completing those test sheets. I must emphasize that there won’t be any extensions granted for this task.” his words stinging like a verbal lash. It made me clench my teeth, determined to stand my ground.

He returned his attention to the papers, and I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes briefly, steadying my nerves. With my left hand clenched at my skirt, I finally mustered the courage to speak.

“Sir, I believe there might have been a mistake. I’ve been assigned a ‘D’ grade.”

He looked up from the papers and fixed his cold, piercing gaze on me.“There’s no mistake; your answers were not satisfactory.”

“Uhmm, s-sorry,” I stammered, taken aback by his reaction, as I hadn’t quite grasped the full meaning of his words.

He looked up once more, dropping his pen and removing his glasses. He set the glasses and pen aside, then interlocked his fingers and placed his hands on the table.

He leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine.“Your responses, Miss Chloe, were wholly inappropriate, unacceptable, and objectionable, lacking the expected standards.”

I shot back with a grin, ”Well, Professor, I was aiming for a minimalist approach, you know, keeping it concise and to the point according to the question”

“Concise, Miss Chloe, should never be confused with incomplete.” his response was sharp.

I raised an eyebrow and retorted, “Ah, Professor, I see you prefer answers that moonlight as Shakespearean soliloquies.”

He didn’t miss a beat.“Not soliloquies, Miss Chloe, but I do appreciate answers that are more than just ‘to be or not to be.’”

Seems like he’s quite the Shakespeare enthusiast, but I won’t back down this time either

“Professor, I understand your preference for detailed responses, but I believe my answers are substantial and relevant. Could you reconsider a B grade, as they do adhere to the question and carry valid insights?”

His hand casually tugged at his tie, and he cracked his neck, first to the right and then to the left. A sly smirk danced on his lips.

“Seems like you’ve got your heart set on an A, not just a B, huh?”

I matched his smirk with a sassy reply, “My answers are solid A material, but I can be generous and accept a B.”

He chuckled, but then his expression shifted.“That’s not going to happen,” he replied firmly, getting under my skin. I clenched the paper tightly, my frustration building. I took a step closer to his desk, my hand instinctively gripping my skirt in anger.

“What’s your issue with me? You’re so biased!” I couldn’t hold back my irritation.

He leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow, “I’m not biased, Miss Chloe. I just expect the best from you.”

He was really pushing my buttons.“Bastard,” I muttered under my breath, looking away. There was no way I could tell my mom about this. Imagine saying, “Hey, Mom, your daughter didn’t get a C this time. Nope, it’s a D, even worse than before!”I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the thought. My mom would probably lecture me for hours, or worse.

As I turned my gaze back to him, he had nonchalantly crossed his legs and raised his eyebrows, studying me.“Pervert,” I thought, my mind racing with frustration.

“Time’s slipping away, Miss Chloe. Perhaps you should dedicate more time to studying, or...” he suggested as he stood and approached me, leaning against his desk with a sly grin. “Or?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow in anticipation.

“Or I can work some magic on your grade, but it’ll cost you,” his voice dripping with insinuation, a sly smile playing on his lips. I couldn’t help but play along, so I responded, “Sure, sir, what’s the price?”

He advanced, his imposing figure casting a shadow over me. I felt like a plush toy in comparison to his stature.“Wh-what exact-exactly do you want, s-sir?”I stammered my heart racing.

Leaning down, he whispered in my ear, “Devotion,” and then leaned back to gauge my reaction. My expression transformed into one of bewilderment.“I didn’t quite catch your drift...”I began, but he cut me off with a blunt, “You.”

I was completely taken aback, unable to formulate a response. Did I hear him correctly?

“I don’t have the entire day, Miss Chloe,” he urged impatiently.

“That’s... not fair,” I stammered, my voice quivering. He let out a small chuckle in response and retorted, “It’s you who desires better grades, despite the vague answers you wrote.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back a response.“It’s alright, don’t push yourself. Take your sheet and return to the class,” he said, turning away and shutting his laptop. He began collecting his piles of papers and tidying up the desk.

I stood there, deep in thought. I couldn’t bear to go home with a D grade this time. As he turned off the lights and then faced me, he couldn’t help but smirk. I had undone the top three buttons of my white shirt, and my blue coat and tie lay on the floor.

He walked toward the door, brushing against my side and sending shivers down my spine. I could hear the click of the door being locked, and I could sense him now, standing right behind me.

With my eyes closed, I felt his warm breath on my shoulders. He leaned in, resting his chin on my left shoulder, and his strong hands cupped my breasts making me wince in a little pain.

“Hush, little peach,” and planted a tender kiss on my cheek. His hands slid underneath my tucked-in shirt, unbuttoning it skillfully and letting it drop to the floor. I could feel him coming closer, and he chuckled softly before ordering, “Open your eyes, little one.”I obeyed, my checks were red as he moved to turn off the lights.

With a low, demanding tone, he ordered, “Drop your panties.”I obeyed, sliding my light pink panties down beneath my skirt until they pooled at my feet, my core tingling from the sudden exposure to the cold air, and my body heating up in response.

He hoisted me onto his desk, swiftly undoing his belt and sliding down his pants. Stepping closer, he planted a kiss on my dry lips, adding a little moisture. His hands ventured beneath my skirt, sliding up my thigh, gradually making their way to my eager pussy.

“Oh, all soaked and ready,” he remarked, teasingly. I couldn’t help but close my eyes, relishing every sensation as he slipped his middle finger inside, prompting a rather loud moan from me.

“Quiet down, peach. Do you want the whole world to know you’re getting an ‘A’?” he quipped, thrusting his fingers in and out, adding his ring finger to the mix.

The room was filled with the sounds of my little pussy being fucked by his long, slender fingers, my soft moans and gasps blending with the wet, rhythmic noises of pleasure.

“Answer me, peach? Do you?” he inquired, not slowing down his stride. My eyes rolled in delight as I shook my head.“Say it,” he demanded.“N-no,” I whispered.

“You’re quite the naughty one, aren’t you?”

He stopped just as I was on the brink of ecstasy, “So, your punishment is you don’t fucking get to climax until I say so,” he quipped with a sassy, rebellious edge.

This had me practically melting as he got oh-so-close. He provocatively licked his middle and ring fingers, oozing sexiness like his fingers were dipped in melted chocolate.“Just as I suspected, you’re one sweet treat,” he purred near my ear, a chuckle escaping his lips.

He teasingly tugged down his navy boxers, revealing his impressively hard member. I couldn’t help but gasp, wondering how on earth it would fit inside my petite space. The fear tingled down my spine.

“Caught off guard by what you see?” he purred with a smirk, thoroughly enjoying my blush. He inched closer and sensually rubbed against my heat.

He teasingly ran his long, thick member along my drenched entrance, driving me wild with desire. but they shot wide open when a sudden thought crossed my mind.

“A-Are you wearing protection?”I stammered, but before I could finish the sentence, he plunged his thick shaft into me, causing my body to arch. He gripped my waist firmly and began thrusting.

“Th-that. Wasn’t. The. Fucking. Agreement!” he said with each forceful push, driving me wild. I struggled to stifle my moans but failed miserably, eventually letting out a loud cry as he thrust with unrelenting force.

“Shush, peach. We don’t want to broadcast our extracurricular activities, do we?” he teased, planting a kiss on my lips before moving down to my breasts. They jiggled with every thrust he delivered.

He nibbled on my left nipple and gave it a sensual suck, while his other hand traveled to my right, expertly tweaking and hardening my sensitive buds. He lifted me up, my legs wrapped around his waist, and continued his relentless thrusting. All the while, he hungrily indulged in sucking on my breasts.

He led me over to the amber-brown couch and gently laid me down. He placed his hands beside my head and proceeded to make thrust to me with even more intensity.

It felt like his throbbing member was delving deep into my core, touching my very womb. With every powerful thrust, my inner walls expanded and contracted, making it hard for me to control from moaning.

Our bodies glistened with a sheen of sweat as he let out a low, primal groan. He pressed his face into the crook of my neck, biting my skin and earlobe, then paused his movements down below to kiss my lips tenderly. Afterward, he lifted his head, his gaze locking onto mine.

His throbbing manhood was still lodged deep within me, and I could feel a warm release filling me up. When he withdrew, a rush of cream gushed out of my core, splattering onto the couch and staining it. He had unleashed an immense load of desire that my body struggled to contain.

He ran his index finger along the folds of my eager entrance, gradually making his way back to the spot where my juices were still seeping.

My pussy was again stuffed by his index, and my legs were still wobbly from the first mind-blowing pleasure a guy had ever given me. He pounded me once more, making my toes curl and squirt all over his couch, our juices mingling in a hot mess.

His hungry green eyes roamed over my body as he sensually parted his lips and slid his fingers into his mouth. He let out a lustful groan as he seductively sucked my sweet nectar from them, making a soft popping sound when he pulled his fingers out.

My face radiated the aftermath of our quick fuck session, glistening with a sheen of sweat. I closed my eyes to catch my breath as he rose from the couch, pulling up his pants.

His lips curled into a smirk as he made me sit. He walked over to his desk, and I watched him open the third drawer. When he returned, he placed it in front of me on the glass table. My eyes widened, and my mind did a victorious dance.

There it was – my paper, now sporting an A grade. No, not just an A, but an actual, authentic, absolute A grade. Hell yes!!!!

I put on my clothes and cleaned up the mess. He was back in his usual spot, sitting in his chair. What struck me as peculiar was that he hadn’t said a word after our sex. I grabbed my sheet from the table, thinking that the A grade was meant just for me, like a soulmate.

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. As I reached for the doorknob, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I glanced at my sheet once more and then turned back.

Professor Lucius raised an eyebrow and looked at me, saying, “Miss West, isn’t this satisfactory?” I chuckled and confidently walked up to his desk and inquired, “Sir, I have a query. Why is there no ‘D’ grade on this paper?”

I noticed a subtle raise of his brow as I continued, “I mean, I used to get ‘D’ grades before, so there should be a ‘D’ somewhere, right? But all I see is only an ‘A’.”

He flashed a sly grin and reclined in his chair, his eyes locked onto mine. Without missing a beat, he stood up and started moving closer.

My heart raced as I instinctively backed away, my back coming into contact with the wooden wall. He approached me so closely that his warm breath pierced my spine.

Leaning in, he whispered near my ear, and I could feel his smirk, “You see, peach, that was not your sheet.”I stood there in shock, unable to comprehend. It was my handwriting, my answers.

I stuttered, “But I could swear...”I hesitated, looking into his eyes, as he chuckled and playfully ruffled my hair. He returned to his chair.

“It was a photocopy that used to have a ‘D’ grade.”