I stepped into the classroom, with my usual bold and friendly smile. But this time around, the smile was hiding something. Hiding the fact that a few minutes ago, I had fucked myself hard to the filthy thought of my student.

"Hello, professor Lola", the students chorused.

"Good day, everyone", I replied.

I let the students quiet down with their responses, before asking.

"Who is Noah?"I asked.

All eyes turned to a boy, a fit looking boy. He slowly raised his hand up.

" Here" he said.

" Okay, wait behind after the lesson" I said sharply.

Everyone gave him a questioning look, but he just shrugged.

I went straight into teaching, focusing strictly on the day's lecture, or maybe pretending to focus. Because my mind kept replaying his dirty words and my filthy behavior.

I clenched my thighs softly at the thought.

The class ended, and the students sprawled out with most of them muttering a "Have a nice day, professor".

"And you too", I replied happily, waving at them.

The class room was empty, except for the handsome looking boy- Noah, and myself. We were alone in the class.

He strolled to my desk, casually, looking innocent. But I doubt his innocence.

"You wanted to see me, professor?" he said, his voice low and deliberate.

"Yes," I said sharply. Pulling out his assignment paper from my blazer pocket. I had a little flashback of the words. " Voluptuous tits", " big fat ass".

"We need to talk about what you submitted".

Tilting his head to face me directly, " Oh, was it not satisfactory?" He asked, feigning innocence.

The way he dragged the word made my pussy throb.

"It was inappropriate" I kept my tone calm and professional.

"This was supposed to be a romance assignment, not a pornography".

His lips curved into a slow grin. "It's not pornography if it's a love story, is it? Maybe just a... dirtier kind of love."

My heart skipped. My jaw tightened. "You crossed a line, Noah. Writing something like that, especially using my name-it's unacceptable."

He moved closer, close enough that he was towering over me. Close enough that I could perceive the faint scent of his cologne, sharp and clean. "I didn't mean to offend you. I just..." His gaze locked mine, " I wrote what I wanted".

" What you wanted?" My voice surprisingly low, barely above a whisper.

"Yes". His gaze lowered briefly, deliberately, to my chest before returning back to my face. " Exactly what I wanted".

" This boy is making this difficult, why is he gawking at my boobs?". I thought.

Heat ran through me, my breath hitched. "But, you're my student", I managed.

"And you're my professor", he said smoothly. "That doesn't change what I feel".

My heart hammered. This was dangerous. Very dangerous.

One more step, and I'd lose all control.

I dropped the paper back onto the desk. "This ends here. Do you understand? No more stories like this. No more games".

For a moment, the classroom was silent, pin drop silent. Then Noah leaned forward, resting his hands on my desk. His voice a husky whisper meant for only me.

"Tell me you didn't like it," he dared. "Tell me you didn't read every filthy word I had written, tell me you didn't picture every move".

My mouth opened, then shut. I couldn't. God help me, I couldn't.

His grin spread, triumphant. He straightened, placed his bag strap casually on his shoulder. "That's what I thought".

And then he turned and walked out, leaving me trembling behind my desk, my thighs pressed tightly together.

I sank into my chair, my heart racing. This boy was dangerous, that innocent look I had seen earlier was a façade. He knew the effect he had on me, and he wasn't going to stop.

And worst of all, I wasn't sure I wanted him to stop.

The days after I had confronted Noah were unbearable.

I had expected him to lay low, embarrassed, or maybe even ashamed. Instead, he seemed bolder. His eyes followed me in class, amused as though we're now in a coven and shared a dirty secret.

And maybe we did.

I tried to totally avoid, or better still ignore him, bury myself in lesson plans and grading, but every time his voice echoed through the room -deep, lazy, teasing, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Every smirk, every long glance set my pussy aching for pleasure.

It was a game now, one I hadn't willed myself to participate in.

That Thursday evening, the campus was quieter than usual. Most students had already left for the weekend, I was busy with paperwork, though I was really avoiding going home to an empty apartment, since Eric dumped me, because the apartment still smelled faintly of him.

When I finally packed my things and stepped out into the dim hallway, I was surprised to see Noah leaning against the wall outside my office.

My stomach twisted.

He straightened as soon as he saw me, his lips curling into a sly smile. "Good evening professor".

I clutched my bag tighter. "What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you".

The bluntness made my heart falter. I forced myself to move forward, brushing past him. "You shouldn't be here. Go home".

But he fell into stride beside me, tall and confident. " Why? Are you afraid someone will see us?"

"Yes", I snapped unconsciously.

"Oh, no". I facepalmed in my mind.

He chuckled, low and knowing. "Then maybe you shouldn't have kept me after class the other day. Alone. In the classroom with you."

Heat rose up to my neck. My feet faltered. He was baiting me, pushing me to admit what had really happened in my office, to admit that his story had made me soak my panties, that I had fucked myself whilst reading his story, while picturing his words.

I turned toward him, anger and panic visible on my face. "Enough, Noah. This - whatever game you think you're playing, it stops now."

And then he stepped closer. Too close.

I moved back, but there was not enough space, and my back soon hit the wall. He leaned down, one hand resting on the wall, above my head, caging me in.

"Then tell me to stop", he murmured, his lips inches from mine. "Tell me you don't want this."

I opened my mouth, ready to prove him wrong, but nothing came out. My mouth betrayed me, my body betrayed me, heart pounding, heat building, low between my thighs.

The only thing running through my mind was how his supple lips would feel against mine, how it would taste.

His thumb brushed my chin, slightly tilting my face up. My lips parted without permission.

And then he kissed me.

God help me, I let him.

The kiss wasn't gentle,it was hungry, urgent, his mouth slanted over mine in a way that stole my breath. I gasped, and his tongue slid in, tasting me, claiming me.

I kissed back, with the same urgency and hunger.

I should have pushed him away, I should have stopped it. Instead, my fingers ran through his hair, I dropped my bag with a low thud and wrapped the other arm round his neck, pulling him closer.

The hallway spun, nothing but heat and the minty taste of him on my tongue.

When he finally pulled back, we were both out of breath, breathing hard.

*See?" He whispered, his forehead resting on mine. " You want me as much as I want you."

I swallowed hard,ashamed of myself. " This was a mistake".

But I didn't move.

He smiled, wicked and sure. "Mistakes never feel this good".

And then he stepped back, hands sliding into his pockets, leaving me trembling against the wall. "Good night, Professor".

He walked away without a backward glance, his strides confident, victorious.

I stood frozen long after he was gone, my lips swollen, my pussy warm with my wetness.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his mouth on mine again. His hand warm against my boob, I could still smell him on my clothes, a mix of soap, cologne and a masculine scent.

I tossed and turned. I told myself to stop thinking about him. But the ache between my thighs only increased.

Finally,I gave in. I sat up in bed.

The room was dark, except for the faint glow from the bedside lamp, I stretched my arm to the nightstand drawer, reaching for my vibrator. But tonight, it wouldn't be enough on its own.

I wanted more.

Laying back into bed, I stripped myself off the camisole I had on. Baring my breasts to the cool air, my nipples hardened instantly. My panties were already damp, clinging to my folds.

I pushed them down, spread my legs wide. I was now totally naked, I let my fingers trace the lips of my pussy.

"Fuck", I whispered, closing my eyes.

I picture Noah hovering over me, that sly grin wiped away, replaced by hunger, arousal.

I imagined his long, strong fingers sliding into me.

My hips bucked as I pressed harder, circling my clit, teasing myself till I was panting.

"God, Noah..." The name skipped out before I could stop it.

I grabbed the vibrator, turned it on low, and placed it against my clit. The buzz jolted through me. My back arched off the bed.

I fucked myself with my fingers, hard and deep, while the toy buzzed mercilessly against my swollen clit. My breasts bounced with every thrust, my nipples aching for a mouth to suck them.

" Ohhhh fuck, yes " I let out a glottal moan.

In my mind, Noah was above me, pinning me down, whispering dirty nothings in my ear as he rammed into me, stretching me open. "You're so wet for me, Professor. So fucking tight. I knew you wanted this".

The image made me shudder. I thrust faster, harder and deeper.

"Fuck me harder", I gasped, my fingers slamming in and out. "Make me cum, Noah".

The vibrator buzzed on high now, sending shockwaves through me. My body stiffened, heat building.

And then it hit me.

The orgasm tore through me, violent and overwhelming. My hips bucked, my cries filling the empty apartment. My body convulsed, drenched, shaking as wave after wave crashed over me.

I fell back onto the sheets, soaked, sweaty and shaking. The toy slipped from my hand buzzing weakly against the mattress.

For a long moment, I could only gasp, breathing hard, heart racing, pussy throbbing, Noah's name still on my lips.

When I finally fell asleep, it wasn't shame that I felt, it was hunger.

Because one taste wasn't going to be enough.

One taste wasn't going to quench this burning desire.

Morning sun shone across the blinds, casting its golden stripes on my bare skin. I tossed and rolled onto my side, the sheets wrapped around my thighs. I had flashbacks of the previous night, I couldn't fall asleep, restless and every time I drifted, I was dragged back into the same tormenting dream-his hands, his mouth, his voice calling me "professor" with that sinful voice.

Noah.

I sat up quickly, as if a hot coal was placed on my skin. My hair was tangled, my pussy was deliciously swollen, my thighs sticky, and the shame I felt burned hotter than the sunlight. I'd touched myself to the thoughts of my own student. The worst part, I'd climaxed with his name on my lips, the taste of me on his tongue, on his lips.

I pressed my palms to my eyes. What the hell is wrong with me?

I was a professional. A woman who demanded respect. A woman who commanded a classroom of restless, eager minds and kept them in line with nothing more than a glance, and a heartfelt smile. And yet, one man-one boy, had made me a mess with nothing more than his smirk, and filthy thoughts.

I dragged myself into the shower, turning the water cold, hoping to wash away the memory, the sin. It didn't help. The harder I tried not to think of him, the more vividly my body remembered and ached for his touch.

By the time I dressed and reached campus, I had made a perfect plan inside my head: steel, unbreakable, necessary. I would keep him out, keep him at a distant. He was a walking temptation and I was discipline.

That would be enough. It should be enough.

Or so I convinced myself.

Class should have been easy. I had taught this lesson a million times before, and could recite it in my sleep. But every time Noah shifted in his chair, I felt it run through me like a shock. His legs sprawled wide, too casual, too confident. His eyes never left me, even when I turned to write on the board. I swore I could feel them burning holes in the back of my skirt.

"Professor?" His voice called, cutting through my lecture, smooth as silk, daring me to meet his gaze.

"Yes, Noah?" I kept my tone flat, neutral, and extremely professional, but my heart started to beat fast.

"Could you... explain that last point again?" His lips curved at the corner, into a smirk, like he already knew the answer.

I explained it, careful to keep my eyes on the board instead of his mouth, instead of the lips that had kissed me senseless yesterday. But when I finally looked at him, he was leaning forward, forearms placed on his desk, watching me like a predator watches it's prey.

Something moved low in my belly. I looked away.

The rest of the class hour passed in a blur of words I barely remembered. When the clock finally chimed the end of the class, I dismissed them quickly, my heart racing with relief.

The room emptied, except for him.

Noah stayed seated, watching the others move out, his fingers tapping lazily on the desk. When the last student was gone, he stood, moving slowly, deliberately, until he was the only one left between me and the door.

I swallowed. "Class is over."

"I know." His voice was calm, low. "But you seemed distracted today." "What's the problem?"

My throat tightened. "I wasn't."

He smirked. "You were. And I think I know why."

I turned my back, gathering my notes. "You're out of line."

"Am I?" His footsteps moved closer, soft thud against the floor. "Because the way you've been looking at me, doesn't feel like I'm the only one crossing lines."

I froze. My hands clenched the papers until they crumpled.

Then he was behind me, right behind. Not touching, just close enough that the warmth of him hugged around me like smoke. His scent-clean soap, faint cologne, filled my nostrils, intoxicating.

I turned on him, my heart pounding. "You will stop this game, Noah. Now."

His grin widened, like he was enjoying this. "Game? Is that what this is for you?" His eyes lowered, lingering on my lips before moving lower, down the line of my blouse. "Because it doesn't feel like a game when I see the way your thighs press together every time I speak."

I inhaled deeply, too sharp, too revealing. Sighing loudly.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me I'm wrong."

The air between us vibrated with tension. I could almost taste the kiss that hovered over us.

My body screamed to give in. My brain begged me not to.

At the last second, I pushed my chair back, creating space. "Enough!" My voice cracked louder than I intended.

He straightened slowly, unfazed. "Alright, professor." His tone was now casual, like he hadn't just cornered me in my own classroom. "But you'll come around. You want me as badly as I want you. You just don't want to admit it yet."

And then, like he hadn't just set my entire body on fire-he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward the door.

He paused in the frame, looked back once, and smirked. "See you tomorrow."

The door clicked shut behind him.

I collapsed into my chair, my chest heaving. My entire body throbbed with want, my slit slick with need.

Damn him.

Damn me.

I placed my palms on my knees, forcing the heat down, but it was no use. Every nerve in my body was tuned to him now, every thought recognized by his presence.

He knew it, too. That was the worst part. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I do not have the power to stop him.

I closed my eyes, head tilting back against the chair's backrest. For one reckless minute, I imagined what it would be like if I hadn't stopped him. If I had let him lean in that much closer, if I had let his mouth finally crash into mine, let him taste the hunger he teased me with every damn day.

The thought alone made my thighs clench, made heat rise between them.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

This was moving fast, too fast.

And deep down, in the part of me I couldn't admit out loud, I didn't want it to stop. I liked it, heck, I loved it.

That evening, grading papers in my office felt like an impossible mission. Every red mark blurred, every word looked the same. My mind wouldn't stop. It replayed the way his voice had made shivers run down my spine, the way his body had filled the space, the way his confidence had stripped away my defenses.

My hand trembled as I set down the pen. My thighs pressed together, seeking relief.

I told myself no. Over and over again, I whispered it in my head. But my body was louder.

With a shaking hand, I slid one beneath the desk, beneath the hem of my skirt. My fingers brushed the damp slit between my thighs, and a soft gasp escaped from my lips before I could stop it.

God, not again.

But my resistance crumbled.

I closed my eyes and gave in, stroking myself slow, deep, imagining his voice whispering "professor" in my ear, imagining his fingers instead of mine, his mouth devouring every sound I tried to swallow.

The office, the papers, the risk-all of it faded away until there was nothing but him, everywhere, consuming me.

And when I finally climaxed, biting my lip hard to keep me from crying out his name, I knew I was lost.

This wasn't a crush. It wasn't a harmless attraction.

It was an obsession.

And it was only getting stronger by the minutes.