Desperate

“Feeling desperate?”
I pushed my sweaty, loose strands of chocolate brown hair behind my ears and stopped dead in my tracks. Looking over my shoulder, I saw him standing there with that stupid, sly grin on his face that I wanted to literally smack off onto the hot concrete. Curse my music for ending at just the most inconvenient time, I could’ve ignored him if the music was still playing, pretend I didn’t see or hear him. Maybe I wouldn’t even have had to pretend. Maybe I wouldn’t have even noticed his presence. But I’m never that lucky.
“What do you want, Harry?” I asked impatiently as I messed with my Nikes. This was supposed to be a mind clearing run, not a mind fucking run.
He chuckled darkly as he pulled his hair up into that messy bun he wears so often. He should’ve looked like an utter douche bag but it only made him look ten times more like a GQ model than a college professor.
“I should be asking you the same thing, Miss Pursell.” He placed his hands behind his back, folded, and took a step towards me. I let my eyes briefly glance at his choice of clothing for the day. A white button down shirt, with far too many buttons unclasped, black dress pants and his signature black boots.
“What’s that suppose to mean?” I scoffed. He chuckled again. That same deep, taunting chuckle. God, I could rip his vocal chords out. No one drives me more mental than him.
“You expect me to believe that you just happened to run by my car three times on accident?” He motioned his hand towards his Black Lamborghini parked to the right of me. I was literally standing right beside it. I gasped. Partially out of the fact that I literally had no clue that out of all the places I could’ve run on campus, I ended up running by his car, and more so for the fact that he had counted how many times I had passed it.
“So flirting with your students isn’t enough for you? You have to stalk them as well?” I seethed. I shouldn’t still be sweating but my blood was boiling and it had nothing to do with the 80-degree weather.
He smiled.
“Oh Miss Pursell, I would never stalk you.” Now it was my turn to chuckle.
“You expect me to believe that you just happened to see me run past your God forsaken car three times on accident?” I mocked him. His eyebrows immediately furrowed and his eyes darkened. He walked towards me until his face was merely two inches away from mine. Oh, fuck.
“Miss Pursell, I’m a very patient man in most situations. But I don’t have much patience for students who think it’s respectful to mock their professors.” I gulped. No, I needed to keep my pride intact. I was done with his games, with his perverted glances in the hallways, his lip biting and stares in the classroom.
“I’m normally a very well behaved student, Professor Styles. But I don’t have much patience for perverted, needy professors.” I grinned like I was asking for a death wish. I was so over this. He laughed. Loudly. Almost hysterically. He leaned in and at first I thought he was going to kiss me but his lips reached passed my face, right by my ear.
“It’s not perversion if you like it, Miss Pursell,” he whispered. I felt my stomach drop. No. This was too far. He couldn’t say those things. He can’t read me like that. He can’t poke at those kind of desires. Those are buried deep. There are reasons they are buried deep. They’re wrong.
“No.” That was all I could say. He brought his face back so it was level with mine.
“If you want to play this game, I will gladly play along,” he stated, “but there are always consequences.” I squinted at him in confusion.
“What kind of consequences?” I asked breathlessly.
“I always win, Miss Pursell.”

Notes

Yes. It's that kind of story. But this is going to be very in depth. This isn't going to be some story about a dominant professor and a submissive student. This is going to be meaningful, emotional, and very important. I'm excited for all of us to experience this together!

L. Rose