Dating : My teacher’s pleasure — Kendrick

There was no need for me to enrol in Economics. Journalism didn’t need economics. I didn’t understand or want to understand economics.

But, there was one reason Economics 101 was oversubscribed — by young female students.

Kendrick Harrison. If economics had a rockstar, it was Kendrick Miles Harrison. Long blonde surfer’s hair on a footballer’s body. Sunkissed and Adonis like in a world of pasty old men. The subject would look good on my transcript, and I wasn’t the only person in his class who thought he’d look good on my arm, in my bed, or just inside me.

While he talked supply and demand, I wanted him to supply me with bulging cock — on my demand. When he talked equilibrium, I heard equal orgasm.

“Lana. Lana Rose.” My head shot up as hundreds of eyes turned my way.

He. Called. My. Name.

“If Lana is here, can she come to my office after class.”

Instinctively, I smoothed down my shoulder length, chocolate brown hair and mentally checked my clothes. Black denim cut-offs, check. At least he’d get a good look at my legs. Hot pink, off the shoulder three quarter length tee that was a size too small, double-check. I was supposed to be meeting a new client later, except, the anonymous HK had cancelled. Black Vans completed my look.

“What does he want?” My best friend, Bree asked as we piled out of the university lecture theatre.

“Maybe he got me confused with one of the applicants for tutor? I applied to get tutored, not to be one.” Bree laughed while I half died inside.

I was never nervous. Not by hot men.

But, if he was going to fail me, then that was an issue. My four years of university were carefully planned, with no financial room for error. Failing wasn’t an option.

“Mr Harrison asked to see me?” I gave my name to the receptionist who clearly had me pegged as a groupie. Yes, I was, but happy to do so from a distance. Like, from the back of the room while he was on stage. I didn’t need to get up an personal with the guy.

“Miss Rose, thank you for making the time to see me,” Kendrick said, offering me his hand. “Celia, I’m an ass,” he called to the receptionist. “I left two signed copies of my book back in the lecture theatre. I promised them to Siggy. Can you drop them off to the law faculty for me?”

“Certainly, Professor Harrison.” Celia stressed the Professor, yeah, I’d just insulted my lecturer by calling him Mr.

“Please take a seat.” He offered me the only chair next to a coffee table strewn with folders and papers.

I brushed my thighs with damp hands. In person, he was a rockstar. Up close, the insta-chemistry was off the planet. When he looked at me, nothing else existed. Not time, not morality, not the world.

“I have a dilemma,” he started, clearing the small table to use it as a seat. Not his desk that was at the end of the room, or his own large office chair. “My sister and her husband have gone away for the weekend.”

I sat, wishing my heart would slow down so I could hear and take in his words. I didn’t know he had a sister, and right now, I didn’t know why I should care.

“I agreed to look after my niece for the weekend.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“It would be, except I don’t know anything about four-year-olds.”

“They have a lot of energy, have no fear of heights and have no concept of just one more book.” I laughed, happy to be talking from a position of knowledge. I charged five times the usual rate for babysitting services for two reasons: children loved me and demanded their fathers only hire me; and fathers loved me for the option I gave them.

If the single father appealed to me, and if his date failed, he came home to me. My babysitting ceased the minute he walked in the door. Anything else, was between two consenting adults.

I was a babysitter, not a whore.

I was young and single, not looking for a sugar daddy.

“Sounds like you are a great babysitter.”

“What?” I straightened in my chair. “How did you — ”

“I love my niece and this is the first time I’ve been trusted to look after her. Apparently, my sister would trust me with her life savings, but not her daughter.”

“I’d trust you with my life savings, just saying.” This time, my eyelashes did the flutter of their own accord. We were no longer a professor and student. He was a man, and I was a —

Student. I was his student. There were rules. I couldn’t afford to break them.

I’d given up my family to come to Sydney for university. Yes, there were other universities in other cities, but I refused to fail.

“Something we can talk about, perhaps.”

Now, he kneeled in front of my chair. Parting my legs with his hands over mine. “Lana, I asked around for nannies and babysitters. There was one name that kept coming up.”

“Oh.” I knew my reputation within the elite, single fathers. Some of them became clients. A few became special clients. Both paid the same price for my babysitting services. In some circles, having me as a babysitter was a badge of honor — whether they were special or not.

“I reached out to the name.”

“Oh.” He didn’t. I knew all my clients. I screened new prospects vigorously. I even had a friend on the police force who did a check to make sure there hadn’t been any allegations of abuse.

“The babysitter comes with impeccable references, children love her, and her clients — ” He leaned in, until I could count the gold flecks in his light hazel eyes. “Speak highly of her.”

“Professor?” I let the question hang.

“I was supposed to meet her today.”

Shit. HK. My professor was HK.

Swallowing, I tried to recall our text conversation. Had it gotten flirty? Hell, yes. Had he turned me on with texts alone? Absolutely.

Had I been crushed when he cancelled our meet up?

Yes.

“Professor, I — ”

I’d enrolled in his class for the eye-candy.

I’d come to his office hoping not to fail the course.

I didn’t expect his lips to carefully brush over mine.

Gentle.

Tentative.

As if waiting for me to push him away.

Instead, I kissed him back. Matching his intensity. Matching his pace.

My heart pounded, knowing the stakes.

“Your secretary?” I panted, pulling away from his face, but by now my hands had found his ass. Holding him in place. No longer my professor, Kendrick was a man — and I had the home ground advantage.

“She’ll be a while.”

“Because you do this often?”

“Because she knows I’d never risk my career for a fling with a student.”

“I’m your student.”

“I’m hoping you’ll be my babysitter. I need you. I want you.”

This time, I kissed him.

He moaned, dragging his hands underneath my shirt until he owned my full breasts. Thumbing the flesh until my sighs filled the room.

“Professor — ”

“Kendrick. Call me Kendrick.” He kissed his way down my neck, stopping only to lift my tee and bite around my lacy bra. “It doesn’t feel as, wrong. Call me Kendrick.”

“We don’t have to,” I tried to convince myself — although my hands and kisses had a mind of their own. “I can babysit without crossing the line.”

“I crossed the line with you the first time you were in my class. I know why my class is full. I know why I’m the only junior professor with their own receptionist as a guard to my office. I’ve never looked at a student the way I’ve looked and thought about you.”

“Oh,” I moaned. We couldn’t. The window was open and anyone walking through the courtyard could see. He saw my concern.

“Wait.”

After he closed the blinds, locked the door, he stood at his glass desk. Second thoughts? He’d opened the starting gate and I was ready to barrel through. Consequences be damned.

“Kendrick?” I stood behind him, hands clasped over his chest. Feeling for myself the muscles I’d only imagined. Tracing down to where the defined V stopped at his belt.

“Is it wrong that I want to fuck you over my desk? That I want to see those perfect boobs pressed against the glass? That I want to take you from behind and watch your eyes bulge as I make you come?”

“No.” I undid his buckle by feel, his jeans buttons followed. He was already oozing pre-cum by the time his boxers fell to the floor.

“Is it wrong that I want your breath to fog up the glass, until you have to bite on my fist to stop the other offices from coming to rescue you?”

“No.”

His cock was warm and hard. More than a handful.

Now, the room was filled with the scent of my arousal.

“I need you to help me with my niece, but I want you naked. Here. I want to be balls deep inside you. I want to fuck you and so help me, it’s all I’ve been able to think of this semester. I could ignore you until your name kept being thrown my way.”

“Kendrick?” I used his cock as a handle, turning him towards me. “Don’t ignore me. I’m just a girl, looking for a man who can fill her.”

“I don’t have any condoms,” he admitted. “I’ve never needed them here, before.”

“Then, you’re lucky that I always come prepared.” My cosmetic kit held three.

“I like a woman who’s prepared.”

“It’s all about supply and demand.” I didn’t need help rolling the latex over his twitching cock. I should have had a taste, but by now, my pussy demanded to be fed. “You demand to be fucked, and I’ll supply the condoms.”

“What if I demand to be fucked this weekend?”

“That depends — ” I kissed him once more. My tongue hungrily sweeping his mouth before breaking away. I spread my legs, leaning across the cold glass. “On how I grade your supply now.”

I felt him spread my cheeks with his thumbs before rubbing my juices with his cock. Teasing. Tantilizing.

“Do it,” I demanded. “Don’t just stand their admiring the view. Fuck me, or lose me. We’re running out of time.”

He slid inside with one movement. His hand on my back, pressing me against the table. He’d been right, the glass would fog from my breath, except I could also see his eyes. Hovering over my shoulder.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, slamming me once, jolting the table. A coffee cup slid an inch.

Again, he slammed. A long, firm thrust. I moaned, as much from wanting more as from the hard edge of the table. “Sorry.” He pulled me back and rested one hand between my pussy and the edge.

“How’s this?” His fingers had curled up, stroking my clit while he thrust again. I let my moans be my answer. He was a smart man, he could figure it out.

He thrust again, and again. The cold glass had now warmed under my breasts and my clit was singing the praises of his fingers. I felt the pressure rise, the tingles start.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I whispered — still afraid of being caught.

“Come around my cock. Squeeze me. Squeeze me to death.”

Holding me firm in one arm, Kendrick unleashed. Not caring about the scaping table, not caring when the coffee cup slid off and shattered to its death. His eyes were still fixated on mine through the reflection. His hazel on my lavender.

And then, I came. Fisting my own mouth to stop the screams. I shuddered. A full, body, shudder.

Yes, I clenched around his cock.

I spasmed until I collapsed onto the desk, not realizing Kendrick had come with me.

“Lana,” he whispered into my neck, one finger stroking my tender clit. “Lana.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not asking to be your only client, but will you be my only babysitter?”

“Yes.”

Thanks for reading. I’m just a journalist student having fun babysitting my way through college. Single dads make the best clients but my hot professor comes a close second.

Follow me to read more from my babysitter diaries.

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