Chapter 3
Emrys’s POV
The realistic, veiny dildo lay on the corridor floor between us like a neon sign screaming “inappropriate.”
I stared at it for half a second, then bent down smoothly and picked it up. It was heavier than I expected, thick, flesh-colored, with realistic veins and a suction cup base. The thought of prim, proper Professor Mia Cromwell owning something like this made my cock twitch hard in my jeans.
I held it out to her, turning it slowly in my hand with deliberate amusement.
“You have interesting taste, Professor,” I said, voice low enough that only she could hear. “Very… educational.”
Mia’s face turned a deep, mortified crimson. Her green eyes widened behind her glasses as she snatched the dildo from my hand with shaking fingers, stuffing it back into her bag like it had burned her.
“It’s not mine,” she stammered, voice high and panicked. “It was a gift. From my friend. A very inappropriate gift. I don’t… I don’t use it.”
She was adorable when she was flustered. The way her cheeks burned, the way she couldn’t quite meet my eyes, the way her conservative blouse suddenly seemed too tight across her breasts. I wanted to push her against the wall right here in the corridor and show her exactly how to use it.
Instead, I simply smiled. “Of course. A gift. Very thoughtful friend.”
Mia clutched her bag to her chest like a shield. “I’ll email you the details for our tutoring sessions. Goodbye, Mr. Sternwolfe.”
She turned and practically fled down the corridor, heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she hurried away. I watched her go, eyes locked on the sway of her hips in that tight pencil skirt, the memory of her on her knees last night burning behind my eyes.
Fuck.
I stayed in the corridor for a long moment after she disappeared around the corner, trying to will my erection down. The image of her sucking my cock was bad enough. Now I had a new one — Professor Mia Cromwell spread out on her bed, legs wide, fucking herself with that thick dildo while moaning my name. The mate bond made it ten times worse. Every instinct in me screamed to claim her, mark her, fill her until she couldn’t remember any man but me.
I lasted until I got home.
The moment my apartment door closed behind me, I shoved my hand down my pants and freed my aching cock. It sprang out, heavy and flushed, already leaking precum down the shaft. I wrapped my hand around the thick length and groaned at the first firm stroke.
“Fuck, Mia…”
The fantasy hit me instantly and violently.
I imagined her in her office after hours, door locked, blinds drawn. She would be sitting at her desk in that prim pencil skirt, legs spread wide, the realistic dildo in her trembling hand. Her glasses would be slightly fogged. Her bun would be coming loose, blond strands falling around her flushed face.
She would be hesitant at first, biting her lip as she pressed the thick head against her slick entrance. Then, with a soft, embarrassed whimper, she would push it inside herself, slowly, inch by inch, stretching that tight virgin pussy.
I stroked myself faster, eyes closed, picturing every detail.
She would moan for the masked stranger she took in her mouth last night. She would remember how my cock had felt in her mouth. How thick I was. How I had groaned when she sucked me. And now she would be fucking herself with that dildo, imagining it was me.
“Please…” she would whimper in my fantasy, hips rolling as she worked the toy deeper. Her free hand would squeeze her breast through her blouse, pinching her nipple the way I had wanted to do since the moment I saw her.
I pumped my fist harder, thumb swiping over the sensitive head on every upstroke, spreading the steady leak of precum.
In my mind, she would get bolder. She would pull her skirt up to her waist, spread her legs wider on the desk, and fuck herself harder with the dildo. The wet, obscene sounds would fill her office, the slick slide of silicone in and out of her dripping pussy. Her moans would grow louder, needier.
“Please… I need your cock…” she would beg the empty room, not knowing I was the one she was fantasizing about.
I groaned loudly, my strokes becoming rougher, almost punishing. My balls tightened—the pressure at the base of my spine built fast.
I imagined her coming, back arching, thighs shaking, crying out as her pussy clenched around the thick toy. Her glasses would slip down her nose. Her bun would come completely undone. She would look utterly ruined, just like she had looked on her knees for me.
That image pushed me over the edge.
“Fuck— Mia—” I growled, my hips jerking as thick ropes of cum shot across my stomach and chest. I kept stroking through it, drawing out every pulse, imagining her watching me come, her eyes wide behind her glasses.
Even after I finished, my cock remained half-hard. The mate bond was relentless. It wanted me to claim her. To mark her. To fill her until she smelled like me.
I cleaned myself up, still breathing hard, when my phone buzzed with a new email.
From: Professor Mia Cromwell
Subject: Tutoring Session
Mr. Sternwolfe,
Thank you for your interest in extra help. Our first session will be tomorrow at 4pm in my office after lectures end. Please come prepared with any specific topics you’re struggling with.
As this is a private tutoring session outside regular hours, the rate is $150 per hour. An upfront payment of $300 (for the first two hours) would be appreciated to secure the slot.
Best,
Professor Cromwell
I smiled darkly. Without hesitation, I opened my banking app and transferred $500 to her account. It was more than enough to cover the first session and then some. I replied immediately.
From: Emrys Sternwolfe
Subject: Re: Tutoring Session
Professor Cromwell,
Payment sent. Looking forward to tomorrow.
Emrys
I leaned back in my chair, still half-hard, already imagining all the ways I was going to ruin my innocent little professor during our “tutoring” session.