Confessions of a Bad Boy Professor

  Confessions of a Bad Boy Professor

  Cathryn Fox

  Contents

  Copyright

  1. Justin

  2. Violet

  3. Justin

  4. Violet

  5. Justin

  6. Violet

  7. Violet

  8. Justin

  9. Violet

  Thank You!

  Confessions of a Bad Boy Cop

  About Cathryn

  Also by Cathryn Fox

  Copyright

  (Formerly published by Cathryn Fox writing as Sloan Kincaid)

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  ISBN 978-1-928056-70-6

  1

  Justin

  Another weekend. Another party.

  I need to give this shit up.

  I swirl the amber liquid in my glass and glance around the bar to take in the group of loud girls partying around me. I try to find the one I’d just danced for in a private party room off the main bar. I’m not really sure why I’m looking for her. She’s just another girl in a sea of women I dance for once in a while.

  My gaze lands on her, sitting at the other end of the bar, uncomfortable, nervous and so goddamn beautiful my dick swells.

  Okay, maybe I do know why I’m looking for her. I’ve been doing this gig for a long fucking time, and none of the girls I danced for were ever like her. The guys and I started dancing at parties to for cash when we were in college, and well, maybe my reasons had more to do with rebellion than money. The business flourished and spread to other states, and even though none of us need the money, we now dance when we have to fill in, or for kicks. But I’m tired of flying around, putting on a mask and shaking my cock in some drunk girl’s face. But this girl, well, she’s been nursing a drink for the last hour, and doesn’t seem at all like the kind who would enjoy a half naked guy shaking his junk at her.

  I catch her gaze, and hold it for a minute. She quickly turns away and my cock swells at her shyness. Shit. She’s way too young and innocent for me. I have no idea what her story is or why her friends would hire me to dance for her twenty-first birthday, and I should leave it at that. If I knew what would good for me, I would.

  But, fuck it. I rarely go with what’s good for me, which is why I’m sitting on a goddamn bar stool in Virginia sipping on a scotch when I should be back at Penn State, grading papers. I’m bored with that job, too. But dear old dad is the dean, and while I had different career aspirations, both he and mom pushed me into education—hence my rebellious stage.

  I swallow the rest of the liquid, let it burn its way down my throat. I don’t normally stay for a drink after a gig, but tonight, I don’t know, there’s something about the birthday girl that’s throwing me off. I pick up the backpack at my feet, the one stuffed with my dance clothes and mask, a necessity for me now. I’m a fucking psych professor, for Christ’s sakes. Ever hear of a code of conduct? Yeah, well, I’m violating every rule I promised to uphold.

  I really need to give this shit up.

  I toss the bag over one shoulder and stand. The heat in the room, as well as the mixed scent of alcohol and perfume, washes over me. I’m anxious to get the hell out of here. Looks like the recipient of my dance is, too.

  I push through the lively crowd, and slide in beside her at the bar. Her body goes stiff, and shit, I’m pretty sure I’d do anything to help her relax.

  “Hey,” I say.

  She nibbles her bottom lip. Sexy as hell.

  Fuck me.

  I shift, and lean on the bar so she can’t see my swelling cock.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Not really your scene, is it?”

  She crinkles her nose. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yeah, a little bit.” I take a glance around. “Want to get out of here? Walk the beach?”

  Her back stiffens, and her chest juts out, her lovely nipples pressing against the silk of her blouse. “I don’t even know you.”

  It’s true. She doesn’t. I was in costume when I danced for her, so no way can she know I’m the guy her friends hired to shake it in her face. I take in her wide blue eyes. So fucking innocent she’s killing me.

  Desperate to put her at ease, I shrug. “I don’t know you either. How do I know once we’re outside you won’t try to get me out of my clothes and have your way with me?”

  She smiles, and it rocks my fucking world. “I really could use some fresh air...”

  I pick up on her hesitation. “Pass me your phone.”

  What the fuck am I doing?

  Breaking all kinds of rules tonight, that’s what I’m fucking doing.

  “Why do you want my phone?” she asks as she slides it across the sticky bar top.

  I hold it up, and take a selfie. “There, now you have my picture. If I try anything you don’t like, you’ll have my mug shot for the police.”

  She looks at me like I’m a bit insane. Maybe I am, because I should really leave this alone. She reaches for her purse, and I say, “Do you need to tell a friend?”

  Her gaze flickers to the dance floor, but none of her friends are paying any attention to her. Girls are supposed to look out for one another when partying—come together and go together. But it doesn’t look like she’s made that pact with any of these drunk party girls. She frowns, a hint of loneliness ghosting her eyes, and my heart squeezes. At least she’s in good hands with me. She’s sweet and innocent and I don’t—okay I do, but won’t—want anything more from her than a conversation.

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here,” she says.

  “Wait.” I pull out my phone and take a picture of her. “There, now if you try anything I don’t like, I’ll have your mug shot.”

  She blinks, surprised and I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her out the door. The night air is warm, sticky, but it’s a break from the heat and bodies inside. I breathe deeply as the waves laps against the sand in the distance.

  “I’m Justin, by the way.”

  “Violet.”

  Pretty, just like her.

  The music becomes faint as we remove our shoes and step onto the sand. She exhales and runs the warm grains between her painted toes. Painted toes. Fuck, that’s sexy, too.

  Don’t go there, dude.

  “Can I ask a question?”

  Her long curls bounce around her face and she purses her pouty, heart-shaped mouth as her big blue eyes meet mine. “You can ask, but it doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

  Beautif
ul and funny.

  A dangerous combination.

  She doesn’t know I’m the guy who danced for her, so I need to word my question carefully. “What were you doing at the bar? It doesn’t seem like it’s your kind of scene.”

  “It’s not really. I work with those girls. We’re not close, so I guess that’s how they thought I should celebrate my twenty-first birthday.”

  “I’ve only known you for five minutes and I would never throw you a party like that.”

  “No? Then what would you do?” she asks.

  I take in her skirt, the sleeveless silk blouse she has tucked into the hem, and say, “Quiet dinner, walk on the beach.”

  “You can tell all that from looking at me.”

  “Gut feeling.” I’m not about to tell her I’m a psychology professor and study behavior and mind. Her behavior tonight told me everything I needed to know. She’s a good girl, and I need to stay away.

  She arches a brow. “You’re pretty intuitive.”

  “You’re beautiful.” Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that. Fucking just slipped out. I don’t want her to think I’m coming on to her. She turns from me, and looks at the water. I’m pretty sure she’s about to run the other way. I’m a stranger, eight years older than her, and I’m probably coming off like a stalker.

  “Race you to the water,” she says, and takes off. “Last one there has to go skinny dipping.”

  Skinny dipping?

  I stand still for a moment, processing that as her skirt flies around her backside and she darts to the waves. She’s not the kind of girl to go skinny-dipping, of that I’m certain. My brain kicks in and I chase after her. When I catch her, she’s laughing and breathless.

  Jesus fuck, the sound goes straight through me, and zaps what little control I seem to have around her. I touch her face, my thumb sweeping across her cheek. Her laugh dies and her eyes go wide as they latch onto mine.

  “Violet.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I really want to kiss you.”

  A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

  I step into her, meshing my hardness with her softness. Sweet fuck, my cock grows another inch, and she gives a little gasp when she feels it. “Sorry,” I say, but somehow I’m not. I actually want her to know she’s beautiful, see what she does to me. I dip my head, and softly, lightly brush my lips over hers, not wanting to hurry the moment I might never have again.

  A moan escapes her throat and I slide my hand to the back of her neck as I increase the pressure. I push my tongue in and we tangle. I catch the taste of the syrupy drink she’d been nursing, but it’s not nearly as sweet as her. I close my eyes, savor, enjoy, drown in her flowery scent and taste. I’m only half aware as her hands snake around my back, her questing fingers splaying, touching, exploring my body.

  I want to do the same.

  Using slow movements so as not to scare her, I sweep my hands lower, run my fingers along her vertebrae until I’m at the small of her back. The sweet curve of her ass calls out to me. I dare to go lower and cup her roundness, and massage lightly as I pull her against my cock.

  A sound lodges in her throat as she breaks from the kiss. I pull my hands away, and take in the flush on her cheeks as wide eyes stare up at me. Okay, now I’ve gone to far. She’s going to run.

  “You lost,” she says on a breathless whisper.

  Her words are a jumbled mess in my lust-filled brain. “Lost?”

  “The race.”

  It only takes a second for my thoughts to catch up. Holy fuck. Is she serious?

  Here I thought she was going to bolt, only for her to be staring at me, waiting for me to shed my clothes.

  Fine, I’ll play it her way. For now.

  2

  Violet

  What the hell am I doing?

  Justin steps back from me, his hands going to the buttons on his shirt. I don’t need for him to remove it to know he’s got a freaking killer body. He’s all lean muscle and broad shoulders, so different than the boys my age.

  “I don’t think this is all that fair,” he says, his grin sexy, mischievous.

  “No?” I take in his the hard planes of his face, the light dusting of a beard. How will that feel against my skin? He is by far the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, and he’s no college boy. My eyes drop to his big hands. No, he’s no college boy at all, fumbling around with my body and having no idea how to please me. A guy like Justin can please just from his words alone.

  “You had a big head start.” He cocks his head. “By rights, I think you should remove your clothes too.”

  “Really, you think?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  I toy with the button on my blouse. This game is completely out of character for me. But Jesus, I’m twenty-one, practically a virgin. I’ve only been with one guy and I don’t classify that horrible experience as having sex. No, what we did was sloppy and unsatisfying. In three days I go off to college. I’m older to be starting, I know, but I’ve had to work and save and scrimp before I could afford it. I certainly couldn’t count on my folks to help. They’re too busy fighting and drinking to care about their only daughter. But I saved, determined to make something of myself, and just once I want to let go, do something just for me before I buckle down to study for the next four years.

  “Yeah, I do, isn’t convincing me that I should strip,” I say, and wonder who this Violet is. I guess it’s sort of freeing to know I’ll be leaving here on a bus tomorrow, and can say and do whatever I want with this guy that I’ll never see again.

  Justin’s dark eyes dim, looking at me with a hunger I’ve never known before. “Okay, how about this. If you take your clothes off with me, I promise you a birthday you won’t forget.”

  Confident. I like that in a man. “When you put it that way.”

  I pop the first button as he sheds his shirt to expose the hottest body I’ve ever set eyes on. My mouth waters, and my hands itch to touch him. This is all so new to me and I should feel embarrassed and awkward, but I don’t. We have an instant connection, and there is something about him that has me feeling needy, desired. I want to go wild, do something crazy before I hop on a bus and turn my back on Virginia for good.

  His big fingers go to the button on his jeans and he pops it. I suck in a breath as his zipper hisses in the quiet of the night. I steal a quick glance around. We’re alone but it does occur to me that we could get caught. So what? I’m leaving this place and don’t ever plan to return.

  I slip from my shirt and his gaze latches onto my breasts as I reach behind my back, putting my hands over the clasp. I pause.

  He sheds his pants and his cock presses hard against his shorts. It’s quite the turn on that this older guy is so hot for me. Most guys don’t pay me too much attention. Then again, I keep my head down, work two jobs, and don’t give off any signals.

  I free my breasts and his quick intake of air fuels the need inside me.

  “You are so beautiful, Violet.”

  Does he say that to all the girls? I don’t know, and I don’t care. The way he’s currently looking at me screams want, and tonight I just want to be wanted.

  “Your turn,” I say, and point at his shorts.

  He tugs them down, and his big, magnificent cock springs free. Now it’s my turn to suck in a quick breath. He takes his shaft into his hands and rubs. My body moistens, never having been so turned on in my entire life.

  “Your turn,” he says, his voice deeper than moments before. I wiggle my hips, and he groans as I shimmy out of my skirt. “Keep going.”

  As I admire the perfect male specimen before me, hotter and more cut than any boy I know, I tug the elastic on my panties and bend forward to remove them. Once we’re both completely naked, he steps up to me, runs the back of his knuckles down my arm. I shiver.

  “Cold.”

  “No. Hot.”

  He smiles. “I’ll say.” His hands slides around my body, and cups my ass. “Happy twenty-first birthday, beautiful.”
He pulls his hand back and gives me a firm slap.

  I gasp at the spanking, and run into the water, which feels so cold against my heated skin.

  “Twenty spankings to go, Violet, and you’re not getting off that easy.”

  “I never said I wanted to get off easy,” I say.

  “Fuck, girl. You shouldn’t say things like that to me.” He follows me in, splashing behind me. I swim, but he catches up to me pretty quickly, his strong arms and legs cutting through the water easily.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because giving it to you hard is all I’ve been able to think about, and I’m not sure you’re ready for that from me.”

  My entire body quakes as I snake my arms around his neck, and push against his body. It’s amazing how hot he feels despite the cold water. His hard cock slides between my legs and I clamp them together. He groans against my ear, his breath caressing the outer shell and eliciting a shiver from me.

  “Hard,” I whisper against his skin. “That’s what I want for my birthday.”

  He cups the back of my head and his lips find mine again, only this time the kiss is firm, deeper, more demanding. Good. I’m not looking for a gentleman tonight. I kiss him back, tasting the scotch on his tongue, and lightly drag along his skin with my nails as I explore his muscles.

  He hisses, and backs up until we’re ankle in the water. He sits, and settles me on top of him. His lips curl around one of my nipples and I arch against his mouth, wanting, needing for him to devour me. I hold his head, rake my nails through his hair, and hand myself over, his to do with as he pleases.

  He licks my nipples, sucks until hollows form in his cheeks, then bites down until pain mingles with pleasure.