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She must see the honest frustration in my face because hers is instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Professor,” she replies, sweeping her gaze to the side in supplication. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
“Hmm,” I hum, unimpressed. My hungry gaze roves over her body. “I was going to ease you into today’s lesson, but now we have no time for that. I suppose we’ll just have to get right to it.”
Her pupils expand, edging out her gorgeous green-gold irises. “Yes, Professor.”
Fuck, but that makes my knot throb.
I’ve tried to make sense of this too many times to count. Hundreds of students have called me Professor and I’ve never so much as blinked.
But Serena is special. Something about the honest trepidation and carnal interest filling her face—the way she knows exactly when to look me in the eye and when to demur.
She’s just… perfect.
Perfect for me.
My mate.
Ignoring the fresh ache tugging at my chest, I lift my chin. “Go stand at the side of my desk, Miss Swanson. And remove your panties.”
A shiver moves through her as a burst of sweet perfume wafts into the air. She moves off my lap, leaving my dick aching in protest, and gingerly makes her way to the side of the large mahogany desk.
With her usual sleek grace, she glides her hands under her skirt and shimmies her underwear down, stepping out of the ivory lace before turning to me for further instruction.
I slide a stack of books to the other side of my desk and point to the wood.
“Today’s lesson: Presenting.”
Her quiet gasp makes my shaft jerk. As I push to my feet, she does her best to follow my unspoken command, hinging at the hips to present as best she can while standing. Her breasts flatten into the unforgiving wood, along with her stomach. Her dress rides up, barely keeping her bare ass covered while she turns her head to wait.
She’s so pretty like this.
But not quite perfect.
I tsk, circling her with my hands behind my back. To her, it probably looks as if I’m inspecting a troublesome sight, but really, I have to lace my fingers together to keep from running them up the backs of her trembling thighs.
I finally allow myself one caress, smoothing my palm from her ass cheek to the back of her knee as I hum, “Hmm. No. This won’t do.”
The way her scent shifts—edging into something darker—only adds to our game. As does the way she looks to the floor. “Teach me, Professor. Please?”
A current snaps up my spine, drawing a growl from my chest. “Very well.”
“To present properly,” I begin, dropping into my typical lecture voice. “An omega must be on his or her knees. Chest flat, arms stretched out overhead.”
I hear her breath catch, but a moment later, she moves. Carefully folding her knees up onto the desk, tucking them close to her abdomen while she follows my instructions.
When she settles, her dress is halfway up her naked ass. And, from behind, I can see every inch of her wet, wanting pussy.
While I stare at the dark, glistening lips, her tight little entrance quivers. I want to see her asshole do the same. And technically, proper omega presentation would give me the perfect view of everything.
“Lift your rear,” I murmur, too husky to snap. “Push your hips back.”
She obeys beautifully. A textbook presentation that puts her glorious cunt and rounded ass just over the edge of the desk, hovering above the cock-teasing heels she has crossed under her.
Fucking hell.
Serena whines, but there’s no distress in it. Only soft pleading. I smooth my hand over her warm, perfect skin again, sliding her dress to the small of her back.
“How does it feel, omega?”
