Wildest Desire: A Dark Erotic Short Story Collection

My legs tremble in the heels with every step I take up the stairs. I curl my fingers around my knee-length flare dress. My chest rises tightly, stretching the fitted upper part that's held in place by a front zipper before it spreads out from my waist downward.

I sneak a glance through the corner of my vision, watching the lively atmosphere in the bar below.

Bodies are pressed together in the center of the room, dancing and rocking against each other. The DJ's music hits loudly in the air, blocking out every other sound. You can barely hear yourself in here.

My eyes flicker back up the stairs, my reason for being here. My insides scream at me to turn back, to leave, that this is wrong, but I ignore it.

It's just my anxiety talking. The same feeling I felt when my professor sent me the location for our meetup after I challenged him in his office.

I had gathered the courage and gone into his office just after his lecture, but he didn't say a word, despite my questions, asking him why he keeps failing me, what I should do to avoid failing the course again, because I knew my answers were correct.

He just looked at me. Stared at me for so long that I thought I had something on my face.

Defeated, I left his office, only for a letter to appear in my dorm room later.

"You want to know why you keep failing?

Meet me at Lotus Bar, eight p.m.

VIP Lounge Five."

I was shocked. Dumbfounded.

The last place I'd thought of was here, a bar on the outskirts of the city. And late at night too.

He's too strict, too cold, and too diligent to invite me to this kind of place, but I want to believe it's definitely not what I'm thinking, not what my mind is coming up with.

He doesn't flirt. He's no charmer. Lots of girls have been heartbroken by him because he rejects them, so what would he want with an average girl like me when he has beauty and belles trailing after him?

But I can't refuse, not when I'm willing to do everything to make sure I don't fail his course again. Coming back to resit a course when my mates have passed out is disgraceful.

I've done everything. Attended extra classes just to avoid failing again, but it's all the same. And the annoying thing is that my answers are always correct. Yet he still fails me, giving one tiny reason or another.

Two good sessions, and he keeps failing me. I can't allow a third one.

God, I'm starting to hate the man.

I'm crushing on him, yes. All the girls are.

Professor Sebastian.

Prof. Seb.

Young, tall, lean, fit.

Glassy blue eyes. Neatly styled blonde hair. Sharp jawline. Long, lean fingers.

Most girls' fantasy.

And mine too.

But I'm not so sure anymore. If he doesn't have a solution for me, and he fails me again, makes me repeat his course, then I'm going to hate him forever.

I exhale. I quicken my pace and hurry up the stairs. The wristwatch on my wrist says it's almost eight. The last thing I want is to be penalized for being late, because he's very big on punctuality.

The loud wails of music fade off as I climb higher up the stairs. My heart begins to race as I get closer to the floor.

There's no going back.

This is important. Very important. And I'm doing it.

Yes.

I stop at the top of the stairs and scan the room numbers until my eyes finally stop at five. The hallway is dark, pitch darkness and silence, almost like it's soundproofed. The only light comes from the room numbers, glowing in white above each door.

Cold sweat frames my back. My heart picks up speed, but I straighten. I swallow, remove my hands from my dress, and smooth it down.

I need his guidance. And I'm getting it today.

I stride forward, my eyes fixed on the door until I stand in front of it. I don't give myself time to think. I knock.

"Come in," a voice whispers sharply.

Cold and piercing. Just like him.

I twist the lock and push the door open.

Dark.

The only reflection comes from the neon wall décor, glowing with the word 'Dark'.

The room is warm and silent. I can almost hear my breathing.

Why is everything here dark? Is it the theme of the place or something?

I move farther inside the room, seeing only what the glow allows.

On my left, toward the inner part of the room, he's sitting on a couch, the only couch in the room, placed against the wall. He's wearing his usual black suit, looking as hot and stunning as ever.

I wonder if he wears anything other than suits.

Black pants, tie, and jacket. White shirt. His jacket lies beside him on the couch, neatly folded. A few buttons on his shirt are undone, leaving his chest open to my eyes.

He isn't looking at me. His eyes are fixed on the glass of wine in his hand. His posture is erect. A small table with a wine bottle sits in front of him.

The door clicks shut behind me.

I don't move. I stand there, waiting for him to say something, because I'm starting to think he isn't aware of my presence, even after ordering me inside.

"Strip."

The word comes low. Smooth. Heavy.

My brows rise. My body freezes.

I must have heard wrong. Or maybe he isn't aware it's me. Yes, he isn't aware.

"It's Rose, Prof. Seb," I whisper, forcing an awkward laugh.

His head snaps up so fast that I draw in a sharp breath.

His blue eyes pierce straight into my soul, and I swallow. Heat floods my body. My legs quiver, but I try to force a smile again.

It can't be what I'm thinking.

No. It can't be Professor Seb.

The man doesn't even curse. I've never heard him swear before.

What the hell is going on?

He pins me with his sharp gaze, a hint of mischief flash in his eyes, almost as if he's enjoying watching me loose my mind.

"You're minute late," he drawls, leaning into the couch, twirling the glass. "You've lost the moment I get to explain how this works to you."

What?

What the hell can he explain in a minute?

"I don't like to repeat myself," he hisses. "If you so badly want to pass my course this time, you'll do as I say."

"I... I..." I snort. I stare at him, unable to look away.

What the fuck is going on? What the hell?

I can't even say anything. He's not even explaining. Am I just going to strip off my clothes and stand naked before him just like he ordered?

"You can leave if you can't do it, but I won't give you another chance. I value my time more," he whispers flatly.

His nose flare and I could have missed the excitement in his tone.

He's enjoying this. This is a game to him.

My heart squeezes, pain sitting heavily in my chest. I don't know what to do. A part of me wants to leave, but another part, the part that's willing to do anything to pass his course, wants to stay.

It can't be that bad, considering I have a crush on him. It should be a win-win. But it's wrong, if word gets out, if my course mates hear of it.

They can't, my mind whispers. If you leave now, then it's over.

My legs shift, and my hands reach up to my dress zipper and drag it down my chest. My hands shake. My stomach drops. My heart leaps. I feel scared and excited. Somehow, my body craves the command. I find myself wanting to submit, to obey his commands.

No.

I shouldn't.

I'm doing this to avoid failing.

Even if I'm crushing on him, it still doesn't make this less transactional.

I'd thought him strict and disciplined despite his coldness, but I didn't know he was actually a devil in disguise.

His eyes don't leave my body as I pull my dress open from the chest, my breasts spilling free. Heavy. Full. Ripe.

I hadn't bothered with a bra, never a fan of one since my breasts are so big and round, but now, I wish I had.

His eyes ogle me, watching every moment as I drag the dress down my waist and let it fall at my feet.

I grind my teeth together as I hook my thumbs into my panties and drag them down too, stepping out of them. I ignore the heat pooling in my belly and the tightening in my core.

"Always knew you had it in you, Rose,". he chuckles sarcastically.

My brows pull together. "Had what? I don't..."

"You seem to have forgotten who's in charge here," he interrupts, voice dangerously low. "You don't get to speak unless asked to. Just obey the commands."

He straightens, his eyes slowly gliding over my body. "You came late, so your punishment first."

"What..."

His eyes snap up, dark, irritated, and I slowly swallow my words.

A second passes before he speaks again. "Come here."

I move my legs, my lips pressing firmly together. I stop just a few steps away. Now I can see him clearly.

His usual cold, unreadable eyes, devouring my nakedness.

"Closer," he whispers.

I move forward, now standing in front of him, my legs ghosting his knees.

"Spread your legs apart. I want your right foot on the couch by my side."

My breath seizes. My eyes widen.

He wants me, to put my pussy directly in his face?

What the hell is this devilish professor trying to do? In all my years of intimacy, I've never been this vulnerable.

God, what have I gotten myself into? And the craziest thing is my body hums with so much joy and excitement, eagerness to please him.

Trembling, I lift my foot and place it on the couch, positioning my other leg beside his knee.

He tilts his head, his lips curling upward, a cruel smirk gracing his mouth.

"Look at you, turned on already. Look at your pussy, glistening and oozing even in the dark."

"I'm not..." The words die on my lips as his eyes darken.

"Touch yourself. Dig your finger into your hole and see for yourself just how filthy you are."

It isn't a request. It's a motherfucking command.

My hips flare as I slide my hand over my stomach, going downward, then slipping a finger through my pussy lips.

My body tenses at the contact. My legs wobble.

Slick.

Wet.

Lush.

My walls tighten in air, slickness pooling, spreading down my thighs. He hisses low, "Filthy little thing..."

My face burns with embarrassment, guilt at being caught.

"Undo my pants and bring out my cock."

His cock.

It sounds like sin coming from his perfectly shaped lips.

I release a shaky breath, but I don't say anything. I lean forward, my breasts spilling near his face, but he makes no attempt to touch. Even when I lean closer, he remains stagnant.

I reach for the leather belt, unhook it, unbutton his pants, pulling his cock free from his boxers.

Fuck.

It's heavy. Warm. Thick. Long.

He's longer than my arm length.

God.

This is a devilish weapon.

My single hand can't hold it all. He's so fucking huge, with tiny veins stretching along the length. The head is slick, plump, dark red. I lick my lips before I know it.

My veins run molten, every nerve ablaze with heat.

His cock jerks in my palm, and I drop it in shock and surprise. I glance at his face, but he gives nothing away.

So far, the only reaction from him is his cock.

My throat tightens as I stare at the thick length, standing rigid against his stomach. So fucking hard and tempting.

"Hold it, and push your pussy down on it in one thrust. If you pause midway, you start again. That's your punishment," he says, voice dangerously dark.

"Huh..." Another slip.

How the hell am I supposed to fit this devilish thing inside my tight hole? He's going to rip me in two.

My pulse ticks faster. My pussy clenches greedily.

"Don't pretend like you're aren't salivating for it," he grunts.

I snap out of my thoughts. I bend my right foot, digging my knee into the couch, then bring my other knee up too.

I stand on my knees and gently grab his cock, bringing it close to my entrance, resting my other hand on my thigh. I close my eyes and hold my breath, slowly moving downward.

"Open your eyes," he snaps. "I want to see what you look like when you're not pretending to be the innocent girl."

My eyes fly open.

My body drops heavily onto his cock. My hand falls away from the hard length.

I stiffen. My body freezes. My eyes burn.

Too huge.

Too tight.

"Fail. You'll have to go again," he smirks.

Huh?

You mean all of that didn't go in?

Despite the fullness that I feel, the stretch, the tightness, God? How much more?

My head drops down and I see his cock, more than half of the length is still out, and I thought I'd taken him whole.

I exhale roughly and rise up. I hiss softly as the rigid warmth slides out.

Again.

I stare up at the ceiling and hold his length, lowering my body over the huge, thick flesh, sliding into my soft, creamy walls as quickly as possible.

"Ahhh," I gasp out loud, and my hand reaches up to his chest for support, to hold myself.

Water smears the corner of my eyes, slowly trickling down.

"You're too huge..." I whimper through tightened lips.

"Again."

His expression doesn't shift as he whispers, and it irks me. He isn't touching me, his hands remain by his sides like a price I have to earn.

How strong is he? How long is he going to stay unaffected?

I inhale and blow out a breath through my mouth, then I stand again.

I let my palm remain on his chest, the slow thudding of his heart pounding against my palm. I hold him with my left hand and prepare to go again.

It's a fucking pure torture, and I can't wait to have him fully. I really want to ride out this heated tension from my body.

Relax. Just free your body and try again.

Yes.

The warmth of the plump red head of his pulsing cock pushes into my moist, swollen pussy, and I push down hard on it.

Fuck.

I shut my eyes in that moment. It's a lot. It's too much.

I pant, each breath squeezing out of my chest with difficulty.

If the whole thing isn't in right now, then I might just fail this course, because I can literally feel him in my throat, it's choking.

A devilish rod indeed.

"Move," he barks, and lands a slap on my butt.

Sharp and hot.

I jerk up, and my insides clench, tightening around him.

Fucking finally.

I move my other hand to his shoulder and arch my back, then slowly begin to grind my pussy on his shaft.

His hand slowly rubs my butt, soothing the pain.

I feel his straining, stretching inside me. My thighs quiver, my mouth opens apart, inhaling air through my mouth.

"Oh. Huh..."

I stare into his eyes as my body begins to move faster. My breasts collide with his chest, our breath mixes, my clit pulses with pressure.

Faster.

I want more.

My body bounces, his member slides out and slams back into me, hitting my core, and I groan out.

Deliciously sweet.

It melts in my heart, seeping into my veins.

It's not enough still.

I release my hands from his neck and place them behind me, one on his knees, and I start to throw my body up and down again.

My breasts sway heavily in his face, aching, begging to be touched.

I'm too focused on chasing my pleasure when I feel him. He thrusts in sharply, a low groan vibrating in his chest.

"Yes..." I hiss.

He thrusts his hips again, and I quiver.

"Yes, professor, yeah."

The bun on my head shakes loosely as my body jerks from his continuous pounding.

"Oh. Fuck, yes, like that... punish me, prof, yeahhh."

I suck in a breath, moaning like a cheap slut, clenching around him greedily.

I no longer care that I'm acting shameless. The only thing I can focus on is the sharp, thick thrust inside me.

It starts getting faster. Too fucking fast.

I hear the harsh intake of his breath, it echoes in my head. The only sound from him so far.

His length keeps hitting that sweet spot repeatedly. My body swings roughly, my head drops back.

"Yeah, fuck me harder, yess, prof... yes. I need it, yeah, fuck, I'm going to cum."

A loud wail tears from my throat. My body shakes like a boneless bag of flesh, and my cunt tightens, squeezing the life out of his length.

"Fuckkkk," I purr, gasping out a deep breath.

My fingers dig into his thighs as my body convulses, as he jerks inside me and his semen spreads warmth in me.

Yeah. Fuck, yeah.

I moan and purr, riding out the height until my body sags down.

I exhale and sit up, meeting his now-lazy eyes and curled lips, the closest to a smile I've ever seen.

He's handsome.

Kissable lips.

Drowning eyes.

Sharp jawline.

Straight nose.

Fuck. But it's over. It's done.

His eyes flick down to my chest, and his jaw clenches.

He clears his throat and glances back at me. "Bring your breast to my mouth. Feed me your nipple."

Hot heat washes over me. I start to feel hot all over as I stare at him.

What kind of sick request is that? Why not lean downward and pull one into his mouth? Why do I have to feed it to him? It's too intimate, too sexual, but yet, my nipples ache, my body melts with desire.

I look at him, right in his eyes. They're not as cold as earlier. There's a little warmth, a playful glint there, but still as hard as ever.

I have my score to think about. I've come this far to fuck it up now.

Yes. My score.

I lean forward and cup my left breast, raising it up to his face and pointing it to him.

I have very big breasts, fat hard nipples, and it's no problem feeding him despite the distance. All the while, his cock lies nestled in my hole, little drops of slickness trickling out.

He lowers his head and opens his mouth, sucking my hard nipple in.

"Hu... hmm..." a groan vibrates in my throat. Delicious sensation swells from my nipples to my toes.

God...

I really wish I could touch him, pull him closer, but I'm too scared of his reaction.

His tongue rolls the hard bud and laps at it, sucking, licking as I hold it in my hand.

He closes his eyes, humming softly, and his hand comes up to the other breast and squeezes it.

"Ooooo," I arch my back, pushing into him.

I grind my hips on his thighs and feel him hardening, straining and swelling in my wetness.

"Fuck, don't stop, professor. I want you again," I sob.

I don't even mind that I'm now begging. The need is too great, and I can't play it on the score anymore. I want him, to command me, to use me, fuck me.

This isn't about him anymore. I want it too.

I fucking want it.