Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Book3-12



I stare at her in shock as a clanging sound begins to ring in my head. My heart races as my blood pressure goes up because what are the chances? I’ve never sampled an anal prolapse before, and yet now I’m getting two offers in one week? What the fuck?

Meanwhile, Monica misreads my silence and begins stroking my arm again.

“I knew you’d want it,” she purrs while shaking those big breasts in my direction. “You’re exactly the kind of virile man who’d be into nasty play, so I did it for you, Brant. I picked up this new trick just for you, so let’s go home, hmmm? The whiskey is ready, and my asshole’s ready to bloom,” she winks.

I close my eyes before re-opening them. A sweat’s formed on my upper lip and there’s a tic in my jaw because something is seriously wrong here. Alarm bells are going off, and I stare at Monica again before standing abruptly.

“Sorry,” I say in a terse voice. “No can do.”

Then, I stalk out of the cafe, leaving Monica at the table. She calls after me, but I ignore her because what the fuck is going on? I’ve had the weirdest sense of deja vu ever since sitting down in the cafe, and my sixth sense is going haywire. Something is seriously fucked up, and I need to get to the bottom of this twisted situation.

PeytonContent rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

I gasp as Brant pushes deep into my ass one last time before pulling out, his shaft spent and wet.

“Fuck baby,” he rasps in back of me before pressing a kiss to my sweaty shoulder. “That was amazing. You were amazing.”

I roll over and smile at him, my heart contracting a bit as I look at his handsome features. This man is so gorgeous, and I can’t believe that I’m with him. After all, Brant looks like a male model with his strong jaw, high cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes. But it’s not just that. He’s got the body of a Greek god, and he’s not afraid to use it on me, forcing me to take his nine inches any way he wants.

“You were amazing,” he repeats again before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Unforgettable, baby.”

I giggle, looking at him with adoration in my eyes as he pulls away.

“Unforgettable?” I quip. “That’s high praise.”

“Hell yeah,” he grunts before kissing me again. “You make me come harder than I’ve ever come in my life, sweetheart.”

I merely titter again while bobbling my big breasts at him.

“Well, I’m ready for round two if you are, big boy.”

But then, Brant goes silent while staring at me. He narrows his eyes like he’s never seen me before, and his massive form, bronzed and tan against the stark white of the hotel bedsheets. Yes, I’m still living at the Best Western after a week in Oakdale because I haven’t had time to find a new place yet. I’ve been so focused on seducing this man that I’ve put off the issue of housing until later.

But something’s wrong at the moment. My lover’s blue eyes narrow even further until they’re practically slits and he’s tense as his lips move.

“What did you say?” Brant asks in a low tone.

I play it off like nothing’s wrong because nothing is wrong.

“I just said that I’m ready for round two, that’s all,” I coo. “Why, are you not ready yet? I can wait.”

But his blue eyes narrow again as a tic begins twitching in his strong jaw.

“No, what did you call me?”

“Big boy,” I purr immediately while fluttering my lashes at him. “I thought you liked being called that. It’s cute, right? And you are big,” I say, staring at the enormous snake lying against his thigh. Brant’s flaccid right now, but his cock is still huge, even if it’s wet at the moment with a mix of male seed, pussy juice, and saliva. “Why, do you want me to call you something else?” I tease. “Stud? Super-stud? Big Papa?”

But Brant doesn’t respond to my joke and merely watches as I jiggle my big breasts again, his eyes roving over the creamy orbs. Then he stares at my figure, taking in the narrowness of my waist and the wide circumference of my hips. That blue gaze misses nothing as his eyes scan my features before settling on my long blonde curls.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up a bit. “Why, what’s wrong? Did I say something?”

He stares at me some more, but it’s not a loving stare. Instead, it’s an assessing one, and I can see he’s bothered from the way his broad chest heaves.

“No, but let me ask you something, Petunia: did you learn how to prolapse from your mother? Or is that something you girls taught each other?”

I stare at him. What? What’s going on?

“Nooooo,” I say in a slow voice, pretending innocence. “Where is this coming from? You don’t know my mother.”

Brant merely stares at me again, his huge form like a statue in the white sheets.

“No, I think I do. In fact, now I realize why I keep getting a sense of deja vu when I see you. It’s because your mother is Monica Green, isn’t she? This is some kind of fucked-up scenario where I’ve fucked both a mother and her daughter.”

I stare at him, at a loss for words. What do I say? What is there to say in a situation like this?

“How did you figure it out?” I ask in a low voice, sitting up while pulling the sheet to my bare breasts.

Brant lets out a mirthless chuckle.

“Well, first because of the resemblance. You do know you look just like your mom, right, except younger? The resemblance is uncanny.”

I nod.

“Yes, but that could be a coincidence. I mean, sometimes people just look similar for no reason at all.”

Brant shakes his head slowly, his blue eyes still narrowed into slits.

“Yeah, but it’s not only that. You talk like Monica too. It’s this whole ‘big boy’ thing, not to mention how you both love to jiggle your tits while you speak. You use the same figures of speech, endearments, and then the big kahuna: you both like to do anal prolapses. It’s so fucking crazy! I’ve fucked a lot of women in my life, but I’ve never had two women in one week offer me their butt blooms.”

I gawk at him.

“Wait a minute: you’ve been fucking my mom in the ass? Still? While you’ve been with me?”

The walls are caving in on me now, and I open my mouth to let out a silent scream. After all, this is my worst nightmare come true. My plan’s completely failed if Brant’s still seeing Monica, even though I knew it was a possibility on some level. But the realization makes me feel nauseous because I came home to Oakdale to break them up, but now it seems like I’ve completely failed. Not only is he still sleeping with her, but he’s seen right through my deception after just one short week.

But then, a feeling of righteousness sweeps through my form and I sit up, spitting nails as my face flushes red.

“Well, for your information,” I say in a nasty tone. “Monica’s married. Has that ever occurred to you, big boy? Did the giant diamond ring on her finger give it away? Yeah, you’ve been sleeping with a married woman this entire time.”

Brant gawks at me, the blood draining from his face.

“What?”

I snort.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. Monica’s got a diamond on her ring finger! It’s two carats at least! Plus, haven’t you wondered how she affords her lifestyle when she doesn’t work? It’s because she’s M-A-R-R-I-E-D. Not only that, but my dad watches you from the house while you fuck. Are you happy now? You’ve ruined my dad’s life and it’s all because you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself.”

The handsome man blinks slowly, going as white as a sheet.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. My dad’s become a recluse because of Monica’s rampant cheating. He sleeps in his home office now and watches you while you fuck my mom because he and Monica still live in the house together! Get it? Plus, that’s the house that I grew up in! So fuck you, asshole! You’re the one who should be ashamed because you’ve been sleeping with a married woman this whole time! You’ve ruined our lives!”

Brant’s jaw is practically on the ground now, as he runs a hand through his black hair, ruffling it in the most adorable way. But I harden my heart because the moment has come. I don’t care how handsome my lover is. This is the revenge I’ve been looking for, and I’m going to make sure Brant is aware of just how much he’s hurt my family.

“Petunia, I didn’t know,” he begins in a low voice.

I spit again.

“My name’s not Petunia, it’s Peyton. Petunia’s just a fake name I made up so that you’d break up with Monica! But it seems I failed, hmm? You’re still fucking her while fucking me at the same time, you fucking male whore! Are you happy now, knowing you’re banging a mother-daughter duo?”

Brant starts, looking aghast before holding both hands up, palms out. His face is sweaty, and he looks genuinely perturbed.

“First, I’m not sleeping with Monica anymore. We broke up about a week ago. I swear it. It was before I met you, Petunia, or Peyton, or whatever your name is.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

“You mean that day by the pool, right? Where you banged my mom on the lounger? That day, right? Because my dad and I were in the home office, watching as you put it in my mom’s ass!”


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