His body climbing over mine.

My teeth biting his neck.

His scent on my skin.

My nails carving a path down his back.

His commands whispered in my ear.

All of my senses filled with him.

I knew it was bad. But I craved more.

It had begun innocently enough, bumping into one another in a crowded Boston bar. What followed that night had been anything but innocent.

Because I'd known, even as he'd slid inside of me, that he was my professor. I'd pursued him, a predator stalking its prey.

And he didn't know I was his student.

But he would.