EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: Professor Knows Best

Stock Prof Teaser 3How about an exclusive excerpt from my brand-new novella,PROFESSOR KNOWS BEST, which will be featured in the upcoming anthology, DIRTY DOMS (June 28).

In PROFESSOR KNOWS BEST, Justin Langford is on a mission to teach his star student Sloane Bradford a few lessons in her deepest, dirtiest fantasies. In fact, the last thing he needs is another college girl. Justin wants his very own Baby Girl.

After a miscommunication separates them for a decade, fate reunites the reluctant lovers, and Sloane returns, bruised and slightly broken, to Justin. However, he’s not given up on his pursuit of Sloane—or on his fantasy.

From swing sets to sex shops, Justin challenges Sloane to embrace a life filled with sippy-cups and spankings, all in the name of Daddy’s Little Girl.

However, Sloane has a lot to learn if she’s still intent on being his prized pupil. Will Justin manage to control her rising brat enough to transform Sloane into Daddy’s Little Girl?

EXCERPT  –  PROFESSOR KNOWS BEST

“Ah, it’s Sloane…”

The Professor leaned into his desk and folded his hands. That afternoon, he wore his tortoiseshell framed glasses. Dammit, if he didn’t look absolutely fuckable. Sloane so loved a geek. However, she didn’t like the tone in his voice, and without thought, she kicked his door closed, readying for war.

“Professor…” she greeted him curtly and didn’t bother to obey his gesture to sit.

“I told you to call me—”

“Professor works just fine,” she snapped. “What’s on your mind today? My last paper, I assume?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact—”

“Look, no one can shine all the time,” she continued, watching his forehead wrinkle in a bit of surprise and dismay. “I busted my ass to give you everything I had this semester. I’ve given you some of my best work yet. And so it’s the end of the semester, and I just couldn’t overextend myself again. Maybe it’s not Pulitzer Prize worthy, but you—”

Calmly, he stood up and circled his desk. With a firm grip on the guest chair, he scuttled it to the corner, facing the wall, then raised his hand to silence her.

“In the chair, Sloane.”

There was something very different about the Professor that afternoon. In class, he was always relaxed. He joked around. In fact, he was the only professor to date that hadn’t bored her stiff. At that moment, though, she could feel the electricity between them, nearly burning her skin with its current. He was commanding and cool, yet she could feel the wild rush beneath the surface of his words.

Sloane prepared herself to turn around and walk out that door in a greater huff than when she walked in. No one bossed her around or ordered her into a corner. She felt so dastardly Dirty Dancing as she stood against his stern gaze. On top of being a horrible professor, he’d proven himself to be a male chauvinist pig, too! Just the thought of his expectation filled her with ire.

However, she also felt a suspicious rush of heat—on her face and between her legs. Knees weakening, she thought she might just drop to the floor, right in the middle of his damn office.

Every one of her senses had heightened. Jaw falling in shock and chagrin, she stood before him and stared into those challenging green eyes. She could still smell the fresh sea scent of his shower and shampoo lingering upon his skin. She could feel the swell of her breasts and the painful point of her nipples pushing against the thin silk of her bra. The silence of the nearly empty building left her trembling all the more.

Unintentionally, she rolled her tongue along her lips, incapable of saying a single word.

“You can sit,” he said as if he were speaking to a small child. “Or I can put you there, baby doll.”

Mind whirling in dizzying circles, she wobbled her way toward the chair. He hadn’t even touched her and yet she felt so curiously aroused, if not nearly on the brink of fulfillment. Baby doll almost set her over the edge.

Somehow, she managed to maneuver herself down to the chair and landed with a thud to her clit. She hated this stupid man so much that she wanted to just mindfuck him all day.

“Are we alright there?” he asked, as he released the clip from her hair. With his hands settled on her shoulders, he bent down. The heat of his nearness seared against her. “Comfortable?”

“Door…?” was all she could manage.

Somehow, she could feel his wicked smile broadening behind her. “Locks automatically.”

Without another word, he made his way back to his desk and returned to his paperwork. “So, I’ve placed you in the Naughty Chair,” he explained. “How old are you, by the way?”

Now was a fine time to check to make sure she was legal, Sloane mocked him in her mind. Strength, however, had left her. The ability to fight him as she’d intended dwindled with each lingering second. “I’m…I’m twenty…”

“So I’ll set my stopwatch for exactly twenty minutes, and you’ll remain in the corner,” he said. “One minute for each year. Isn’t that the standard punishment for bad little girls?”

Sloane could feel herself slipping into a world far outside her ordered space. She was strong and stable, but she melted under his authority. Something about his command just left her shivering and pouting. She was indeed a bad little girl, aching to be punished. She’d mouthed off to the Professor, and now he was angry.

While he casually graded papers at his laptop, he continued their conversation. “Actually, your last assignment wasn’t that bad,” he began, “but since you took it upon yourself to mouth off to me, you must face the consequences.”

“But, Professor, it—”

“Silence, unless I permit you to speak,” he hushed her, prompting Sloane to nearly choke as she swallowed her breath. “As I was saying…I wanted to congratulate you on two great semesters. I’m well aware of how fucking hard you’ve worked. And you just walked in here with the assumption that I hated your writing.”

“But you—”

“I pushed you, Sloane, because I know what you’re capable of doing,” he insisted. “I want to help you be the very best woman you can be…”

The sudden knock on the door throttled her heart into her throat, and she turned sharply to look at him in panic.

However, he stood up and made his way toward the door. “Sit up straight. Good posture is everything.”

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julietbraddock

Juliet Braddock loves eighties music, wine, food, theater and all things French. When she’s not exploring the big cities of the world—most notably Paris—she lives and writes in Manhattan, and is the proud cat mom to a very spoiled Russian Blue rescue.

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