Do you know what it’s like to be in love with somebody you hate? To have them completely consume you, and occupy your thoughts at all hours of the day, including your dreams at night? 

That’s how I felt about Professor Logan Wesley. Whatever divine being or higher power that resided in heaven, clearly had a hand in his making. The man was in his late thirties, yet he was blessed with a youthful face, the brightest blue eyes that were like lapis lazuli, a head full of thick chestnut hair, and he possessed the sexiest dimpled smile, which he rarely showed. 

I admired him in class that day, all six foot three inches of him. He exuded masculinity in all forms. His shoulders were broad and sculpted; his chest was flat, and I could only imagine the rippling sinew of muscles stretching down his abdominals underneath his white shirt. Those topaz eyes had only intensified with age, and radiated a subtle pain that haunted his soul. His jaw was defined and chiseled , with a light spread of stubble. And those dark eyebrows were arched and attractive. 

Professor Wesley was incredibly fit, and toned, but he wasn’t blessed with that body overnight. I could tell he had worked long and hard to achieve his athleticism. He attracted women with ease, and finesse, and broke their hearts just as fast as he would with his seductive signature smile. 

Every day he would walk into his lecture hall wearing his expensive shoes, and designer clothing. His salary could certainly afford it, unlike mine. He was extremely well groomed, which is why he was officially labeled as 'the dreamy university professor.' 

Personally, I was a good looking chick. My eyes were the color of rich mahogany, and my hair, was long and raven colored. Being thin, my best asset was...all of me. 

I was twenty-one, enrolled in his arts history class, and I hated it. 

“Ms. Summers.” 

I heard my name, and looked up. 

“Welcome back to earth,” he spoke in a thick English accent. “Answer the question please.” 

“Um…” 

Shit, I was totally not paying attention. I cleared my throat, and said, “Sorry, what was it again?” 

He studied me carefully, while I squirmed in my seat. 

“Are you here to waste my time?” 

“No.” 

“Are you studying on a scholarship, Ms. Summers?” 

“No.” 

“Then stop draining daddy’s bank account, and listen to my lectures. Otherwise you’ll flunk the class, and I have no problem failing you.” 

Ugh! Bastard! How dare he humiliate me in front of all those people. 

“My dad's dead. I’m paying for my own college expenses.” 

He paused, and locked his intimidating eyes on me. “Then honor his memory, and make sure you pass this course.” 

What a jerk. I hated him. Logan Wesley was an arrogant, pompous, prick! 

Fortunately he didn’t berate me any further through his lecture, which was a first. Maybe he pitied me because of my father. Whatever, he died when I was like— two. I hardly remembered him. 

oOo 
Class was finally over, and I was gathering my books to leave, when he stopped me. 

“Ms. Summers, I’d like to have a word with you in my office, please.” 

Great, I knew how this was going to go. Normally all we ever did was argue in there anyway. Regardless, I followed him inside, and placed my heavy book bag down on the floor, keeping my back facing him. 

“What is it this time, professor? Are you going to harass me about my paper? How it’s complete and utter shit? We both know you love throwing your curse words around me constantly. So make this quick. I have someplace I need to—” 

But before I could even finish my sentence, I felt a strong grip pull my arm back, and slam me against the wall. I was trapped, and my heart was racing a mile a minute. 

“Let me go,” I breathed. 

“No.” 

This wasn’t happening. This had to be a dream, no, a nightmare. There was no way in hell I would kiss this man, much less allow him inside my body, even if he was the last man on earth. 

“Did I hurt you, Ava?” 

Oh my god.

He said my name for the first time. 

“No,” my voice was devoid of emotion. “That would mean I’d actually have to give a fuck about you, which I don’t.” 

His blue eyes pierced through mine; fire and ice. I felt like coming undone. 

“I can see your tears.” 

“No you can’t,” I struggled to get free, but he only pinned my wrists back. 

“Fuck,” Logan cursed under his breath. “You’re even beautiful when you cry. You drive me crazy. You know that?” 

“That explains why you’re completely psychotic.” 

“You’re right, I am.” 

Everything I knew about the rules of attraction went out the window the second Logan’s lips crashed down against mine. It was like a rebirth. Those lips were the perfect catalyst to my transformation, and my greedy hands took on a sheer will of their own, as I ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, and pulled it off his body. 

I moaned when he bit down on my bottom lip, and tugged it back. Everything was moving so fast. Lips, tongue, teeth, breathing, touching, moaning, pulling. He unsnapped my bra, lifted my legs, and guided them around his waist. I refused to break the contact from that brilliant heat that was exploding from his mouth, as my hands wandered down to his trousers, unfastening his belt. I unzipped his fly, and pulled out his throbbing cock. 

He groaned when I stroked all eight inches of it. This was so wrong, but I couldn’t stop, and neither could he. Logan hiked up my skirt, pushed my black panties to the side, and guided his steel shaft into my wet, velvet folds. I gasped in pain, waiting for my pussy to adjust to his length. 

His thrusts were slow at first, and my eyes rolled back in pleasure when he stimulated my G spot. 

“Look at me, Ava.” 

“No,” I kept my eyes closed. 

“I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.” 

“I hate you,” I breathed out, resisting the urge to release a feral moan. 

“Say that to my face,” his voice was deep, seductive, and was only arousing me more. He knew me well, since I clearly couldn’t turn down a challenge. 

I met his heated stare, and resolved to repeat my confession. “I…hate…” he kept grinding himself in me deeper, making it more difficult for me to form any words. “You—” 

“You’re going to hate me more after this.” 

He tricked me into saying the magic words to make him completely beat up my pussy. I felt his cock slamming into my cervix harder, and deeper, his balls slapping right against me, while he muted my moans in his mouth. His kiss was wild, passionate, and dominant. I had no choice but to submit to the sex god that was possessing me. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he breathed against my lips, and started to devour my neck. 

I tangled my tentative fingers through his hair, and was so close to finding my release. 

“Are you on the pill?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good, because I don’t pull out.” 

I dug my finger nails down his back, as he quickened his speed, and pounded me harder, making my tits bounce uncontrollably. I felt this tight pressure twist inside of me, and then release. 

“Fuck! I’m cumming!” 

Logan’s lips collided against mine, silencing my pleasure filled cries, as I splintered into tiny little pieces from the earth shattering orgasm he was giving me. I felt him explode, filling up my womb with his seed, until it was dripping down my thigh. 

We were breathless, and exasperated, winding down from that incredible quickie. 

Finally, he lowered my legs, so that I could stand upright on my feet again. 

My cheeks were flushed, and there was this ache inside of me, but it wasn’t physical. 

What did I just get myself in to? I fixed my bra, put on my shirt, composed myself, and picked up my book bag like nothing happened. 

“Ava, wait.” 

Reaching for the door, I stopped, and turned around. 

“We should talk about this.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, professor. No feelings, no strings attached. Just remember, the next time you threaten to fail me...I’m going to the board, and filing a sexual harassment case against you. Enjoy the rest of your day,” I flashed a condescending smile, and walked out the door. 

This was my rebellion. This was my revenge.