The Billionaire Professor 2 (2015)

Chapter 1

Maxwell

 

That evening Jazmin and I felt classic “peer pressure” to celebrate at the very bar we met at just days prior to this. 

There were so many people behind the scenes to thank, from the chairman of my department who refused to suspend me, to Jazmin’s friends who rallied together on a moment’s notice coming to the courthouse to provide her with moral support.

It felt like from the very first moment we arrived people were trying to separate us. They succeeded. I glanced at her from across the bar, sighing. Instead of shyly turning away as she did the night I met her, she gave me a shrug and mouthed “Help me!”

I studied Jazmin a moment, her black dress that perfectly tugged at her curvaceous hips, showed enough of her bosom and her cleavage as well as accented that sensuous waistline.

Some men may consider her a bit too curvy for today’s “look-like-you’re anorexic” standards. But she had the perfect body for a Renaissance model. Especially Rubens.

Jazmin’s classic beauty also rivaled that of Marilyn Monroe. What man wouldn’t get a hard on every time he saw the iconic photo of hers with the register blowing air up her skirt, showing a very lovely set of legs?

 

Jazmin

 

The two of us arrived at this celebratory gathering together, but it was clear our friends had a different idea about our staying together all evening than I had. They immediately dragged us off in opposite directions.

“Come on,” Carly whined, “the entire art history class is waiting for you and then some.” She tugged forcefully at my arm. I looked into Max’s eyes pleading he find a way to help me escape from the group.

I didn’t fit into the group the other night when everyone was here. What made these people think I would fit in with them tonight? I distinctly felt as if they were using my presence and the circumstances of the day as an excuse to go out drinking.

I needed only one person to celebrate with tonight. And he was across the bar. He might as well have been on the planet Mars.

 

Max

 

I couldn’t look at her curvaceous body without touching it a moment longer. I know it was a victory celebration as much as for my release from jail as Jazmin’s bravery for standing up on my behalf. But the longer this public celebration continued the more it delayed our private one. I still had not expressed my gratitude to Jazmin – not in the way, at least, that sincerely conveyed my true feelings.

The truth was I could be patient no longer. With drink in hand, I approached her from behind, gently touching her on the shoulder and then deliberately worked my hand down toward that damned sexy ass of hers.

I felt an immediate hard on when she instinctively grabbed for my dick. My body involuntarily flinched in sexual pleasure if only for a second.

I whispered in her ear. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t stand another minute only imagining tearing your clothes off.  I want to physically tear that dress off of you – and I want to do it immediately.”

She blushed slightly. “I thought we’d never get to that point of the evening, Max.” She pressed her soft bosoms up against my torso and gave my dick on last rub before she said she was more than ready to leave.

I dare say my dick told me I should have already left.

 

Jazmin

 

He approached me when I least expected it. His strong, large hand on my shoulder sent shock waves of sexual delight throughout my entire body. I knew the instant he touched me it was Max. No one else had ever touched me with that incredible ability to transcend time and space. When Maxwell St. James put a hand anywhere on my body all time stood still – the world as I knew it froze.

My only thought was what his next move would be. What sexually pleasing surprise did he have hidden inside of his bag of tricks he had planned on pulling out?

Truthfully, though, all I needed was a whiff of his cologne and I instantly felt the volcanic start of a sexual orgasm bubble up inside of me.  Could others tell by looking at me that I was a walking Pompeii about to explode? How transparent was I?

He blew lightly into my ear. Did he even know that I would follow him anywhere with that small signal? I took a furtive scan of the immediate area and saw no one watching us and reached for his crouch.

It gave me a modicum of pleasure – okay, it pleased the hell out of me – to see his reaction to my touch. I imagined his blood racing to his penis even before I could release my hold.

It looked as if Max tried hard not to smile as he felt the effects of my touch. He so tried to maintain a stoic exterior. But, even in these last few days of knowing him, I have come to recognize his thoughts through his facial expressions.

The sexy small crinkles appeared and highlighted those penetrating eyes.

I can’t say that I didn’t have some reaction myself when I touched him. My thighs tingled, my knees buckled and even as familiar as he had become to me in the last few days, it was as if I were looking into his soul for the very first time.

And every time I touched him my heart melted. I would follow this man through hell. Little did I know how prophetic those words would be.