Author Note:

So this is not at all what I'd been intending to write in chapter 13, but sometimes an idea just grabs you and you can't shake it off. And let me tell you, this idea was so good there was no way I'd want to. I just kind of embraced it and went there, and I think you're all going to enjoy it.

This is where I remind you all that yes, though it may not have seemed like it in chapters 1 - 12, this is a NC-17 (M) story.

To "get in the mood" (so to speak), you may want to check out Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall Pt 2." I listened to it extensively while writing this and it just seems to fit (you'll get why shortly). I also listened to Motley Crue. . .though I can't really think of why that would work in this story, but there it is anyway. Links in my profile.

Thanks to my betas: the amazing, stupendous tameleine, Madeleine (who is almost back from Paris!), CallistoLexx (enjoy BD!), and Theresa (the smut fairies do deserve a promotion, I agree). Thanks also to the great ladies over at Twilighted--it is partly in response to them that this was born.

APOV

"Ms. Brandon?"

The man's voice was low, deep, and undeniably in charge. My head shot up from the scarred and graffiti-covered wooden desk, and I felt a wave of shame stain my cheeks. I'd been daydreaming again, and like always, he had caught me, red-handed.

"Yes, Professor?" I met his amber eyes with my gray ones, and tried to mold my expression into something resembling remorse. Obviously I wasn't successful because he sighed, and unfolded his long body from the wooden chair behind his desk. Uh oh, I was in for it now.

"Would you be so kind as to come up here? I have a few . . .questions to ask you."

The professor was always so serious, and he looked especially serious now--grave almost. Like I had killed his dog.

I stood up, and felt the hem of my plaid skirt tickle my bare upper thighs. I felt it continue to sway back and forth, the hem flipping up just slightly, as I made my way to the front of the nearly-empty classroom.

His eyes on me were intent, never leaving my face, though for approximately half a second, I thought I saw them dart to the waving hem of my pleated skirt. Just the thought that I'd caught him sent a minute shiver down my spine. I must be wrong. The Professor would never, ever, dare to look at my bare legs.

I came to a stop directly in front of him, and met his gaze, as boldly as I dared.

"Ms. Brandon, you've been spacing off again."

I ducked my head. He knew my flaws so well--better than almost anyone else--and he knew exactly how to straighten them out, too.

"I know," I nearly whispered, afraid to meet his condemning gaze. I hated it when I disappointed him. Ha, my conscience argued, you disobey just for the sake of what's going to happen next. I resolutely ignored the voice.

"Come here," the Professor said again, his voice growing softer and less irate, "and stand by me."

I walked even closer to him until I would only have to reach out my hand to touch him, and I let my eyes drift up his long, leanly-muscled form. If I let myself think of the Professor in that way, which I would never do cross my heart and hope to die, he was insanely good looking, all chiseled cheekbones, rumpled blond hair, and deeply-set hooded eyes. Bedroom eyes, I thought before I could stop myself.

In fact, now that I let myself consider the Professor as a man, with the tailored suit and tie notwithstanding, he could have just rolled out of bed. Or maybe that was just the sleepy way he was regarding me, as I stood there in front of him.

"I need to make sure you didn't miss key points of the lecture," he stated, moving his jacket flap so he could rest a hand on his hip.

"Yes, Professor," I murmured, trying to keep my expression neutral.

His amber eyes burned hot whenever I used his name. I wondered if me saying it gave him the same sexual high it gave him whenever he heard it. There was something so inherently bad about thinking how much I'd like to see more of him. I wanted to be the hand that rested on the side of his torso.

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I tried to return his intent gaze, and only managed with a slight blush.

The heat in his eyes grew, and I tried to feel even the slightest bit of embarrassment that he knew exactly what I was thinking, but I couldn't. There was no denying I liked it.

"Alice, Alice, Alice," he said musingly, my name rolling off his lips like his favorite treat, "you need to behave so we can verify you were following my lecture."

"Of course," I managed to force out from between lips that were suddenly more eager to do . . .other things.

"Now," the Professor continued, "let's see. How shall we do this? I want to make sure you stay suitably. . .involved in the exercise, so let's have you sit on this desk here." He pointed to the expansive wooden desk behind him.

I walked over to it, passing by him close enough that if I had stumbled even a little, I would have smacked my much-shorter head right into his broad chest, not that this would have been a disastrous state of affairs.

Unfortunately, I made it to the desk with no mishaps. Standing next it, I eyed it dubiously.

"It's. . .awfully tall, don't you think?"

He made a show of examining it for about thirty seconds, then came to the same conclusion I had.

"Here, let me help you up," he murmured, quickly crossing to my side and standing directly in front of me, so close I could feel the heat from his body seeping into mine.

Slowly, carefully, almost as if he were memorizing every brush of his skin on mine, even through the fabric, the Professor slid his hands down each side of my torso, coming to rest right where my slim hips grew wider. His fingers curled, pressing into me, his big hands nearly spanning my waist. He was only half a hand away from my ass, and I felt the breath hitch in my throat.

"So small," he whispered, almost to himself, and then he lifted me, like I was a feather, onto the desk.

His hands drifted away--reluctantly, I imagined--his long tapered fingers brushing the soft cashmere of my tight sweater.

My eyes drifted closed at the contact, brief as it was, and they only opened again when I felt, rather than heard, him move away from me.

"Professor?" I asked nervously, seeing that he'd disappeared from my line of vision.

"Behind you, Alice, just getting some questions to ask you."

"Questions," I stammered, "I don't know. . ."

"Now Alice," the Professor asked firmly, coming into view again, and nearly dazzling me with his blond gorgeousness, "we need to verify if you can perform under pressure. Especially with all your fantasizing."

I could only helplessly nod my agreement. I was completely at his mercy.

"First off, I think a reward system would help you be more comfortable. After each correct answer, I'll give you a surprise. If you get an answer wrong. . ." he trailed off.

I felt panic well through me. "What happens if I get an answer wrong?"

The Professor smiled widely, and lust spiked through me.

"Professor?"

"If I told you Alice," he said, leaning towards me, close enough that our lips could almost touch, "it wouldn't be an appropriate punishment."

He paused to take in my wide-eyed glance. "Perhaps it would be easier for you if you closed your eyes."

I immediately obeyed, shutting them and dousing my world in blackness. I missed seeing him, but his voice alone was so sensual and deep that even only hearing him seemed to exacerbate my arousal instead of calm it.

"Where shall we begin? Ah yes, the Civil War."

I squirmed, feeling the moisture begin to gather between my thighs and hoping fervently he wouldn't notice when I moved from the desk. The skirt that went with my uniform was so short it fanned out behind me instead of allowing me to sit on it.

I didn't know very much about the Civil War, or history at all. I really should have been paying attention, but how could I? He was so wonderful to look at, to hear, to think about. . .I hadn't been able to help myself, really.

I would tell him all of this, naturally--that my inattention to the lecture was his fault, but he was so powerful and strong, I was afraid to contradict. I would simply endure my punishment in silence.

The Professor cleared his throat, and began. "Alice, could you please tell me how many states ended up seceding from the Union?"

From the way his voice sounded, he had again moved close to me. If my senses could be believed, he was almost more than close. He was practically on top of me. I breathed in a little too deeply, and immediately my mind was full of only the way he smelled and I couldn't even remember what the Civil War was.

I must have looked pretty blank at that moment—that, or shell-shocked—because the Professor laughed.

"Do you even have an answer for me, Alice?" he asked.

I knew exactly what I had for him, but it wasn't exactly an answer to his question.

"Uhhhhh," I hesitated. It was in that moment I remembered that he had never told me what would happen if I couldn't answer a question correctly, and my heartbeat accelerated out of control. What he was going to do to me if I couldn't answer? Actually, I reconsidered, what was he not going to do to me if I couldn't answer?

"Alice," he said, his voice a final warning to not take this seriously at my own peril.

I desperately tried to think of a number that seemed reasonable, and during that last frantic thought process, he closed the last bit of distance between us.

His hand, with those fantasy-inducing fingers, came to rest on my bare knee. His other hand mirrored his initial action, and so slowly that my heart threatened to beat out of my chest, he slowly spread my legs apart.

The dark world around me exploded into flames and I let my eyelids flicker open a little, in the hopes of finding out what he had planned for me.

"That," his voice breathed into my ear, "is absolutely not allowed. Answer the question, Alice."

My hands rose in near-supplication, but instead of moving through the empty air, they brushed against a hard and undeniably chiseled chest. I gasped. He was standing right there, inbetween my splayed legs.

Before I could even speak a word of protest, I felt his hot breath on my neck.

"I'm going to give you approximately five more seconds to procrastinate. No more."

"Fine," I huffed as well as I could with a man between my legs, "eleven." I tried to sound as confident as possible, but I was sure I was wrong.

I felt rather than heard the Professor's chuckle, the air tickling the tiny hairs on my neck.

"You are one lucky girl," he teased right into my ear.

"Am I?" I was automatically holding my breath, not sure whether I'd need the residual oxygen or not. Of course this all depended on if I was right or wrong.

"Alice," his voice teasingly caressed, "I'm flattered. You were paying attention."

"Does this mean I get off?" I asked, as innocently as possible.

"No," he suddenly growled. "This means that you get a surprise."

Before I could even ask what the surprise was, I felt him breathe a little unsteadily on the outer whorls of my ear. That alone made me practically melt into him, but then his tongue began to trace the exact same path and I nearly slumped against him.

Just when I'd started to enjoy it, he abruptly stopped. "Next question," he breathed into my tortured ear.

If that was the surprise, I almost wanted to feel what the punishment was. Surreptitiously, I peaked out of my closed eyelids, hoping to get an eyeful of him before he noticed. Unfortunately, he was staring right at me, with a "we are not amused" expression on his face. I snapped my eyes shut again.

He sighed. "Before the next question, we need to make sure you stop cheating."

"Cheating?" I asked, but was met with only the sound of silk slipping through cloth.

I couldn't figure out what it was exactly until I felt the silk drift against my cheek and pull tight around my eyes. More slippery sounds and an abject blackness made it clear what he'd done. He'd blindfolded me with his tie! I'd be pissed if it wasn't so incredibly hot.

I reached my hands out frantically, trying to find him, but he was nimble and slithered out of my grasp.

"Next question." His voice was inexorable, and I slumped a little in disappointment. My body was on fire and there was no way I'd ever be able to answer any other questions. That had just been a very good guess, and I'd never get that lucky again.

I was right. I had no answer to who the Confederate Vice President was. I had to prevent myself from nearly moaning in frustration, except when I felt him move close again and I strained toward him. Between the time I'd been closing my eyes and having them closed for me, I'd gotten a little better at sensing his spatial nearness to me.

"You're going to have to behave, Alice, or I'll tie you down." He sounded dead serious, but I decided to play it off like he hadn't just sent a hot wave of molten lust through me.

"With what? You already used your tie."

The professor had to chuckle at that, except it wasn't good-natured or teasing. "Sometimes I forget how innocent you are." My eyes would have widened if not for the tie that was covering them. "Silly Alice, I'd just use my belt."

My jaw dropped. I knew he was dead serious. I was so screwed.

"You'd better close your mouth, Alice, or I'm going to have to put my tongue in it," he teased silkily.

"Why don't you then?" I purred seductively, opening it just a bit farther and wiggling my own tongue at him.

There was only silence. I wondered if I'd finally gone too far. The sex-craved monster inside of me argued that it was impossible to push him too far. He wanted me.

Finally, he spoke again, and his voice was rough. "I see that we're going to have to implement some serious behavioral education. I was being way too easy on you before. Stand up," he growled at me.

I slid off the desk, nearly moaning when the teasing friction between the hard wood of the desk and my lace panties ended.

"Now turn around," he barked. I promptly obeyed, not taking a single chance to anger him any further.

"Good. Lean over."

I hesitated, knowing that if I did what he wanted, my plaid skirt would barely cover my butt.

"Alice," he said, warningly, his voice growing darker.

I abandoned any thoughts of modesty and leaned over, my cheek brushing the desk. I could sense him behind me, but I wasn't sure how close he was until I felt those heart-stopping fingers creep up my right leg.

I could tell by the way that his fingers brushed the skin on my leg, all the way up to nearly the top of my thigh, that my skirt had long since passed modesty. Honestly, with his hands on my bare skin, tracing and feeling the softness, I could have cared less.

Finally, his hands reached the top of my thigh, and I trembled, trying to muffle any moans into the wood of the desk. Clearly, he was intending to take his time, and I refused to do anything to make this go any slower than it already was.

"Alice," he breathed out, "you've been a very, very bad girl."

I mumbled my assent, too far gone to even consider using whole words. God, why didn't he just get on with it? I didn't know how much more of his infernal teasing I could take.

Slowly, he traced a line up my thigh to the very edge of the lace cheeky panties I wore. This time I couldn't hold back my gasp.

"So, so bad," the Professor growled.

"Yes," I ground out, desperation ringing through my voice. Maybe my assent would convince him to get on with it. I wiggled my butt almost instinctively. I needed his hands on me again.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime but what was likely only seconds, those miraculous fingers returned and this time, they landed right where I wanted them to, right in the perfect place. . .

"Alice?" I heard the voice, from a distance, and it wasn't the Professor's. No, I told myself, a little bit longer.

"God, Jasper yes," I groaned as his fingers slid up and down, and I ground into them. His touch was still teasing rather than gratifying, and I wanted more.

"Alice!" The voice was definitely not going to go away. In fact, it was louder and a lot closer.

"Please Jasper," I whimpered, "make her go away."

Unfortunately, the interloper had no intention of leaving.

"Alice? Alice!"

Suddenly the room was bright, way too bright, and when I opened my eyes, I felt blinded by it. Almost instinctively I reached toward my face, hoping to still find the tie still there.

Nope. Damn it all.

Replacing possibly the hottest fantasy of Jasper ever was me envisioning flogging Bella to a slow and painful death.

Her voice was amused and I wanted to throttle the teasing note out of it. "Were you talking about Jasper in your sleep?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

I felt her sit down at the foot of the mattress, and I nearly groaned in frustration. Never again would she be able to tell me that I picked the most inopportune moments to interrupt. Bella was easily the new Queen of Interruptions. She had just ruined possibly the hottest, best sex dream ever.

Almost ever, I amended. No sex had actually occurred. I groaned again and tossed a pillow over my head, hugging it close.

"Bella," I mumbled into it, "please leave. Let me finish."

"Finish what?" Bella was definitely feeling too pleased with herself this morning. She knew exactly what she'd interrupted and she was gloating. Stupid Bella.

I loosened my grip on the pillow, just enough so that I could glare at her out of the slits that were my eyes this morning.

She was definitely having way too much fun, as she continued to laugh. "Really, Alice, you shouldn't be ashamed of having sex fantasies about Jasper. After all," she guffawed, "you're supposed to like him anyway."

I thought about saying I hadn't been having a sex fantasy, but what was the point? I'd been practically moaning at him to take me when she'd ruined everything.

"Why are you here?" I asked, with bitterness in my voice.

"Oh sweetie, you were making enough noise to wake the devil up from the dead. You should just be thankful that I found you first. Think of the field day Rose would have had."

I had to concede that point. Rose would never have let me live it down. Though, now that I'd lowered my pillow, and had taken in Bella's quivering lower lip as she tried to hold her hysterical laughter in, I had a feeling that the student was rapidly learning from the master.

I tossed the pillow in her direction but it went way wide. Bella let the laughter go and doubled over.

"You," she gasped, "were so funny."

I pursed my lips together and continued to send death glares in her direction. I bet you she'd already kissed little Eddie, and that hadn't been all too funny, now had it?

Of course, I wasn't even kissing Jasper in reality. Which would explain all these dreams I'd been having. The man made me positively nuts.

"So," Bella asked, clearing her throat, "what was the dream about?"

I overplayed my affronted expression, and her face softened a little bit. Ha! Bella was still an easy target, despite her ability to interrupt sex fantasies.

"You don't have to tell me," she continued, a little embarrassed, "I was just curious."

"Are you going to tell me about your kiss with Edward?" I asked. I hadn't known for sure if she'd kissed him or not, but the glow she'd carried back from the dance floor last night had nearly given it completely away. Good thing Rose had been so absorbed in hating Emmett at that particular moment.

Bella's blush that suffused her face was proof enough. "Uh," she stumbled, "how did you know about that?"

"As if I didn't know it was going to happen," I scoffed. "You're a terrible actress." I stretched my arms above my head and proceeded to get out of bed.

She had the nerve to look only slightly contrite. "It was that good?" I asked, more curious that I'd been before.

Bella didn't even reply, only smiled that big, Bella smile and the tiny worry in my heart grew. "Who knew that little Eddie could kiss," I pondered.

"Oh he can," she burst out, clearly unable to hold it in any longer. Bella could be a real pushover sometimes, as much as I loved her.

I didn't reply that the question had been more rhetorical than anything, but simply eyed her sleeping wardrobe.

"Sweats? An old t-shirt from high school? Bella, Bella, Bella," I clucked, "if you're going to get all up in Eddie's face, we're going to have to change all that."

She got that stubborn look on her face again, and crossed her arms firmly across her chest. "I thought we'd been over all of that," she said pointedly. As if I could really forget yesterday, when she'd declined my fashion help then showed up looking good enough to send Edward's jaw into the vicinity of the ground.

"We have," I argued, "but I can guarantee you that I'm right here, and you're wrong. Ratty sweatpants, even they if they are pink, aren't going to impress Edward Cullen into trying to get into them."

Bella didn't even reply, she just turned bright red. Jackpot. I'd just partially gotten back at her for her untimely interruption. It would take a while, but I was patient. I'd eventually get her back completely, even if it took weeks.

"So you kissed then," I stated.

"Oh yeah," she smiled at me again, that big goofy love smile.

Shit.

I didn't really remember much about Edward Cullen from high school. My mind had been pretty centered on Jasper, and studious and serious Edward had kept to himself. But I knew anyone who looked at good as he did couldn't be all sweetness and light.

I decided to warn, but not alarm, Bella. She had to have someone in her corner on this, and god knew, we couldn't exactly tell Rosalie, who was the fiercest mother lion of us all.

"You know, Bells," I lightheartedly flipped over my shoulder, as I grabbed a short silky robe from my closet, "he looks like he's a real player."

"Yeah," she replied, and her casual and unconcerned voice sent even more warning bells off. "He's charming and all that, but he's different underneath, you know?"

No, I didn't know, but until he did something I didn't like, I had no reason to freak Bella out. After all, we were going to be spending a good deal of time together in the upcoming weeks, and I loved seeing her so happy. Maybe he would even turn out to be a semi-decent guy.

"Ah," I said noncommittally, "shall we go find Rose?" Somewhere, I thought, where this conversation can come to an abrupt halt and maybe I can find some measure of peace again.