Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

“I have, sweetheart. The offer letter just came today. A meatpacking plant in Nebraska is looking for guys, and they’ve offered me thirty dollars an hour in addition to re-location costs. Are you ready for a big move? Will you come with me, sweetheart? The only thing is that the job starts on Monday, so we basically need to vacate this place tomorrow so that I’m ready to start by next week.”

Christy looks at me with wide eyes, her lips parted and trembling, her cheeks flushed.

“That’s wonderful news, Bart,” she breathes. “Absolutely fantastic!”

I nod, taking her hands between my large ones.

“Not only that, but I love you, and I cherish what we’ve created together. No move to Nebraska is complete if you don’t come because it’ll just be a house without a home. I need you, Christy. I adore you, and I want you to be my woman forever.”

At those words, the curvy girl begins to cry and I’m chagrined. Did I say something wrong? Did I overstep and push her too hard, too soon?

“I’m sorry, baby,” I apologize, my heart breaking. “I understand if you don’t want to come. Hartsville is all you’ve ever known-”

But the sassy woman cuts me off then, throwing her arms around my broad shoulders.

“No silly!” she half-cries, half-laughs. “I’d love to come with you, Bart, and the sooner we leave Hartsville, the better! You know that the Ellistons own several businesses in town, so we’d never be able to get away from them living here. Nebraska sounds wonderful, and I can’t wait to go with you! I love you, Bart Cranston.”

Relief fills my chest as I pepper her cheeks with kisses because my dreams are finally coming true.

“You mean that?” I ask in a low voice. “You love me?”

Christy smiles happily at me, her eyes filled with tears.Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

“I do,” she says in a soft voice. “And I’d love to be your woman, the same way you’re my man. Besides, in Nebraska, we can start over again. No one needs to know that you used to be married to Sharon. It’ll be our secret, although I’m not embarrassed about that fact, actually. Again, I think my mom would be happy, knowing that the two of us have found love with each other.”

I sweep the beautiful brunette into my arms then, burying my nose in her hair.

“I agree, sweetheart, because you’re the best gift Sharon ever gave me her daughter.”

Then, our lips meet in a sensuous kiss as our hearts overflow with joy because this is the woman I was born to be with. This woman sacrificed herself, thinking that it was the only way to make things work. This woman succumbed to the disgusting overtures of her boss in a desperate attempt to improve our finances. My heart clenches at everything Christy suffered, but then it relaxes because the suffering is over. I’m taking my little lady to Nebraska to love, cherish, and exalt forever.

EPILOGUE

Christy

A week later.

I look around the small home that Bart and I share in Nebraska City, Nebraska. It’s not much it’s a pre-fab home that the meatpacking plant provides to new employees, but I’m grateful to be here.

After all, the last week has been a complete whirlwind. After I was narrowly rescued by my man from the clutches of John Elliston, we packed up and moved West without another thought. Packing was easy because neither Bart nor I have much. We stuffed our clothes and belongings into a U-Haul, and within hours, were given the keys to our new home.

I look around the small space. It’s a one-bedroom apartment, and likely not more than six hundred square feet. The interior has beige walls, beige carpeting, and icky old furniture from the 70’s, but I plan on swapping out the decor. Once Bart gets his first paycheck, I’ll purchase a new dining table so that we don’t have to use this rickety card table with a laminate top, and add real chairs instead of metal folding chairs.

But most of all, I plan on dressing up our home in love. I’ve been baking cookies, grocery shopping, and putting food on the table each night after Bart gets home from work. A lot of people would call it “domestic drudgery,” but I call it taking care of my man, and I’m so happy. Suddenly, the oven bell dings, and I scamper over to get the apple pie out. This will be the perfect dessert for us tonight, and I’ve purchased some premium ice cream from the local grocery store as the perfect accompaniment.

Right on time, the door blows open, and who stands in the living room but my handsome man himself. Putting down the pie, I run over to throw myself into Bart’s arms, peppering his chiseled cheek with adoring kisses.

“How was work, Daddy?” I ask in an innocent tone.

Bart’s big hand reaches down to squeeze my ample rear-end and he chuckles, blue eyes sparkling.

“Better, now that I’m home,” he growls. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

I let go and bustle over to our utility kitchen.

“Oh my gosh, said just like a man! But there’s chicken pot pie, as well as mashed potatoes, green beans, and some of the leftover candied yams from yesterday. Plus apple pie for dessert,” I hum.

“Perfect, baby,” Bart growls as he hangs up his jacket. “The plant was busy today, so I need some real food that’ll stick to my ribs.”

“Oh, this will do that, no problem,” I promise, serving him a heaping portion of steaming pot pie. “I made this from scratch. Well, nottotallyscratch,” I amend. “I used frozen pastry crust from the store, but the insides are from scratch.”

My man sits at the table, before pulling me into his lap with a fond growl.

“Your cooking is always delicious, Christy,” he rumbles. “And I love you for it.”

“Oh you!” I say with a giggle, swatting at his big forearm with a dishtowel. “Always full of compliments. But I love you too.”

Then with a kiss, I get up. Meanwhile, Bart swallows a huge forkful of pot pie before closing his eyes and moaning. Literally, the man lets out a groan like a bear that’s found a hidden stash of honey.

“Shit baby,” he rasps. “Delicious. Almost as good as your cunt nectar.”

I shriek with laugher again.

“You’re such a dirty old man, Bart! How in the world did I end up with a boyfriend like you?” But then, my expression becomes secretive. “But guess what? Remember my friend Vanessa Loudon from Hartsville?”

Bart pops another forkful of pot pie into his mouth.

“That girl? How could I forget?”

“I know, I know,” I say. “I lied and said I was going to the movies with her when I was actually going to meet John Elliston. But Vanessa’s in a bit of a pickle now because it turns out that her stepfather’s lost his job!”

Bart looks down at his plate, shaking his head.

“Hartsville is going down the tubes,” he murmurs. “That place is so economically depressed that it reminds me of a third world country. Everyone should move away before getting caught in the downward spiral.”

I nod.

“Yes, but Vanessa’s been doing really well at her job, and so she’s offered to pay her stepfather’s mortgage, actually.”

Bart looks up again.

“What does she do for a living? How old is she again?”

I shrug.

“My age. And I think she’s in real estate. I mean, there’s practically no barrier to entry, and she’s always been really good at numbers and figures. But the thing is that Vanessa’s offered to pay her stepfather’s mortgage with a catch he has to pop her cherry for her.”

That makes my boyfriend put down his fork. Bart shoots me a hard stare.

“Are you kidding?”

I shake my head.

“No, not at all. It’s just like us, right? I mean, we were in a precarious financial position once, and I tried to save us by working at the five and dime. But Vanessa’s in another league,” I say. “She’s a girl who knows what she wants, and she wants the man of the housebad.”

Bart merely shakes his dark head with wonder.

“Who knew young women were so devious these days?” he asks. “Much less successful? And who knew that so many of them were into older men?”

I laugh lightly.

“I think the older man younger woman thing has been around a long time. No one really wants to date a teenage boy, or even a college guy for that matter. They have pimples, greasy hair, and horrendous hygiene. There’s nothing sexy about that.”

My stepfather fixes me with his blue eyes.

“So you find an older man with a couple gray hairs sexier than a young buck with no responsibilities?”

“Yes, absolutely,” I say with a secret smile. “Especially since you’re about to get the biggest responsibility ever: I’m having a baby, Bart. You’re going to be a daddy!”

The handsome man stares at me for a moment, dumbstruck. But then he sweeps me into his arms before pressing those sensuous lips against mine.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Imagine that: a baby!” His hand goes down to gently caress the swell of my stomach. “How far along are you?”

“Not very,” I coo. “But somehow, I already know it’s going to be a boy who looks just like his father with black hair and blue eyes.”

“Or a little girl who looks just like her mommy with curly brown hair and soft chocolate eyes,” my man whispers in my ear. “Thank you, Christy. I love you and appreciate you, and this is the best gift that a man can receive from his woman.”

With that, our lips are joined in elation because this was meant to be. Bart has always been my family: first as my stepfather, and now as my lover, and soon as my babydaddy. But in whatever permutation we find ourselves, there’s one sentiment that will always unite us: love, forever and absolute.

THE END