Page 1 of Tutor Daddy (Yes, Daddy #54)

AIDAN

" A idan, are you listening to me?" My department chair asks with irritation coating his words.

"Brian," I huff and glance around the confining space that masquerades as the University Finance Department.

The Business Department has floor-to-ceiling glass walls beside a centered double glass door.

Students peer inside as they walk through the halls.

A single desk about six feet wide separates the waiting area and a few cubicles.

Usually, there's an undergrad sitting behind the desk who pretends to be busy.

Today, it's empty. It's almost as if it doesn't matter if an unpaid student sits there or not.

Behind the cubicle space is a short hallway.

Each side of the hallway has two doors, and at the end of it is a massive office for the department chair.

The same department chair who chooses to irritate me this morning with the duties of my job—a job I've held longer than he's been with the administration faculty.

Each door in that hallway leads to a professor's office. My office door is open, and I desperately want to end this conversation to close myself behind it.

Brian pushes his gold-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his narrow nose. He has to tip his head back to look up at me. "As a tenured professor, it is your responsibility to help nurture?—"

I snort back a chuckle. "What about me says I'm the nurturing type, Brian?"

He sighs. "Okay, nurture is a stretch. However, you have a duty to give back to the student body.

Mentoring and molding these young minds is a fundamental part of their degree programs. These people have chosen us to teach them how to perform as professionals, and there are things they need to know that aren't in the textbooks. "

"Brian, I'm well aware of how mentoring works."

"Are you sure?" he quips sarcastically with a slight tilt of his egg-shaped head.

"Because this is the third year that you've neglected to choose a student.

The university has let you forego the mentoring stipulations because you were doing research and publishing in journals.

Now that you have stopped publishing, you should try to generate um, uh, other means of positive publicity for the institution. "

In other words, now that I'm not bringing in additional revenue and notoriety to the department, I have to do busy work.

His words trail off as my eyes wander to the hall outside, where a vision of beauty dashes toward the door.

Her hair is in a messy bun as she frantically searches through her bag for something.

Whatever it is, it's not there as she disappears back into the crowd.

It's just that quick. Yet, she appeared just long enough for me to never forget what she looks like.

There was a brightness around her, a spark as if to remind me that I still enjoy teaching at this school.

What I don't enjoy are the lectures from my supervisor regarding my responsibilities toward this department.

"The last thing I want to do is take on some bright-eyed know-it-all who thinks the world is their oyster.

The fact that my classes fill up like a sold-out concert every semester should hold some weight and count towards my mentoring responsibilities," I tell Brian, interrupting his motivational rant.

"Aidan, it's not that we don't appreciate your efforts in your lectures."

A single wave of my hand stops him, so I can make my point loud and clear. "Every year it's the same bullshit, and I want nothing to do with it. The entitlement of these students is disgusting. Most of them are elitist at best and insufferable at worst."

"You have such a positive outlook on the future of our industry," he retorts, but he doesn't disagree.

I shrug. "I will try to lend more of a helping hand to the students of our department."

Brian shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

"Fine, but if you're not going to actively mentor someone, you're going to tutor.

I have the perfect candidate as well. Professor Tamson is sending her over, but I don't see her here.

Well, whenever Addison Shaw comes in, it's your responsibility to help her. "

There's no room for negotiation as he heads down the hallway to the center door.

My attention shifts to the dozens of people walking by the glass walls.

I can't help but scan the faces for the blonde bombshell who disappeared into the crowd.

I quickly give up the notion of her coming back and retreat to my office.

I hate being told what to do regarding my job, but there's no way around this.

The leather and springs inside my office chair barely have time to squeak as I sit behind my desk when a soft knock on my office door breaks me out of my spiral of irritation. I'm in no mood to deal with anyone.

"Come in," I command from behind my desk.

The dark cherry wood door creaks as slender fingers wrap around the edge to push it open. A young woman steps inside.

This is far better than any coincidence. It's her. I can't stop the grin etching across my face.

The bun is gone as dirty blonde curls cascade down the right side of her face to her shoulder.

Bold brown eyes lock onto me with a hint of surprise fluttering across them.

Her plump cheeks blush a soft shade of pink that's a touch lighter than her full lips.

Even though she looks familiar, she's never been a student of mine.

"Wow" is the only word that comes off those supple lips.

Her eyes widen as her nipples harden while her lip quivers and reveals her sudden attraction.

It's not the first time I've made a graduate student blush.

I'm certain she won't be the last. If she could see under this desk, she'd see the reaction she's having on me, too.

My gaze drags down her body. Something stirs inside of me.

I want her. The feeling is even stronger than when I saw her a few moments ago.

Desperation to keep a job I don't really want still urges me to hold back my instant attraction.

This is another reason I don't like mentoring.

A beautiful set of tits with perky nipples sits under a thin shirt that I'd like to tear off her body.

If she's looking for guidance, I'm the last person she should consider.

Only one thing floods my mind when I look at her, and it has nothing to do with forensic auditing and accounting.

Claim. Conquer. Devour. She is mine.

"Hey, I'm Addison Shaw. My faculty advisor and one of my professors told me I should speak to you," she says with a slight rasp. My cock twitches the moment I imagine her whispering my name in the same seductive tone.

Stop it.

"I'm going to need a little bit more information, Addison," I tell her, shifting in my seat to give the tightness of my crotch time to dissipate. I'm actually happy she's never taken any of my classes, or else I'd be distracted every moment her beautiful face stares at me.

There's the faintest shade of blush blooming across her face that only highlights the deep umber tones of her mahogany-hued eyes. This can't be the student Brian is demanding I tutor, but the name is the same.

She shakes her head before pushing her fingers into her curls to move them away from her face. My mind instantly drifts to my own fingers driving through those tight ringlets before pulling them tight as I drive every hard inch down her throat.

Fuck, I need to stop this right now.

Her supple lips are moving, but it takes me a second to tune in as she says, "I'm sorry. Professor Tamson told me I'm in jeopardy of failing her course. I heard you're the best tutor when it comes to forensic auditing, and I'm here begging for your help."

I know what begging looks like, and this is not it.

"No." My answer is as short as she is. If I'm going to put my job at risk, I'd rather not let this go beyond these discussions.

Addison is barely five feet tall. I'm sure that pushing my 6'2 frame out of this chair will be too intimidating. Perhaps she needs some intimidation to push her into requesting another tutor.

The abruptness of my response affects her immediately. A shallow exhale pushes through her cute little button nose. Flustered and taken aback, her eyes desperately search my face for confirmation that I actually have the audacity to refuse her.

It's amusing to see her working through her frustrations in real time. She gently moves her head up and down and wags a lazy finger at me. "I remember you from my undergrad. You're one of the most celebrated professors of accounting and finance at this university, are you not?"

I raise an eyebrow, wondering where this conversation is going because I've already told her my answer. I'll have to appease Brian some other way. He has to get me someone else.

"I am." My reputation extends beyond academia, but I'll agree to being one of the most celebrated professionals on this campus.

"Okay, so I'm in the right office. I was told that you would help me." Worry lines ripple across her forehead. She wrings one hand in the other while I fight the urge to soothe her burgeoning anxiety. She can use those fingers to wrap around my cock, twist, pull, and slide up and down slowly.

"I can help you," I admit to her while trying to keep my fantasies from manifesting right in front of me. I'd spread those svelte legs wide, slide her panties to the side (if she's even wearing any), and dine on her until she makes a mess all over my desk.

"But you're not going to?"

"Correct."

"Why not?" she asks, panic and anger surfacing as her eyebrows knit together.

"Because you haven't asked me to do anything, Miss Shaw. If this is how you ask for help, I can understand why you're flunking Professor Tamson's course."