Forbidden Professors Boxed Set: A Forbidden Professor Student Romance Collection Read online

  Forbidden Professors

  The complete series with bonus epilogues for each book

  PENELOPE WYLDE

  Forbidden Professors

  The Forbidden Professors series bundle includes all three books. You get three tantalizing steamy stories of forbidden romance between college women and their filthy, off-limits professors. Dive in and get naughty! If you've already read the series, catch up with all your favorite heroines and their men with THREE brand new BONUS epilogues!

  Copyright Notice

  Copyright © 2019 Penelope Wylde. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to [email protected]

  http:/www.penelopewylde.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Em Petrova

  Cover Designer: Bookin’ It Designs

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  Contents

  Forbidden Professors

  Copyright

  Get Smutified

  The Professors’ Sweet Treat

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogue

  The Professor’s Bought Bride

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogue

  The Professor’s Sweet Virgin

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogue

  Mercy For Three – Chapter 1

  Books by Penelope

  Mailing List

  About Penelope

  They're twice my age and hit the triple D's in spades: Dominant, dirty and delicious.

  But they're untouchable. Forbidden. That's the rule. If I'm honest I've always followed the rules.

  Until them.

  When a dare from my best friend lands me in nothing but a red thong and f*ck-me-heels in front of these possessive, gorgeous men maybe all my sweet, dirty fantasies will come true.

  And you want to know the sexiest and dirtiest secret of all? They want to claim me as theirs in ways I've never imagined. But at what cost? I might have won the dare, but I could lose my heart and my scholarship if anyone finds out I'm the professors' forbidden sweet treat.

  Author's naughty note: The book contains a set of wicked, dominate deliciously possessive professors who are hot and hard for their forbidden student and will stop at nothing until her sweet little body, and heart, is theirs. Penelope Wylde promises a HEA romance with NO CHEATING!

  Sneak Peek

  Kissing a man like him should come with a flashing red warning sign. Something to prepare me for the onslaught of electricity spiraling through my entire body.

  It’s all-consuming and leaves behind a rush of adrenaline. It zips through every vein and pore in my body. I’m a New Yorker and being coy never really was my style so I roll with my spontaneous outburst.

  The second his rough stubble catches my chin and his lips brush against mine hot, sticky liquid slips out to wet my panties.

  Anticipation of the unknown of where the heck all this is leading leaves me unbalanced. While my head is all over the place, my body on the other hand has no problem reading the signals my brain is getting crossed.

  I rise to the tips of my toes and his arms are around me before my next breath.

  The kiss is soft at first like I caught him by surprise but that does not last long. That fire that keeps growing inside of me is out of control and I wind my arms around his neck as he flicks his warm, demanding tongue out to tease the seam of my lips open.

  “God damn,” Samuel half-growls beside us, and his hands are not just touching me now. They are possessive and demanding. The jacket Elliot gave me is tossed aside and Samuel’s fingers are buried in the soft fabric of my dress. I can feel the confines of the material tighten around my ample bust. Another inch and my needy nipples will be exposed to both my gorgeous, passionate and obviously hungry professors.

  Do I give in to my dirty fantasies here, tell them how I really feel? Or show them? Shimmy my shoulders a bit and give them what we all want? Do I risk it? Or wait?

  Gah, why do I have to be so unsure all the time when it comes to them?

  Samuel steals the choice from me and hikes the hem of my dress over my thigh. His large, warm hand peels aside my drenched panties and he slips a finger beneath the lacy edge as Elliot's tongue explores my mouth.

  “I knew you’d be wet for us.”

  He studies my expression when I pull away from Elliot’s kiss. For what I don’t know, but I think he finds what he is looking for because in the next second he has his finger in his mouth, licking my juices off.

  I whimper when he takes my lips next, and I taste my arousal on his mouth. Elliot holds me, kneading my ass as Samuel takes our kiss deeper. I wonder for a second if this can truly be happening and then I dash the thought away.

  None of my fantasies can come close to what this feels like.

  “My turn.”

  Chapter One

  Emberly

  “Hello, earth to Emberly. Did you hear what I said?” My best friend snaps her fingers in front of me and the naughty, filthy sinfully decadent fantasy playing out in my mind fades to reveal the beautiful raven-haired woman across from me. Her bright green eyes drink in my expression with her all-too-knowing look.

  She purses her lips into a pucker and slouches back in the booth. From this angle, not many can see us as we watch the restless crowd of college students gearing up for a well-deserved spring break that kicks off tomorrow.

  I blush deeply and try to hide the scarlet on my checks behind my glass of iced tea, but my friend knows me better. I offer a small grin as an apology I don’t really feel. What can I say? There is no cure for what I have. Well
that’s not entirely true. There is one, but I can’t have the one thing that would resolve my issue.

  Them.

  So here I sit, every Thursday like clockwork because they are here.

  Same day.

  Same hour.

  Every week.

  And like every week nothing more than a few stolen glances ever happens.

  If I were to examine that too closely, the peek behind the curtain would reveal more than I care to understand about myself.

  I scoop a healthy amount of salsa onto my chip and force myself to focus on the burst of tang against my tongue instead of the muscles I’d rather have it running over.

  It’s cheesy to think all that tanned muscles would taste more delicious than chip dip, but that’s where my mind is right now. The extremely good-looking, extremely single and utterly sinful Professor Elliot James and his long-time best friend and fellow professor Samuel Riley make the strip of my panty’s wet morning, noon and night. And twice as slicked up on Thursday.

  Professor Elliot has nothing about him that screams academic with his bulging muscles like he’s some MMA fighter. No way that man doesn’t have a problem finding enough cloth to stretch across his broad back and expansive chest given how tight his dress shirt clings to every contour. I know without seeing behind all those white buttons he has a washboard stomach and a treasure trail I want to lick.

  Professor Samuel isn’t any better at being the professorly type with his sleeve of tattoos and preference of jeans and rolled up sleeves. I’m sure the female student body and fellow faculty members are not scurrying to tell them to change any time soon.

  I dip my gaze back to my table when one of them flashes a dark look my way.

  Oh, and did I mention forbidden? Of course, I couldn’t pick a couple of fuck-happy jocks for my duo fantasy. That would be far too easy for me, I guess. No, my horny muse goes after not one but two of my professors the very week I start school at Blackthorne University.

  That was three years and six months ago.

  Two insanely attractive older, dominant, lust-worthy perfect men have my eye and I can’t have them.

  Both have broad shoulders, chiseled jaws made for licking and kissing and thick dark hair that has me wanting to drive my fingers through it rather than study the contents of the books they’ve loaded me down with. If I didn’t know better I’d say they were brothers, but a little snooping on the internet put that theory to rest. They are just good friends.

  Tonight they sit at their usual table pushed back from the crowd of rowdy college kids as they pore over papers and shoot the breeze after a hellish first quarter of the year.

  My gaze slides back to the far corner of the bar where the shadows are dense and I gasp quietly when a hungry fierce, steely gaze connects with mine over the distance as if Professor Samuel senses my gaze on him. My pulse hikes and my breath catches as a shiver runs the course of my entire body only to strike my core with an electric shock. But then, just like every week, I blink and it’s gone. But the raw need that lingers and rides me hard never fades as quickly.

  If I were alone and if there were a fewer people, maybe I’d slide my fingers over my throbbing clit and alleviate some of the ache they stir within me.

  “You know what. This is ridiculous. You, Emberly Kennedy, the most outgoing, fun-loving chick I know can’t get up enough courage to ask her hunky professors for a one-night stand? I can’t believe it. Come on, for Christ’s sake. I see the way they look at you. Don’t tell you don’t see that fierce, hungry look in Professor Elliot’s eyes right now.” Rosalee turns a hot grin on me and raises a brow in challenge. “You know I’m right.”

  I wag a finger in defiance at her. “I know nothing of the sort, Rosalee Johnson. You’re a bad influence for your encouragement.”

  Rosalee shrugs with the wickedest grin on her face this side of Hell. Hand to heart, I swear, she’s the devil on my shoulder when a bad idea strikes. “Hey, you know me. I live by one rule.”

  I knew the answer. I just liked hearing so I ask, “What’s that?”

  “Fuck ’em. Rules that is, buuuuuuut,” she dragged out with dramatic exasperation, “in this case, it can’t be more literal.” Rosalee waggles her perfectly trimmed brows at me and her pink lips peel back in a saucy smile.

  I lean forward and lower my voice. “And I love you for that, but it’s just not me. This scholarship came at a high price. I can’t go back to living the way I did. My mother...” I shudder and it’s not the sexy kind from a minute ago. This one dredges up negative memories that make me see red.

  No. It’s the utter disgust of the thought that comes to mind if I have to return to my mother’s way of life while I try to get my life together. She’s the only family I have left, which I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad, honestly.

  “BU is run by some of the sourest board members this town has. They catch me going down on my professors I’m out and if that were not enough, where would that leave the Professors? Without a job? Ruined reputations. What kind of person would that make me if I let that happen?”

  “You’re assuming you get caught. Plus, who said you had to do anything on school property? What you do off campus grounds is your business alone.”

  “I wish it worked that way, Rosa. I really do.”

  I swirl my drink with the tip of my finger. “I’ll stick to my fantasies. I can’t do that to them and I definitely can’t lose this scholarship.” But how I wish things were different. I raise my finger and slip it between my lips, pulling it out slowly as I look up to see dark eyes caressing my heart-shaped face and following the smooth line of my jaw to my mouth.

  We’ve done this before. Our little game of cat and mouse. They look, I fantasize. But that is as far as anything ever goes.

  I bite my lip and let my gaze linger. No harm in that, right?

  “I dare you.”

  What? I tear my gaze away from the other side of the bar and nail my friend with a pointed look. My mouth hinges open. “I'm sorry, are we in high school again? That’s not working on me.”

  Not many people could say they managed to keep a friend from grade school through high school and into college, but we were one of the few friends that really clicked over cookies and milk back in third grade. We’ve created havoc up and down the East Coast during spring breaks, Christmas breaks and every holiday in between ever since. Rosalee is the one constant in my life and there is nothing in this world I would not do for her.

  Except this.

  Cool air from the front door drifts over my bare shoulders and my skin tingles. I can’t help but wonder as I watch a group of jocks walk in why I had to go the hard route. My mother always said I was too much like my father. Stubborn, hard-headed, with a wild streak. The worst of combinations in her eyes.

  I wouldn’t know. He died when I was five and ever since my mother’s rotating bedsheets kept her too busy to fill me in on the missing gaps of my dad and the man that he was.

  I can say this, my stubbornness and determination landed me the best damn chance I have at making something of myself. In some slim way, that idea comforts me and makes me feel connected to a man that is more fantasy than real in my memories.

  One thing I did know was his adoration for my mother. My mother apparently did not share the same feelings. Two months after putting my father in the ground strange men starting sharing her bed in our plush Manhattan apartment. To a five-year-old’s eyes the world shifted in a way that took me years to understand.

  And accept.

  My mother only cares about the size of her bank account and it didn’t take me long to learn she would do whatever it took to make sure it stayed plump after my dad’s checks from his law firm stopped rolling in.

  It takes a special kind of someone to be that cold, and I refuse to adopt her way of life. But a part of me, the little girl that always wanted to play dress up, wishes for a connection with my mother. But that little girl grew up and saw the real world for what it truly is. A
colorless shell with nothing to offer unless you’re willing to fight for it.

  Maybe I need to fight for that connection but it’s kind of hard when the other half is busy chasing the money.

  Maybe now that she has finally remarried, that has changed. All I know is that when I marry it will be for love. Call it clichéd or old-fashioned but using people just isn’t my style. Plus, I remember one thing about my father and that is it takes hard work to cut a place out in this world.

  Throwing away what I’ve worked so hard for doesn’t sound ludicrous—it is ludicrous.

  The music track blaring across the pub from the jukebox dwindles into a mellow tune and we sit there for a few seconds before the next song in silence as my heart sinks to the floor.

  “Rose, dare or not, I’m not going to confess my undying love to my professor and his best friend. Not happening. And my mother and her new husband are coming to town to visit. Plus, you know how they are about the rules between any relationships with teachers and students. No, I’ll graduate, get a job teaching history somewhere, maybe Alaska, but in the end, it is best I move on and—”

  “And in the meantime, I get to hear you masturbate while you listen to class notes in your room and if that isn’t enough, you cry out their names when you’re having sticky, sweaty wet dreams. I know because I see you dash to the bathroom when you wake up and take a cold shower.”

  Clearly it’s a mistake that we share an apartment off campus. A small two bedroom with a barely-there kitchen and one bathroom. It is small but well-furnished and cozy, but I would have more privacy walking down Main Street of our little college town than with a roommate who notes my every move.

  Eyes wide, I can only stare across the table at my friend for a long, drawn-out moment. “Okay,” I choke out and try to shove my utter embarrassment into a mental box, but the scarlet heat traveling up my neck to settle in my cheeks isn’t going away anytime soon. “I, uh, didn’t realize I was that loud but the fact still remains, both men are strictly off limits. And what can I say? I love a deep, sexy voice.” I wiggle in my seat and try for humor but Rosalee doesn’t buy it.