Page 48 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
“Are you sure?” I confirm, meeting her eyes. “Completely sure?”
“Absolutely,” she says, and then lifting her chin a little like the brat she is, she adds coyly, “But if you don’t want to leave your come inside me when you’re finished, then I guess I understand.”
I growl, leaning over her and nipping at her lip. “You’re trying to provoke me.”
She makes a noise of agreement. “And I’d say it’s working, wouldn’t you?”
I press a full kiss to her mouth now. I explore her lips with the same exactitude with which I’d document what I found inside a quadrat frame, and then I invite myself inside her mouth and do the same. Stroking her tongue with mine, searching out every bit of her.
“What would you have written on my lips if you could have?” she whispers against my kiss.
I push the waist of my joggers down as I answer her. “Kiss. Fuck. Push my fingers inside.” I move between her legs. “Argue with. Listen to. Stare at while you tell me all the ways con law is taught incorrectly.”
“I’m glad that’s one of your kinks because it will happen a lot regardless,” she replies. She’s smiling. She’s on my desk in my old T-shirt and some Sharpie, papers everywhere, her work forgotten, and she’s about to take me between the legs, and she’s smiling like she’s pulled one over on me.
Maybe she has. I can’t say I mind at the moment.
I take my aching length in hand and press the head against her. She’s slippery and hot enough to kill someone, and I trace the path from clit to hole several times before carefully fitting myself to her opening. Just an inch, just a barely inside inch, and my testicles have pulled close to my body, tight and hard. Sweat erupts near my hairline and on my chest.
I stop and pantingly brace one hand on the desk by her hip. I keep the other wrapped around the part of me that needs her so much.
She reaches up to touch my hair. “You okay?” she asks softly, her smile now one of concern.
I nuzzle back against her touch, still fighting for control. “The last person I was with—my ex-wife—couldn’t do hormonal birth control because of her migraines. So it’s been seventeen years since I’ve gone inside someone bare,” I explain. “I need a minute.”
“Seventeen years? So not even when Sara was pregnant with the twins?”
“She was on partial bed rest with the twins the whole pregnancy.”
Maddie blinks. “What’spartialbed rest?”
“It’s when you can still do some sitting or standing, but only for short periods of time, and no sex, obviously. Because of the prostaglandins, and also the risk of contractions after orgasm.” I pause. “This is weird to talk about while I’m touching your vagina, Madelyn.”
She gives me a mischievous look. “But are you still going to blow your wad?”
With some elation, I realize she’s right, that the climax has backed off a little. “You’re an evil genius.”
“You’ve already got my panties off, Professor, you don’t have to sweet-talk me anymore.”
I let out a short laugh as I flex my hips and push in again. Another inch, slicker and hotter than the first. Tight enough to make a lover see stars. Fuck.
I give her more, and more, and watch as my erection disappears inside, as I impale myself in slick Maddie right next to the stark, unequivocal words I wrote on her thighs. Possessiveness surges through me, delight at the juxtaposition of my words and her soft skin, at my greedy dick plundering amid all of it, and I’m turning into such a fucking satyr, but I don’t even care, Ican’tcare when I’m now all the way inside her, when she’s making these soft, helpless noises and wrapping her legs around me and trying to pull me closer.
“You’re so tight,” I groan, pulling back and giving her a slow stroke. “God, you feel amazing.”
“Make me come,” she begs. “Please.Please.”
“Can you be a good girl and come fast for me, Maddie? I’m afraid I won’t last, darling, you feel too goddamn good.”
She nods, wide-eyed and almost serious, like this is life-or-death, and it feels like it, it’s got to be life-or-death, because why else would my heart be pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest? Why else would I have goose bumps on my arms and no air in my lungs and tunnel vision only for her?
I tear my eyes away from her beautifully flushed face and look down to where I’m wedged into a slick heaven. I don’t need to lick my thumb before I trace over her clit—there’s so much slippery arousal between us that she’s wet everywhere, and within a minute of working her with the focus of a scientist and scholar, I feel her grow even wetter. When I start thrusting, I canhearus, I can hear my dick moving in and out of her.
She likes small, firm motions on her clit and steady thrusts of my cock, and soon she’s murmuring frantic, half-hummed words about that big part of me and how good it feels and how she wants to come on my tongue tomorrow, how she wants to ride my fingers after our morning classes. She wants me to pump her full and then she wants it to leak out of her all night. She wants me to leave handprints on her ass and then fuck her from behind; she wants to sit on my face and pull on my hair.
Every muscle in my body is taut, flexed hard against the relentless onslaught of raw desire coming from Maddie’s lips, because it’s hard enough to be inside her, stroking myself with her, skin to skin, but to hear the absolute filth she wants, the filth I now want to do to her...
It’s a miracle that I make it until her back arches and she gasps my name. It’s a miracle that I last through the rippling convulsions of her slick inner channel, which caress me, pulse against me, kinetic proof that I’ve given this girl what she needs.
