Page 12 of Marrying My Professor

His hands grip my hips firmly as he eases himself into me, each inch a slow, deliberate stretch that leaves me gasping. The sensation is overwhelming—intense and exquisite all at once. My hands strain against the ropes as I try to ground myself, but there’s no escape, no control. Only him.

His grip shifts to my bound wrists, tugging them slightly to emphasize my helplessness. “Tell me your color,” he demands, his tone firm but laced with concern.

“Green,” I pant, my voice unsteady but sincere. “Still… green.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the nape of my neck. His encouragement sends a shiver down my spine. “You’re doing so well, Elara. So pretty like this, taking me so perfectly.”

I can barely breathe as he is fully seated inside of me, but he pauses, giving me a moment to adjust, and I can feel the tremble in his own breath as he fights to stay composed. “Fuck, you’re so tight, pretty girl.” he groans, his voice rough with restraint.

The praise coils deep inside me, mingling with the physical sensation until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

He begins to move in deep thrusts sending waves of intense pleasure through me. The stretch is exquisite, a mix of pressure and heat that leaves me dizzy. “Fucking heaven,” he groans, his voice strained with restraint.

My breath hitches as he pushes deeper, his pace slow but unrelenting. “That’s it,” he encourages, his hands gripping my hips tighter, guiding me back onto him with each thrust. “You can take it. You were made for this.” His words are like a balm, easing the ache and heightening the pleasure all at once.

I feel myself opening up to him, my body yielding under his control. The ropes around my wrists remind me of my helplessness, but there’s no fear—only anticipation and a desperate need for more. Alexander’s breath is heavy against my shoulder, his own restraint fraying as he moves. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasps, his voice raw with desire. “So perfect for me.”

And then his pace quickens, the rhythm becoming relentless, driving me closer to the edge with every movement. I gasp, my body arching as I try to meet him, desperate for more. His grip on my wrists tightens, holding me steady as he takes what he wants. “That’s my good girl,” he growls, his voice deep and possessive. “Take it all.”

“You’re mine, Elara,” he snarls, his voice rough with dominance. “Every inch of you. Every sound. Every moan. Mine.” His pace quickens, the force of his thrusts driving me forward until I’m balancing on my knees, my face pressed into the sheets. One of his hands releases my wrists, sliding up my back to grip the nape of my neck. His fingers tighten, not enough to hurt but enough to make me acutely aware of his control.

“I’m going to choke you now, pet,” he breathes, his lips brushing my ear. “Do you want that? Tell me your color.”

I whimper, my body arching into his touch. “Green,” I manage to say, my voice barely audible.

His hand shifts lower, wrapping around my throat, just firmly enough to make my pulse race faster. His thrusts become harder, faster, each one driving me closer to the edge. “Feel that?” he grunts, his breath hot against my skin. “That’s me taking what’s mine. You’re nothing but my brat, my pet, and you’re going to come for me again. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I groan, the word dragged from deep within me, my voice trembling with surrender.

And then his hand leaves my wrist for a moment and lands on my ass with a sharp, stinging smack. The sound echoes in the room, mingling with my moans. The sting blooms into a delicious heat that only amplifies the pleasure coursing through me.

He leans over me, his lips at my ear. “Do you like that, pet? Does your bratty little ass like the sting of my hand?”

I’m panting. I’m groaning. I can’t catch my breath but I push out my response. “Yes.”

“Good,” he growls. “Because you fucking deserve it.”

The pressure around my throat, the way he’s using me, the heat of him inside me—it’s too much and not enough all at once, and when he grips my wrist again. Fuck. My vision blurs as pleasure consumes me, building with every stroke. “Alexander!” I cry out, my voice breaking as I shatter around him, my body convulsing in waves of ecstasy.

His growl is guttural, primal, as he delivers another smack, this one harder, making my skin tingle and my entire body tremble. “That’s it, pet,” he rasps, his voice thick with dominance. “Take it. Give me everything.”

My body obeys, unraveling completely under his command. The dual sensations—his relentless thrusts, his punishing hand—drive me higher, pulling me into a vortex of pure, blinding ecstasy. I’m his. Every part of me. And I’ve never felt more alive.

“Fuck,” he growls low and primal, his pace faltering as he follows me over the edge. My name escapes his lips like a curse, raw and unfiltered, as he spills himself inside me, his grip on my throat and wrists unyielding.

I don’t think I can take it anymore, but then he pulls me back against his chest and rasps in my ear. “That was only round one, little brat.”

4

ELARA

Two weeks later…

Never live off campus, I repeat never live off campus, because sure, the realtor says it’s a five-minute walk, but a five-minute walk is only a five-minute walk on a sunny afternoon in sneakers. It is not a five-minute walk in heels, with black ice slicked across the sidewalk like a personal vendetta. In those conditions, it becomes fifteen minutes. Sometimes twenty. Or however long it takes for your thighs to start burning and your breath to come out in sharp, foggy bursts while you question every choice that led you to this exact stretch of frozen pavement.

My head is pounding in a way that feels both dull and judgmental, a steady reminder that I absolutely did not get enough sleep after last night. Or maybe it’s the cocktail of champagne, bourbon, adrenaline, and my last girlfriend-for-hire assignment, which technically ended at a rave that was very much not in the original contract. He offered me an extra five thousand to stay, and I didn’t have it in me to say no to the added financial cushioning. Not that I needed it. Alexander kept his promise. Exactly two days after our night together, a hundred thousand dollars appeared in my bank account. I didn’t know what to think, because was I expecting like 45,000 dollars. Yes, because he said he would double my rate plus tip, but a 60,000 dollar tip? Who the hell does that, but him? I damn there screamed at the top of my lungs when I saw it.

God. Alexander.