Page 28 of Misadventures with a Professor
She licks me again, less tentative this time and more certain, a long steady motion that has my blood heating and freezing in fitful starts. And then her natural eagerness spills over and she starts licking at my crown as if it’s a lollipop, like she can’t get enough of it. I thread my hands through her hair, but I don’t push her down. Not yet. I simply flex and twist my fingers in the silky strands and guide her mouth to where I need it. From my taut, swollen tip to the turgid base, from the root to the velvety underside, rewarding her with my groans whenever she does well.
“Suck it,” I say hoarsely. “Put it in your mouth and suck.”
She does.
The flood of heat and soft wet is almost too much, and I’m gritting my teeth against the urge to come. “God, you suck me so good,” I groan, my head falling back against my chair. I keep my hands in her hair, pushing her down just far enough to get that squeeze at the head of my prick. “Fuck.”
I look down at her, and she’s a vision like this, her dark hair tumbling everywhere around my hands and her perfect mouth wrapped around my cock. Her cheeks are hollowed and her eyes are wet and blue, and I think I could look at this for the rest of my life. Except there’s something I want to see more.
“On your feet,” I tell her, wincing as her hot mouth leaves my cock to throb wet and alone in the air of the room. I stand as she stands, and then I bend her over the desk, ignoring the papers and notes that go flying as I do.
“Stay here,” I command, and I go up to my bedroom to find a condom. The box in my end table is depressingly old, and it would be funny to think that I’ve seen more sex in the past week than I have in the past three years if it weren’t so painfully true. I find myself taking the steps back downstairs faster than I should, not only excited to get back down to Zandy and her willing body, but also crawling with this odd fear that I’d return to the study and find her gone. That she’d come to her senses and leave and take her forthright sweetness elsewhere.
The fear is astonishingly pervasive, and I find myself rubbing at the tight spot in my chest as I push open the study door.
And find her still stretched over my desk, like the good listener she is.
The relief at seeing her nearly makes me stumble, nearly makes me drunk, and I’m on her with a fast desperation I don’t care to identify. I bend over her body, covering her with mine. We’re both still fully clothed, still sweaty in the June heat, and it makes it dirtier somehow. Coarser.
Obscene.
“Oliver,” she pleads, voice breaking, and I don’t correct her this time. The game is melting away—into what, though, I’m not certain.
“I know what you need, girl. Hold still.”
I straighten up and roll on the condom as fast as I’ve ever done it in my life, peeling her panties off her skin and kicking them away. I cup her pussy in my hand with a hard, possessive grip, and she wriggles against it, trying to get the friction against her clit, and she’s so wet, so fucking wet, that my palm comes back slicked with her.
I use that hand to stroke my swollen cock once, twice, before nudging the shiny latex tip at her small opening. I remind myself that this is only her second time being fucked, to take it easy on her, and it’s with all the unraveling self-control left in me that I refrain from slamming into that tight cunt with one savage thrust.
I settle for two savage thrusts instead.
The thick, heavy crown stretches her, and I get to halfway in, holding her hips down as she whimpers and tosses underneath me. And then I shove the rest of the way in, wishing I could listen to her noises forever. Her long, low cry as I fully seat myself inside her. Her pants and mewls as I roll my hips to feel the wet silk of her around my root. And then her eye-rolling moan as I slide my hand around her hip and start massaging the swollen pearl of her clit.
She is amazing like this, bent over my desk like some kind of academic sacrifice, her sweet ass filling one hand while my other hand works her into a frenzy. Her hair is a tumbled mess, and her eyes, when they flutter back at me, are lost and dazed and adoring. And her body around mine, even through the condom, is everything—soft and hot and tight beyond belief. A spark of wonder kindles in my chest that she’s letting a miserable bastard like me fuck her again. That she’s still happy and willing to play any kind of game with me after how I’ve acted the past week.
Christ, what a gift.
The spark kindles into a real fire now, something possessive and primal and as certain as the sun and the wind and the sparkling river glinting behind me as I fuck her.
She’s mine.
Maybe it’s just for this moment, as she starts quivering and fluttering around my cock, or maybe it’s only for today. But she’s mine, and I want to roar my pleasure at the knowledge.
I want more of her. More of this. This raw fucking with my hips plowing into her spank-reddened bottom, this sweet clenching around my cock as she comes. And after my own release tears through me, filling the condom with hot and heavy spurts, I barely give her a minute to breathe. I tear off the condom, scoop her limp and sweaty into my arms, and carry her up to my bedroom.
I’m ravenous tonight. Insatiable. Because, selfish man that I am, if I’m going to break my rules and break the trust I have with her father, then I may as well do it thoroughly.
And I am very, very thorough.
I peel off her clothes and explore every exposed contour of her with my mouth. I feast on those abundant tits like I’ve been fantasizing about, like I’ve been stroking myself to the thought of all week, and I turn her into a wriggling, gasping mess.
“I forgot,” she breathes out, her eyes glowing in the fading light of my bedroom.
“You forgot what?”
“That your mouth could feel so good there,” she whispers as I kiss and lick at the softly curved underside of her breast. “That it would make me want you so much again.”
“Then let me make it so you remember forever.”
