Page 10 of Misadventures with a Professor
Delicious because it’s nothing like the familiar massage of my hands or the plastic hum of a vibrator. It’s human and messy and dirty. It’s not the tame thing I thought it was at all.
It’s wild. It’s primal. Like a lioness being pinned and bitten by her male. Like a cavewoman being slung over the shoulder of a lusty caveman. I thought I knew the boundaries of it. I thought my research would make the act planned and civilized…
There’s nothing civilized about this. And despite his expensive sweater and even more expensive accent, there’s nothing civilized about Oliver at all.
“I love the way you taste,” he tells me, pulling back to bite at my ass. “Like summer. Fresh and tart and rich.”
“I—” I have no words for this. Never in a thousand years when I made my plans and fantasized about finally having sex did I imagine what this would feel like—not just his mouth on my clit, but hearing him talk about my body with such raw pleasure, knowing that my secrets were secret no longer.
And never could I have imagined that he’d sit on the bed and then haul me over his lap like a child, his hand smoothing over the curve of my ass.
I look back at him, and he looks back at me with those uncannily colored eyes.
“Red means stop,” he repeats.
And then he brings his palm down against my ass, and I buck over his lap.
“That is for going out alone in a strange city,” he says as he tucks me even harder against his lap.
And spanks me again. “That is for looking for a strange man to fuck you.”
And again. “And that is for being so fucking delicious that I couldn’t say no when you asked.”
I’m breathing hard into the blanket, the skin along my ass and thighs nearly dancing with sparks. There’s heat everywhere—heat on my skin, heat deep in my muscles, heat in my belly, and heat between my legs.
I…I had no idea.
This definitely was not the plan. The plan never involved spanking. It never involved pain or punishment, and yet…when he soothes the skin with his hand, rubbing gently…when he croons that I’m a good girl, I’m more alive than I’ve ever felt. I’m dizzy with it and drunk with it, and I feel giddy and heady and wild. Like I can do anything and have anything.
Have anyone.
“I liked that,” I murmur in disbelief. “I liked that.”
His hand stops over my ass. “You did?” he asks in nearly as much disbelief.
I realize he’s trembling where he touches me. His hands are shaking, and I can feel minute shudders chasing up and down his solid body.
I suddenly panic that I’ve done something wrong, that I’ve accidentally been disgusting by admitting that I liked it, but then he bends over me, pressing his lips to my back.
“Amanda,?
?? he groans and then bites me. “Where the hell did you come from?”
I don’t know, but I’m suddenly encouraged. He’s shaking because of me. Because I liked what he did to me. I can’t separate my enjoyment of it from his enjoyment of it, but maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe that’s the point.
And for once in my life, I’m happy not to overanalyze. Happy just to be in the moment and do something that feels good.
“More?” I ask, batting my eyelashes for good measure. “I know you’ve already spanked me for being a bad girl, but maybe some more just for fun?”
I don’t have to ask twice.
A pleased noise rumbles deep in Oliver’s chest, and he resumes his work—a bit lighter this time, I notice. Hard enough to sting but not so hard that it truly hurts. Soon I’m arching and squeaking with each strike, rocking back into his touch and also trying to press my pussy into the firm length of his thigh. His erection burns at my belly even through his pants, and he’s breathing harder than I am—breathing like he’s run a race, like he’s pushed himself to the point of collapse.
And when the collapse comes, it’s not his body but his control that fails. He scoops me up and tosses me back onto the bed, slouching over me like a lion in truth.
“Tell me you’re wet,” he says, lowering his body over mine and taking a nipple into his mouth. “Tell me you need it,” he murmurs around my skin, leaving my nipple to kiss at the soft skin between my breasts and down the even softer contours of my belly. “Tell me you can’t wait another minute.” His mouth reaches my pussy, and it’s like all the fire he’s laid into my backside is now kindling here, here, here. And when he slides one long finger inside me, his lips and tongue and teeth all working to worship my clit, I’m done for.
Battery power has nothing on this.
