Page 7 of Beneath the Beauty (Beauty 2)
“I’m so upset about getting a B, Professor Morris. I’m really an A-plus kind of student.” Of course it was all a game. This wasn’t reality; it was a sex world, a pretend place of security and wholeness.
She continued, “Is there anything I can do to convince you? I’m really quite diligent when I put my mind to the task.”
His eyes were slits, his upper lip lifted in a snarl of arousal. It was scary, and that excited her. She wasn’t frightened of him. His expression was feral because his lust was wild. Underneath, the man was gentle. Exceedingly kind. In fact, she’d thought he wouldn’t play along. That he wouldn’t be comfortable playing the role she’d cast him into. But she should have known better than to doubt him. He had never disappointed her yet.
“I’m sure I can think of some extra credit work for you to do.” His hand pressed gently behind her neck, urging her forward, closer, until she could smell the faint salty musk.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” she said breathlessly, wanting him to use those dirty words she so enjoyed.
He brought his thumb to her lips, rubbing across them in a way that heightened every nerve in her body. “A good student must apply herself,” he said, his voice gravelly and thick with need. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Won’t you give me instructions?” she whispered.
“Lick it. Here.” Guiding himself with one hand, he placed the soft, slippery skin at the tip against her lips. Tentatively, she licked. Outwardly she played the innocent, but inside she reveled in the salty-sex flavor of his passion.
Obliging him and taking it farther, she licked the tender slit again and again. His breath hitched sweetly at each slide of her tongue, but soon he moved on, directing her to lick and suck all over the broad head of his cock, down the underside.
He tapped her bottom lip. “Open.”
She dutifully opened her mouth. He angled his cock inside, thrusting gently as she grew accustomed to his girth. He was too large to move in her mouth quickly. She would inevitably gag, and he didn’t like that. It didn’t matter to her, but he minded any hint of her discomfort.
In steady pulses, he rocked against her face, climbing closer to orgasm. She could tell by the heavy breaths, the tightening of his fist in her hair. When she thought he would explode in her mouth, he pushed her back. In seconds she was up against the wall where he had been, her jeans yanked down and his mouth pressed to her core.
Gasping, he pulled away only long enough to say, “Couldn’t wait anymore.”
Then his mouth was back at her folds, licking and sucking. Pleasure coursed through her, sharp and sweet. Her hips bucked just like his, only more eager now that she was primed. She couldn’t help it; she rocked against the lovely pressure, humping his face, though the low groans told her he didn’t mind much.
Sensation raced over her skin, heightened by her eagerness all day, her anger at those girls, her love for this man. She climbed a peak, propelled by clever fingers and a wicked tongue. Frantic sounds escaped her, unwilling to be held back even at the expense of discovery. She rocked and shuddered, and with the smooth, slick curl of his tongue against her clit, found completion in a soft rush and sated sigh.
He turned her around, bending her over the file cabinet. She grasped the sides, the metal cool and slick beneath her sweaty palms. She heard the condom wrapper tear, felt him nudge her from behind, felt her slick, swollen flesh part for the broad head of his cock. He didn?
??t waste time; as if his restraint had eroded, he pushed inside, smooth and fast. She gasped at the feeling of being full—too full, a pleasurable hum stretching into an ache deep inside. That small pain was the sweetest, a signal of his loss of control, a sign of his lust. She clenched her muscles, reveling in the low groan pulled from him. He set up a hard, swift rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before plunging to the hilt. She could only hold on, only cling to the hard slippery metal surface with her mouth open in a silent cry until he froze and dug into her hips and throbbed inside her as he came.
For a moment, he curved his strong body over hers in repose and possession. His breath was harsh against the back of her neck, mingling with hers in the cool, dusty air. All too soon, he pulled out—more gently now, gingerly even.
She started to stand, but he pressed her lower back to keep her still.
“Let me clean you.” His voice was rough, an audible remnant of the passion they’d just shared. He tore a paper towel from the roll on a bookcase.
She squirmed at the rasp of paper on her tender flesh. She reached back to take it from him, but he stayed her hand.
“Let me,” he repeated.
Biting her lip, she remained still for his touch.
“It’s too bright in here,” she whispered. He could see every part of her this way. Bent over, she was exposed. Her cunt, her asshole—all of it on display. The corner of the cabinet was cutting into her belly now, more noticeable without the haze of arousal.
He trailed a finger through her inner lips up through the crease in her ass, wringing a shudder from her. “You’re beautiful here. Everywhere.”
It pained her that he meant it as a contrast to him, but she didn’t know how to comfort him without raising the issue herself. A kind word could turn the knife already inside him if she wasn’t careful. In the end, he solved the problem by bringing it up himself.
“You didn’t have to do it,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Have sex in my office because those girls insulted me.”
He spoke so flatly, without emotion, such a contrast to the warm joy that had filled his voice just seconds before that she felt the loss reverberate in her heart. So he’d heard them. And he’d known all along what had driven her—but he would interpret that as pity, not…well, what was it? Kindness? Love? She wanted him to be happy, not to worry, but the world would always judge him, would always mock and belittle him for the scars he’d earned protecting it.
