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Claire
No man has ever kissed me like this. I love the way he grabs me and pulls me against his rock-hard body, claiming me like a long-lost possession.
And that is what I want to be to him. I want to be his, I want him to do all the things he promised when we first met. There has been a part of me that regretted telling him about my virginity, because that night would have gone so differently if I hadn’t. I definitely wouldn’t be a virgin any longer—and at least I would have the sweet memory of that one time, which I’m sure would have been nothing but amazing with him.
But there’s still hope. I can feel how much he wants me when he grabs my hair to pull my head back into my neck. I can feel his desire in the hard length that’s poking against my belly when he pulls my body close to his.
And I can taste it in his kiss. This wild, unbridled interaction of our tongues, the heat of his lips against mine, and the way his strong chest heaves under erratic breaths.
He’s so aggressive, so demanding with everything he does. Even if I wanted to, there’s no way for me to get out of his hold right now. I moan into our kiss, surprised that he doesn’t stop me when I lift my arm and bring it around his neck. My embrace tightens, as if it were possible to get even closer to him than I am.
It’s definitely possible, but we’re wearing way too much clothes for that to happen.
I lean into him, trying to be as close to him as humanly possible while we’re still dressed, and before I know it, I find myself rubbing against his growing erection. He’s so big. Even with all that damn fabric between us, I can tell that his cock must be of considerable size—and my body reacts to that realization in a way I’ve never experienced before. My core throbs with need, yearning to be filled by him.
I want him so badly. And I’ve not been shy about letting him know, which is very unusual for me. I’ve never been a tease like this, I’ve never acted the way I did today or when we were alone in his office.
It’s all because of him. He awakens something in me that I didn’t know I had. A desire so relentless and burning that it makes me do these things. I feel powerful and confident, because of him.
And I feel secure enough to move my other hand down to the hem of his pants, where I lock a finger underneath his belt and…
That’s the moment his hand closes around my wrist again, and painfully so. His grip so violent that I mewl in pain when he breaks our kiss. He pulls my head back into my neck, forcing me to stare into his piercing green eyes. He’s breathing heavily, just like me, and his lips are moving, as if he was about to speak.
But no words fill the air between us. We just stare at each other, his cheeks as flushed as I’m sure mine must be right now.
What is going on inside his head? Why is he not breaking the silence, even if it’s only to scold me. I know he likes to be in control, and he doesn’t like to be touched by me, at least not so far.
„This is torture,” I finally dare to say in a whisper.
„It is,” he agrees, and my heart jumps with hope. Is he finally ready to give in to this undeniable magnetic pull between us?
But then his grip around me loosens. He lets go of my hair and my wrist, before he takes a step back, with his head lowered, as if in shame.
„I’m sorry,” he says, just like last time.
„What are you sorry for?” I ask. „For kissing me or for putting an end to it like this. Again.”
There’s sadness in his eyes when he looks at me now.
„I’m definitely not sorry for kissing you,” he admits, and a smile appears on my face.
„Neither am I,” I let him know.
„But I shouldn’t have done it, and you know that,” he says. „We both know that.”
„Still, I don’t regret it,” I say. „And I want more.”
I’m sure he can see the pleading in my expression when I look at him. His eyes flicker knowingly, and I’m filled with another spark of hope that he may finally be ready to strike some sort of deal, a kinky conspiracy that allows us to act out our joined desire, whilst keeping it professional on campus.
„You can’t have more,” he says. „Both of us can’t.”
„Do you not trust me?” I ask, feeling hurt by his stubbornness.
His eyes narrow, and he clears his throat. But instead of giving me an answer, he walks around me in a ridiculously wide circle, keeping his distance from me, as he approaches the front door. He pauses, throwing a quick look over his shoulder, before he gets his phone out of his pants pocket.
„I need your address,” he says, without lifting his eyes from the screen in his hand.
„What for?” I implore.
