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She gags and sputters at the sudden intrusion of my cock down her throat. A protest attempts to escape, but she can’t use that smart mouth to tell me off when my cock is filling it.
Her jaw opens wider when I continue thrusting into her mouth. With the hand that isn’t keeping her head in place, I pin her hips down, my mouth glued to her pussy. Her clit throbs on my tongue, and when a high, whiny moan starts to build in her throat, I know she’s close.
“Get ready to swallow, muse.”
A squeal of protest as she tries to escape my grasp. But then her pussy clenches, clit throbbing as she cries out around my cock, all the fight draining from her limbs as the orgasm takes over.
My abs clench and balls tighten as my cock gives a violent throb into her mouth and ropes of my cum shoot down her throat.
Briar’s torn between crying out in pleasure and protesting the explosion of cum filling her. But she accepts every thrust into her mouth as the pleasure barrels through us.
My cock is still hard when I finally release her head and she drops it from her mouth.
She rounds on me. “What the fuck? I told you I wasn’t swallowing.”
I fold my arm behind my head and give her a cocky grin. “But you’re so good at it.”
She lunges at me and I sit up, grabbing both her wrists midair with ease. “Don’t worry, muse. Next time, it’ll be in your pussy.”
Briar yanks out of my grasp and jumps off the bed to find her clothes on the floor. “The hell it will.”
She floats around the room. So beautiful naked. More beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined or written. She’d look even prettier covered in the professor’s blood.
“Do you think you could kill someone?” I ask. “If it meant protecting yourself. Or someone you love.”
Briar stops the hunt for her discarded clothes and straightens to face me. She doesn’t consider the question for even a second. “Absolutely.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
BRIAR
On Monday,the president of the university calls me into her office. Dr. Bishop’s face is grave when she asks me to take a seat.
My heart is already pounding, even though I know exactly what’s coming.
Dr. Bishop folds her hands together on her desk. “I have some difficult news,” she says, lips pursed. “Yesterday, Nancy Barrett reported her husband, Dr. Barrett, missing.”
My hand flies over my mouth when a smile threatens to turn up the corners of my lips. What the hell is wrong with me? “Oh my god.” The words manage to come out convincingly distressed. “That’s awful.”
“We’re remaining hopeful, of course,” Dr. Bishop says. “Nancy was out for the weekend, so it didn’t raise any red flags when she didn’t hear from him for a couple of days. But when she returned home and couldn’t find him or get in contact with him, she informed the police.”
I shake my head. “I hope they find him soon.”
Lies, lies, lies.
Dr. Bishop nods. “Until they do, we need a few professors to cover his classes and workshops. Are you comfortable instructing your shared class without him?”
“Yes, of course.” Then I add quickly, “Anything I can do to help.”
“Great. We really appreciate your flexibility during this difficult time.” Dr. Bishop leans back and manages a small smile. “I’m sorry to hit you with this news first thing on a Monday morning. And while we of course hope for good news, if Dr. Barrett doesn’t return to Auburn, we would be looking for someone to fill the position permanently. In the meantime, do you think you could run the writing retreat on your own if that becomes necessary?”
I try not to nod too enthusiastically. “I can.”
“Excellent. If filling the position permanently becomes necessary, we’ll chat again about the salary and benefits.”
“Thank you for letting me know about Dr. Barrett,” I tell her, rising. “I better get to class.”
“Right. Try to have a good day, Briar.”
