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“Em—” Her voice cut off as she let out a deep moan, one that almost didn't sound like her. I could tell she was close.
"You still think this is bad?" I asked. “That we shouldn’t be doing this?”
"It's terrible, Professor."
“Is that why you’re about to come for me again?”
Her pathetic whimpers as she came spurred me closer to my release. As I stroked myself, my other hand slid lower, my middle finger massaging and circling my asshole. I didn’t do it a lot, but there was something about slipping my finger inside myself that made me come harder than ever.
My thighs trembled as my finger slid into the tight hole, and my eyes flew wide open. “Fuck. Fuck,” I grunted. “Fuck. Winnie?—”
“I have to go,” she blurted. I barely heard the words as my fist became a blur, fucking my cock faster. I couldn’t get a word out before she hung up, but I didn’t care; I was too far gone.
My finger pumped in and out as my fist stroked. My cock thickened, my entire body convulsing as I pushed myself closer to the edge. “Nasty fucking girl,” I grunted. I knew she wasn’t there anymore, but I needed her to hear it. I needed to say it.
A deep, guttural groan left me as my back bowed off the couch, my cum shooting out of my cock and landing on my stomach. I didn’t stop moving my fist over myself, not even when I began to soften and my cockhead became too sensitive.
Instead, I brought her video up and continued pumping myself, grunting every time my hand slid over my head. It was torture, milking the last drops of cum from myself as I watched the brush handle stretch her again.
I watched the video on repeat for the rest of the night, fucking my fist over and over. I memorized every inch of her body I could see and memorized every sound she made. Her moans became the soundtrack of my weekend, and if I had it my way, they’d become the soundtrack to my life.
Chapter Eleven
My dick felt raw. I’d stroked and fucked myself too much over the weekend, and now my cock was about to fall off. But it wasn’t my fault. Winnie sent me that video, those photos. What was I supposed to do? Not spend the weekend glued to my phone, making myself come over and over? I was just a man, after all, and I had needs. She’d fulfilled them. Slightly.
Having her in my apartment to fuck and stroke would’ve been better. But in the meantime, my fist was adequate.
The door opened, and my head lifted, a smile already on my face. It fell when hazel instead of blue eyes met mine. I tried not to let my disappointment show as I rested my hands on the desk.
“Ms. Miller,” I said, dipping my head. “How are you? Class isn't for another hour.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
She stood too close to my desk, and my throat bobbed. Her spicy perfume invaded the space around us, assaulting every one of my senses. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, that same bland smile still stamped on my face.
“Are you having trouble with the reading?” I asked, and she shook her head.
“No,” she replied coldly, and my eye twitched at her tone.
I tapped my fingers against the desk as I watched her. “Then how can I help you, Ms. Miller?”
She took a step closer, and I inhaled sharply, pressing off the ground and rolling my chair away. Reaching out, she rested her hand on my desk, her fingers nearly grazing mine. “I did some reading this weekend,” she murmured, and I felt my body lock up. My throat closed, and fear like I’d never known coursed through me.
“Did you?” I croaked. Her pink lips tipped up in a teasing grin. “About?”
“You,” she whispered. My heart pounded in my chest at the word. I gripped the edges of my chair, the leather slick against my palms. “I came across some interesting articles.”
Panic set in. It had only been a matter of time before something like this happened. But maybe she didn’t know everything. Most of those articles only mentioned one student, not all of them.
“Ms. Miller?—”
“Cassandra,” she purred, leaning closer, her breath barely ghosting over my face.
Her proximity was suffocating. If I’d been the same man I was a year ago, I would’ve already had her on her knees and my cock down her throat. But now I had only one girl on my mind, and it certainly wasn’t this one.
“I can explain,” I said. “Most of those articles had been blown totally out of proportion.”
“So, you didn’t sleep with a student?” Her perfectly groomed brow lifted, a grin playing at her lips.
