He shakes his head, biting back words. I see the stubble along his jaw, the bruise of a sleepless night under his eyes. “We can’t,” he says. “It was a mistake.”
I step closer, until my chest brushes his. “I liked it.”
He closes his eyes, just for a second. Then: “This is not a joke, Simone. You could ruin my life.”
“I could ruin a lot more than that,” I whisper.
He laughs, a harsh sound, then turns and checks the door. No one’s coming. The world is a dead channel outside. He exhales.
“Did you even care?” I ask. I didn’t know I’d say it until it’s out.
He looks at me, really looks. The force of it nearly knocks me back. “I care too much,” he says, and for a moment I’m sure he’s going to leave, but then the tension breaks like a power line in a storm.
His hands are on my waist, hauling me against the desk. My ass hits the edge and my body folds, knees open, and he’s kissing me with a violence that tastes like pen ink and black coffee and years of bad decisions. I kiss him back, hard, nipping his lip. His tongue is demanding, rough, and I can’t tell if it’s punishment or reward. He smells like aftershave and expensive laundry soap and the dust of a thousand library books.
He pushes aside a bunch of paper, sending them flying to the floor. He lifts me onto the desk, my sneakers dangling, and I laugh against his mouth, half in shock and half because I want to make him even crazier.
His hands slide up my thighs, hot and shaking. The skirt bunches around my hips, exposing the white cotton thong I wore just for him. He groans, low, and digs his fingers into my skin.
“God, Simone, you have no idea what you do to me.”
He peels my shirt up, impatient, and my tits spill out, nipples already hard from the cold and the thrill. He palms them, rough, sucking one into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. I arch into him, wanting more, and run my fingers through his hair, tugging until he gasps.
“Oooh yes,” I moan throatily, watching as he tongues the pink tips. “Mmmm!”
“You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You’re Daddy’s fuckslut who comes begging for it after class.”
Oh my god, his words are so wrong, but I don’t care because he’s sinking to his knees, spreading me wider, and I nearly break the desk with how hard I grip the edge.
“That’s it, my little fuckslut,” he says in a dark voice. “You’re getting it now.”
Then, he licks the inside of my thigh, slow, then bites down, hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh shit,” he growls, before burying his face in my pussy.
I let out a whimper that bounces off every cinderblock wall, every empty chair. His tongue is magic, all harsh licks and soft teasing, moving between sucking my clit and slipping inside me. I can barely breathe.
“Oh my god, Professor,” I moan, louder than I mean to, but I don’t care. The risk is part of the turn-on. I can feel the wet, slick mess I’m making, the heat building and building. “Mmm, suck me harder!”
He looks up, mouth shiny, and says, “If you call me Professor again, I’ll spank you in front of the whole class.”
I nearly come just from the threat.
His fingers find my clit, rubbing fast, and he latches on with his mouth, sucking hard. I can feel myself losing control, my back arching as my fingers scrabble uselessly at the surface of the desk. Then, the orgasm hits like a car crash. I cry out, not even trying to be quiet, the sound echoing off the blackboards and bare linoleum. My back arches, head thrown against a pileof student essays. For a second, the whole world is just him, his mouth, the scent of sex and chalk and old wood.
“Mmmmm!” I scream. “Yes Daddy!”
He continues to suck my clit, then forces his tongue into my pulsing cunt as I gush gallons of cream all over his face. But Liam doesn’t care, swallowing it like it’s the sweetest nectar he’s ever tasted.
“Yes, my little whore,” he rasps. “Come on Daddy’s face. Give me that sweet goodness.”
I scream again, the sound reverberating through the classroom. Oh my god, someone’s going to hear, but neither Liam nor I care. He continues to kneel before me, sucking, licking and kissing my pussy as I arch and moan, my folds quivering with release.
Finally, the tremors subside somewhat but Liam’s not done yet. He’s huge and gorgeous with a devilish look in those blue eyes. He wipes his mouth, and kisses me again, this time slow and greedy, like he can’t get enough.
I cling to his shirt, panting, the aftershocks turning my bones to pudding.
“I missed you,” I say, and it’s so raw I almost want to take it back.
He cups my face, thumb stroking my jaw. “I missed you too, Simone. But I’m not done with you yet, sweet girl.”
