Page 81 of The Professor's Wife

I raised my hips, eager for him to fuck me. He rubbed his tip against my folds, teasing around my entrance. He brushed along my clit, and I squirmed, pent up and crazed.

“Tristan…”

“Be patient, Daze.”

“I’ve been patient.”

“A little bit longer.”

He cupped my breasts and squeezed gently. I loved watching him explore my body with hungry eyes. It startled me how excited he became. His cock was impossibly hard, his expression clouded as he slowly sheathed himself with the condom.

I almost begged him to leave it off.

This visceral need to have him bare inside me kept growing, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

Tristan’s desire for me looked painful, and whenever he touched me, I felt the tremble beneath his fingers. He was holding back, and it was hurting him, too.

Yet the anticipation he drew out only heightened the pleasure. Every touch felt more sensitive. Every brush of his fingertips along my nipples and clit made me cry out from the wave of pleasure it evoked.

Finally, he dropped down over me, his chest pressed against mine. He kissed me, and there was more hunger in it.

I felt his length at my center and greedily grabbed at his ass, squeezing his muscled flesh and trying to urge him closer. The tip of his cock dipped into me, and I nearly came from the sensation.

His mouth opened, and now we were hardly kissing, exchanging breaths instead as he continued to ease into me slowly. He was so big, and I felt so tight, and there was nothing—nothing at all—that compared to this sort of pleasure.

My fingers dug deeper into his ass as he continued to enter me, filling me one inch at a time. Then he stilled, allowing my body to adjust to his length and width.

I hardly breathed.

I felt full, my clit throbbing and swollen for him.

“How are you doing?” he whispered, kissing the corner of my mouth.

I moaned. “Like I’m coming apart.”

“Doesn’t it feel good?”

I bit his bottom lip gently. “In a painful kind of way.”

He moved then, fucking me slowly, and I gasped as he filled me again.

“Daze, meeting you feels like I’ve woken up from a bad dream.”

I nodded at his words, feeling the same way, but I couldn’t vocalize it when I was on the cusp of exploding. I gripped his ass as hard as I could, feeling the pleasure mount every time he rubbed against my clit.

“Tristan,” I whispered. “Tristan…”

He groaned. “I know, Daze…”

I was going to come, and it was going to be powerful. My body trembled, and he was so gentle. I wanted to breathe, but even if I managed it, Tristan would steal the breath from me another way.

He watched me closely, and even as he approached the crest of his own pleasure, he grinned at me, whispering how beautiful I looked.

An orgasm tore through me suddenly. I shook and cried through it as he kissed me, whispering things that prolonged the pleasure.

Just before he came, his words cut through me like a knife as he admitted in a ragged whisper, “Daze, I think you’ve ruined me.”

We had a quick breakfast. Tristan wanted to get out of the backroads and into the nearest town for a supply run. We were running low on food, and I blamed myself for it. He wouldn’t have been running so low if I weren’t eating half of everything.