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Yes, the buildup. That sweet fucking buildup.
I reach up with gentle fingers, and without touching her directly, I undo the first four buttons of her silk blouse. Her shirt falls open just enough to reveal the matching silk and lace white bra to her panties.
But it’s not enough.
I need more. I need her to feel the illicitness of this moment.
With a capped pen from my desk, I use it to slide the material of her bra down her breasts until both are visible for me. Her pink nipples are hard, and the movement of her now-erratic breaths pushes her chest closer to me.
“Damn, I want to suck on these,” I whisper and stand up to hover my lips over each of her breasts. Still not touching, but close enough that she can feel the warmth of my mouth.
“Ty,” she whimpers again, and I know she’s close.
“Keep going, baby,” I whisper in her ear, still making sure no part of my body touches hers. “Push yourself over the edge for me.”
Her eyes fall closed and her head falls back, and her gorgeous brown locks are a wave of beauty over her shoulders. Her hand stays busy between her thighs, two fingers rubbing along her clit, and occasionally one finger finds itself inside her.
She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Vulnerable but aroused. In control but pushing herself to lose control.
It is the best fantasy that I’ve never been creative enough to imagine on my own.
The moment her orgasm starts to consume her body, she leans forward and buries her face in my dress shirt, using my chest to muffle her moans.
It’s only then that I let myself give in to the need to touch her. Arms around her back, I pull her body tight to mine and give her a few quiet moments to come down from the high.
Once her breaths are back to normal and I don’t feel the pounding of her pulse at her neck, I lean back to slide her breasts back into her bra and button up her silk blouse. I even reach down and put her panties back in place.
She sits there as I work, half smiling but still a little dazed.
“What about you?” she asks and glances down to my pants, where my cock is raging.
“What about me?”
This isn’t a tit-for-tat situation. This was air, water, and shelter. This was a thing I needed for life.
“I got exactly what I needed…for now.”
Tomorrow is a whole different story.
I help her off my desk and not-so-discreetly squeeze her ass in the process. “So, what time do we officially get to stop being good? I want to make sure I enter it accurately into my calendar.”
“You already know this.” She giggles. “After our last classes.”
“Are you sure it’s not midnight tonight?”
Rachel rolls her pretty eyes. “Nope.”
“One a.m., then?”
“No.”
“Five a.m.?”
“Nice try,” she says, trying to act annoyed but her smile showing her truth. “Anyway, I’ll be busy then.”
“Pulling a shift at the bakery?’
“Nope.” A little sigh leaves her lips. “My sister is forcing me to go to some early morning dance class thing.”
“Rachel Rose dances?”
“Sometimes.” She stands on her tippy-toes and presses a barely there kiss to the corner of my mouth. “But I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”
Yeah. I definitely did. All of this started with a dance nearly two months ago, and since then, she’s been a stellar participant in the horizontal tango.
“Only twenty-four hours to go, Professor,” she taunts with a little giggle as she heads for the door.
Yeah. I can’t fucking wait.
Friday, March 1st
Rachel
The subway lights flicker, and I stare down at my favorite white Adidas with gold stripes before looking up at Lydia, who sits across the aisle with her head resting on Lou’s shoulder.
“Tell me again why I had to wake up at five in the morning?”
“The class starts at six, Rae,” Lydia says, acting like that’s a real explanation. “Plus, exercise is healthy.”
“But why this early?” I counter. “Isn’t it possible to exercise at a more reasonable hour?”
“Because it’s a great way to start your day.”
“It’s also the easiest time for us to sneak away from the bakery and let Maude run the ship,” Lou adds, and I nod.
“Well, that makes way more sense than the whole bit about starting your day out right,” I respond with a tired smile. “Because from where I stand, this is a terrible damn way to start the day.”
Lydia snorts. “You’re the worst in the morning.”
“Yes. I am,” I agree without shame. “Which is why you should have never attempted to drag me along to a dance class before the sun rises.”
Lou grins, and Lydia sighs.
“Bitch and moan all you want, but when we’re done, you’re going to feel like a new woman.”
I open my mouth to refute that ridiculous statement, likely with a colorful word or two or seven, but the feel of my phone vibrating in my purse grabs my attention and saves my sister from a verbal battle. With uncoordinated, five-in-the-morning hands, I pull it out of my purse, nearly dropping it to the dirty subway floor in the process.
