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“Yeah. Can we get some root beer to go with it?”
His eyebrow lifts. “Root beer?”
“My little brother likes it. It kind of grew on me.”
“Root beer it is. Anything else? Dessert?”
I feel warm. “I’m good with anything you want.”
“Anything?”
I nod, and he exhales through his nose, reminding me of a bull. But then he turns his attention to his phone as he orders the food. Maybe I misread the situation? I’m still doubting myself as he drops his phone on the table next to him and starts the documentary. We’re silent as the narrator sets the scene of a woman who killed her lover. Maybe I should leave. I mean, something is different. Was it my answer about dessert? I’m about ready to hop right off the couch when his hand goes to my knee.
“Relax, Dove. I can turn the lights off if that will help?”
Do I want to sit here in the dark with him? Yeah, I kind of do.
“Okay.”
He doesn’t look at me as he lifts another control with his free hand. A moment later, shades lower, leaving the room in near darkness. The thing I notice the most, though, is that his hand is still on my leg.
“How old are you, Dove?”
His question takes me by surprise. “Twenty-two. Why?”
“Just want to make sure I’m not about to break some laws by having you here like this.”
My pulse pounds in my neck, but I can also feel it throbbing between my legs. “Like what?”
“I can feel the heat coming off your sweet pussy right now and it’s making it hard to think.”
My lips part and he smirks.
“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that if I were to reach into your panties that I wouldn’t find them soaking wet.”
I was wet before, but his words send another rush of moisture between my legs.
I say, “I can’t.”
“Fuck. Tell me this is madness, Dove. I swear to god I’ll move to another seat, and we can forget this is happening.”
“I can’t do that, either.”
He groans, sounding tormented. I never do things like this. I’m always the responsible one. The one who does what they’re supposed to and would never consider fooling around with their professor. Screw that. I want to live. Reaching under the blanket, I take his hand and guide it toward my panties.
“I want you to see how wet you make me.”
He grips my panties. “Last chance, little girl.”
And what do I do?
I lean in and whisper, “Give it to me, Daddy.”
5
Dove
My cheeks flame as soon as I say the words, but they can’t be taken back. Henri doesn’t look disgusted, though. He looks like he wants to eat me alive. I wonder if I should tell him I don’t have a lot of experience? I mean, what if he wants something that I’m not ready to do?
