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I grind forward, aching, desperate for friction.
He’s not spanking me hard. There is no cruelty here. It’s purely erotic and playful. Because that’s Callan. The man doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body.
He spanks me again and again, alternating cheeks, one after the other, some softer and some harder, keeping me on the edge without knowing what kind I’ll get next. After the last one, his hand rests on my heated flesh, the skin smarting but not too raw. I can hear his breathing, labored and gruff, and I’d give anything to see what he looks like right now.
I start to turn my head over my shoulder, and when I do, I almost regret it. Our eyes collide, and in them, I lose everything inside me. Every piece of myself I had been holding onto is now gone. He owns all of it and I don’t care. I want him to have it because I know he’s going to do delicious and wicked things with it.
“Put your right knee up on the desk.”
I don’t lose eye contact with him as I do, exposing myself completely to him.
His hands run up my thighs, over my reddened skin, up along my hips. Everywhere he can touch me, he does. Reverently. Almost lost in the act.
“So pretty.” He shakes his head. “God, Layla. You’re so fucking pretty. All of you. Not just this.” His hands continue to roam, and my chest quakes. He licks his lips, and then something in his eyes shifts as if he’s coming back from wherever he was. “Do you still want to be my naughty student?”
I nod in earnest because whatever that was just gave me a little mental jolt.
“Then remember to stay quiet.” His hands grip my ass, split open my cheeks, and then his mouth is on me like this—from behind. One leg up on his desk. My skirt up my back.
It’s dirty.
To the point where I plant my face in my forearm to smother my sounds.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growls into my wet flesh, pushing two fingers inside me and making my back arch. “Is this why you didn’t wear anything under your skirt? You wanted your professor to bend you over his desk and eat your pretty cunt out?”
Holy. Motherfucking. Hell.
“Yes,” I whisper-cry, already so freaking close to the edge. Always so freaking close to the edge when I’m with him.
“I’m going to take this ass soon, Layla. We didn’t do that last night, but soon.”
I moan again, unable to stop myself. His tongue replaces his fingers, but those fingers don’t go far. They work my clit, and that coupled with his tongue flicking inside me, and where we are, and what we’re doing, and how we’re doing it, I come and come and come. Wave upon wave of mind-bending pleasure twists through me and has me slashing around the top of his desk. It’s so intense that the moment he slams his cock into me, it’s strangely unexpected and shocks me with a new rush of pleasure to the point where I scream.
His hand slams over my mouth, and I blink open to find his eyes glaring down at me in a fierce warning. Sometimes it’s so easy to get caught up in this, and I forget all that we’re doing and all that we’re risking, but he doesn’t. He’s too controlled for that, even when he’s out of control.
I nod my head, letting him know I’ll be quiet and then he starts fucking me. Fast. Hard. Nihilistically. His cock pierces me, taking, demanding my surrender, my pleasure. I give him both. He presses me harder into the desk and I can’t do anything other than take his cock. His balls slap my clit, and I swear, stars dance behind my eyes.
He’s so deep in me like this. So everywhere all at once. My nails scrape the wood of the desk, trying to latch onto something, but the desk is huge, and I can’t reach the other side from this angle. He likes this. I can tell. He smacks my ass again as he pounds into me, the cut of pain mixed with pleasure nearly makes me come right there.
His chest falls to my back once more, and then he’s breathing harshly by my ear, whispering a hundred things to me. All kinds of things I don’t even know if he’s aware that he’s saying.
Things like “Mine,” and “More,” and “Yes,” and “I’ll never get enough,” and “This is only the start,” and “You feel so good,” and “I can’t let you go.”
It pours from his mouth like a river. All of it. The dirty. The sweet. The I shouldn’t say this, but I can’t stop myself.
“Stay with me.” He says that last, and then I’m coming. And I’m coming so fucking hard. Becausethosewords send me flying. I don’t even know what it is about them.
Three simple words. So different from those three forbidden words.
Three simple words that now hold my body on a tethered string, a lifeline I didn’t know I was attached to. Stay. With. Me.
He repeats them. A harsh breath against my soul. Only he adds to them. “Stay with me, Layla. Always.”
28
“Catch me!” Keegan yells from the top of the waterslide.
“I’m waiting!” I call up to her, treading water at the bottom of the slide, though I’ve left plenty of room to spare so I don’t get kicked in the face. You only need to learn that lesson once. Stella broke my nose in two places when I was seventeen, and I had to have it fixed.
