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Sylvia pressed her hands against the wall and shoved hard, trying to force him back. Her face was flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded, her skin dewy with perspiration. She was on fire, hot, wholly absorbed by the fantasy.
He unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick. Sylvia was still squirming, still struggling.
Lancelot raised her dress with one hand, held it around her hips, baring her ass for Hugo’s benefit, giving their husband an unobstructed view as he slammed inside her. He drove to the hilt, drove in so hard her breasts were crushed against the wall.
Sylvia’s orgasm started instantly, her cries loud. “God, oh God, oh sweet Jesus!”
Her Southern accent was stronger during these moments, a fact that had him fucking her even harder, faster.
Her climax didn’t fade, rather her pussy continued to pulsate around him. His goal wasn’t to draw out the moment.
Fuck that.
She wanted to be taken and, by God, he wanted to take her.
Take her like this, like a savage. Driving into her with all the power in his body, taunting her, telling her in no uncertain terms why she was his and he was never letting her go.
But he’d also take her like a lover, slowly driving them both up and over, holding her, kissing her, whispering sweet nothings.
He came hard, and as he did so, he grasped her hair and twisted her face to his, sealing his rough fuck with an equally possessive kiss.
Sylvia was right there with him. She bit his lower lip, drawing blood, giving him a sexy, self-righteous smile that proved he’d been the one used. That she had gotten exactly what she’d wanted from him.
Lancelot took a step back, retaining his grip on her, making sure she was steady on her feet.
Hugo’s voice sounded right behind him, and he jumped slightly, shocked that he hadn’t heard the other man approaching.
Hugo stepped beside them, cupping one of Sylvia’s flushed cheeks. His gaze dropped lower, taking in Lancelot’s now flaccid cock. He hadn’t even shoved his pants over his hips.
“My turn.”
Lancelot wasn’t sure how the professor managed to infuse such a deliciously dark threat to those two small words.
Hugo took advantage of Sylvia’s satiated state, stripping her dress and bra off with more care than Lancelot had rid her of her panties. He took her elbow and guided her to the bed. “Lay in the center. Legs open. Don’t move.”
Sylvia blinked twice at his demanding, don’t-even-think-of-disobeying-me tone, then did as Hugo said.
Hugo looked at Lancelot, eyes narrowed. “Take off your clothes.”
Mercifully, for both of them, Hugo tempered his tone with him, his words more suggestion than command.
As Sylvia watched, they both took off their clothing. Lancelot was now sorry for his haste. Recovery took time, but Hugo was clearly ready to jump into the game now.
Lancelot walked to the bed, sitting on the edge, as Hugo climbed onto the mattress, caging Sylvia beneath him. “Once the cast comes off, we’re going to try bondage. Going to tie you spread eagle to our bed and withhold your pleasure until you’re screaming for release.”
Sylvia shivered in response to the sexy taunt, and Lancelot felt his dick twitch.
Jesus. Maybe he didn’t need as long to recover as he thought.
Hugo bent his head to hers, taking her lips in a hard kiss. Sylvia started to lift her arms to Hugo’s shoulders, but he broke off contact. “Hands on the pillow. By your head.”
Again, Sylvia obeyed, almost without realizing she was doing so. “Hugo,” she whispered.
Hugo gave her a smile that no one in their sane mind would trust. “Professor,” he corrected.
Sylvia’s mouth opened in shock, no sound coming out.
“Sylvia,” he said, in the epitome of the teacher voice.
