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He pulls out and thrusts back into me. My back bows, my eyes shut on their own.
“You’re soaked,” he grunts. “Because you secretly like to be humiliated, don’t you? You wear the shame so well. You’re beautiful like this.”
I press my forehead to the floor.
“But you ran away from me.” His voice is suddenly cold. “Which means, as much as you’re enjoying this, youwon’tget to enjoy it to the fullest.”
“I—”
“Unless you’re about to tell me why you suddenly decided tomove out, I don’t want you to open that pretty mouth of yours.”
He continues to fuck me. His grip on my wrists is ironclad. There’s nothing I can do to evade him, but that only serves to turn me on more. He hits the deep spot inside me, but he’s hitting the mental spot, too. The one that makes me hunger for more. That reacts to his words with a vehemence I don’t understand.
And with it comes the truth pouring from my lips.
“You were my student,” I cry. “You’ve been messing with me. Playing with me—”
“Yes,” he groans. His weight presses me down.
Down, down, down.
“Yes, I was your student. You fucked me from a position of power, Professor, but guess what?You had no power with me.”
I cry out.
The orgasm rips through me, and he swears. His hand wraps around my throat. Not tight, not squeezing or strangling, but he catches every noise I make. As I scream and thrash against him, as his tempo increases until he’s fucking driving me into the floor with every thrust.
My hips will be bruised. My shoulders ache from the strain.
And still, we don’t stop.
I beg for more.
More, more, more.
He gives it to me. His teeth in my shoulder, holding me still as he pummels me. I’m fully possessed, and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to breathe on my own again. Not when his fingers move up from my throat to my jaw, then my lips. He presses down on my tongue, keeping my mouth open wide.
The sounds that come out of me are unhinged.
Another orgasm creeps up out of nowhere. He hasn’t touched my clit, but my body is burning with desperate desire. I shudder. I clench at his cock, and it isn’t until he pulls out and flips me over that I realize my orgasm was only starting—and now it’s fading before it’s even begun. He turns around. He’s straddling my head, facing my body. They call it a sixty-nine, I think.
“The first was an accident,” he murmurs. His cock is at my lips, and he pushes it into my mouth. From this angle, he slides right past my defenses and into my throat. His balls are on my face, blocking my sight. “You don’t come again until I say.”
I taste him and me both on his dick, and I have to squeeze my thighs together. My hand creeps lower, toward my clit.
Smack.
The pain on my breast echoes through me, and I gag around him. Another thrust, and he’s blocked my airway.
Instead of withdrawing, he lingers.
When the room tilts, he pulls back.
I suck in a breath through my nose. It smells like him. Musk and sweat andhim. And then he’s stealing my air again. His pace doesn’t stall out this time. He moves the same way he does when he fucks—but this time, he’s taking what he needs from my throat.
His fingers knead at my breasts. He pinches my nipples, tugging them up. I go for my clit again and am met with another smack on my breast. My back arches.
“Naughty,” he tsks above me.
