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I can't help the smile that stays plastered on my face as I grab my things and head over to the Dean's office. This entire substituting gig just got a lot more interesting.
* * *
Fuck.My second class had dragged, and the Dean wanted to talk my fucking ear off afterward. Lunch was disappointing—not because the food was bad but because I haven't been able to focus on one damn thing besides the girl due in my office in ten minutes.
Obsessed is a strong word, especially after only seeing her for one class, but I think it's fitting in this situation. Long blond hair, curvy as hell, and the scent of apples...I'm going to lose my mind. Someone in the cafeteria had ordered applesauce, and I thought my erection was going to burst through my pants just at the memory of her scent.
I slam the office door shut behind me, throw my bag aside, and stomp to the leather computer chair, which I sink into. Gray's desk is meticulously organized and tidy, and I have the urge to sweep everything off it with my arm, just as some way to bleed off the excess amount of tension inside of me.
I could run a marathon right now.
I could punch a hole through solid stone.
But I don't think any of that will help me with how keyed up just the idea of Noelle has me. There is one thing that will, though. With a dismissive glance at the shut but unlocked door, I whisper "Fuck it" to myself and lean back in the chair. With one hand, I work to open my belt, then the button to my slacks and the zipper. Feeling like I can't get enough air, I yank my tie from my neck and throw it aside, finally, finally freeing my turgid member and getting a fist around it.
"Ah, fuck."
It's so good and not nearly enough, but it'll have to do. I'm not even really sure what to picture, but the idea of Noelle's lips wrapped around my cock is too perfect not to go with. So that's exactly what I do.
I don't know what the girl is really like, if she's a little vixen or an innocent angel. But as I imagine her, on her knees and looking up at me, she's a mix of both. Her blue eyes are wide and eager, her lips plump and wet and begging for me to fill them. And I do.
In my mind, I fist her hair and pull her closer. She takes me in her mouth and sucks me eagerly, and the pressure builds at the base of my spine, threatening to explode. In the fantasy, her small hands come up to squeeze and fondle my balls.
"That's a good girl," I grunt, my hips bucking up of their own accord.
I can feel it coming, and I try to fight it, not ready for this to be over, but there's no stopping it. Not with how good the fantasy feels and not with the real-life memory of her apple scent still lingering in the air.
I pump my cock a few more times. The dam breaks and I'm coming, thick ropes of pearlescent warmth shooting onto my dress shirt. My body shudders with the intensity of it, and it seems to go on forever. Once I'm empty, I sit back, chest heaving.
And of course that's exactly when I hear a shy knock at the door.
Frantically, I look at my watch. 12:59. Dammit!
Jumping up, I unbutton the shirt and shove it haphazardly in the garbage can, leaving me in just my white t-shirt. I button my pants, pull up my fly, and buckle the belt, all the while knowing I'm flying too close to the sun here.
Once I'm decent again, I go back to the chair, sit down, and call, "Come in."
My heart stops, then beats again in double time as the door swings open. My body is already on the edge of arousal, and seeing Noelle only intensifies it. I've never been so grateful for a desk job because the moment I harden again, the desk hides it.
"Hi, Professor."
"Please, call me Nathan."
Noelle's eyes go wide. "Nathan," she tests, and my cock jerks beneath the table. Her cheeks turn a shade of red, and the blush is adorable and sexy. "Thank you so much for doing this. I know this is really short notice."
"I'm happy to help. And since it's a Friday, we have the entire weekend to go over things."
Her mouth falls open and her lips glisten.
I want to taste them.
"Really?" she breathes, and I have the distinct feeling she's asking about more than the weekend.
"Really. Please, sit."
There's a couch and loveseat in the office, and she sets her backpack down on the couch before perching on the edge. Her sundress rides up her thighs a bit, and her bare legs are so long and smooth that I can't help but picture them wrapped around my waist.
"Where do we start?"
