Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Why don’t you just open the door and let them out?”
“I tried. She needs them for a project. She wants them alive and it’s a total pain in the ass. When are you getting home?”
I laughed, relief sweeping through me. Nothing was wrong. They weren’t dead. There was no one inside, waiting to cut my throat. “I’m outside.” I pushed a hand through my hair and vowed to watch less true crime documentaries.
Jackie hollered loud enough that I could hear her through the brick walls. “Bell is OUTSIDE! Someone block the front door!”
She refocused on our conversation, her voice at a more normal level. “Come in quick. And for God’s sake, if you see a lightning bug, catch it.”
* * *
Nine hours later, lightning bugs were the last thing on my mind. I gripped the edge of the desk and closed my eyes, enjoying the bite of fingers into my skin, my panties yanked down, my skirt up.
ULV had a few shortcomings, but statistics professors who knew how to fuck wasn’t one of them. Dr. Ian Clarke swore, running his long fingers down my inner thigh and in between my legs, rubbing them along the sensitive area. I opened my thighs, propping myself up on an elbow and watching him. “Stop teasing me.”
“Tell me about linear regression.” He growled out the order as he leaned forward and kissed me. “And pull up your shirt and show me those sweet nipples.”
“I can’t think about linear regression right now.” I yanked up my tank top, bringing it over my breasts, his eyes focusing on them, and I stretched down the lace cups of my bra, letting my breasts fall loose atop them. He dove in, running his tongue over my right nipple and sucking on it gently before kissing his way over to the left, his two fingers sliding in and out, a steady rhythm that caused my bottom lip to hang, my eyes beginning to close.
“Are you going to fuck me, Dr. Clarke?” I arched my back and pressed against his hand, his thumb taking the hint and rubbing a gentle circle around my clit. He bit carefully down on my breast, and I moaned in protest.
“Not yet. First, I’m going to make you come all over my fingers, and then I’m going to send you into class. I want to spend the next hour thinking about bending you over my desk as soon as the bell rings.”
I laughed. “We don’t have bells.”
“Shh…You’re ruining the fantasy.” He withdrew his fingers and slapped my ass hard enough to make me yelp. Straightening, he braced one hand on the desk and looked down on me.
“Lay flat. Close your eyes. You’re about to drip that sweet little pussy all over my papers.”
I obeyed, letting my legs open wider, his fingers talented in their smooth dip, in and out of me, a slick friction that increased in speed as he applied careful and deliberate attention to my clit. First his hand, then his tongue, the hot and wet sensation causing me to thrash against the desk, my thighs trembling, my hands clawing for a handhold before I bucked off his desk and came.
He lifted me off his desk, pulling me against his body and letting me feel the hard ridge of his arousal. “I’m not going to be able to move from behind the podium today. I’m going to be hard as a rock for the next hour, thinking about your perfect pussy wrapped around my cock. Stay in the room after class.”
“Yes, Dr. Clarke.” I bit my bottom lip and slid my teeth over it, letting it pop free and enjoying the way his eyes darkened as a result.
He smiled, his hand tightening on my ass. “God, you’re perfect.”
“Not yet.” I pulled away from him and fixed my skirt, gathering my hair and twisting it into a loose ponytail. “But I plan to be soon.” I bent at the waist and reached for my bag, letting him get an eyeful before I straightened.
His lips twitched into a smile, and he ran a hand over his mouth, nodding to the door of his office. “Get to class before you drive me mad.”
I turned to leave, grinning as I opened his office door and stepped into the hall. He was filthy in the best way possible. God didn’t put a man like that in front of twenty thousand coeds and expect him to behave. Just like he didn’t put Ian in front of me, have him invite me to office hours, and expect me to keep my clothes on.
Granted, that first tutoring session we didn’t do anything. Ian sat on his side of the desk, I sat on mine, and we discussed binomial and normal distributions like two perfectly responsible adults. But on the way out, he walked me to the door, his hand on the small of my back, his fingers drifting a hair lower than was proper, the gentle caress before release telling me all I needed to know.