Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 41137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
I mean, I guess that’s normal. He’s the professor, after all. He’s going over the material, teaching us, whatever. Lecturing, I guess. I’m not really paying attention.
I’m too busy daydreaming about his hands on my body.
He glances in my direction a few times, but no more than would be normal. I don’t know what I expect, but part of me wanted him to stare at me, to wink at me, do anything.
I guess I just want him to acknowledge that something happened between us, but of course that’s crazy. He can’t do that right in the middle of teaching a class full of people hanging on his every word.
I have to force myself to pay attention to the lecture. As much as I just want to space out and stare at his lips, remembering the way they felt against mine, I need to focus.
I still have to pass this class, after all.
By the time it finishes, I’ve managed to take like half a page of notes. I glance over at the guy next to me, and he’s filled up nearly three whole pages, front and back. I frown a little bit, but whatever.
Maybe Howard will let me borrow his notes.
The thought makes me smile to myself as Jason dismisses the class and everyone gathers their things.
I take my time. I linger a little bit. By the time I get down to the bottom of the room, Jason half turns to me, cocks his head, and smiles.
My heart flutters.
“Clara. Can I talk to you for a second?”
I nod and step over toward him. He smiles at another student and says goodbye to him. The last few stragglers filter out and I’m left alone in the room with him.
He glances around for a second, and I can tell he’s making sure we’re really alone.
“Look, about yesterday.”
I smile at him. I’m practically beaming. “What about it?”
“I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
My heart falls, just a little bit. “Maybe,” I say.
“Maybe.” He smirks a little. “We both know it would be a mistake.”
“What would?”
“If we went further.”
I bite my lip. “What do you mean, further?”
He steps closer, head cocked. “You’re a college girl. You know what I mean.”
“Enlighten me.”
He laughs softly, coming closer. “It would be very, very wrong if I kissed you again. It would be even worse if I put my hands up your shirt, felt your breasts, kissed your neck. It would be wrong, very fucking wrong, if I bent you over a desk, got down on my knees, and licked your pussy until you came on my tongue.”
I stare at him, eyes wide, my whole body thrumming with desire. “That would be very… wrong,” I manage to say.
“It would be a mistake.” He’s closer to me now, almost close enough to kiss. If someone came into the room, this would look very, very bad.
He doesn’t back away.
“If I let you come on my tongue, Clara, what would the others think? There might be favoritism.”
“True,” I say.
“I can’t be that kind of teacher. No matter how badly I want to taste your little wet pussy.”
I bite my lip, blink at him. “I’ll drop your class,” I say stupidly.
He laughs softly, reaches out, takes my hair. He grabs ahold of it softly. “Will you?”
“I’ll drop it. I don’t need it.”
He smirks. “You don’t have to do that, Clara.”
“I don’t?”
“No, you don’t.”
“What do I have to do?” I ask him, almost a whisper.
“Just ask me. Ask me to do what you want.”
“Just ask?” I stare into his handsome eyes, my skin crackling with pleasure. His fingers grow tense in my hair, pulling slightly. “Ah,” I say.
“All you have to do is ask.” His lips are against my neck, near my ear. “Ask me, Clara.”
“I want you to… get me off.”
I’m blushing bright red as I say the words. We’re in the middle of a lecture hall and anyone could walk in right now.
Nobody does. We’re entirely alone.
“Are you sure you want that?” he asks.
“Please,” I say. “I’m sure.”
He steps back, takes my hand, and leads me through the door. I release his hand and stumble along behind him as we walk down the empty hall. He stops outside of another door and opens it slowly.
It’s a small little office, mostly empty, just a desk. There’s a notebook on a bookshelf, some textbooks stacked on the floor, and an old laptop.
He pulls me inside and shuts the door behind us. He grabs the chair and props it up behind the knob.
I look around the room. “What is this?”
“Some of the teaching assistants share this,” he says. “Not very glamorous. They never come here.”
I turn around as he comes to me. I stumble back until my butt hits against the top of the desk.
He hikes me up, lifting me up on top of the desk, spreading my legs around him. I gasp a little, lean back onto my palms.