Page 17 of Bad Professor

In the bar, I noticed all of that first.

And then the breasts.

I look over at the breasts, making a lovely mound under the sheet. And then I glance at her.

Tilly is staring but doesn’t look like she’s seeing anything. Her lips are parted like she’s expecting a kiss, but she appears a little stunned.

By me. I’ve stunned her.

“You okay?” I try and hide the smirk but, come on—I’ve stunned a beautiful woman into silence.

Pat myself on the back unless… it’s not a good thing. I think it was okay—

“I think so,” Tilly says slowly. “Thank… you?”

It was good. I knew it. I couldn’t imagine that not being great for her. “You don’t thank me,” I tell her with a smile in my voice.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits, and gives a little giggle. “I feel like I should.”

“Give me a few minutes and that giggle will make me hard again.”

“I… oh?” The smile on her face—incredulous and so happy. “So, what now?”

“You stay there looking sexy for a few minutes and then we do it again.”

“Again?”

I frown. Maybe I am reading this wrong. “Is that not a good thing?”

Tilly laughs. She clutches the sheet and laughs. “Do you know old I am?”

That came out of left field. “I don’t really care unless it means we can’t have sex again.” I roll onto my side and study her face.

I have no idea about her age. And I don’t want to guess because I’ll get it wrong.

“I’m older than you, unless you’re forty-six,” she informs me.

“You’re forty-five?”

With a moan that was nothing like the noises she made just minutes earlier, Tilly pulls the sheet over her face. “I’m old.”

This is a first. I have never slept with an older woman. And… it doesn’t matter at all. I pull the sheet away from her face, giving me a good view of her breasts. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her honestly. Because she is. Soft cheeks, full lips, swollen from my kisses. Sleepy, satisfied eyes, with tiny creases at the corners. I run my finger along her lips, wanting to kiss her again.

“I’m sorry I deceived you,” she whispers.

I burst out laughing. “Tilly, I don’t care how old you are. The only thing I care about right now is worshiping these.” I run a finger along the lace of her bra. “And the rest of you.”

“You already did a pretty good job of that,” she says, her cheeks turning pink.

“There’s always room for more.” I pull the sheet away to look at the rest of her. Those breasts, mouth-watering in pink satin, a stomach that may not be as tight as the younger women I’m used to, but Tilly shows no other sign of age. I don’t see her age; I only see a woman I want to fuck again.

And my cock agrees.

“Unless you’d like me to go.” I brush her hair off her forehead and wait.

I don’t have to wait long. “No,” she says in a soft voice.

“Good.” And I bend my head over her breasts.

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