Page 60 of Bad Professor

His friends are important to him.

I seem to be important to him.

I’m so glad the girls kept me busy with shopping and getting me to help with homework. We went to a movie on Sunday afternoon. Because if I had to go through the weekend alone—I’m not sure that would have been a good idea.

Or if I could have even managed it.

It’s unbelievable how excited I am when Dexter comes over Monday night after his basketball game. It’s late so we watch T.V. for a bit and go to bed.

We have sex. And it’s still amazing.

31

Dexter

When I finally get to Tilly’s apartment on Monday night, my cock is hard with anticipation.

I made it through a weekend without touching her, but I can’t wait another minute to lay hands on her.

My mouth on her.

“Four days,” I tell her as I strip off my shirt. Tilly lies on the bed, already naked. She met me at the door in a pretty dress, but I told her she didn’t need to bother because I was planning on getting her naked as soon as possible.

I did take the time to compliment her on the matching undergarments before they went flying across the room.

“What’s four days?” I like how Tilly has to drag her gaze away from my body. I like to keep in shape but it’s nothing like some guys. I’m glad she appreciates it.

The way my abs hold her attention makes me want to drop and do crunches.

“It’s been four days since I’ve made you come,” I tell her, starting on my jeans… taking them off slowly to tease her. “I need to make you come four times. At least.”

“What?” Her brow furrows. “Friday morning, we… you… several times,” she admits with pink cheeks. “And today is Monday, and I thought you would—”

“What exactly did you think I’d do?” I step out of my jeans, standing at the end of the bed with my cock hard and pressed against my boxer briefs. Tilly bites her lip as she stares.

“I don’t know,” she whispers without taking her eyes off my lower body.

“Did you think I’d lick your pussy until you screamed my name, begging me not to stop. To never stop? Is that what you think I’ll do?” Tilly catches her breath but doesn’t answer. “Or is that what you want me to do?”

“Yes.” It’s more of a breath than a word, and her eyes are already heavy with lust.

She’s beautiful when she’s arousal. When she’s ready for me to fuck. She looks amazing when she comes as well, but now, this—when she’s waiting for it, when she’s waiting for me—is what I’ve been thinking about all weekend.

“Good. Because I want it too.” I lay down beside her. “Up you get.”

It takes a little convincing to get Tilly to straddle my shoulders, but eventually, she’s up for it, grasping the headboard like I instruct.

And then I’m lost in her scent, the soft skin of her creamy thighs, her taste.

The first time I went down on a woman was when I was seventeen, and it was the best thing ever. Not only did it guarantee she would come—which I discovered was important, regardless of those too shy to tell me what they wanted—but it made women happy.

I like making women happy. I like making women come.

I like making Tilly come, and I especially like that she’s able to come so quickly, because then I can do it more often.

It’s hard to hear Tilly’s soft moans and whimpers from this position, but I can already read her body like a bestseller. Her hips rock uncontrollably when she’s close, whether it’s against my hand, my hips, or my mouth.

And her entire body stills just before she comes, like she’s flash-frozen with an expression of anguish on her face—that split second before orgasm when everything is tense, like a live wire stretched to the breaking point.

---