Page 65 of Bad Professor

And then she gives me a blow job that completely rocks my world.

She kisses her way down my body, with each touch making me grow so hard that I think I’m going to explode all over her pink sheets with the little flowers. And when she finally gets to my cock, she licks it, with tiny, delicate little licks like she’s a kitten eating ice cream. And then, just before I’ve had enough of the teasing—and she’s very good at teasing—she swallows me whole.

She gags a bit when I hit the back of her throat, but fuck—

So fucking good.

This just keeps getting better and better.

The sex is amazing.

But not seeing Tilly on the weekend is not.

She’s with her daughters and I respect that, but I can’t help but text her constantly. Little things that I find funny, or comments about the movie I’m watching, or hints about what’s coming in class on Tuesday.

That one really isn’t fair, and I only do it once because Tilly immediately texts back about class and I can hear the worry when I read it. I shouldn’t remind her of the risk we’re taking.

There’s no risk. No one will find out.

“I only want to be with Tilly,” I confess to Max and Cady on Sunday. “I’ve never felt like this before. I want you to meet her and tell me that you get it. That this one might be the one.”

Because I think she might be.

34

Tilly

The next few weeks are like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

Dexter is… everything.

During the week, we see each other every night. He takes me for dinner at tiny, hole-in-the-wall places that I’ve never noticed when I walk by. We explore different areas of the city, stopping at shops and pubs and bakeries. I take him to my favourite bookstore, and he takes me to a game store where they know him by name.

We go to movies at an old theatre with red velvet seats, and visit a tiny corner shop owned by an Italian couple that makes the best gelato outside of Italy.

I’m more comfortable outside my neighbourhood because I expect judgment when people see us together. I constantly remind myself that I’m nine years older than Dexter, and it’s easier to deal with when I’m in unfamiliar territory because I won’t ever see those people again.

Dexter tells me not to worry, that I don’t look any older than he does. And I have to admit, there aren’t many side glances when we walk along the sidewalk holding hands.

He holds my hand. He opens doors for me and buys me dinner and sometimes groceries if I’m making food for him. He asks about my day and smiles when he opens his eyes in the morning and always kisses me goodnight.

Bella, the cat, has even fallen in love with him.

From Monday to Thursday night, we live in a bubble full of laughter and happiness and the most incredible sex I’ve ever dreamed about.

I don’t even think I’ve dreamed about it because I honestly never imagined it could be so good.

My girls know nothing about Dexter. They ask questions about what I do during the week when they’re at their father’s but are so caught up with their lives that they don’t really listen to what I say.

Jordan is having an easier time transitioning into high school than she expected, which is good because I’m not sure I would have the bandwidth to deal with her anxieties.

Of course I would, but I’m so consumed with Dexter these days that it might be a struggle to focus.

I wonder if it’s healthy to be this enthralled with him.

He misses a soccer game because he wants to take me to the movies, and I tell him he can’t give up his life for me.

He wants to introduce me to his friends.

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