Page 70 of Bad Professor

“Tilly.”

I slide around his desk and lean against him, letting my hands roam under his jacket. “I want to put you in my mouth,” I whisper. “Here. I want your cock and I want it here. In your office. So you’ll think of me when you’re in here.”

I always want him, but after tonight, meeting his friends and being here in his office, my desire for Dexter has ramped up tenfold. So much so that the throb between my legs is becoming too much to ignore. Or wait for Dexter to help me with it.

I’ve gotten better at initiating things with him, more than I ever thought possible.

When would I have ever told a man I wanted to suck his cock?

“I think of you all the time anyway.” Dexter glances down at the bound papers in his hand. “Found it. We can…”

“Stay for a minute?” I slide my hand down to the front of his jeans. He’s hard. I knew he would be. “Do you really want to go home right now?”

“Tilly.”

“Dexter,” I say coyly. “You can be quick.”

“I don’t want to be quick.” He grabs me, spinning me quickly in front of him, my ass pushed against his desk. “But I need you to be quiet.”

“I’ll be really quiet if your—” He turns me so my back is to him, and starts fumbling with the button on my jeans. “I want you in my mouth.”

“No,” he husks. “I want to be inside you. I want to make you come and I want you to be quiet this time.” He uses the sexy talk voice and who am I to argue? Because everything inside me has turned to liquid and I can’t wait to have him inside me.

In a moment, my jeans are around my ankles, my underwear following. And Dexter leans me over his desk.

“I’ve thought of bending you over this so many times,” he says roughly, his hands full of my breasts before sliding down to the softness between my legs. “Usually in the middle of a class.”

“I think of it too,” I tell him, suddenly breathless with anticipation. It’s always like this with Dexter—it’s as if I’m desperate for him.

Maybe I am.

“You’re so wet,” Dexter croons, notching the tip of his cock at my entrance. “I love it that you’re always ready for me.” He opens my legs with his knees and then, hands gripping my hips, he pushes inside of me.

He fills me completely. It feels so good—he feels so good, sheathed inside me to the hilt. As he rocks against me, I moan loudly.

“No.” He stops, and pulls almost all the way out. “I hate this, but you have to be quiet. If the security guard is up here—”

“I’ll be quiet,” I promise my breath ragged from want. “I’ll be good.”

“If you were being good, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Dexter says in a low voice, moving in the way that is always the best distraction.

“What problem… mmm—” I press my lips together to muffle the sound. “—is that?”

“The issue is that you’re bent over my office desk and I love the sight of it.” He rocks into me, pushing deep and I press my lips together. “You feel so good,” he whispers. “You always do. So wet and ready for me.”

“Dexter…” How did I manage to have sex quietly for so many years? Already, after only a few thrusts, I want to moan, to cry out how good it is.

It always is.

It gets better. Dexter starts slowly, thrusting into me all the way, and then pulling out so only his tip remains, before slamming into me again.

It’s delicious torture, made worse by the fact I can’t make a sound.

“I’ll stop if you make noise,” Dexter threatens. I only nod and spread my arms across this desk, looking for something to grip.

I didn’t expect this—this pounding. Dexter is thrusting into me, hard enough for me to have to stifle the groans. I thought I’d get down on my knees and—

“Yes.” That one slipped out. “Oh my god, yes.”

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