Page 40 of Learning Little Lizzie

It was a pleasure watching her try to work out what he meant. And even more so to watch her eyes go wide and her cheeks turn red as realization dawned. “Oh. Um. Maybe we should find a bathroom for you to wash your hands.”

“No. You made the mess, so you will clean it up. Open your mouth, Lizzie.”

She was struggling with the concept, and it was written all over her face. But eventually she pried her lips apart, wide enough for him to slip his fingers inside.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice a low growl as he pumped his fingers in and out of her mouth. “Make sure you get all the mess. There we go.”

When she’d licked him clean, he pulled his hand free and dropped his head to claim her lips in a hard kiss. The taste of her lingered on her tongue, and he couldn’t wait to get her back to their apartment so he could eat his fill.

Dazed and somewhat lightheaded, Eliza followed him out of the library. The weather was still holding, so they walked over to the employee apartments. Along the way, he asked her about her day, as if he hadn’t just scrambled her brain with the most intense orgasm of her life in the middle of the University library.

She managed to fill him in on the highlights, and a few anecdotes that had him laughing out loud as they walked.

Which only made her feel even more off-kilter than before. How could the man laughing at her stories, swinging her arm between them as they walked be the same man who had threatened to spank her like a naughty Little girl in front of her classmates and the same man who had just finger-fucked her like a teenager between the library stacks?

“Do you have any homework, or did you finish it already?” he asked as he opened the door to their apartment.

Her paper for Western Civ was still waiting to be started, and the deadline on that particular assignment was slowly creeping up on her, but how the hell was she supposed to concentrate on the history of Ancient Greece when she could barely remember her own name? “All done.”

“Really? Even the problems I assigned? What about your workbook?”

“Homework is done and I finished three pages of the workbook. I’m not sure I got everything right, but I tried.”

“Good girl. We can go over them after dinner. Go put your backpack up and I’ll get dinner started. How do tacos sound?”

“Sounds good. Can I change into my pajamas? This skirt has a weird tag in it that’s been bugging me all freaking day.”

“Yes. But no panties.” A wicked grin curved his lips. “I want that pretty pussy easily accessible later.”

Face burning with embarrassment, she hurried to her bedroom and stripped out of her clothes, throwing them in the general direction of her hamper. Even though he’d just gotten her off, her clit was already throbbing with need again.

There are definitely some benefits to being a good girl, El.

Kylie’s words echoed in her mind as she debated the merits of climbing into bed and taking the edge off. It wasn’t entirely unusual for her to have a lie down while Samuel made dinner, so he probably wouldn’t even come to check on her for at least half an hour.

But the thought of doing so didn’t appeal to her the way it should have. She didn’t want her own fingers on her pussy. She wanted his. And maybe his mouth.

And the only way to get that was to be his good girl.

Fuck.

With a frustrated sigh, she pulled on a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, sans panties as requested. Stomping out to the living room, she flopped down onto the couch and turned the tv on.

“Eliza.”

Ugh. Right. She was supposed to ask permission if she wanted to watch tv. “May I turn the tv on, please?”

“Five minutes in the corner, then you can watch one show before dinner.”

“But I don’t want to sit in the corner!” On their second day together he’d brought home a small stool with “Eliza’s Naughty Chair” painted on the seat which she had to sit on whenever she earned a stint in the corner. She hated it, partly because corner time was boring as hell and partly because the chair made her feel more like a Little girl than any of the other punishments he employed.

“Then you should have remembered your rules. I can make it ten and no television the rest of the night if you prefer.”

“No. I’m going.” Heaving what she knew very well was an overly dramatic sigh, she rolled off the couch and dragged herself over to the corner.

“Thank you for listening. Five minutes, starting now.”

Though she couldn’t see the timer, she figured it only took about ten seconds for the boredom to set in. And another thirty for her to wish she’d remembered the stupid television rule. It was one of the rules she struggled with the most because she didn’t understand why she had to ask permission first. And since she didn’t understand the why, it was like her brain refused to count it as an actual rule.

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