Page 19 of Kiss and Make Love

Well, everyone but Llewellyn. Deep creases marred his forehead, and his brows were scrunched together so closely they practically touched. He was muttering something to himself as he flipped through the pages. She did her best to suppress a sigh. No matter what he did, Llewellyn never seemed to quite pull it together.

“Spencer,” Brett said quietly, handing back her paper. “Please see me after class.”

She looked down at her essay. A big red “A” was scrawled on the front. What could he need to see her for? Dale, the classmate next to her, looked over at her paper and then back at her. Spencer shrugged in anI-have-no-idea-what-I-didkind of way. Flipping through the pages, she saw nothing of note that would warrant needing to stay behind.

“Alright, everyone. Well done. I’ll see you next week for our last class. It’ll be a debrief, so no readings are necessary. Have a great rest of your week,” Brett sang, pleased with his students.

Spencer remained in her seat, waiting for the rest of her classmates to file out. Llewellyn was out of his seat, rocketing through the door with his head down, annoyance pouring off him like a bad perfume.

“If you wouldn’t mind joining me up here, Spencer,” Brett motioned her to the front of the room where he sat behind his desk.

Spencer pursed her lips as she joined him, plopping herself down on the edge of his wooden bureau. “You gave me an A,” she said, shaking her essay in front of his face. “Is there something more you wanted?”

“There’s a lot more I want, Spencer.” His tone was serious and needy. Her mood shifted from annoyed to curious.

“Like what, Professor?” She tempted him, leaning over to give him an eyeful of her cleavage. She adjusted herself on his desk so her legs were ever-so-slightly spread in front of him.

He cleared his throat. “You know what.”

“But Mr. Monroe, you need to say it.”

“I want you,” he admitted. “I want to touch you, feel you, taste you.”

“But you won’t?” she pouted, spreading her legs wider. Her leather skirt rode up her thighs.

“Maybe I need you to convince me,” he said, one eyebrow raised in invitation.

“That can be arranged.” Slowly, she set one platform sneaker on the right armrest of his chair, then the other on the left.

Brett gaped at her, eye-level with her bare cunt.

“Oh. Did I mention I forgot to wear underwear today? Silly me.”

“You make a very persuasive argument, Spence,” he groaned, biting his fist.

Spencer let out a breathy laugh. “I think you’ll find I’m quite compelling when I choose to be.”

He looked at her and licked his lips. “Tell me what you want.”

No question in her mind—that was desire in his eyes. But he needed direction, and she was going to give it to him.

“Stand up,” she demanded.

Brett immediately stood, never taking his gaze off her cunt.

“Good boy. Take those two fingers”—she nodded at his hand with her head—“and put them inside me.”

Brett glided his fingers up the inside of her thigh, hesitating before he put them where she really needed.

“Anyone could walk in, you know,” he stated, voice heavy with lust.

“Yeah, they could. But I need you now, Professor. I’m tired of waiting for your touch,” she fussed.

“I’m tired of waiting too.” He looked down at her cunt on full display. Slowly, he brought his fingers to her pussy and rubbed circles over her entrance.

“Eyes up here, Mr. Monroe,” she called, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I want you to look at me while I ride your fingers.”

“Anything you want.” He pushed inside her. “Fuck, you feel good, Spence.”

---