Page 78 of Hello Kitten

How are we going to keep this up until I graduate? That means waiting a year and a half to do anything, to tell my friends, to tell my family. A year and a half of students and teachers fawning over him.

Will we be able to keep it up even if my friends never meet him? If his friends don’t meet me? How many times can I avoid his work events? How is this really going to work without damaging our relationship or getting us found out?

I lift my head a bit and watch his face as he sleeps. He’s so peaceful, beautiful. I kiss the sun on the insideof his bicep. Eventually, I’m going to kiss all his tattoos. No. Screw eventually. I’ll do it right now.

So, I take my time, doing just that. kissing each of his tattoos softly, slowly, stopping when I get to my favorite scorpion because I see how hard he is. I slowly lick over his dick, swirl my tongue around the tip.

He groans and his cock twitches. I grin and wrap my lips around the head, taking him deeper, slowly. I want him to stay asleep for a bit. So, I can enjoy him the way I want. Adrian squirms, his head turning. His hips flex like it’s a muscle memory.

Grinning, I pull the blanket off him, crawl up his body and straddle him.

“Good morning, boyfriend,” I whisper, guiding his cock inside me and moving down.

I start slow as I see him shift, his lips part and I take what I want from him until I hear a soft whisper. “Impatient.”

“Very,” I moan and his eyes find me.

Bracing myself to his chest, I move my hips faster, chasing my own pleasure. Feeling it rise. He curls his hand behind his head, watches me with such fire in his eyes that it makes me shiver. He thrust slightly with me, angling his hip and I cry out as my orgasm breaks me. Adrian grins and rolls me over, turning me so my back rests against him. Then he grips my thigh, lifting my leg and slides back inside me as I come down from my high.

“You’re not done, kitten,” he snarls.

A breathy moan falls and he slams into me harder as he uses his free hand to choke me. “Naughty little brat.”

“You loved it,” I wheeze, and his pace quickens, snarling in my ear how naughty I am, how he’s going to have to punish me the whole ride home, then how good I feel, how I belong to him. His words, his cock filling me again and again, his hand massaging my throat, it’s all too much.

“Yes, professor,” keeps leaving my throat like a prayer until he draws another orgasm from me and stills inside me, filling me. I pant against the pillow, my body twitching slightly. “So good,” I breathe.

“A veryverygood morning,” he hums. “I’m going to start ordering coffee and breakfast to the house instead of leaving on weekends.”

I grin and turn, burying my face in the crook of his neck and tell what’s on my mind. “I don’t want this trip to end. I don’t want to go home.”

He pulls me closer, his fingers trailing over my back. “I know you want to stay,” he says. “This won’t be our last vacation, I promise.”

I’m not sure if I’m allowed to be this happy when so much can still go wrong.

thirty-five

Istare at my schedule for finals week. Adrian and I have managed to survive the week of being back on campus, but it’s almost too good to be true. I’m more focused on that than finals. He said we couldn’t go on dates unless I had finished all my studying and papers.

Which means we haven’t seen each other since Monday night and it’s Wednesday. I’ve completed one final. I still have two papers and a test left. Beth is losing her mind, second guessing everything and Danielle is having me edit her papers.

It’s study and writing central in our room. But all I can think about is Adrian. I won’t have him as a professor next semester, so does that mean we have to keep hiding it? No. He’ll still be a professor. I could still get expelled and he could still be fired. Plus, people will ask questions about last semester.

“Hey, you haven’t typed in like three minutes,” Beth says. “Is something on your mind?”

“Just stressed,” I say, trying not to lie. I don’t want to lie to my friends anymore. It’s gross.

After hours of helping my friends, I stare at my half-finished essay for Adrian. After hesitating another minute, I dive into the argument I wasn’t sure I was going to use. It’s daring, controversial, but I’m sure it will work. Of course, since I could choose any book to analyze through one of the lenses we talked about in class, I chose the exact book I picked out when my sister was over at Adrian’s.

I talk about how Sherlock losing was actually a way for Arthur Conan Doyal to make female wit something to celebrate, to prove women can own their sexuality and use their looks and the way others use them as a ploy, how it adds to her wit, and the essay pours out of me.

When I finish, I have to go back through and edit it, organize my argument, put in the citations, and triple-check it for grammar issues. I glance at my clock, notice it’s two in the morning, then turn in the digital copy.

The next day, I turn in another paper, so all that’s left is my test. I breeze through it, but it’s so easy that I’m actually worried I’ve failed at the end of it. I nearly grab it back to go over it again, but my professor tuts and takes it from me.

“Maybe I should just check a few more things,” I hint.

“Don’t second guess yourself, Emily. Your first answer comes from your gut. The second answer comes from your doubt. Doubt leads to failing,” he says seriously.

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