Page 114 of Teacher's Pet

She stares, lips parted, eyes wide with hunger.

Perfect.

Leaning in, I let the spit pool in my mouth before letting it drip onto her waiting tongue, a slick string connecting us as I pull away.

“A little extra motivation for my pretty girl,” I murmur, wiping my lips clean, watching the way her breath hitches at my words.

She doesn’t hesitate, using my spit to coat my length, her soft lips part as she takes me in. The first glide of her mouth around me is slow, teasing, but her hunger betrays her. She wants this just as badly as I do.

Her head lowers, my cock disappearing inch by inch, and when she reaches the base, her throat clenches around me. The sound of her gagging sends a violent pulse of heat straight to my spine.

My hand coils into her red locks, wrapping the strands around my fingers as I guide her pace.

“Just like that,” I groan. “Good fucking girl.”

Below me, her legs tremble, shaking from the relentless vibrations tormenting her clit. Each time she sinks down, a whimper slips free, mixing with the wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working me over. The noise is a high all on its own.

Her cheeks flush red, her pretty eyes glistening as they flick up through thick lashes, silently begging for my approval.

And fuck, she has it.

Gripping my thighs for support, she drags her head up, sucking in a desperate breath, her chest heaving, saliva clinging to her lips in glossy strands.

“Already done?” I taunt, tilting my head as I smirk down at her.

Her eyes burn with defiance, answering my unspoken question before her lips even part.

“Not in the slightest, Mr. Ackerman.”

Smirking, she replaces her mouth with her hand, slow and deliberate, dragging her fingers up and down my length with torturous precision. Every stroke teases, taunts, makes me ache for more.

Then she moves lower.

Her tongue flicks past the base of my cock, traveling further, tasting, exploring. My breath stutters the moment she gathers my sack in her mouth, sucking softly, swirling her tongue over the sensitive skin.

The sensation, her wet heat, the way her hand keeps working as I fill her mouth, consumes me. I tip my head back, jaw clenched, burying my groans into my sleeve, fighting to stay quiet when every nerve in my body screams for release.

“Fuck, Ana,” I hiss, my control slipping fast. “It’s like your mouth was made for my cock-”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Mr. Ackerman?”

The voice, soft and oblivious, cuts through the moment like a knife.

I stiffen.

“We know it’s early, but a few of us are waiting. Can we come inside?”

Ana freezes beneath the desk. Her lips retreat slowly, hesitantly, as if she’s just as wrecked by this as I am.

“H-hold on-” I start, trying to catch my breath.

But it’s too late.

The door swings open.

Students shuffle in, chatting, taking their seats, completely unaware of what’s unfolding right beneath their noses.

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