Page 37 of The Professor
He chuckled and lifted his fingers to his nose, sniffed them. “It’s not fun, is it?”
“What? What isn’t bloody fun?” I snapped and squeezed my eyes closed.
“Being teased.”
“So don’t do it.”
“But you’ve teased me all this time. For so long.”
“How have I?”
“Just by breathing.” He shoved his hand down his pants and appeared to adjust himself. “Not easy giving lectures with a boner, you know.”
“And you know what’s worse than being kidnapped? Being kidnapped then brought to the edge of orgasm and denied.” I glared at him.
“Poor baby.” He leaned forward again, big hands on my thighs. “Want me to help you out with that? You can’t do anything about it yourself for once.”
“Yes, finish what you started.”
“Sir.”
“Sir,” I managed through gritted teeth, though the word did sound nice to my ears. “Make me come, sir.”
He gave me a wickedly sexy grin then palmed up my inner thighs. I was damn hot, I could smell my arousal, and when he touched my clit again, I closed my eyes and groaned, letting my head fall back.
“Come if you can.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of my throat. “My sweet little Chelsea.”
I was panting, the pressure there instantly. He was rubbing my clit with the pads of two fingers and he’d also entered me with what felt like two fingers. I bucked, the legs of the chair scraping on the floor. “Oh! Yes…fuck…yes.” I cried out. “Don’t stop…oh…”
Again he stopped, withdrew, his touch and body heat gone in an instant.
I wailed, or was it a scream? I certainly put the full force of my lungs into it. “Bastard! You utter bastard.”
“Hey, Prof, you okay in there?” A bang on the door.
“Yeah, leave us the fuck alone!”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I can handle her.”
I glared at him. I was breathing hard, my pulse thudding. “That’s where you’re wrong. You have no idea how I need handling.”
“Really now?” He shoved at my skirt again and plunged two fingers into me, then he ducked his head and breathed deep, sniffing my pussy. “’Cause it seems to me I know just how to handle you, you’re so turned on I’d smell you a mile away.”
“Don’t be a sick twat.”
“You gonna carry on with the name-calling.” He found my clit again. “’Cause it’s gonna get you a spanking. A really hard spanking that will turn your ass cheeks bright red for days.”
My inner thighs tensed, all my focus was on my clit. He was fingering it again—I had to come fast before he withdrew.
Heat blustered up my neck and to my cheeks. I held my breath, concentrating.
He was staring straight at me. His eyes, so close, had been part of my fantasies for so long. And now, here he was, about to topple me into an orgasm. My heart clattered, and my fists clenched. And then it was there, a chaotic, fast, sharp orgasm that had me crying out and curling my toes. It slammed through me, and to my relief he stayed with me, not denying me the stimulation I needed to get full satisfaction.
His mouth caught mine, his tongue probing in determinedly. I was weeping for him, soaking his hand, and my entire body felt as though it was sparkling as I spasmed.
“You’re fucking beautiful when you come,” he said against my lips. “And I reckon being tied up, and having to wait for it, made you come all the harder.”
