Page 45 of The Professor
I could barely remember falling asleep. We’d eaten pizza, me naked, and then I’d collapsed with exhaustion. My ass cheeks had been sore, and a need to block everything out had come over me.
Apparently, I’d done just that, and now it was early morning. I took the opportunity to stare at my professor while he was in a totally unguarded state. His dark eyelashes were long, his lips were slightly parted, and his stubble was growing heavier. His skin was sun-kissed, more so on his forearms and neck, and his nipples were small and dark. In the center of his sternum his body hair was thick, though it thinned as it spread over his chest and tattoo.
His abdomen was softer now, in sleep, and a dark trail of hair fanned from his navel to the waistband of his pants. Still in situ was the knife. The gun I hadn’t seen for a while.
“Hey, babe, like what you see?”
I started slightly. I’d thought he was still asleep. “Babe?”
He touched a lock of my hair that was hanging over my breast. “I can’t give you an endearment?”
“As my professor or captive?”
“As your lover.” The back of his thumb grazed my rapidly hardening nipple. “One day.”
“One day?”
“Yeah, when this is over, I’ll finally fuck you. Make you officially mine.”
“And it’s a fucking that does that? Makes me officially yours?”
“Yeah.” He sent his attention to my opposite nipple. “I might be a bit older than you, but I don’t see that being an issue. You’re twenty-seven, right?”
“Yes, and you’re forty.” I’d Googled him enough times to know.
“No big deal.” He swallowed and cupped the underside of my breast. “Not when we’re going to fit so perfectly together.”
“We do.”
“We do what?”
I leaned closer, my hair draping over his chest and my lips hovering over his. “Wedofit perfectly together.”
“I know my fingers fit in your pussy perfectly and I can make you come pretty damn…” he twitched his eyebrows, “spectacularly.”
“Oh, you’ve made me come better than that little flick of my clit.”
He smiled. “You’re telling me that when you’ve touched yourself in lectures that was better than me fingering you?”
Emboldened, I swiped my lips over his in a proper kiss. “No, I’m saying when you fucked me it was better than that.”
“I haven’t fucked you.” He ran his hands into my hair, capturing it in a tight ponytail and holding me still.
“Haven’t you?” I raised my eyebrows.
“What the hell are you talking about, Chelsea?”
“The Sure Thing.”
A frown plowed over his forehead. “No.”
“Yes.” I kissed him again. Stroked my tongue onto his and practically tasted his confusion…his realization. “I was your Sure Thing, sir.”
“I didn’t even go to that stupid student orgy. I’m a university professor, for fuck’s sake.” He tugged on my hair, forcing my head back a few inches. “You’re talking crap.”
I smiled and chewed on my bottom lip, enjoying the flash of emotion in his eyes. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
