Page 48 of The English Professor

‘Tell me I’m allowed to sit in your lap, Jack.’

He is close-lipped and stern. Our faces are inches apart and I can barely breathe. ‘Tell me...’

His eyes turn dark, stormy, shards of ice blue glinting with intensity. His eyes might be icy, but his voice is red-hot. ‘Alright then, this is what you want? This is what you really want? Knowing full well what the consequences might be?’

His words send my racing heart into a tailspin. I nod slowly, biting my lower lip, hoping against hope that this is the moment, the moment Jack finally lets go.

‘Then we’re going to do this a little differently this time.’

‘Different,’ I squeak out, my heart pounding my chest. ‘What do you mean—’

He doesn’t answer. Jack captures my mouth with his own, devouring me, his lips hard and urgent. His his tongue lunges and retreats and the blood pounds in my ears. Is it possible to get finished off with a single kiss? Because Professor Jack is about to devastate me.

He stands, still holding me in his arms, and carries me over to the desk. Slowly, he unzips the dress, his face in my face, his hands behind my back. He peels it down my chest and takes my breast in his mouth, suckling, nibbling, torturing me. He draws my nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking and teasing. And then he does the same to the other breast. At this point I want to tear my clothes off but, instead, I let him lead the way, taking me where he likes. I love seeing him like this, completely abandoned to the carnal hunger between us.

He inches up the bottom of my dress until the whole thing is bunched around my middle. I’m wearing a pair of sheer black tights and he’s just staring at me like he’s found a pot of gold.

‘No fucking pants,’ he whispers. ‘You’ve not got any pants on under your tights.’ His voice is hoarse, seared from desire.

I spread my legs a little wider and smile darkly. I purposefully didn’t wear knickers today—I’d wanted him to have a good view.

Jack makes a noise which can only be described as animalistic. He places his thumb over the sheer nylon, near to my clit and starts making slow, teasing circles. I gasp and my head drops back as my hands grip the desk.

He takes it nice and slow and the pressure inside me starts to build.

I’m certain my tights are drenched because I keep bucking my hips, an involuntary reflex, my wet centre searching for a hard cock to grip on to.

Jack presses a finger up inside of me, as far as the nylon mesh will allow. It’s not far enough and I whimper my dissatisfaction.

He smiles darkly and, with the speed of a stroke of lightning, tears open the tights. A cool rush of air flows onto my slick flesh and I gasp in delighted surprise. He sees it and comes up to kiss me, this time urgent and agonising.

‘I need you so much.’

He dips his head and his hot breath is pressed intimately against my flesh as he whispers, ‘Your cunt is mine.’

I shriek ecstatically at the words and he stops abruptly. ‘Oh no, no, no,’ he says. ‘We can’t have that.’

What the fuck? Don’t stop! What did I do?

‘Don’t you dare make a sound.’ Jack stands up and starts to undo his tie. He takes it off and wraps it around my mouth. ‘Not a fucking peep, understand?’

I nod my head silently, excitement pooling between my thighs. I’d do anything he asked because all I want is for his face to be back where it belongs. And he complies brilliantly. His tongue strokes me, the whole length of me, sometimes slow and purposeful, sometimes lightly, tenderly. But every lash of his tongue edges me closer and closer to oblivion.

Then he stops and my eyes fly open. What the fuck?

‘You’re not getting to come yet,’ he says.

I whimper. I’m so close. This is a new form of torture I’m not used to and I’m quite certain I don’t like it one bit.

‘Hush, Flower. You’re not getting to come yet,’ he repeats. He unzips his trousers and I watch with rapt fascination as he lowers them slightly, freeing himself from the snug confines and my eyes grow wide.

Jack growls when he sees me staring, my eyes like saucers. ‘Ohhh,’ his voice is low and insistent. He reaches into a pocket and slips on a condom. He positions himself through the opening of my sheer black tights. ‘We’re just getting started. And you are going to take every.last.inch.’

I’d asked for Jack to let himself go, to peel away the layers that prevented him from opening himself up to me, that stopped him from being free and, from what I’d seen in the last few minutes, he’d bloody well done that and then some. He’s so slow, literally sliding himself into me one goddamn centimetre at a time, just as he’d promised, and it’s driving me mad. His own skill at self-control, however, is fucking amazing. How is he managing to do this? It’s a good thing he’s wrapped that tie around my mouth because I think I’d be screaming at this point.

‘Faster,’ I try to say through the tie.

‘Sorry don’t understand,’ he smirks. ‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Leyna? To be slowly tortured with pleasure, to take you right to the edge over and over and over again? I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.’

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