Page 24 of Damaged Professor

My mouth is dry. The graze of her fingers over my hands is electric, but not nearly so bold as the look on her face.

“Right,” I tell her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My palm flattens out, settling on the long line of her neck instead. “Tomorrow morning. Right now… I think we’ve got something better to be doing.”

There’s an almost shy smile on her face. Abby is so gorgeous, sometimes it’s shocking. She can look sweet one moment and sultry the next, both expressions complimenting the deep green of her eyes. She must remember what I told her before, about wanting to hear what she wants, because she leans right into my personal space, so close that her lips are grazing over the curve of my jaw. “I want you to take me to bed.”

I wrap both arms around her waist and lift her up. “Your wish is my command, Abby.”

Chapter thirteen

Abby

It’snotlikeIhaven’t seen the bedroom before, but there’s something more intimate about it this time around. Something that has me knowing, hey, I might be coming back here way more often. It’s not a one-night stand anymore. It’s something else. Not really just friends with benefits either, even though I basically suggested that as a last resort to be able to be with him. I can’t help but feel that this is something real.

This is a starting point.

I’m able to get a better look at the room this time around, taking in the pictures that he has hanging on the wall, and the stacks of books that he has on the end table next to the bed. Everything is neatly put together and perfectly in place, nothing at all like my small, slightly unorganized apartment.

I step over to Dylan, pressing up against him from behind. My arms loop around his waist, hands settling on his chiseled abs.

Dylan turns around in my arms. “It’s nice that I get to take my time with you.”

“Oh, is that what you’re going to do? You’re going to take your time with me?” I try to make it sound like I’m teasing, but the truth is, I love the thought of it. I love it even more when he kisses me a moment later, something hot and heavy in the motion. Gone are the chaste, little butterfly kisses from the kitchen. They are replaced with something that’s more deep and passionate. He’s devouring me, and I’m letting him.

More than that, I’m opening myself up to him and begging him to take me whole, body and heart and everything else that comes along with it.

His teeth nip at my lower lip, lips to my jaw, my throat. I take a step back, leaning against the edge of the dresser and he comes forward with me, keeping his hands on my sides and my hips, petting over me. It’s a gentle touch, but it sends fireworks through me all the same. Like each touch is a zap straight to my nerves.

“Shit, you make the sexiest faces,” says Dylan, breathing the words against my skin.

“You said something like that last time, too.” I shove my hands under his burgundy button down, feeling bare skin. It’s hot against my palms. The room feels as though it’s filled with steam, this heaviness in the air curls over the insides of my lungs.

He’s good. Somehow, in our kissing, he managed to get his hands under my shirt and unhook my bra. Now he’s helping work me out of my yellow blouse, the fabric falling down onto the floor.

“That’s because I mean it,” says Dylan. He presses his mouth to the side of my neck and then works his way down, hands sliding to settle on my hips while he mouths at the jut of my shoulder, my collar bone, and then the sloping top of one breast.

My hands smooth through his hair, fingers scraping just lightly against the back of his head. His tongue runs over my skin, leaving a hot stripe of wetness behind. The air of the room meets the wetness—but it’s only bare for a moment. Dylan goes to town, licking and sucking at my right breast, and using his left hand to grope at the other, thumb swiping over my nipple, fingers running over the soft skin.

My head tilts backwards, thumping against the mirror attached to the back of the dresser. I wonder if he’s getting a kick out of seeing himself. I wonder if I can make it even better.

Teeth sink softly into my skin. I yelp and he laughs, but there’s nothing condescending about it. He tells me, “Come on. This can’t be the only thing you’re looking for.”

He sinks down even further, onto his knees. Open mouthed kisses are pressed to my stomach, and my gaze shifts down, watching as he pulls at the hem of my skirt, drugging it down over my hips, my thighs, until the short, black fabric is pooling on the ground around my feet.

His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. There’s a little bow on the side of them, and they cut up higher on my hips than the ones I normally wear. But I wanted to look pretty for him. There’s a part of me that thinks we might still have a chance at a real relationship, but only if we’re able to make this experimental part of it work.

“I want you to fuck me,” I tell him, thinking that’s what the question is meant to be.

He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. Then he presses a kiss to the inside of my right thigh. His hands finish tugging my panties down, the same path as the skirt. “I was thinking something more like this first.”

The moment that the panties have been kicked off, he’s pushing my knees further apart, and then he’s pressing his mouth to my pussy. It’s wet and hot and lovely in a way that I haven’t ever felt.

Dylan clearly knows what he’s doing. His tongue flicks over my tender flesh, curling against my clit and then pressing inside of me. Spit and slick all but soaks my skin, and the lower half of Dylan's face, too. My whole body feels like it’s just been tossed into the fire. Sweat drips on the back of my neck as my fingers tighten in Dylan’s normally well-kept hair.

I've got no control over the sounds coming out of me, head thrown back as I moan. The room is big enough that the sound feels like it echoes—though I’m more enraptured with the sounds that Dylan’s making, wet, slurping, like he’s eating the most amazing meal.

Each lick puts me that much closer to the edge. It’s a fast climb, a headfirst run towards the explosion at the end. His hands slide around, squeezing my ass, sliding his palms down over my thighs. He puts me where he wants me, spreading my legs so he can get better access.

His lips curl around my clit and give a suck, and the electric jolt that shoots through me is enough to have me shouting. My hands tangle too hard in his hair, pulling him in hard—and then when I realize what I’ve done, I throw my hands up in the air and try to shuffle backwards, panting.

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