Page 7 of Damaged Professor

My clothes are a little rumpled but they’re otherwise fine, so I bundle them up and bring them into the bathroom with me.

It’s a lovely bathroom. There’s a beautiful garden tub and a huge standing shower with a bench seat built into the wall.

There are shelves on the wall, filled up with nice soaps and shampoos. The water comes out with just a flick of the knob, smacking against the floor loud enough to cover the sound of Dylan stepping into the room.

His hand touches my bare back and I jump, spinning around with a yelp.

“Sorry,” says Dylan, not looking sorry at all. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m fine.” My gaze drifts over the broadness of his chest, and the firmness of his stomach. “I’m certainly not complaining about you joining me.”

“Oh, so I’m allowed to join you? Good to know,” says Dylan, and then he very politely steps around me and into the shower. His hand curls around my wrist, tugging me in too, and I laugh as I collapse against his chest.

“It’s your house,” I tell him, brightly. “Who am I to say where you can or can’t go?”

My hands run over his sides, feeling the warmth of his skin against my palms, and then drop down, grabbing onto his ass. It’s firm, a nice hand hold. The way that he kisses me, that’s good too. It’s wet and sloppy, the shower water cascading around us.

His hands grab at me, pulling us closer together. There’s something about this whole situation that makes my heart skip faster. I know that one-night stands are meant to be exactly that, but I can’t help thinking that I would be happy if we got to know each other.

I know that there’s something between us—this warm, little spark that’s building in the back of my chest. I need to stifle that before I say or do anything, so I press open-mouthed kisses to his chest, working my way down, until I’m settled on my knees.

There’s something about being in this position again after four years of celibacy that makes my mouth water. Dylan’s no slouch—he’s already hard when I lean in and press a kiss to the outside of his thigh.

“That’s a good look for you,” says Dylan, threading his fingers through my hair.

My mouth twists up into a smile, and I glance up at him through my thick lashes, water clinging to them in a way that casts the whole world into a different view. I can’t help but think back to our conversation yesterday. “Good enough to be a Goya?”

It has the desired effect. Dylan bursts out laughing. I had been hoping that the snap in tension would be enough to make that heat in the back of my chest lessen, but it doesn’t. It’s still there, even when I run my tongue over his length, and even when, a moment later, I take him fully into my mouth.

It’s been a long time since I’ve given someone a blowjob, but I find myself falling into the rhythm of it quickly. His cock is a heavy weight on my tongue, pressing it down to the bottom of my watering mouth. The fingers in my hair go tight but they don’t pull; they just hold onto me, as I do my best to remember to breathe through my nose.

The head of his cock bumps against the back of my throat. I jerk back, breathing hard. His cock slides from my swollen lips, still connected to me by a thick string of saliva. “Fuck,” says Dylan, breathing hard. Between the blush and the hot water, his face is a deepening shade of red. “You’re good.”

“Compliments get you everywhere,” I joke back, my own voice already wrecked from sucking him off. I only wait a moment longer before lavishing the shaft of his cock with attention again, my tongue running over his hot skin. One hand slides up to grip his ass. The other runs over the inside of his thigh, up to grope his balls.

It gets his hips jerking forward, and a thick bead of per-cum drips down into the swirling water. My tongue drags back up, and then I take him in my mouth again.

“Consider this—ah—a compliment then,” says Dylan, breathless. My tongue swirls against the underside of his cock head, and it gets a truly delightful sound out of the man. But… I can’t help but wonder if I could be better. If I could do better.

For some reason, I want to show off for Dylan. So I take him in until he’s bumping against the back of my mouth—then I breathe in hard through my nose, hold it, and I swallow him straight down.

Chapter four

Dylan

“Ishouldgetgoing,”Abby says, taking one last sip of her coffee.

I usually look forward to the morning after, because I'm usually alone. I don't make it a habit to spend the night with my one-night stands, but when I do, I regret it. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I stopped bringing women home. Leaving the hotel is much easier. Of course, I always pay for the room and their ride back, so it’s not awkward.

And it helps create a bigger distance between me and them. I don’t know who they are, and they don’t know who I am. Maybe I'm a bit of an ass, at least that’s what my brother keeps saying, but I tried love once and it almost broke me.

Having a few rules about my hookups has made my life so much easier.

I glance at the clock. It’s almost noon.

Something is different about today, about Abby, I don’t look forward to this goodbye.

Abby lowers her head, looking at her hands. I can tell that she is not used to this either, but probably for other reasons.

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