Whirlwind

7. Ryker

Chapter seven

Ryker

I swallow the sound of surprise from Finley’s lips as I seek entrance inside her mouth. I’ve thought about what a kiss with her would be like, and none of my fantasy scenarios included mauling her after a near-death experience.

“Ryker,” she moans against my lips, her hands clawing down my sore back, but I revel in the pain. It only makes me feel more alive. She grinds against me, and my cock twitches against the zipper of my water-soaked jeans.

I press my mouth harder to hers and use one of my hands to prop myself up while the other tangles in her wet hair. She opens to me beautifully, and my tongue strokes against hers. Her mouth is wet and warm, her soft body beneath me a dream. The only thing better than this would be if we were on a bed—or at least somewhere dry and soft. Yet there’s an intensity to kissing her here as the evening turns into night.

Her hips wiggle, and I groan into her mouth as our tongues duel. Fuck, she tastes amazing, like a good whiskey, spicy and sweet. It’s even better than I drummed up in my head when I’d fuck my hand thinking about her, thinking about what it would be like to throw caution to the wind and fuck her over my desk while I had her read forecasts and dew points to me.

The sounds of thunder rumbling in the distance spurs me to drive deeper into her mouth. We almost died. She almost died. I roll to my side and yank her full body into me, the smell of wet grass and dirt mixing with the faint sweetness of her floral perfume and sweat.

“Fuck,” I groan between our kisses, which have only become more desperate. “I’ve wanted this.”

She tugs at my bottom lip with her teeth as she drapes a thick-thighed leg over my hip so my cock is flush against her pussy. She rocks into me, using one of her hands to grip my arm for leverage.

“Me, too,” she breathes as her chest presses into mine.

Even if it’s now obvious, her verbal confirmation that this hasn’t been a one-sided attraction coupled with the feel of her fingers on my skin and her sex grinding against me only encourages me to do what I know is wrong. I grip her waist with my hand, digging my fingers into the soft flesh there, and tug at the bottom of her wet shirt. The moment my fingers brush the skin of her belly I growl, my hips grinding against hers for any kind of relief.

“Yes, Ryker,” she groans. “I need you.” Her hand slips from my arm and travels down my pecs then my abs, a shiver coursing up my spine from her touch. Her path only stops when she reaches the buckle of my jeans. The sound of the jingling metal acts like a key to a lock, and I lose all sense.

I flip her on her back again, and she puffs out a surprised squeal as my lips press to hers and her fingers continue to undo my belt. The vibration of the zipper sliding down has me bracing an arm above her while my other one brushes down her collarbone before squeezing one of her heavy breasts. I thumb her nipple through her wet clothes, earning me a moan.

I devour Finley recklessly, my lips bruising and rough against hers. It’s getting darker now, and the sound of crickets buzz. The storm has passed, yet now, a new storm is here, one that I cannot tame, even if it’s one that I should.

I grind into her, pinching her nipple.

“Yes, Ryker,” she whimpers, the sound fueling me .

“Take my cock out, Finley. Show me you want me.” I feel her nodding as I tug her lower lip between my teeth then suck on her tongue. Her hand seeks out the fly of my briefs, and when her warm palm grips my aching shaft, I release a feral noise against her lips and thrust into her touch.

“Fuck.” My own hand moves from her breast and down until I reach the button of her jeans. I flip it open and pull the zipper down, getting out of her grip for a moment so I can look into her eyes.

Her amber irises are darker than usual, and the last of the sun glows on her pale face that dances with a light smattering of freckles. She looks so beautiful, so innocent—and she’s all fucking mine.

I keep my eyes on hers as she lifts her hips up so I can pull down her pants and underwear until I see her glistening sex.

I scissor open her pretty cunt framed with perfectly trimmed coarse brown hair and rub my thumb over her clit. She moans my name, hands gripping at the grass, movements desperate and horny. Jesus, I can’t wait any longer. I need to be inside her, to feel her, to know she’s here, she’s with me, and we’re okay.

I lay back down on top of her, our mouths meeting in a frenzy. I push my hips against hers, my heavy length sliding over her sex and causing us both to moan into each other’s mouths. I want to ask her if this is alright, but her hand moves between us and grips my length, now wet with her arousal. Her thumb teases the crown and slides my precum over the tip.

“Shit,” I gasp against her lips. I feel her smile, and then she’s shifting until I’m notched at her entrance, and the tip of my cock sinks in. I curse again at the tight wetness I feel there. I’m not even fully inside of her yet, and I know she’s going to squeeze me like a vise and make me see stars.

“Fuck me, Professor .”

My entire body shudders at her filthy forbidden words, and my hips punch forward to fully stake my claim inside her, my balls slapping against her skin as her cunt hugs me tight with every inner muscle she has. “Jesus, Finley.”

Her fingernails dig into my shoulder blades as her hips lift, pulling me deeper. Her head presses back into the ground. “Oh, god,” she cries. “You’re bigger than I imagined.”

I manage a shaky breath, kissing her neck and sucking on her pulse point as I circle my hips and make her moan. “How many times did you imagine fucking your professor, Ms. Buckley?”

Her nails dig deeper. I continue with the circles, not giving in to the wiggling hips urging me to move. “ Please ,” she begs.

I reward her with a small shallow thrust and bite her earlobe. “Be a good girl, and tell me.”

“Too many to count.”

I hum, the vibrations tickling my lips, and then I pull all the way out and thrust back in. Her body shifts with the force, and I brace my arm above her head. This angle, with her pants and underwear down around her ankles, makes her pussy tight and hot like liquid fire. Tighter than she would be if I could spread her open and pound her into the ground.

“Do that again,” she says before I capture her lips with mine.

I give her what she wants.

My hips thrust in and out, in and out, my pace picking up as I become frantic for her. I want to feel her walls pulse around me as she comes and hear my name on her lips while she reaches ecstasy. I want her nails to make me bleed for her and this pussy to never forget that I was inside it, branding her as mine.

“Ryker, you feel so good,” she chants against my lips. “Harder.”

The base of my spine begins to tingle, and my balls draw up. “Touch yourself, Finley. Make yourself come.”

She moans a yes as I kiss her, stroking my tongue against hers and memorizing the taste of her. She gasps when she circles her clit, her hips lifting and her free hand moving to grip my shoulder .

I thrust harder and try not to close my eyes, but the feeling is too intense, too fucking good. Then Finley breaks our kiss and cries out, every muscle in her body tensing as she shatters. Her pussy constricts around me in quick flutters, dragging me over the edge and sending blinding white bursting behind my eyelids as I come. My release spills inside her as she grips me, our faces buried in each other’s necks.

My thrusts turn choppy and shallow as I ride us through our mutual orgasms, my body slowly coming down from the adrenaline of the tornado and the best sex of my life.

Sex that I had with Finley.

Sex that I had with my student, Finley.

Unprotected sex that I had with my twenty-five-year-old student, Finley.

My student, Finley.

I slip my softening length from her addictive heat and drop down beside her so our arms and legs are touching. For a while, we lay there, looking up at the dusky sky as our breathing evens out and reality crashes down around me, tightening my chest.

“Ryker,” Finley says after what seems like an hour. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.”

She shifts beside me, and I turn to look at her. Finley is the picture of young and vulnerable now that my dick has stopped thinking for me. She’s a mess and shivering, and the cut on her cheek needs to be disinfected.

Goddammit, what was I thinking? I’m her teacher, her mentor. I took advantage of her after she almost died. I should be fired for this—I wouldn’t even fight it.

“I’m fine,” she says. “More than fine.”

I avoid her eyes and look down at her body, her half-clothed body with my cum dripping out of her onto the grass. It’s lewd. It’s forbidden. I probably shouldn’t like it, even if everything inside me does. Even if everything inside me wants to put her on her hands and knees and shove it back inside her then fill her with more until she’s so full of me it will drip out of her for days.

Romantic, sexual, or other intimate relationships between faculty and students are prohibited…

“We should go check on your car.”

At my words, Finley’s demeanor changes, and she chuckles disbelievingly. “My car? Are you serious?”

“It’s probably totaled. It’s getting dark, and we need to call for help. Get you checked out by medics.”

Finley repositions, pulling up her underwear and pants, ignoring the mess of us before standing. “I don’t need a medic. Do you?”

I shake my head.

“I’m going to find my car,” she snaps before taking off toward the side of the road where her car should be but is no longer.

I stand to follow her and tuck myself in, my body sore from the literal tornado that abused it. The ground is torn up and littered with debris, including what looks to be fencing. I weave around some bigger obstructions but easily catch up to her before she gets to the road.

“Please, wait!”

When she doesn’t, I gently catch her wrist.

She whirls to face me, tugging her hand away and crossing her arms over her chest. “What?” she barks, the anger in her tone causing me to flinch.

“Finley…” Her name on my lips is quiet as more guilt wracks my body. “Please, I—I shouldn’t have done that.”

Her eyes narrow. “At least be man enough to say what you shouldn’t have done.”

I run my hand over my face. “I took advantage of you.”

She scoffs. “Bullshit.”

“Finley—”

“I wanted it. I asked you for it. We’re two adults—”

“—who almost died. And you’re my student.”

“You care now?”

I swallow hard. “Like I said, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. It was wrong of me.”

Finley huffs and takes a step toward me. Our eyes lock, and I can see her still shivering, even more than she was before. I want to take her in my arms and keep her safe, warm. I want to comfort her and tell her that I’m lying. That I wanted her, that I still want her. I can’t, though. And I need to stop this before it goes any further.

“Are you saying you regret what happened?” she asks.

Her eyes bore into mine, her shoulders stiff and back straight. Finley is a woman who wants the truth—a truth I can’t give her—so I lie.

“Yes. I regret it.”

Her eyes turn glassy, and her chin quivers. My chest aches, and my hands itch to pull her into a hug and take my words back, but this is how things need to be between us. I have to push her away. She’s still my student until she graduates, and we have the chase starting tomorrow with my team.

And if I’m being honest with myself, even though it kills me, a little part of me does regret it. Not her, never her, but she is my student. I’m her superior. She was also under duress. I should’ve stopped myself from acting on my feelings for her, even though they’re mutual.

Finley takes a step back and pushes down her tears. “Right. Well, I guess we should go find my car, Professor West . We’re losing light.”