Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEEN
YOU CAN HAVE IT ALL
PAST
Meet me in my office after your last class.
I’ve read the text half a dozen times, and each time, a shot of adrenaline passes through me, pooling between my thighs. A few fucking words, beckoning me to him, and I’m a horny mess. The mental finger crook has me fidgeting in the seat of my last class, wondering how he’s handling waiting for me.
Is he as nervous as I am? As turned on?
I cross my bare legs, glancing down at my black wrap skirt. Paired with my black fitted shirt, I feel like I’m some kind of ballerina.
I’m not paying attention when students start standing around me, getting their things together to leave.
Just as I step outside, my phone rings. When I see Miley’s name on my screen, I grin before answering.
“What’s up?” I ask, holding my cellphone between my ear and shoulder as I adjust my bag.
“Sushi tonight? ”
“Um…” I start, unsure. “Give me like an hour and I’ll let you know.”
“If I don’t hear from you before then, you’re on your own,” she says, her voice monotone as if she’s trying to multitask.
“I’ve fed myself for this long. I think I’ll be okay,” I remind her, making my way out of the building and cutting across the grass toward Professor Pugliesi.
“Everyone knows a meal with Miley is an event. Besides, I feel like we haven’t spent time together in a while.”
When she says this, I feel a pang of guilt. But it’s quickly dissolved by the knowledge that more often than not, we hang out because Miley has a hole in her busy schedule. Or she wants me to be her date to an event that she inevitably leaves with someone else.
And I don’t mind. I love her. She’s brilliant, kind, strong. A lot of things I haven’t been exposed to in my life—especially from the women in my life.
But this is something I’m doing for me, and I won’t feel guilty about this.
“We’ll make plans for this weekend, if anything,” I tell her, before she lets me go, content to order sushi for herself if I don’t show.
My phone is inside my bag by the time I’m standing outside of his office, the door slightly ajar again. Only this time, he’s waiting inside for me. There isn’t another woman inside, tempting him.
Instead, he’s trying to tempt me. And it’s working.
He opens the door, as if he knows I’m there. His eyes crinkle with appreciation as he looks me over.
Half of my hair is up in a little ponytail, the rest hanging at the base of my neck.
Without a word, he steps aside, giving me room to walk past him and into his office.
I try not to react when I hear the door shut and the lock click. Instead, I turn to face him, his desk behind me as we regard each other for a moment.
He speaks first.
“Did you wear that skirt for me?” he asks and it makes my knees tremble, the way his dark stare never wavers from my own green gaze.
Do I tell him the truth? That I envisioned his eyes following me as I picked this skirt, not short enough to be considered inappropriate but hopefully short enough that it piques his curiosity. That the legs I once considered too long might be ones that he envisions wrapped around his body.
“I did,” I answer, tired of being uncertain. I want to be the woman he sees me as. The woman men my age are intimidated by. I’m not timid and I’m not afraid.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he starts, walking toward me, his eyes unblinking. “Thinking about the tiny taste I got of you. Thinking about your tears and your truth. About how profoundly you exist and how I’m dying to taste other parts of you.”
“What other parts?” I ask, my words breathy as he stands just in front of me. I’m still as he lifts his hand toward my face. And just before he makes contact, he drops it. For a moment, I think he’s lost his nerve. Until I feel his fingertips graze the soft flesh of my thigh. It’s soft, uncertain…only for a moment.
He grips the back of my thigh before sliding up, grazing the bottom of my ass before sliding toward the front of my panties. My eyes are partly closed, my lips trembling as he cups me, sliding his thumb back and forth over the top of my pussy.
“Look how you respond to me, Stellina ,” he murmurs, and I can’t focus as his words and actions melt me. “I would worship your beautiful body for as long as you’d let me.”
I let out a gasp as he applies slight pressure, his hand now fully between the legs I’ve somehow parted for him .
“It would be my great privilege to provide you with pleasure,” he murmurs, following me as I dip against his touch.
What I can’t say with words, I offer with my body, moving against his hand. He catches the movement and through my hooded eyes, I catch the wicked grin he casts. He takes his index finger and rubs it along my seam as his thumb presses into my hidden clit.
An expert in pleasure, I can only sigh in reaction, rolling my head back.
“We’ve established that you wore the skirt for me,” he starts, pulling his hands back just a fraction, much to my dismay. “What about your panties?”
“What are you doing to me?” My question sounds like a plea, my knees weak. He makes quick work of backing me up against his desk, hooking his hands under my knees until I’m laying down.
“I’ll do whatever you want me to.” He towers over me, running his palms over my bare legs. Up and down, up and down. “What do you want me to do, beautiful girl?”
“Please me,” I whisper. Words escape me as I melt into the desk, watching him as he conquers me.
“I could use my fingers. My lips, my tongue.” He grins as he leans forward to kiss my neck before rolling his tongue over my pulse point there. I shiver and he presses his mouth to my ear to whisper, “My cock. Tell me what you want. You can have it all.”
I can feel his erection as he presses up against me and it makes me want to pause. To slow down. I can only imagine how many others were here, positioned just like I am.
I don’t want to be them.
Instead, I say, “I don’t want you to fuck me on this desk like I’m some cheap whore.” The echoes of his words, telling me that if he only wanted me, he’d have me exactly where I am now make me wish we were back at his place.
He stills for a moment, his breath rushing out against my ear. And I wonder if I’ve ruined the mood. If telling him this has soured the moment.
But within this secret we share, I have to be honest.
He presses a kiss below my ear, and I close my eyes as I await his response.
“I’ll fuck you in my bed like you’re a queen.” He straightens and spreads my legs to accommodate his hips before palming my sex. “But for now, I’ll lick your pussy like you’re mine.”
I’m all soft gasps and fingers gripping the edge of his wooden desk as he pulls my skirt up and appraises my panties, smiling at the simple black silk.
“I like these,” he starts, running a finger from the top of my panties to the wet spot that becomes even more apparent as he presses into it. “I want you to come home with me.”
“Why?” I ask, picking my head up to stare at him as he stares down at me.
“I want to see your beautiful body on film, through my eyes. Will you let me, Stellina ?” he asks before gently hooking his fingers under the waistband of my panties and pulling them down, inch by inch.
I can’t think, can’t say anything, full of both nerves and anticipation. But one thing rings out and it makes me pause.
“You only kissed me for the first time a few days ago,” I blurt out, the thought filling my mind like I’m some kind of slut for being here.
But I’m not a slut. I’m a grown ass woman with needs that he seems more than ready to fulfill. I try to hold onto that thought as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“And now I want to kiss your pussy for the first time,” he declares. I open my eyes and stare down at him just ask he begins to sink to his knees, widening my thighs further so he can fully see me. He gives me one last grin before hooking my legs over his shoulders.
I drop my head back onto the desk just as he licks, once, twice, three times. I arch my back in response, unable to keep the strangled sound from exiting my throat as he licks with fervor before pushing his tongue inside of me. He pushes my thighs back against my stomach and I’ve never been so open for a man before.
I’m so wet from my arousal and his oral ministrations that when he pushes a finger inside, it slips right in.
When I lift my torso, bracing myself on my elbows, I catch sight of the way he stares down at me for a moment as he works his finger inside of me before slipping another in as well. His face glistens under the lamplight and he licks his lips. Just as he moves forward to taste me again, his eyes lock with mine. And he keeps his eyes on me, staring at me while he licks and strokes at my sensitive flesh, sucking on my clit until it’s too much to bear and I throw my head back, gasping out my orgasm as I ride his face and fingers.
He offered it all to me and I took it, greedily.
When he stands, I expect regret to sweep over the moment. I expect to be embarrassed by the sounds I made, by the way he stared so openly at me.
What I don’t expect is for him to stand, grip me by the back of my neck so I’m sitting up against him, and for him to kiss me.
For me to taste myself on him, for him to hold me like we shared a moment of sheer intimacy. For me to smell myself on his damp beard.
I can’t help but wonder if offering me everything was meant in the strictly sexual way it was presented to me. Or if this man is intent on giving me so much more.
I’m nervous as we enter his apartment, knowing that even though we’re here, I’m not prepared to have sex with him.
I’ve lost all nerve at this point, having had to walk separately to his apartment to avoid being seen. But as he trailed behind me, it felt like an added foreplay, knowing we’re about to be alone in a space where no one can find us.
“You’re nervous,” he states as he sets his own bag down, standing at his kitchen island.
As if he knows it’s likely best not to approach me. I’m skittish, the aftereffects of my intense orgasm making my lower belly ache deliciously.
“I’m trying not to be,” I whisper, glancing around his apartment again. It’s less intimidating with the slight glow of the early evening sky. “It doesn’t make sense that I am.”
“Try not to think about what makes sense,” he provides, offering me a quick smile. “None of this is meant to, I think.”
We’re silently assessing one another without the boundaries and confines of potential audiences and I can only think to myself, this might be fucking dangerous.
Instead of sitting in those thoughts, I ask him where his camera is. He raises a brow before straightening.
“Are you sure?”
“If you ask me again, I won’t be,” I inform him, impatient to hide my nerves behind anything at this point.
He nods, leaving me alone where I stand as he opens one of the doors down the hall and disappears inside. In the stillness, I pull my top off, setting in on the nearby chair where I’d placed my things down. Before I can overthink it, my skirt follows. I’m sitting on his couch as he steps out, closing the door behind him.
He stops short when he catches sight of me.
“I know you’re used to being in charge,” I start, a grin forming, “but I have some rules.” Because some semblance of control turns me on almost as much as he does.
“Anything,” he rasps out before swallowing. It’s then that I notice the black vintage-looking camera in his hands.
“I keep my bra and panties on and you can’t touch me.” My back is rigid as I state my demands, expecting some sort of pushback.
When he nods, his molten stare only breaking to fiddle with his camera, I relax into the couch’s sumptuous cushions.
“What do you want me to do, Mr. Director?” I ask, licking my lips as I commit to the scene. Even as I speak, I can see the impressive bulge grow in his pants, making his carnal desires known. The air is thick with anticipation as I await his command.
He sits in the chair across from me, holding his camera so it sits precariously on his knee.
“Spread your legs,” is the first instruction he gives me, his voice holding a softness to it that unnerves me. He lifts the camera as I comply, leaning forward. “Show me what you do when you’re alone in your room, thinking of me.”
I should be shy. I should be afraid of the sexual vulnerability here, of the sheer intimacy of it all. But all I can do is slide my hands inside my panties and find myself where I’m still wet and sensitive from our earlier encounter. Even as I rub circles around my clit, throwing my head back with a moan, I can feel his stare.
Don’t look at him, don’t look ? —
I hear the sound of a zipper filling the room and when I glance over at him, he’s pulling himself free from his slacks. He spits on his hand and I gasp at how fucking turned on I am, how powerful this self-pleasure session is.
“Do you want to see what I do to myself when I think of you?” He asks, not bothering to wait for an answer. “When I think of those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock, making noises around it as spit dribbles down your chin. I bet you’d be a messy mouth fuck.”
Listening to his dangerous words, guttural as if they’ve surfaced from deep inside of him, I’m already feeling the quickening of an intense orgasm creeping up on me.
“Two orgasms in one day, my greedy girl?” He grunts as he quickens his strokes. “You like the thought of me sitting here alone, working my cock as I envision you taking it in your tight little cunt?”
My whimper is the final indication that I’m tumbling over my orgasm and the blood rushing to my ears cancels out any other sounds as I ride the wave, squeezing my legs together.
With my chest rising and falling from the immense pleasure I just experienced, I look over at Abraham—Mr. Director—and noticed he’s removed his shirt to wipe himself clean. This rich, cultured man is sitting in an undershirt, mopping up his cum. Something about that tickles me.
I snicker, knowing he gave the shirt off his back for that orgasm.
He glances up at me, a lopsided grin on his handsome face.
“When I said you can have it all, I didn’t quite have this in mind.”
Without a word, I stand and approach him, settling myself on his lap as I look into his eyes.
“Thank you,” I murmur before pressing a kiss to his lips, my hands framing his face. “Thank you for indulging with me in a way that I’m comfortable with.”
He pulls back, a line forming between his eyebrows as his eyes flit between mine and my lips .
“I only want you in ways you’re comfortable giving yourself, Stellina .” He lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “I suppose I should feed you now.”
Shit.
I hop up and grab my phone, sending a quick text to Miley to let her know I’m on my way.
“Sorry, but I have to go,” I rush out, pulling my clothes back on. “But you can feed me another time!”
And with that, I run out of his apartment like Cinderella who only came to come.