4
Spencer looked at him. Really looked at him. His eyes were sunken, and their normal brightness was gone. He wasn’t talking a mile a minute and telling some crazy story. The strange spark that made Llewellyn Llewellyn seemed to be gone.
Mr. Hewitt greeted them and pushed open the door that led to the basement, ushering them down to the embalming room, briefing them along the way. Although, at this point, Spencer was pretty much able to run things herself. She couldn’t say the same for Llewellyn, however.
“You’re going to observe Spencer tonight, Llewellyn. I want you to watch the order she does things in. The time and care she takes with each step. Are you able to do that, son?” Mr. Hewitt boomed.
She always thought it curious that Mr. Hewitt had gone into the funeral business. He was such a loud, larger-than-life character with his handlebar moustache and big, round belly. How he was satisfied taking care o f the silent dead, she’d never know. He was always chatting, spinning a yarn, or laughing. All things you couldn’t do with the dead. Well…maybe you could. People in this industry were a little peculiar, even her.
“Yes, sir. I will observe and take note.” Llewellyn saluted.
“Good man, good man,” Mr. Hewitt chimed, clapping him on the back. Llewellyn flew forward a good foot, unprepared for the contact. The senior embalmer left them to do their work, stating he’d be back halfway through the process to check on everything.
“I’m going to weigh and measure the body so I can get the correct amount of fluids mixed. You,” she said, pointing at Llewellyn, “are going to talk.”
“About what?”
“About whether you want to do this job or not. That was our deal, wasn’t it? I’ll help you out if you can tell me this is what you want.”
She moved to the cabinets, pulling out the necessary chemicals and personal protective equipment. Llewellyn started pacing behind her, working up to something.
“I’ve thought about it, like you asked. I even tried talking to my mother and father about things, but they wouldn’t hear it. They said they already paid to put me through the program and there’s no way they’re paying for me to start over. Plus, they went on and on about how I need to get my own job so I can get my own place and move out. Ergo, no job means no moving out, which means my parents are going to be furious with me, and they’ll probably kick me out anyway, and I’ll end up living on the streets, and?—”
“Llewellyn!” she barked, stopping him in the middle of his rant. “Can you answer one question for me?”
He nodded, eyes wide, fidgeting with his fingers.
Setting down the methanol, she said, “I want a one-word answer. Do you want to do this job—yes or no?”
His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened and closed again. He looked a bit like a guppy. His wide-set eyes didn’t help the overall picture.
“No.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “No! I don’t want to be an embalmer!” he proclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Then why, for God’s sake, are you in this program?” She wiped her palm down her face.
He shrugged. “My parents thought it was a good idea.”
“I’ve never, in my life, heard of parents pushing their child into becoming an embalmer. Are they embalmers? Do they own a funeral home? Are they in a related field? ”
“No. My father is an accountant, and my mother is a dental hygienist,” he scratched his chin.
“What’s the deal, then?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter.
This should be good.
“My parents…” he started. “Oh, this is embarrassing, Spencer. Please don’t make me tell you.”
“Spit it out, Llewellyn. It can’t be more embarrassing than me finding you in the bathroom eating chicken on the sink.” She raised her eyebrow.
A long sigh left his body. “My parents thought it’d be a suitable profession for me because I’m weird, okay? I’m socially awkward, I don’t easily make friends, and people generally don’t want to be around me. So, Mother and Father thought working with dead people would be the right path since I could jabber on all I wanted, and they wouldn’t have to listen to me. And there aren’t many living people to deal with. And I would be alone most of the time doing my work. And?—”
“I’m going to stop you there, Llewellyn.” She took a measured breath. This poor kid. “I know this is the pot calling the kettle black, but your parents are assholes.”
He wrinkled his nose. “No, they aren’t. They’re just practical. They look out for me, that’s all.”
She crossed her arms and leaned forward. “No. They’re assholes. Plain and simple. What parents say those things to their own child? ”
Looking down at the sealed concrete floors, he said, “Well, it’s all true. Honesty is the best policy.”
“There is an enormous difference between telling the truth and being two giant dicks. Your parents are the latter.”
Llewellyn looked at his feet and scuffed his shoes back and forth against the floor. “So you don’t think I’m weird?”
She snorted. “Hell yes, I think you’re weird. You’re the weirdest kid I’ve ever met. That doesn’t mean you deserve to be locked away in a basement embalming room doing a job you hate for the rest of your life.”
His chin tipped up and he met her gaze. “Can I tell you what I really want to do?”
The hope in his voice made her heart hurt.
Spencer took off her gloves and slapped them down on the table to the side of her. Looks like she was in this for the long haul. They would get to Mr. Galiano soon. It’s not like he was going anywhere.
“Lay it on me, Llewellyn.”
When she got home, Becca was waiting on her doorstep with a scary movie in one hand and a bag of loose-leaf tea in the other.
Llewellyn and Spencer had successfully completed the em balming process on Mr. Galiano. She would go back in a couple days to dress, casket, and cosmetize him so he was ready for the open-casket viewing. Llewellyn would not be there, however, because he was going to pursue his dream job. She had to tell Becca about this. No chance in hell she’d believe her when she said what it was.
“Okay, you’ve been hyping this up all day,” Becca whined. “Please tell me what Llewellyn is going to do with his life.”
“When my tea is done steeping. Have a little patience.” She snickered, knowing full well that patience was not Becca’s strong suit.
“Seriously!” She fell backward onto Spencer’s blue suede couch and covered her face with a pillow. “You’re the one texting me all day telling me I’ll never believe it, and how this would only make me further think he’s not a real person,” she mumbled from underneath the plush fabric.
“Alright,” Spencer said, coming out of her compact kitchen and joining Becca on the couch. Sitting sideways to face her, she tucked her sock feet underneath one of the cushions, pulled on a magenta throw blanket, and sipped the herbal tea Becca had made herself. “A cat consultant.”
“What?” Becca pulled the pillow off her face. “I’m sorry, I thought you said ‘ cat consultant ’ but my ears must not be working. ”
“A cat behaviour consultant.”
“No!” she squealed, bolting upright and narrowly missing Spencer’s head with the throw pillow she beaned across the room. “That’s it. Llewellyn is fake. There’s no way he’s an actual human being.”
“Scout’s honour.” Spencer held up three fingers. “And that isn’t even the best part.”
“Spit it out, woman,” Becca cried.
“He wants to name his cat consulting business Claw and Order . Can you even believe th—oh shit, are you okay?”
Becca had rolled off the couch and landed with a loud thump on the carpeted floor. She was laughing her ass off and couldn’t contain her amusement.
“I…need…to…meet…him.” She struggled to get out the words, pulling in shallow breaths between fits of giggles.
Yeah. This was what a giggler looked like.
Sitting up, she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Maybe he can help me with Jiji. She never seems to listen to me.”
“That cat has a mind of her own. She never listens to you,” Spencer mused. “I guess it’s not such a bad idea after all?”
“So you encouraged him?”
“Of course I did. You should’ve seen how passionate he was. He gave a seven-minute-long rant about excessive meowing, counter-surfing, and someth ing he calls ‘ kitten kindergarten. ’ I told him he should enroll in some business classes, though, and not jump straight into running his own company with zero experience at twenty-two years old.”
“And you think he listened?”
Spencer took another long slurp of her tea. “I know he did. We made a list of everything he needed to do to get started. Then, I helped him apply to the business program for next semester.”
“Spencer Williams, as I live and breathe!” Becca feigned shock. “Never did I think I would see the day your cold, dead heart looked out for the nerdy weirdo in your class.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, me either.”
“Mr. Good Butt’s making an impression on you.” She flopped back on the couch and grabbed her mug of tea.
“He’s so lovely to everyone. They gravitate toward him, and he makes them feel good about themselves. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to be a bit more like that, would it?” Spencer asked, only slight hesitation in her voice.
“Not at all, Spence. We all know you’re still the bad-ass embalmer that likes to laugh at bad karaoke and will stomp a bitch if they get on your bad side. You’re allowed to have a smidgen of sweetness.”
Spencer rubbed a hand over her face. “I hate how that sounds. Sweetness. Yuck. ”
Becca giggled at her and grabbed the horror movie off the coffee table. “What do you say we pop this in? Then I can be terrified and you can be all unfazed and feel like a real tough cookie.”
“Works for me. Anything to stop you talking about how sweet I’m being.”
“You know,” she said, hopping over the coffee table and opening the DVD case, “you’re the only person left on Earth that still uses a DVD player.”
“That’s entirely untrue.”
Becca clicked her tongue. “No, I took a poll. Out of everyone on the planet, it’s only you.”
“Shut up and sit your butt down. You won’t be making fun of me when some slasher kills all the high school students, and you need a friend’s shoulder to hide your face in.”
Becca squealed. “Okay, okay! I surrender. You’re right—everyone still uses DVD players. No one streams anything. That would be way too easy and practical.”
Spencer huffed and settled into her spot on the couch. How she got lucky enough to have Becca in her life, she’d never know.
She was the complete opposite of her. The short to her tall. The optimist to her pessimist. Where Spencer had long, black curls, Becca had short, almost-white hair. It often made her jealous since Becca could dye it any colour. Right now, it was a rosy shade of pink. A perfec t complement to her rosy cheeks. And her rosy demeanor.
Yes, she had definitely lucked out in finding Becca. And now she had Brett. She could see herself being quite content with only two people in her life. Her best friend and her…boyfriend? They hadn’t even been out on a proper date. So what were they?
The semester was over in two days. She would complete her program, be officially licensed as an embalmer, and get some clear answers from the man she was already desperately falling for.
She only hoped he was desperately falling for her, too. Slipping her phone out of her pocket, she texted Brett to fill him in on her day.
I had a moment with Llewellyn yesterday.
Oh no. What did you do?
It was a GOOD moment, you dick.
You can understand my assumption.
…fair.
Okay, tell me.
I helped him out of a jam. You’d be proud.
What did you do?
I encouraged him to pull out of the program and enroll in business classes so he can start his insane cat consultant business.
Okay, I need to hear more about this.
I’ll have to send you the details in an email. It’s too much to text. Though he’d probably be ecstatic to tell you in person.
That’s a great idea. I’ll find him on campus tomorrow.
Of course you will. That’s why Becca and I call you Mr. Big Heart.
Really?
No. It’s still Mr. Good Butt.
I’ll take what I can get. When do I get to meet this Becca you’re always hanging out with?
Why? Jealous?
Should I be?
Nah. My undying love for her is purely platonic. We didn’t work as partners. We’re much better as best friends.
Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine.
Are you always so unders tanding?
99% of the time.
Becca gasped and hit pause on the remote. “Are you texting during the movie?”
Spencer stuck out her tongue. “I wanted to fill Brett in on the day, that’s all.”
She giggled. “Oh, you are so gone for this guy. Absolutely head-over-heels for Professor Filthy Mouth.”
She raised an eyebrow at Becca. “So what if I am?”
“So nothing! I think it’s fantastic and romantic and amazing. Brett and Spencer, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S—you’re gonna push me off the couch if I keep singing, aren't you?” She snapped her mouth shut.
Spencer shoved her friend on the shoulder. “You know me so well, Becca. But what if Brett doesn’t feel the same way?”
“That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t be risking his job for a one-night stand. And he wouldn’t be texting you at all hours of the day and night, writing long emails, and”—she cleared her throat—“ pleasing you on his knees in his office.”
“I guess that’s true,” Spencer mused.
“Hey.” Becca placed a hand on her arm. “If you’re unsure, just ask. But I think it’s more than obvious at this point.”
Spencer picked up her phone, and Becca hit play, resuming their slasher movie.
So it’s almost the end of the term…
I’ve never been so excited for a school year to end before.
Because of me?
Because of you.
Are you falling for me, Professor?
I’m past falling. I’m mangled and flattened on the ground for you.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a perfect sentiment.
I can’t wait to go on a proper date. There are so many places I want to take you, so many things I want to try with you.
Spencer breathed a sigh of relief and held her phone in front of Becca’s face to allow her to read their texts. She beamed and gave Spencer a thumbs-up.
That sounds awfully sexual.
While I also think about that, I’m talking about taking you around town. Showing you off. Being out in public together. Perv.
I come by my perviness honestly. When you have an ass like yours …
??
Last day of the semester.
In a matter of minutes, her final evaluation meeting would be over. If everything turned out well, she planned on calling Brett, meeting up at her place, and fucking his brains out.
Or maybe letting him fuck her brains out. You never know. His promise to have her sobbing still rang in her mind.
“Well, Ms. Williams. You’ve exceeded expectations in your placement this year. Mr. Hewitt gave you glowing feedback, yet again,” her supervisor preened in his lilting British accent.
“Thank you, Mr. Hansley.”
“The pleasure is all mine. I love delivering good news. Of course, you knew it would be good news. Otherwise, we would have been chatting much earlier,” he said with a wink.
“I had my suspicions.” Relief swept over her. Not that she doubted herself, but it was still good to know for sure.
“I also believe Mr. Hewitt is going to offer you a position at Hewitt and Channing Funeral Homes. I shouldn’t tell you that ahead of time,” he tittered, “but I’m so excited for you, I had to share the news.”
“I appreciate it, Mr. Hansley. I’ll be accepting, of course. Hope fully, he can connect me with a few other funeral homes to help round out a full-time work schedule.”
“I’m sure he will. And if he doesn’t, please come back and see me. I would be more than willing to help you seek further opportunities.”
“It’s a deal,” she said, leaning across his large oak desk to shake his hand. “Thank you for all your support this year.”
“It was nothing, my dear. And might I add, thank you for taking young Llewellyn under your wing these last few weeks. I was so worried about that boy, but it seems he has found something to be passionate about that will suit him much better.”
She blew out a breath. “Let’s hope so. That kid was a disaster in the embalming room.”
“Oh, don’t I know it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Would he have passed his practicum?”
Mr. Hansley's silence said everything.
“That’s what I thought. Doesn’t matter now. He’ll be curing everyone’s cats of their rambunctious behaviours and running kitten kindergarten out of his dorm room in no time.” She laughed.
“I’ll have to bring him my tabby, Benedict. I can’t seem to stop him from scratching the dickens out of all my couch cushions,” Mr. Hansley mused, lost in a very specific thought. Snapping back to the room, he redirected h is attention back to Spencer. “Have a wonderful summer, Ms. Williams, and the rest of your year. Stop by, will you? Let me know how work is going?”
“I will, Professor. Thank you again.” Spencer shook his hand once more and left his office.
As soon as she was in the hall, she grabbed her phone and called Brett. He answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Spence,” he purred on the other end of the line. His voice was like smooth honey. Warm, golden, full of happiness. “How was your last day?”
“So great. My evaluation was stellar, and it looks like I may get a job offer.” He couldn’t see her, but that didn’t stop her face from lighting up. Because that’s what Brett did to her. He made her happy. Stupid, punch-drunk happy. “I’m leaving campus now.”
“I’d love to meet up. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“I’ll text you my address and meet you at my place,” Spencer replied, exiting the west entrance. She was just as eager to see him.
“I had something else in mind…”
“Like what, Professor?” she teased.
“Look to your left.”
Spencer glanced to the side and saw Brett leaning against the hood of his vintage Datsun. It was a deep green, like the couch in his office. His hair was messy from being b lown in the wind, and he was wearing a pair of black jeans, a maroon Henley, and the sexiest pair of aviators she’d ever seen. So this was casual Mr. Monroe.
Her pussy clenched. She liked it. She liked it a lot.
Ending her call, she slipped her phone in her bag and hurried over to Brett, letting out a wolf whistle on the way. He chuckled—a deep, delightful sound that made her heart skip a beat. She was ready to chastise herself for feeling like a teenager again, but she pushed away the thought. Was it so wrong to feel this way? More often than not, she thought it was actually, kind of, sort of…nice.
“Get over here.” He beamed, pulling her into his arms the second she was close enough.
Spencer let him hold her right in front of a main entrance to the school. Students were coming and going, so were professors. But it didn’t matter anymore. He was no longer her professor, and she was no longer his student. They were free to be with each other out in the open. No more secret emails or text messages.
“So what did you have in mind, Mr. Monroe?” she purred.
He raised his eyebrows. “I think you can just call me Brett now.”
“It’s not nearly as fun.”
“You don’t have to give up calling me that all together. Ma ybe we save it for special occasions.” He smirked.
She ran her finger down his chest. “If by special occasions you mean every time we’re in the bedroom, then agreed.”
He rolled his eyes playfully and pushed her gently toward the passenger door. “Let’s get going.”
“And where are we going?” Her curiosity was piqued. Did she want to jump his bones right damn now? Yes. But she also wanted to see what her sweet man had planned.
“It’s a surprise.” He glowed, looking every bit the ray of sunshine he was.
“What are we doing here?” Spencer asked as they stepped out of the car at The Frozen Spoon, Whitehill’s best ice cream parlour.
“I told you, it’s a surprise.” He took her by the hand, leading her straight through the front doors for all to see.
“Brett,” she tugged him to a stop. He looked back at her, concerned. “I need to make sure this is what you want. That you’re okay with this”—she gestured between them—“with us.”
“That’s a silly question. Why wouldn’t I be? ”
Spencer rattled off a short list. “You were my professor until twenty minutes ago. There’s a significant difference in our ages. People will judge us.”
“Are you worried about that stuff?”
“Shit, no. I couldn’t care less what everyone else thinks. But you’re a lot softer than me. I don’t want you to feel like this is something you’re being forced into.”
A laugh lit up his face, highlighting the minute wrinkles on his forehead and beside his eyes. “Forced?” He stepped closer to her. So close, his chest pressed against her tits while his low voice whispered in her ear. “Do you think anyone forced me to crawl to you on my office floor? To lick your pussy until you came on my face?”
Spencer’s face flushed. This was a new experience. He’d never talked dirty to her out in public before. Only when it was the two of them, either sneaking around at school or texting late at night. His confidence was highly arousing.
“No,” she said on an exhale, happy she could manage to get any words out at all.
“Good,” he murmured, pulling away before turning back into the sugar-coated man she cared so much for. “Now, let’s get you some strawberry ice cream. ”
“Strip, Professor,” Spencer directed, already in nothing but her red lace bra and panties.
Brett ripped off his shirt, shrugged out of his black jeans, and tossed his socks on the floor of his bedroom.
She crossed her arms. “Underwear, too, Mr. Monroe.”
He motioned for her to come closer. “I’d rather see you take them off of me.”
Strutting over to him, she clicked her tongue. “I know you would.” She played with the waistband of his boxer briefs. “But I’m in charge here.”
“For now.” His voice was low and dangerous.
She raised an eyebrow. Cocky son of a bitch. She liked it. And the idea of him taking control whenever he decided was turning her on. She couldn’t deny it.
“Take them off. Slowly—so I can watch,” she commanded, taking two steps back.
Brett slipped his thumbs under the waistband and dragged the underwear down his thighs at an excruciating pace. Her heartbeat picked up as the tip of his cock sprang free. Saliva pooled in her mouth as his shaft was revealed. It just kept coming. He had a tuft of light-coloured hair around the base, and she wanted to run her fingers through it.
The boxer briefs dropped to the floor, and she surveyed every single part of him. The body he’d been hiding under those god-awful layers was magnificent. Thick, muscl ed, and strong. She would bet he could crush her between his thighs.
“Good boy. Look how perfect you are for me.” The breathiness of her voice belied how turned on she was.
“Do I get a reward?” he asked, looking her up and down.
“Good boys always get rewards. Get on the bed.” She gestured with her chin to the king-size behind him. As much as she loved teasing him, she’d been aching for the feel of him inside her for weeks. Drawing this out just wasn’t going to happen. She could tease him until he came another time.
He climbed on the bed and laid down on his back, cock hard and ready. She took a moment to appreciate his body again and the smile of anticipation on his face. Her man—always smiling. The rainbow to her rain cloud.
She joined him, straddling his legs in the middle of his bed. His cock was deliciously stiff and in her hands for the first time. Even better than it looked in the pictures he sent her because, of course, they’d sent each other dirty pictures.
Gripping him in her palm, she slid up and down with the lightest pressure, working him up. He stared at her, watching her expression. She leaned down and ran her tongue up one side of his dick and down the other, leavi ng a wet trail of saliva behind. Using the moisture, she rubbed him again, this time firmer.
“Fuck, Spencer. I can’t wait any longer,” Brett bit out between gritted teeth.
He was shifting underneath her, a desperate mess. She couldn’t help but toy with him a little longer. “Just a bit more, Professor. I need to savor you.”
She dipped down and licked his tip. Holding up his cock, she swallowed it, bobbing up and down on his shaft like it was the sweetest stick of sugar she’d ever sampled. And, god, it was a good fucking dick. She pushed herself, gagging on his length, and was met with a toe-curling groan from the man underneath her.
Sweeping her curls aside so Brett could watch, she took him to the back of her throat again and again. Spit dripped down his cock, coating it, making it easier for her to glide up and down. It wasn’t long before she found herself grinding against his lower thighs, needy for something more.
Pulling off with a satisfied smack, she asked, “You have a condom, right?”
His hand flailed above his head, feeling for his nightstand. She crawled over him and reached for the silver wrapper herself before settling herself back over his thighs.
“Put it on,” he demanded.
She unwrapped the lubed condom and rolled it down his imp ressive length, stroking and stroking, teasing him even more.
Brett grunted and sat up, wrapping her in his arms. Flipping her underneath him, he ripped at her red underwear and wrenched it down her thighs. She half-heartedly pushed his hands away, playing. Riling him up.
“I don’t think so, Spence,” he growled out, pulling her panties the rest of the way down. “I know you want this as bad as I do.” He took in her naked body. The look in his eyes was greedy. Gluttonous.
His kiss was wild. A deep, open-mouthed kiss that made her moan on his tongue. She responded eagerly, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him in. His cock rubbed against her entrance, and, in that moment, she’d had enough of toying with him too.
“Please, Brett,” she whispered.
Those two words were all it took. Brett drove into her with one powerful thrust. It was everything she knew she needed. He hammered into her like a man gone feral, lost in his desire. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, running down his back, feeling the definition of his muscles, gripping his ass, urging him on.
The connection of their bodies was intoxicating.
“Your pussy feels so good, Spencer. It was made for me.” His lips were on her neck, kissing down her collarbone, nipping at her skin. “God, I want to taste every inch of you.”
She whimpered at his confession, meeting each thrust with a buck of her hips. The friction of his body against her clit was driving her higher, and the sensation of him pounding inside her left her in a heady state.
With a sharp bite to her nipple, she cried out in pleasure. “Do that again.” She spurred him on. He obeyed without hesitation. The sting of his teeth went straight to her pussy.
“Next time I jack off, all I’m going to be thinking about are your tits. In my face, in my mouth. I want to come all over them. Paint you as mine,” he panted, still working inside of her. “But I promised I’d have you sobbing in my sheets when I was done with you.”
The sudden loss of his cock from inside her was devastating when she was so close to falling over the edge. His powerful hands turned her over and yanked her ass into the air. Brett drove back into her from behind, barely missing a beat. Finding his rhythm again, his left hand snaked around her waist and found her clit.
Firecrackers burst behind her eyelids. She was so sensitive, it took almost nothing of his punishing touch to drive her orgasm back to the forefront. His fingers worked deftly, stroking her back and forth while he rocked into her again and again .
Every time she could feel her body tensing up, on the verge of release, he would pull away, edging her until she could fracture.
“Not yet, Spence. Not until your tears are on my pillowcase,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to fuck this pussy for as long as I can. I want my thighs smeared with your arousal. I want you screaming for it. For me,” he taunted, pushing her head back down into the bed.
Spencer loved how it felt. Ass on full display for him, his firm hand holding her down, the other playing with her pussy so beautifully. The edging had worn her down. She needed a release before she combusted underneath him.
“I need it, Brett. I need it,” she called, half muffled against the sheets.
“Need what?”
“To come. Please make me come,” she begged.
“I’m not sure I’m done having my way with you,” he grunted out, fucking into her again and again.
The pressure on her clit increased, and the speed picked up. Like a shock, her body tensed up at his touch, primed to explode. Then he pulled away again.
“Please,” she begged, chest heaving. “Mr. Monroe, please.” Her voice was almost a scream.
“Say it again.”
“Mr. Monroe!” she called to him, writhing back against his body, desperate for him to go deeper, for him to touch her again. A sob escaped her lips. “Brett!”
“There we go, Spence.”
He put his fingers back where she needed them most, touching her like they’d done this a thousand times before. He held her firm as she detonated, body curling in on itself. A scream erupted from her while sparks burst behind her eyelids. Wave after wave of electricity flowed through her, radiating pleasure through every inch of her body. Brett was a revelation—a jolt to her system in the best way possible.
Brett shuddered and collapsed on top of her body. Their sweat mingled as they rested for a moment together on his soft navy sheets. His cock slid out of her and left a notable void when he rolled away. She heard the familiar sound of a condom being removed and tied off.
“I told you I’d have you whimpering in my bed,” he hummed, crawling back into bed after chucking the condom.
“No man has ever had me whimpering in bed,” she sighed. “Or woman, for that matter. So revel in it now because later, I’ll be making you sob in my sheets.”
“Is that a threat?” He ran his hand down her back.
“It’s a promise, Professor.”