Chapter 7 #2
Good morning, Rose! I hope you slept well. And that you dreamed of me. Meet me at the stables at noon. Dress warmly. No books today.
My message is purposefully vague because I have a surprise for her. A surprise I’m hoping she’ll enjoy. I hit “Send,” knowing I’m crossing a line. And yet, I can’t stop. I want her in my world, away from Wolfswood’s prying eyes.
Are we going riding? Horses, I mean…
She replies instantly, joking and flirting with me.
Do you know how to ride, Rose?
I flirt back.
No, but I was hoping you could teach me, Professor.
Grinning from ear to ear, I hit send again.
Then meet me at the stables. And I will show you everything you need to know.
At noon, I wait by the stables. November is a romantic month.
It invites cold kisses on warm lips and tight hugs against the frost. The scents of hay and horses are in the air.
Their leather harnesses are decorated with gold clasps and smell like an aged perfume. Even the horses are rich in this world.
Rose walks up to me, wrapped in a wool coat. She has a navy scarf with the Wolfswood crest wrapped loosely around her neck, and her hair is tied in a ponytail. I can see that she looks confused but curious, which is a good sign.
“Professor Thorn,” she says, and her breath sends little clouds in the cold. “What’s this about?”
She is pretending to be formal, and I know why. There are a few farmhands roaming about the stables, looking after the horses. She doesn’t want to risk being too informal with me.
“Trust me,” I reply and guide her to my vintage black Jaguar.
I open the passenger door and help her climb in. As I do so, my hand brushes her arm, and she looks up at me, trying not to seem too eager.
Rose smiles sweetly and settles in. The luxurious interior of the Jaguar matches her perfectly, like she was meant to ride in it all along.
“It’s funny. You think that you don’t fit into this world, and yet, here you are. You look as if you were made for a passenger seat in vintage cars.”
“I love how much you believe in me,” she replies, and takes me by surprise with her remark.
Whatever this thing between us might be, it cannot be just about sex. It is so much more than that.
I drive us an hour from campus. The road winds through snow-dusted forests, and we enjoy the scenery until we reach my private lake house. It’s a small, elegant structure of stone and glass, nestled by a glassy, still lake. There is snow on the branches of the pines, and the silence is absolute.
“The forest is so quiet,” she remarks, as she takes in the surroundings.
“There is a certain magic about an expanse of trees covered in snow, I agree.”
“I can almost hear the twigs snapping with cold in the distance. It’s so mesmerizing!”
“I’m so happy you like it, Rose!”
I unlock the front door and lead her into the house. The air is warm, and the intoxicating smell of the forest in winter has made its way inside as well.
“This is one of my properties,” I tell her.
She looks around, analyzing the refined space—wooden beams, a stone fireplace, and windows framing the lake. “You’re the first I’ve brought here.”
“Why me?”
“Because I wanted to see you here. In my world.”
“I am already in your world, Professor. Wolfswood is your world, isn’t it? You just wanted to lure me even deeper, like the wolf in the woods, enticing the girl into forbidden pleasure and sin.”
“God, I love how your mind works, Rose! You’re incredible…”
I lean in and bite her bottom lip, making her squirm. She reaches out to kiss me, but I pull back a little, teasing her.
“Be careful, Rose. The wolf eats the girl in the story.”
“I know that. But first, they climb into bed together. The wolf and Little Red Riding Hood. I’ve always loved that part of the story…”
“Perhaps you’ve always loved the wolf,” I reply and deposit a kiss on her lips, leaving her trembling.
“I think I’ve always dreamed of the wolf loving me. Inviting me into his bed,” she replies smartly.
We continue to share banter as I unpack the few things I brought over. We have food, packs of tea, champagne, and an old camera, ready to snap pictures of the gorgeous surroundings.
She fumbles with it as I make the tea, taking pictures of me.
“I should be taking pictures of you, Rose. You’re the beautiful one here.”
She giggles.
“Please… Do you have any idea of what you look like? All the girls at the Institute are mad over you!”
I pour hot water into the mugs and over the tea satchels. The fragrance of black tea, creamy and smooth, fills my nostrils with a scent of caramel and vanilla.
“Does that make you jealous, Rose?” I ask as I hand her a cup of tea and invite her to sit down.
“It makes me… Well, that’s a secret!” She toys with her words, teasing me.
We settle by the fire, wrapped in thick blankets, with mugs of steaming tea in our hands.
“Alright,” I laugh. “If you won’t tell me that, then tell me about you. You say that all the girls are mad about me, but I’m sure all the boys feel the same way about you. Should I be worried, Rose?”
There is so much tension between us, tension that’s been building since our first meeting. She understands what I mean with my question, and hesitates for a moment.
But then, instead of answering, she sets her mug down and rises to her knees.
I watch as she undoes the buttons of her sweater and casually takes it off.
She throws it on the floor next to us, like it’s nothing.
Her silk bra is almost nonexistent, just a scrape of lace that barely covers her nipples.
The small triangles are sewn together with a gold thread that loops around her shoulders and her back.
Her breasts, full and generous, spill out freely, only the hard nipples still contained by the lace.
My cock wakes up at the sight.
“Shall I continue, Professor?” she asks me. “You’re the one in the lead.”
Her comment makes me feel like a god.
“Yes. Take off your jeans.”
She obeys and stands, removing her jeans swiftly.
Her underwear matches the bra. Nothing but a tiny scrap of lace that sits just on top of her clit, leaving everything else exposed.
I can feel my head growing heavier as I notice that the lace of her underwear is held together by a string of white pearls.
They dip into her pussy, lost between the wet lips.
She shifts from leg to leg, and forces the string of pearls to rub her pussy. Breathless, I realize that she’s pleasuring herself right in front of me.
“Turn around.”
She obeys again, and I can see a string of pearls in between her ass cheeks as well, a little perfect accessorie.
“Come here. Lie down.”
I can’t hold back. I lean in and find her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. No more waiting, no more games. I’m just a man losing himself in her.
“I want to make you feel good,” I say, and she nods.
As she’s lying down, I reach between her legs and grab the string of pearls with my fingers. I yank it once and it comes undone, lace and all, leaving her pussy exposed to me and my mouth.
“Open your legs wider! Yes, very good…”
I reach in and spread her pussy lips with my tongue. I can see her clit, pink and swollen, practically begging me to suck it. I swallow and try to restrain myself even though all I want to do is take her pussy into my mouth and drink away.
To continue teasing her, I pull away and reach for the mug of tea. She sits there, not knowing what to do, while I sip the tea, looking at her.
“Spread your pussy lips with your fingers.”
“Mmm…”
“Good. Show me your pussy. Show me how much your pussy wants me.”
She dips her fingers into her pussy and moves them in and out a few times, fucking herself. She then pulls them out, covered in her white cream.
I lean in closer and offer her my cup of tea.
“I could use some cream in my tea. Isn’t that how the English drink it?”
She smiles and dips her fingers into my tea, swirling them around, flavoring my tea with her pussy.
I drink it all, my eyes on hers, and I can see how excited she’s becoming. There is more white cream dripping from her pussy now. The sight of me drinking her essence is driving her wild, and I know it.
“Keep your pussy spread open for me.”
She obeys and spreads her pussy lips with her fingers. I get up and refill my cup with hot tea. I also fill a glass with cold water and bring them both to her side. She’s watching me now, with her pussy wide open, rocking her hips gently. No doubt, she is waiting for more pleasure.
I press my warm lips to her clit, and drip hot tea from my mouth to it.
She moans loudly, and forces her pussy even wider.
I tease her with my tongue, and circle her swollen clit.
All I can taste is her wetness, and it’s sweet and intoxicating.
I pull back and dip my fingers in cold water, then trace her clit again.
The chill makes her shudder, and her pussy clenches with need.
My cock is throbbing, straining against my pants.
I alternate—hot tea from my mouth, then cold water—each shift drawing screams from her.
Expertly, I work her clit with my mouth and suck it gently.
Then I press my cold fingers against her, her wetness coating my hand.
Her pussy pulses, slick and ready, and I’m desperate to fuck her now. But I focus on her pleasure. I have to.
She writhes, and I can feel her climax building. I suck her clit harder, my warm tongue contrasting the cold water I drizzle from my fingers. Only a second later, she shatters, her orgasm crashing through her, her pussy is soaking my mouth as she cries out.
“Yes! That’s it! Cum on my tongue, Rose!” I order her, drinking it all in.
I pull back, even though my cock is aching, and my body is screaming to take her fully. But I hold back, because I know the risk. This is the forbidden line, and we’ve already crossed it.
She opens her eyes a little and keeps her pussy open with her fingers. They are slick with her oil and hot from the tea, a sight more beautiful than anything else.
“Please…” I can hear her beg, and the sound of her voice pleading with me makes me almost lose touch with reality. “Please… Professor, please…”
I lean down and kiss her pussy deeply, taking it into my mouth again.
“Not yet, sweet pussy. Not yet.”