31. 31
31
Dexter
W hen I finally get to Tilly’s apartment on Monday night, my cock is hard with anticipation.
I made it through a weekend without touching her, but I can’t wait another minute to lay hands on her.
My mouth on her.
“Four days,” I tell her as I strip off my shirt. Tilly lies on the bed, already naked. She met me at the door in a pretty dress, but I told her she didn’t need to bother because I was planning on getting her naked as soon as possible.
I did take the time to compliment her on the matching undergarments before they went flying across the room.
“What’s four days?” I like how Tilly has to drag her gaze away from my body. I like to keep in shape but it’s nothing like some guys. I’m glad she appreciates it.
The way my abs hold her attention makes me want to drop and do crunches.
“It’s been four days since I’ve made you come,” I tell her, starting on my jeans… taking them off slowly to tease her. “I need to make you come four times. At least.”
“What?” Her brow furrows. “Friday morning, we… you… several times,” she admits with pink cheeks. “And today is Monday, and I thought you would—”
“What exactly did you think I’d do?” I step out of my jeans, standing at the end of the bed with my cock hard and pressed against my boxer briefs. Tilly bites her lip as she stares.
“I don’t know,” she whispers without taking her eyes off my lower body.
“Did you think I’d lick your pussy until you screamed my name, begging me not to stop. To never stop? Is that what you think I’ll do?” Tilly catches her breath but doesn’t answer. “Or is that what you want me to do?”
“Yes.” It’s more of a breath than a word, and her eyes are already heavy with lust.
She’s beautiful when she’s arousal. When she’s ready for me to fuck. She looks amazing when she comes as well, but now, this—when she’s waiting for it, when she’s waiting for me—is what I’ve been thinking about all weekend.
“Good. Because I want it too.” I lay down beside her. “Up you get.”
It takes a little convincing to get Tilly to straddle my shoulders, but eventually, she’s up for it, grasping the headboard like I instruct.
And then I’m lost in her scent, the soft skin of her creamy thighs, her taste.
The first time I went down on a woman was when I was seventeen, and it was the best thing ever. Not only did it guarantee she would come—which I discovered was important, regardless of those too shy to tell me what they wanted—but it made women happy .
I like making women happy. I like making women come.
I like making Tilly come, and I especially like that she’s able to come so quickly, because then I can do it more often.
It’s hard to hear Tilly’s soft moans and whimpers from this position, but I can already read her body like a bestseller. Her hips rock uncontrollably when she’s close, whether it’s against my hand, my hips, or my mouth.
And her entire body stills just before she comes, like she’s flash-frozen with an expression of anguish on her face—that split second before orgasm when everything is tense, like a live wire stretched to the breaking point.
I know the moment she’s about to come, and I love pushing her over the edge.
Tonight, Tilly climaxes with a loud cry, rocking back and forward on my face like she can’t get enough. She’s still trembling when I pull her down and set her astride my cock.
I’d give her another, but it’s been a long weekend and Tilly’s hip thrusts and her cries of pleasure echo in the room, makes me desperate to get inside her.
I make her come with my fingers before I roll her over and onto her knees so I can fuck her from behind. Tilly grips the headboard as the bed hits the wall with a rhythmic thud .
I’m spent too quickly to make her come again. “Still two to go,” I tell her as she cuddles against me. “Just give me a bit of time and we can try it again.”
Tilly laughs breathlessly, but I notice she doesn’t argue. Nor does she protest when, after a suitable rest period, I settle myself between her legs again to tease her with my tongue until she’s begging for more.
My cock is rock hard when I slide into her again.
It’s unbelievable how it keeps getting better and better with Tilly.
The next morning, I wake up first and watch Tilly sleep.
It’s not as creepy as it sounds.
I like to look at her without her realizing it because she gets self-conscious when she catches me staring. I like to look at her. Each time I study her, I find something new.
This morning, I notice her eyebrows are darker than her blonde hair. And she has a birthmark on her jaw. And the diamond studs she wears are big, but not too big.
I wonder if Carlos gave them to her.
Tilly hasn’t said much about her divorce and even less about her marriage. Two years since her divorce seems like a long time not to date, but it could be that Tilly was dealing with the fallout. It could be that it took her two years to get over him.
Will it take me two years to get over here?
My stomach gives a squeeze when I think about this being over. It’s been less than a month and already Tilly fits into my life as easily as she started out there. I can’t imagine not being able to hold her in my arms.
Am I falling for her already?
It took meeting Elena for coffee one time and I knew I wanted to be a part of her life. I saw Tilly in a bar looking bored with another man and followed her to the washroom.
I make up my mind quickly with women.
But Tilly—it’s not as cut and dried. There are some pretty big obstacles in our way.
She’s divorced and has children. Her age—not that it’s a concern of mine, but I get the sense Tilly is hung up on the fact she’s older than I am.
I personally think it’s sexy that she’s in her forties. I’ve never gone for older women before and now I wonder why not.
And then there’s the fact I’m her professor. With two strikes on my record. If anyone at the university found out about this, I’d be fired for sure.
Tilly stirs and I watch as her eyes flicker open. She smiles as soon as she sees me. “Hi,” she says sleepily.
“Hi yourself.” I forget about obstacles and rules and morals and focus on Tilly.
She closes her eyes again and stretches. “Everything hurts,” she groans. “Why does everything hurt when I feel so good?”
I lean closer. “Where does it hurt? Maybe I can kiss it better.”
Tilly opens her eyes with a shy smile. “I think that’s part of the problem.”
“Was it? Was my kissing—” I press my lips against her mouth, feeling her smile widen. I run my tongue along the slit. “—a problem for you?”
“Not a problem at all.”
“I just wanted to make sure. But I could help make things better,” I offer.
Tilly rolls onto her side and straight into my arms, nestling her head on my chest. “You already make things better,” she says, her voice muffled.
“I’m really glad you went on that date,” I tell her, my arms tightening around her. “Although I would have checked you out anyway if I had seen in class.”
She chuckles. “Do you often check out girls in your classes?”
My heart stutters like it missed a gear. Dammit. “Only the sexy older ones,” I say lightly, kicking myself. Tilly is being open and honest with me and I hate that I’m not.
I’m just afraid she’s going to tell me to leave and not come back.
But would that be a bad thing?
Tilly pulls away. “Dexter?” It’s like she can read me, knows I’m keeping something from her.
How can she know? I press my lips against hers instead of answering, deepening the kiss and rolling her onto her back until we’re both out of breath. “I like you, Tilly Estes,” I tell her, pushing hair out of her face.
“I like you too, Professor Maclean.”