CHAPTER SIX – THE PROFESSOR AND HIS NAUGHTY STUDENT #2
He leans in, close enough that I can see the flecks of gray in his beard. “You want me to think you’re special.”
I don’t answer.
He lets the silence throb. “Stand up,” he says, finally.
I stand, legs unsteady, heart galloping.
“Face the blackboard,” he says, indicating the far wall where a small chalkboard has been propped on an easel.
I walk to it, every step an event. I stand in front of it, hands at my sides.
“Pick up the eraser,” he says.
I do. The eraser is heavier than it looks, covered in chalk dust.
“Now bend,” he says, “and wipe the board clean.”
My skirt barely covers my ass as I bend at the waist. I do as told, heart pounding so hard I’m afraid it’ll be audible. I swipe the board slowly, waiting, hoping, terrified and yet full of anticipation of what comes next.
When I look over my shoulder, Talon’s still seated, pen in hand, but his eyes are molten blue.
“You forgot something important,” he says, voice cool but jagged at the edges.
“Sorry, Professor,” I say.
He stands, comes around the desk, and walks up behind me. I can feel the heat from his body, the magnetism of him. His hand comes down on my lower back, not hard, but enough to make me gasp.
He leans in. “Why aren’t you wearing panties, Miss Vreeland?”
I’m so wet I think he can probably smell my sweet nectar. My voice shakes. “I thought it would please you, Professor.”
He laughs, low and savage. “You’re smarter than you let on.”
He steps closer, his hand splaying across my ass, then slipping up the hem of my skirt. His fingers brush my bare flesh, then part my thighs. I almost fall forward, my knees are so weak.
“Are you always this wet in class?” he murmurs, and then he’s down on his knees behind me, hands on my hips, spreading me open. “Holy fuck.”
I bite my lip to keep from making a noise, but the first touch of his tongue on my pussy is so hot, so alive, that I moan despite myself.
“Ohhh,” I whimper as my lashes fall shut. “Mmm, that feels good!”
Talon eats me like it’s his last meal, tongue working me open, hands gripping my thighs hard enough to leave marks.
I want to collapse, but he holds me up, one arm cinched around my waist. My forehead presses to the chalkboard.
I close my eyes and let myself go. There’s nothing but his mouth, his tongue, the growing slickness and the sudden, sharp pleasure as he slides a finger inside me.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he rasps. “Absolutely soaked. You have a hungry pussy, Miss Vreeland, just waiting for a good fuck, don’t you?”
I don’t know how to reply so I just moan again while throwing my head back and wiggling a bit on his fingers.
“Ohhh,” I sigh. “Mmmm!”
He chuckles deep in his chest and then fucks me with his mouth and hand, alternating between deep, slow sucks and quick, fluttering licks to my clit. I’ve never had anyone do this so well, so hungrily. It’s all I can do to stay upright.
“Please,” I say, because I need him to know.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands, pressing his body against mine, the hard line of his cock against the curve of my ass.
He pulls my blouse out of the waistband of the skirt and unbuttons it with practiced ease, exposing my bra.
His hands come around, cupping my breasts through the fabric, then slipping inside to pinch my nipples.
I moan, and he bites the back of my neck.
“I want to taste you everywhere,” he rasps, and he turns me around, lifting me up so I sit on the edge of the desk. He peels off my bra, tossing it to the floor, and then he’s sucking my nipples, hard and greedy, making me arch against him.
“Oh!” I scream. “Yes, yes, yes!”
His hands are everywhere—on my breasts, between my legs, around my throat. He knows exactly how to touch me, how to bring me to the edge and keep me there. He alternates between sucking my tits and eating my pussy, like he can’t decide which he likes more.
“Do you want to pass this class?” he asks, voice muffled against my breast.
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Then listen closely, Miss Vreeland, and do exactly as I say.”
He drops to his knees again, pulls my hips to the edge, and goes to town.
His tongue is relentless, circling my clit, dipping inside, then back again.
His fingers stroke my G-spot with surgical precision.
I’m so close, I can’t breathe. I grab his hair, gripping hard, and ride his mouth like I’m possessed.
“Fuck, Professor, please,” I sob, and then I break—shattering, coming so hard I see black, my whole body shaking. “Fuuuuuck!”
He tongues me through it all, lapping at my quivering folds as my pussy gushes all over his face. But Talon doesn’t care. He sucks my clit, moaning with pleasure, while worshiping at my plush cunt.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “You taste so innocent. Goddamn, sweetheart.”
The mountain man doesn’t stop until I’m limp, legs spread and twitching, skirt bunched at my waist, blouse hanging open. Then, stands, wipes his mouth, and looks at me with blue eyes gleaming.
He scribbles something on his legal pad, then says, “Your extra credit has been accepted.”
I laugh, or maybe cry. I’m not sure.
He buttons my blouse, straightens my skirt, and kisses my forehead.
“Class dismissed,” he says.
I can’t stand on my own, so he lifts me up, holds me until the world stops spinning. His strong arms are safe, solid, and when he finally lets me go, I almost collapse again.
I stagger back to my room, pussy still throbbing, breasts tender, mind completely blown.
If this is what a “roleplay” is, I’ll fail every time.
Dinner is a strange pantomime. I shuffle around the kitchen, chopping carrots and rinsing rice, while Talon sits at the counter, laptop open, glasses perched on his nose.
He reads emails and types notes, completely ignoring me except to offer the occasional “more salt” or “set the oven to 400.” I’m dying to know if he’s as affected as I am, but he gives nothing away.
We eat in silence, the sound of forks and knives impossibly loud in the high-ceilinged room.
Finally, I crack: “Is this how it’s going to be?” I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “All business, no—”
He cuts me off with a look. “You want more?”
I’m not sure what to say. My heart is beating like a hummingbird’s.
He studies me, then softens. “It’s not personal, Kat. It’s research. You did great today. Speaking of which, this is actually work, so I have some questions for you.”
I stare. Is this man serious? But with a flick of his notepad, he’s in full “research” mode.
He sits, legs wide, pen in hand, and gestures for me to take the chair across from him. I do, but I can’t meet his eyes.
He starts: “Did you intend to distract me by not wearing panties?”
I can’t tell if he’s still in character or not, so I answer truthfully: “Yes.” My face is hot. “I thought it would, you know, up the ante a little.”
He writes this down.
“Was it effective?”
My laugh is shaky. “Obviously.”
He taps his pen against the pad, blue eyes so sharp they might draw blood. “And the bending over to show me your gleaming cunt—was that planned?”
I nod, mute.
He jots another note, then glances up. “What were you expecting to happen?”
My hands are in my lap, squeezing hard. “I guess I thought you’d… touch me? Or, like, say something dirty. Or maybe just ignore it. I didn’t think you’d…”
“Suck your pussy until you lost the ability to speak?”
My body jolts at the direct words. “Yeah.”
Talon’s quiet for a moment, looking over his notes. Then: “Did you like it?”
I should be mortified, but instead I’m proud. “I loved it. It was perfect and amazing and so incredible.” I swallow. “I’ve never… no one’s ever…”
He leans back, satisfied. “Good,” he says, and the word echoes in my bones.
He makes a few more notes, then closes the pad and stands. He’s all business now, not a trace of the savage that broke me earlier today.
“I appreciate your effort, and you did well today, Miss Vreeland. I can already tell that our roleplaying is going to be very successful.” Then, he gets up and leaves, like I’m just another employee and not the girl who came all over his face as he moaned with satisfaction.
I watch him leave, stunned at how easily he compartmentalizes. My own brain is soup. My body is still humming, every nerve on fire. I close my eyes and let myself feel it, replaying the scene in my mind, reliving every lick, suck, and bite.
I should feel used, but I don’t. I feel seen. Worshipped. Ruined in a way I never knew I wanted.
I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, legs still trembling from the memory of Talon’s mouth on me. I want to text Simone, but of course, my phone has no service.
Instead, I reach for my journal and write:
Today, I learned there’s no such thing as “just acting.” Even when it’s for money, even when it’s supposed to be transactional, it’s still real. My body can’t tell the difference. Maybe my heart can’t either.
I’m still not sure if he’s using me, or if I’m using him. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
All I know is, I want Talon to do it again.
I want him to make me soar, cry out, and come so hard that I forget my name.
I want to revel in his closeness, and run my hands over his sculpted chest before taking his manhood in my mouth and making him come.
And I want to do it again with him. And again. And again.
I close the journal, hide it under my pillow, and let myself drift into sleep, already hungry for the next roleplay … with the magnificent man who lives here.