Chapter Eleven #3
“Yes,” I breathe, “Professor.” I add the honorific on impulse, a reminder of why we’re here, but it seems to undo something in Everett’s eyes, and a flood of heat spills from them like waves.
“Can I touch you,” Everett says after a second, as though it took effort to keep his tone cool and low, “here?” He gestures at my neck, my chest, the belt of my bathrobe.
“Yes,” I breathe again. “Just tell me what you’re going to do.”
“So you know what’s going to happen?” He brushes a lock of my hair off my forehead. “So you can prepare?”
I blink, but these are questions I don’t need to answer. Somehow, he already understands.
Everett runs his fingers lightly down the curve of my cheek, the hollow behind my ear. “Tonight, we’ll start with the joy of a slow, luxurious, grinding make-out session, Maisie. Is that all right?”
My breath catches as his finger trails down my neck and slides inside my robe’s collar, dragging across the warm, naked flesh there. “Y-yes.”
His own breathing hitches as he gently parts the robe. He stops when he gets to the belt, tucking his hand inside the terry-cloth knot and using it to pull me close.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says softly into my ear, “starting here.” His lips brush against my lobe, the heat of his breath colliding with the wet of his mouth, and I gasp a little.
“Why does it feel so good?” I ask the question surging through my insides aloud, loving that this time as we kiss, I get to do that.
“Scientifically? Probably the thousands of tiny, delicate nerve endings that help you hear receiving a different kind of stimulation,” he whispers without missing a beat, like explaining the basics of kissing to a grown woman is a totally normal way to spend an apocalypse.
His hand rests possessively against my hip, holding us in place as his lips toy with my ear, kissing lightly until the bead of his tongue finds where ear meets neck.
“Personally, I think it’s because this place is so vulnerable. ”
I exhale a ragged breath as his lips pout against my skin, sending chills that ripple over my breasts, hardening my nipples, and end between my legs. His teeth nip at my pulse point.
“What would be dangerous from a predator becomes something else, a different kind of domination,” he murmurs between the lush drags of his lips against my neck. “A sign of want, a call to give yourself up.”
“Oh.” I’m so aroused by the combination of his full lips on my skin and the silky, even baritone of his voice as he explains the desire building in my body, I can barely think. “That makes sense.” And then, because I suspect he likes it, “Professor.”
He groans into my neck, the primal sound at odds with the restrained tone of his voice. “Now I’m going to ease my way up to your mouth, where I’m going to kiss you while I palm your gorgeous breasts through this robe. Is that all right?”
The word yes escapes me in a sigh, and the firm tip of his tongue licks up the column of my throat as if chasing the word itself, leaving a swath of warm wet that transforms into a blaze of electric sensation from the cool air of this cabin.
Everett’s right—I do feel vulnerable, and it does turn me on even as it sets my pulse to racing.
I suck in a breath just as his full lips meet mine.
It feels like cymbals crashing, this kiss I’ve thought about a hundred times in the last two days.
It starts slow and deliberate, with Everett leading the way, our mouths dancing together, then apart, but like a nuclear reaction, it picks up speed, doubling in size and intensity, a chain reaction neither of us seems willing to control.
I blame the feel of his large palm dragging roughly down my breast, the terry cloth between us adding friction, a thousand tiny points of sensation against the hard peak of my nipple.
I collapse onto my back, and Everett breaks our kiss, panting for permission to touch my legs.
“Yes,” I say toward the ceiling, and the word has never felt so good between my lips.
Everett runs his palm down my body before dipping inside my robe and pushing between the soft, yielding flesh of my thighs.
“Open your legs for me, Maisie,” he rasps, and my legs spread wide like a book turned to a new page.
“Can I lie between them?” He’s staring at the pink of my flushed skin as he runs his knuckles down the inside of each leg, then sucks air through his teeth.
“Can I press my hard cock against your soft little cunt?”
“Through our clothes?”
“Yes.” His lips part as he drinks me in, his even tone corroding in real time. “At first.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak right now.
My professor rises to his knees and bends my leg to my chest, his pupils blown wide as he takes in the wet ruin of my panties.
I understand the science of this part, at least. I’ve read all about the mechanics of sex, and after our kiss two nights ago, saw the physical evidence of my arousal for myself.
But this, this is on a whole new level. The ache between my legs seems directly proportionate to the warm, slick feel of my flesh there, it’s just the proportions are completely out of control.
My cheeks burn hot as he stares at me greedily, his face almost pained.
“I want to touch you, Maisie,” he grates out, his professorial tone gone. “I want to make you come so bad.”
“Then touch me,” I gasp. “Do it.”
He looms over me as he positions himself between my legs, his erection large and thick and all for me. He grabs it through the thin cotton of his pants, sliding it against my slick panties until I clench with pleasure, before dropping to his palms on either side of my head.
“Not. Yet,” he urges into my hair, and then he’s back, my professor, as he slowly, slowly grinds his hips between my own.
The hard pillar of his cock slots between my legs, parting me from ass to clit.
The gruff, vertical slide of pleasure is like nothing I’ve ever felt, and I’m no stranger to sex toys.
I always assumed the real thing had to go in to feel good, but the full pressure of him against me is so rich, so maddening, it feels like I might break beneath it.
“Wrap your legs around me, Maisie. Tight as you can.” And when I do as he says, he falls to his elbows, his big hands gently cradling my face as he groans.
“Like this?” I flex my legs around his solid core, bringing him flush against me, trapping him there. Wanting his approval.
His eyes darken, studying me as intently as I’m studying him. The pad of his thumb rubs lazy circles into my cheek until it drags over my bottom lip. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
“Should I suck it?” I ask as he parts my lips. I take his ragged intake of air as approval and wrap my lips around his thumb, pulling lightly, sucking until his eyes roll back in pleasure.
“Jesus, Maisie.” He crashes against me, and I think maybe I could come like this.
The pleasure-pain of his grinding cock, the feel of his round thumb filling my mouth—I definitely have questions about why this is turning me on so much—the sound of his nearly incoherent speech as he struggles to remain composed.
“I never thought,” he murmurs, lips parted, eyes dilated and fixed on my mouth, “I’d do this again. Never—thought,” he groans as I release his thumb, and he rubs the wet skin across my cheekbone, “I’d be ready for this again.”
He dives in for another earth-melting kiss, but his words stutter in my chest.
“But you said you were ready.” I press my palms against his collarbone, halting him over me.
“What?” His eyes, starry and lust-blown, take a second to return to me.
“You told me you were ready for a new relationship in our messages.” I frown at him. “Were you lying?”
Everett’s brow furrows, like he’s weighing how to respond. I increase the pressure on my palms, and he sits back on his haunches, over me. He runs his hands down his face and exhales.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”