Chapter Fourteen #3
“No,” I correct, my voice deepening as I gently nudge her knees apart to stand between them. “It’s because you’re an amazing student. And I can’t wait to taste you.”
Her breath catches, and I feel it in the swelling of my cock, more punctual for this class than I ever managed to be for my eight a.m. seminars. Maisie’s chest rises and falls quickly, the peach flush to her cheeks traveling all the way down the neck I worshipped last night.
“Are you ready to begin?”
She nods shakily. I take a second to appreciate the shine of her moon-colored hair in this dim theater, her beautiful face its own source of light.
She sits before me, the wet knot of her mouth so close to the head of my cock, it sends a shiver of recognition through my body.
My Maisie fantasy at the campfire before it was rudely interrupted by Death Ranger Phil.
On reflex, I whip around, but we’re still alone. The theater doors are locked from within. We are safe. Chicken’s purring three seats away, minding her own business. I turn back and start to slowly lower myself to the floor.
“Wait,” Maisie says, catching my arm. “Can I—see it? Now?”
A flush floods my skin, heating my neck, jaw, and face. But the idea of Maisie turning those pretty blue eyes on the bare skin of my cock makes my muscles tighten even more, every inch of me pumped, filled, loaded with want.
“You can have anything you want, Maisie.”
I pull the worn gray T-shirt over my head first, pausing when her small hands appear in front of me.
“So I can touch you?” Her eyes track across the hair on my chest, down my stomach. “I want to touch you,” she says softly.
I nod, humming in approval as her palms slide down the planes of my stomach, feeling the downy hair there.
She slips beneath my waistband, her hands traveling around to the curve of my ass.
She pauses, her breathing shallow, as though convincing herself she has permission for this, too, before running them down.
She’s so close to me now, her warm breath heats the air between us, turning it humid, the skin of my lower belly prickling in response.
Her collarbone grazes the front of my sleep pants, and I groan, nearly maddened by her slow exploration of my body.
“Can I touch you, too?” I ask, raspy, pleading, but unable to care. My hands flex impatiently at my sides.
“If you want to,” she says, the small words traveling across my skin like an uncertain breeze. I dig my fingers into her short, silky hair, pulling lightly at the roots, and she gasps in pleasure as I tilt her face up to mine.
“Jesus, Maisie.” Staring up at me, skin flushed, her face cradled by my large hands…
I’ve never seen anything so erotic in my life.
“I want to touch you, I want to taste you, I want to push you open and fill every pretty part of you.” I drag my thumb across her lips, an echo of last night’s lesson, but I’m unable to stop myself.
“But more than anything, I want to make you come. Can I make you come tonight, Maisie?”
She releases a shuddering breath. “Please.”
And just like that, I know that one little word, please, whispered through her full lips, will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I’ll hear it every time I touch myself, feel it against my stomach every time I come.
Maisie tugs my pants down, and my knees weaken, the give and take of our energy leaving me struggling to keep up.
She stares at the long, hard length of me, drags one silky fingertip down the shaft, sucking in a breath of surprise when the muscles jump beneath her touch.
“Show me how you touch yourself,” she orders. “Show me what you like.”
“But I—”
“It’s what I want to learn right now, Professor,” she cuts me off, her eyes traveling up to mine. “Because it turns me on.”
My lips press together, barely keeping the keening noise building in my throat under control.
My right hand releases her hair, while my left one tightens its grip there.
The first brush of my fingers against my cock sends a wave of sensation radiating up my spine, down my legs, coiling in my testicles.
Holding her face there while I stroke myself in front of her, presenting my animal need for her inspection, is almost too much for my out-of-practice endurance.
With great difficulty, I keep my voice even and low, trying to summon the informative tone from yesterday.
“It’s good to start slow, a light, loose grip around the shaft, curving upward, over the head, where it’s most—sensitive. ”
I release myself, and we both breathe heavily as she curls her fingers around my cock, tightening. “Like this?”
“Yes, but looser—if it’s not…wet, it needs to be looser.”
With her eyes trained on mine, she pulls me to her mouth and licks a path up my dick.
I groan aloud this time, I can’t help it, digging my fingers into her scalp as her tongue trawls back down, her hand tightening around me once again.
The stroke is liquid and damning and utterly unreal.
Then, without warning, her pout presses against the crown of my cock, then slowly opens, her lips stretching hot and wet around me.
I grip the other side of her head, pumping once into her mouth and nearly buckling beneath the pleasure of it all.
“Maisie, my god, I can’t—I don’t think—”
She releases me, the wet head of my cock pressing softly into the side of her mouth. “Did I do something wrong?”
“God, no, I’m just—I’ll come if you keep doing that.” My hips inch forward, just a hair, and I whimper as my cock notches against her lips again. “I’m sorry, I’m about to lose my goddamn mind.”
The mischievous smile she wore as we broke into exhibits and play-battled with antique weapons appears on her face, sending a wave of heady pleasure through my body all on its own.
“Isn’t that”—she brushes the wet rim of her bottom lip against the head of my cock, watching intently how I like it—“the whole damn point? Now, come in my mouth, Professor. I want to taste you.”
And just like that, Maisie’s taken control.
I cry out as I push into the hot, wet aperture of her lips, the grip of her hand around my shaft goading me into her, until I do exactly as she says, coming hard, emptying myself down her throat.
When I gasp in release, she moans around my cock, too, and this time, I let my knees buckle, falling before her onto the cushion on the floor.
Before she can say anything, I clasp her face in my hands once again, kissing her deeply, the fire she started burning me up from the inside, beginning in my belly and engulfing my whole chest. I moan against her mouth, pressing hot kisses to her skin, her jaw, her neck, murmuring her name over and over again, unable to stop. Maisie, Maisie, Maisie.
The fire’s claimed her, as well. The rake of her nails against my scalp, down my bare shoulders, against the moving architecture of my back, she’s panting my name now, too, along with whimpered fragments of other words I can’t parse out.
“Can I take your clothes off?” I ask into her neck.
“Can I make you come now?” I wait, unable to breathe until I hear that little word again, please.
When she says it, I groan, pulling off Maisie’s shirt and pants, tugging her by the hips toward where I kneel before her.
Her bra unclasps easily, freeing her small, perfect breasts to graze against my own bare chest. I bury my face against them, sucking a whole nipple into my mouth, pulling hard until her eyes flutter back.
Her moan reverberates into my face, and I consume every ounce of it greedily, knowing now just how much I want it, and also, how little I’ll ever have of it.
But I refuse to let myself think of how temporary this all is, losing myself instead in the shower-soft skin of her stomach, where I press open kisses and small, sharp bites.
Each one is orchestrated to drive Maisie as wild as she’s made me.
I trail my way down to where her legs gape open, waiting for me.
I press the bridge of my nose against her soaked panties, breathing her deeply in, pushing my warm rush of breath through the cotton into her.
“Do you like this?” she whispers.
My fingertips drag down the side seams of her underwear, tracing where fabric meets hot, damp flesh, then wriggling beneath. A sharp intake of breath escapes her as my exploring fingers are enveloped in soft, silky wet, and I yank the panties to the side.
“No,” I say, peering up at her pleasure-dazed face before taking a long, luxurious lick from cunt to clit. “I fucking love this.”
It’s her turn to grip me by the hair, and I speak into her shivering body.
“I’m going to slide my fingers up and down this slippery pussy you’ve made for me, Maisie, pushing them inside of you until the stretch of it makes you whimper.
I’m going to drink from this cunt, eating you out until you beg for more.
” I yank down her panties the rest of the way, then part her even wider as I shoulder between her shaking thighs.
“Then what,” she asks, her voice breathy and strained and needful, starry eyes fixed on my own.
I lift one of her legs onto my shoulder, tilting her pussy so that I can access every slick inch of her. “Then you’re going to come for me,” I explain calmly, pausing to roll the tip of my tongue against the hard knot of her clit, already so swollen. “Aren’t you, baby?”
She cries out before squeezing her thighs around my head.
“Yes, Professor.”