Chapter 6 #2
When I finally wake, the sun is already up, burning white through the cheap blinds and striping my bed with bands of light. I’m halfway through a fantasy of Liam in a three-piece suit, bending me over his desk and fucking me so hard the books fall off the shelves, when Andie pops her head in.
She’s already dressed and freshly showered, her hair in a high pony and her mascara surgical. She’s on the phone, probably with her mother, but when she sees me awake she snaps the phone shut and grins. “You live!”
I grunt, burying my face in the pillow. “I barely survived.”
She laughs, plops onto her bed, and then starts lacing her sneakers, her fingers flying with muscle memory. “Me and Pamela are going to Creamery on 8th. You in?” She pauses, then smirks. “You never say no to ice cream for breakfast. It’s your thing.”
I stretch, making a show of yawning. The truth is my mouth tastes like sleep and memory and something sweeter, and I have zero appetite for anything but more of last night.
“Hard pass,” I say. “I want to shower and maybe do some real work for once.”
Andie stops dead, one shoe dangling from her fingers. “Wow. You really are sick. Or in love. Or dying.”
I pull my comforter up, hiding the stickiness in my pajama pants. “Just tired. It was a long day yesterday.”
She studies me, her gaze narrowing the way it does when she’s about to go full therapist. “You never turn down Creamery. Are you sure you’re okay? You look…” She squints. “Different.”
I shrug. “That’s because I am different. I had a life-changing experience yesterday.”
Andie’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” She says it as a joke, but her face gets serious real quick.
I roll my eyes. “Oh my god, Andie. Relax. It’s not that. I just…” I bite my tongue, the words itching in my mouth. “You’re not going to believe me, so I don’t even know why I’m telling you.”
Andie sits on the edge of her bed, leans in, elbows on knees. “You can tell me anything. Unless you killed a guy, in which case, please let me know so I can call in a favor.”
I take a deep breath, then exhale. “The office hours were more than just studying.”
Andie’s eyes go wide.
“Sex?”
I shake my head, and then nod slowly.
“Sort of, yes. I sucked off Professor Thomas yesterday, and it was amazing, Andie. I loved it one hundred percent.”
The words hang in the air, dense and sticky, like the humidity after a summer storm.
Andie blinks once, then twice, then lets out a little gasp. “Really?”
“You heard me.”
She claps a hand over her mouth, then drops it, eyes wide as the full moon. “Holy shit. Oh my god. You did not.” She shakes her head, like maybe the truth will fall out her ears. “You gave a BJ to Liam Thomas? As in, your professor? The one with the bright blue stare and the poetry books?”
“Yes,” I say, and it’s kind of a relief to just let it sit there, messy and alive. It’s good to let out my secret, and I feel lighter already.
She opens her mouth, then closes it, then tries again. “What was it like?”
I bite my lip. “It was amazing. He’s huge. Like, it didn’t even feel real and I could hardly get him into my mouth. I kind of loved it, and he was rough too. He was grabbing my hair and sucking my tits, and then he licked my pussy for me too.”
Andie is silent for a second, staring at the floor like maybe it’ll provide answers. Then she looks up, all her motherly concern summoned in a single blue-eyed stare. “Simone. You know I love you. That’s, like, not just wild, it’s honestly dangerous.”
I shrug. “I know the rules. I just—” I run my hand through my hair, and it snags on a knot, a leftover from yesterday’s manhandling. “I couldn’t help it. He needed me. And I needed him.”
Andie leans back, hugging her knees. “I can’t believe you actually did it. I mean, I’ve been joking all semester, but I didn’t think you’d actually—”
“You’ve been egging me on for weeks,” I cut in. “Every time we talk about him, you’re like, ‘I bet he has a huge cock,’ or, ‘I bet he could destroy you.’ I just proved you right.”
My pretty friend gives a half-laugh, then her mouth goes tight. “But I was kidding, Simone. I didn’t want you to actually get involved with a professor. That’s a recipe for disaster. People get expelled over this shit.”
I roll my eyes. “Nobody’s getting expelled. We were careful and no one even knows what I did, other than you.”
Andie’s voice is low, serious. “Are you sure? Because I’ve heard stories. You remember Becca? She got kicked out for less. There was a whole Title IX thing, and now she’s in community college.”
I frown. “Becca was sleeping with three different guys and one of them was married. That’s not the same. Besides, she was expelled for cheating, not sleeping around.”
Andie throws her hands up. “I’m just saying, there’s a reason people tell you not to fuck your professors.”
“We didn’t fuck,” I say, then instantly regret the overshare. “I mean, not all the way. Not yet.”
Andie’s jaw drops. “Oh my god, you want to.”
I stare at the ceiling, the heat creeping up my neck. “Yeah. I really, really do. He’s insanely hot, girlfriend, and he knows how to handle a woman’s curves. It was an incredible experience.”
For a moment my buddy just watches me, her expression equal parts awe and horror. Then she shakes her head, a sad smile flickering at the corners. “You’re going to do what you want, aren’t you?”
I smile, just a little. “You know me.”
She shakes her head again, but her tone is soft. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. Like, really careful. This could blow up in your face.”
I nod. “I will. I promise.”
She stands, wipes her palms on her shorts, and gives me one last look. “You sure you don’t want ice cream? You might need the calories.”
I laugh, for real this time. “I’m sure.”
She grabs her purse, opens the door, and pauses on the way out. “If you need to talk, or if you need an alibi, I’ve got you.”
“Thanks, Andie,” I say. “Have fun.”
When the door shuts, I collapse back onto my bed, the adrenaline rush draining out of me, leaving a weird kind of euphoria behind.
I pick up my diary, flip to a new page, and start writing.
“Day two. Told Andie. She’s not mad, just worried. I get it, but I don’t care. I want more. I want everything.”
I tap the pen against my lips, thinking of Liam, the feel of his hands, the taste of his skin.
I want to see him again.
I want to make him lose control.
Even if it destroys me.
Later that night, I lie in bed again as the room folds in on itself, silent as an empty chapel.
The overhead fluorescents are too harsh, so I switch them off and let the night have the place.
The only light is the moon, sneaking in through the blinds and striping the walls with blue-white bars.
I have no idea where Andie is, but I’m sure she’ll be back at some point .
In the meantime, I lie on my back, blanket pulled up to my chin, and try to count the seconds until sleep claims me.
The clock on my phone says 9:27. I know I won’t sleep until two, maybe three, but I close my eyes and try anyway.
It’s pointless. Every time I start to drift, I see Liam’s face: the way he looked at me when he came, eyes focused and then losing focus, like maybe he’d never felt anything that good in his life.
I see the exact shade of purple in the tip of his cock, the line of his jaw flexing as he tried not to moan too loud.
I see my own reflection, kneeling naked at his feet, mouth stretched, blonde hair wild, spit everywhere.
My heart won’t slow down.
I shift under the covers, body electric.
My nipples are hard as glass under the old cotton tee, and every movement makes them scrape the fabric.
My thighs are slick, the flannel of my pajama bottoms sticky where my pussy is leaking.
I want to pretend this is normal, but there’s nothing normal about it.
I try rolling over, but the friction makes everything worse.
I press my knees together, like maybe I can smother the heat, but that just makes it sharper.
I run my tongue over my lips, hunting for the ghost of his taste, and the memory comes back in full-color: the weight of his thick shaft on my tongue, the salty jolt, the way he groaned my name when he came.
My hand slides down, slow, and I pause. I listen to the quad outside. Somewhere, a car alarm chirps, a door slams. I wait for the world to catch me, but nothing does. So I slide my fingers under the waistband, feel the down of pubic hair, the moist heat below.
I touch myself, light at first, the way you test the temperature of bath water. My clit is swollen and jumpy, already too sensitive, and the first brush makes my whole body arch off the bed. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound.
I start slow, circles and glances, never quite touching where it matters, drawing it out.
I close my eyes and see Liam standing above me, shirt half-off, belt still on, the veins in his forearms pulsing as he fists my hair and pulls me deeper onto his cock.
I want that. I want him to use me, to turn off the professor and turn on the animal.
I want to be the girl he can’t resist, the one who ruins him.
I push my pajama bottoms down to my knees and spread my legs.
The air is cold on my pussy, and I can feel how wet I am, how ready.
I rub harder, not delicate anymore, and my hips start to rock in time.
I imagine his voice, the way he growled when I licked the tip, the way he called me a good girl when I swallowed it all.
I lick my own palm, gather spit, and with my other hand slide it down between my legs, wetting my fingers even more. I want it messy. I want it filthy. I want to be the kind of girl who writes her own rules.
I run my fingers over my clit, then slip two inside my heated cunt, the stretch making me gasp. I pump slow, then fast, picturing Liam behind me, pinning me to his desk, fucking me hard enough to bruise. I want him to fill me up, to breed me, to make me his.
I lick my palm again, then gather it on my fingers, and smear it all over my pussy, working it in. I imagine my saliva is his come, hot and thick and meant for me, and the thought makes me clench, my whole body bowing off the mattress.
“Oh Liam,” I moan as my lashes drift shut. “Yes, use my body. Trash my pussy to make yourself feel good. It’s all yours.”
I rub faster, my thumb circling my clit, the fingers inside me twisting and curling, hunting for that spot. The sheets bunch under my ass, the air in the room is cold but my skin is burning. I want to come so bad it hurts.
“Liam,” I pant. “Suck my tits. Put your big cock in… mmmm, just like that.”
I press down, harder, rougher. My teeth sink into my lip, the taste of iron blooming behind my tongue. I moan, soft at first, then louder. I don’t care if the neighbors hear. I want them to.
The orgasm builds, thick and wild, and I hold onto it as long as I can, hips grinding, toes curled, every muscle tight and perfect. When it hits, it slams through me, a white-hot shock that makes me see stars. I clamp a hand over my mouth and scream into it, riding the wave until it flattens me.
“Mmmph!” is my wild moan as my pussy clamps and spasms, hot gusts of nectar dripping down my thighs. “Mmmmm!”
I twist and moan, shivers running through my sweetest spot as I see the huge man before me, his face coated in my juices as he ejaculates as well, filling me with thick, virile male cream.
Afterwards, I lie there, ruined, the sheets a disaster, the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat. My heart is a runaway train, but for the first time all night, my head is clear.
I pull my pajama bottoms back up, sticky and cold now, and close my eyes. I can still feel Liam inside me, in my mouth, in my blood. I want more, but for tonight, this is enough.
I drift off, hand between my thighs, dreaming of the next time he calls me to his office, the next time he lets me kneel for him.
I sleep, finally, and the moon keeps watch.