Chapter 33
Gray
A knock sounds on my office door the next day, and I look up to find Ash in the threshold. My heart does its usual stutter step to see him.
“You’re back,” I say, surprised. “I didn’t realize your plane was in already.” I look at my phone, but there are no messages from him. “Why didn’t you text when you landed?”
Part of me wants to get up and go to him, to literally jump into his arms and kiss him, but a couple things stop me.
First and foremost is that I’m at work, and I need to stay professional.
Next, but secondarily, is that I’m extremely busy right now.
One of my grad students needs me to review her study proposal, and my winter session class just turned in outlines for their research papers, so I have to give feedback.
Ash’s road trip went well – two wins in three games – so I assume he’s not here out of frustration. I’m not sure whether to take him seriously when he says he’s been using sex with me as his happy memory for stress inoculation, but I’ll let myself think it’s true for now.
I’m nervous about why he didn’t message me before coming to my office, though, and I eye him warily as he enters and closes the door behind him. I swear I hear the lock click, and he turns to face me with the hint of a grin on his face.
“Ash?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
“You don’t have class until 1:15, right?” he says.
“Right,” I confirm, narrowing my eyes. “Why?”
He sits down in the chair on the other side of my desk and leans in.
“I need to talk to you, Professor Mackey,” he says.
I frown. This doesn’t sound good.
“Why are you back to calling me Professor Mackey? Maybe we should talk tonight when you’ve-”
“I know I’m failing your class,” he interrupts, his expression serious, “but I need to pass, or they won’t let me play hockey.”
My frown deepens. “Who won’t let you play hockey? Mr. Kaladin? He knows our meetings aren’t really a class, right?”
He stands and puts his large hands on the desk to lean toward me.
“Maybe I can do some…extra credit,” he says huskily. “I’ll do anything to bring my grade up. Just tell me what I need to do.”
I’m about to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about when it finally hits me that he’s roleplaying.
My eyes widen. “Oh no,” I say, holding up a hand. “We’re not doing this. Not here.”
He begins to walk around the desk toward me.
“Ash, please,” I say as sternly as I can muster given the hungry look in his eye.
He kneels in front of me, and I give him a pleading look. He’s been gone for almost two weeks on a three-game away stretch, and I’ve spent every one of those days imagining what it will be like to have him fuck me again. I figured I might see him tomorrow after he rested, but…
The conversation we had before he left about what I will and won’t allow him to do as my Dom comes back to me. He asked that I let him have complete control of my body, which also gives him permission to fuck me whenever and wherever he wants.
At the time I said yes. The thought excited me. It never occurred to me he’d show up at my office and want to play desperate student/naughty teacher, and I feel every bit of my resolve to stay professional wash away like a sandcastle in the tide.
“Please, Professor Mackey. I’ll do anything.”
I jump as Ash clamps his hands down on my knees. He runs them up, pushing my skirt higher as his thumbs trace the insides of my thighs, and I try not to start panting.
He looks at my laptop sitting on the desk.
“That document looks important,” he says. “You should save it.”
“Ash, Please…,” I try once more, begging him not to shatter my resolve. Not to shatter me.
He only looks at me like he’s been on a diet and I’m a double cheeseburger. I reach over quickly and click save on the document. I barely hit the button when he shuts the laptop with a snap. He stands, picks it up, and places it on the chair he was sitting in before he comes back around the desk.
Ash takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. Then he’s back on one knee as his hands slither up my legs. My nipples pebble into hard peaks as he hooks his hands over my panties and pulls them slowly down my legs. I step out of them automatically, and he shoves them in his pocket.
“I know I’m failing class right now,” he says before I can protest about the panties. “What can I do to make you reconsider my grade?”
His hands snake up my legs again to grip my hips. He pushes my skirt up to bare me to him and plants a kiss just under my navel. The breath wooshes out of me, and I have to grab his shoulders to steady myself. He continues to plant kisses, working his way lower.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he says. “You waxed.”
I’d never done that before, and it hurt so much I’ll never do it again.
Ash kisses the bare skin at the apex of my legs and flicks my clit with his tongue, and I know immediately I’ll do it again. I’ll keep it as smooth as silk down there as long as he keeps doing that.
I look down at him for a long moment. He’s so beautiful, and he wants to play this little game.
I’ve never considered doing anything with a student before.
The undergraduates are all way too young, and even if I did find the occasional grad student attractive, the ethics always kept me well away from crossing any lines.
But this…this is roleplay with a man who isn’t really my student. Not in the traditional sense anyway. I don’t hold his grade in my hand, although he clearly wants to pretend I do.
And he’s my boyfriend now, I remind myself. He assured me we were no longer fake dating but real dating. There’s nothing unethical about this.
“I…I’m not sure there’s anything you can do to bring your grade up at this point, Mr. Gunnarsson,” I find myself saying. “You’ve been slacking off all semester, and saving your grade now would require a lot of hard work.” I emphasize the word "hard" breathily.
Ash’s mouth curls into a grin as he looks up at me.
“I can work hard,” he insists. “Give me a chance to prove it.”
I sit on the desk and slide back, and his eyes flare with desire.
“Fine. I’ll give you a chance,” I say. “Shall we start with an oral exam?”
His eyes flare again, and he growls as he surges forward to hike my skirt up.
He drags my hips to the edge of the desk, and I barely have time to throw a hand back and brace myself before he dives into my pussy.
His lips close around my clit, and I cry out, then clamp a hand over my own mouth as I remember where we are.
I grab his head as his tongue plunges inside me, and I thrust my hips up.
I don’t mean to, and I worry I’m suffocating him, but he only groans and presses his face into me so deep I seriously wonder if he can breathe.
He wraps his muscled arms around my legs and pulls me even closer to him, and I stifle a scream as he sucks hard on my clit again.
I can’t stay still as he licks and sucks and teases between my legs for the next few minutes. I writhe on the desk, trying desperately to remain quiet, but I’m falling apart quickly under Ash’s tongue as he works me.
One hand is still on his head, gripping a fistful of his hair.
My other hand searches desperately for the edge of the desk to give me something to hold onto.
I find it just in time and grip down hard as he pistons two fingers into me and I spasm around him as my orgasm rocks through me.
I fall back, whimpering as I press my lips together to keep quiet.
“Fucking delicious,” I hear him murmur against my pussy.
I’m panting like I just escaped a masked killer when my body finally goes limp. I lift my head, and Ash looks up at me from between my legs.
“Did I pass, teach?” he asks.
I have to take several more breaths before I can answer him.
“I said you’d need to work hard,” I manage. “Do you feel like you worked hard enough yet?”
“I’d say that deserves an A, don’t you?” he says as he stands.
I give him a coy smile. “You’ve brought your grade up to a C,” I say. “The question is whether you’re satisfied with that.”
“Just a C!” he chokes out. “That’s all?”
I rise on my elbows to look up at him. “Did you think this would be easy, Mr. Gunnarsson?” I say sternly. “You’ve only finished one assignment. If you want an A, you need to finish the rest.”
He looks down at me and grins. “And what are the rest?” he asks as he leans over me, bracing his hands on either side of my hips.
“Well, you’ve learned all the theory. The real test is the practical application. Can you take what you know and apply it?”
He considers me before his face goes serious, and he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket to fish a condom out. He slaps the wallet down on the desk and lays the condom next to it.
Does he carry any money in that wallet, or is it only for prophylactics?
Ash yanks his hoodie and t-shirt up over his head, and I’m treated to that luscious expanse of his muscled chest and the tattoo over his left shoulder and down his arm. I instantly go wet again.
He undoes his belt next and whips it out of his jeans. I give a little yelp of surprise as he loops it around my neck and pulls it tight, not enough to cut off my air, but just enough that I feel the pressure on my throat. The muscles tighten between my legs.
“So you want to know what I’ve learned so far,” he says, his voice a deep gravel. “I’ll show you what I’ve learned.”
Keeping hold of the belt, he undoes the fly of his jeans with one hand. He pushes the jeans and his boxer briefs down just low enough to let his cock spring free, and I bite my lip.
“I’ve learned you’re a strong, capable woman who – outside of sex – exudes confidence and doesn’t take crap,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve needed that to succeed as a woman in academia, particularly in a field like sport communication, and I respect the hell out of you for that.”