17. Pretty Good Service #2
“You have a safe word.” Her gold eyes burn holes straight through my soul. “Use it, Daddy. Make me.”
It’s over.
I grab at the silk tie wrapped around my throat, dragging the knot loose and tugging it off in a single violent motion, practically choking myself in the process.
My hands are rough and everywhere, all sense burned off.
I twist her wrists behind her back, pinning them with one hand; with the other, I wrap the tie, fast, tight, binding her wrists until she’s at my mercy.
The sight of her arms caught behind her, chest heaving, cheeks flushed wild pink—I want to fucking kneel for her. Instead, I grip both hands on her hips, dragging her down hard.
She whimpers for me. The sound is filthy, shameless, teeth in my flesh, begging for more.
I can barely see.
I haul her more roughly, bouncing her hips against my thigh, and she breaks for me.
She comes like she’s been set on fire and electrocuted all at once, body jerking so hard it knocks the breath out of both of us.
Her head snaps back, mouth wide, pretty little pulse fluttering under her jaw, making the most perfect, obscene sounds I’ve ever heard.
Her voice shreds through me, a rush of filthy praise. I’ve never seen anyone come like this. Not for me. But that’s what this is; it’s all for me. I did this to her.
She trembles, hair wild, eyes glazed and hungry when she finally locks on mine again. “I want to see you,” she begs, breathless, wrecked, wrists straining against my tie as she pushes those plush tits up with her upper arms. “Please, Daddy, I want to see you come. Please. Please let me.”
Fuck.
It detonates inside me just from her words, from the look on her face, the way she’s still grinding.
I blow right through the edge and shatter, coming so hard I nearly black out.
My cock jerks and pulses, thick wet heat exploding in my jeans, and I don’t even care.
I want her to see it. I want her to know how little control I have left.
I have no control when it comes to her.
She moans, greedy for it, desperate, like she could swallow my pleasure whole. “Yes. Yes.”
We both breathe heavily for what feels like hours, and her forehead falls against mine. I take the opportunity to gently untie her wrists, massaging the welts left there.
Neve tilts her face up slightly, so her nose brushes mine, then her hands come up to frame my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone.
She’s about to kiss me.
I’m about to let her.
I turn my head quickly, so her lips come into contact with my cheek instead of my mouth. A soft breath coasts out of her, and I try to force myself to ignore the disappointment it’s so obviously steeped in.
Her hands drop.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” I mutter, and the words squeeze all the air from my lungs, so my chest aches with it. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
When I dare a look at her face, I wish I hadn’t. Neve’s brows are drawn down, those pretty, gemlike eyes clouded with confusion and a little bit of frustration. Her pupils are blown, but her jaw is set.
“Right.” She backs up, climbing off my lap. “My bad. I thought it was you who told me to come over here and ride your thigh.”
“God, Neve, I—” I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “None of this should be happening. I know you understand that. I’ve already ‘corrupted’ one file from these sessions because I always lose my fucking filter around you.”
Neve looks at me, still frowning, but she’s retreated a few steps. Closer to the seat where she started than she is to me, now.
“I’m doing you a disservice,” I say firmly.
“On the contrary,” she says, lips tilting up. “That was a pretty good service, Professor.”
A breath soughs from my chest. I’ve still not moved from my chair, though I know I need to go and clean myself up. “No, I’m serious. This is your education.”
I feel the panic rising in my chest, and Neve stares at me, something like pity mixed with disappointment written all over her pretty face. I hate the thought of disappointing her, but everything I said was true.
“You should go,” I mutter.
She sighs. “Okay. I’ll see you next week.”
I don’t answer.
I also don’t move—not until my phone pings, and I pick it up to find a voice note from Neve. A few beats of silence echo in the beginning, and when she speaks, it sounds like she’s in a bathroom stall.
“Look, I know that freaked you out, but I wanted all of it, okay?” she says softly, no trace of annoyance with my fucking her around, which is frankly a marvel.
To say I’ve been sending mixed messages would be an understatement, especially when she’s been nothing but clear with me about what she wants.
“I just want to tell you that you didn’t manipulate me.
I know that scares you, so please don’t think that you did.
You didn’t. And you’re not doing me a disservice.
I’m not worried about my education, Grant.
Sure, we maybe shouldn’t have done… that—” A soft laugh rolls out of her, then she clears her throat.
“I understand and respect my own priorities and yours, but unless you tell me that you don’t want to pursue this anymore, then I still want it.
” She pauses, as if to let the statement breathe for a second, then adds, “I still want you, okay?”
I shake my head. I don’t fucking know why.
“So… Take the time to recover from that.” She laughs quietly. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover, but I can’t say I’m mad about it.”
The note cuts off there, but I listen to it again, then a third time.
God, I am so utterly fucked.