Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Nolan Hendrix
That dress… fuck! That damn floral dress clung to her like it knew what it was doing.
Thin, soft, hugging every curve like it had one job—to fuck up my focus.
Her ass jiggled when she walked. Her chest bounced soft with every step.
No bra. I noticed that shit the moment she came running across the parking lot, all breathless and pissed off, and my dick had been hard ever since.
I sat down next to her, trying to look calm, but inside I was boiling. Her scent hit me first—some sweet, warm perfume that crawled up my throat and settled deep. Her skin was glowing, just barely damp from sweat. My hand dropped on her thigh like it belonged there.
Soft. Warm. Fucking addictive.
I started to stroke her slowly. Just light at first—my thumb brushing up, then back down again. She twitched but didn’t stop me. Not even when my fingers slid higher
“I have another question for you, Miss Morrow,” I murmured, my voice right against her ear. “When you write nasty scenes like that one you sent me… whose dick do you think about?”
She sucked in a breath. Her legs tensed. Her head turned slightly, lips parted.
“I… What are you doing to me?” she whispered. “We can’t do this here.”
“Answer the fuckin’ question.”
Her whole body trembled under my hand. Her eyes were glassy.
“I… I just imagine, I’m there. Doing it.” She breathed.
I groaned. Low and deep. My fingers slid under her panties. Hot, wet heat rushed over my skin as I found the slick line of her pussy.
“Got damn, you’re so fuckin’ wet, Miss Morrow,” I growled against her neck. “Your pussy always drip like this when you write your dirty little fantasies?”
She whimpered. “I… hmmm…”
I pressed my finger over her clit, circling slow, then slid down her slit, teasing.
“Yes?” I asked.
She choked on her breath. “Yes… Professor Hendrix .”
Fuck.
I bit down a moan and leaned in closer, lips brushing her ear.
“What a fuckin’ shame I wasn’t there to take care of it. Next time you get this wet, best believe I’ll be right there tongue first. Then I’ll make it worse. Slide inside and fuck you ‘til you can’t write nothin’ but my name,” I said, sliding my fingers into her pussy.
She shook. Literally. Her legs clenched tight, and her pussy fluttered around my fingers like it was trying to pull them deeper, like it needed more—thicker, harder, everything.
And this was just the beginning.
The bus rolled forward, smooth and steady, but nothing about me felt calm.
I stroked her pussy in and out, slow as hell, dragging the slick wetness from deep inside her all the way back up to her clit.
My fingers worked her like I had all the time in the world, like this wasn’t a school trip, like we weren’t surrounded by kids and parents just a few seats away.
Every inch of her was hot and soaked, her pussy fluttering around my fingers like it didn’t want to let go.
“Mr Nolan…” She moaned, low, raw, and completely dangerous.
I watched her as her lips parted, and her breath carried my fucking name.
My dick swelled like hell. This was a fucking problem.
It was rock hard, pulsing against my zipper like it wanted out, like it needed to be buried deep in the same wet heat I was playing in.
The scent of her arousal wrapped around me, thick and rich, like perfume and sin, like her body was calling to mine in a language older than rules or shame.
It smelled like raw sex. Pure, unfiltered arousal.
Like something I needed to taste, own and ruin.
I breathed hard through my nose, forcing control back down my spine, keeping my eyes forward on the bus like I was just watching the road. I scanned the mirror, the seats, the faces, any sign someone might turn their head.
And one did.
Mrs. Porter.
The mother of one of my students. She sat three rows up, across the aisle, her eyes sharp, lips pursed like she smelled something wrong in the air.
Her stare hit me, direct and loaded. Suspicion?
Curiosity, definitely. Like she could feel it, sense what was happening just out of view.
Like she knew my fingers were deep in Lena Morrow’s pussy, stroking her slow and steady, right there on a moving bus.
And maybe she wanted to be the one in Lena’s seat.
I locked eyes with her and I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
While my gaze held hers, my thumb pressed down on Lena’s clit, firm and slow, just enough to make her hips twitch. Then I pushed deeper with my fingers, curling them up to hit that spot I already knew would wreck her.
“Hmmm… Oh my God…”
A loud moan tore from Lena’s throat as she came on my fingers. Brutal and raw. The kind of sound that wasn’t planned. The kind that rips out when a woman’s body can’t stay quiet anymore. Her pussy was dripping, her juices sliding down my fingers, warm and messy.
And all I could think about was how sweet she’d taste on my tongue. How her cum would fill my mouth, thick and wet, feeding the filthy hunger she woke in me. I wanted her to drown me in it, let me drink from her pussy 'til every drop slid down my throat and left me starving for more.
Heads turned.
Every kid, every parent nearby looked toward the back of the bus.
My mouth curled into a smile. I didn’t stop moving my fingers. Didn’t stop playing with her clit like I fucking owned it, finger-fucking her through her orgasm. Because that right there? That shit was fucking exciting and fuck me if I didn’t want more.
“Mom, are you okay?” Marisa’s voice cut through the moment.
“Yes… yes, baby. Mommy’s fine,” Lena stammered, her voice cracked and breathless.
I turned to look at her for the first time in minutes. Her face was flushed, eyes wide and glassy, lips parted like she’d just been kissed hard, and I knew damn well I wanted to kiss those lips while I was fucking her even harder.
I leaned in close, letting my mouth graze her ear, not giving a single fuck who was watching.
“We’re gonna stop this bus so I can eat and fuck this pussy the way it deserves. And when I’m deep in you, when my dick’s stretching that wet hole open, you better make that same noise in my ear. You understand?” I whispered.
She didn’t speak. Just moaned low, like words were too damn hard to form. So I pulled my fingers out slowly, dragging them along her clit one last time.
“Yes?” I asked again.
Her eyes met mine. Shaky. Wrecked.
“Yes… Professor Hendrix,” she whispered.
I straightened, still smiling, and turned toward the front.
“Driver,” I called out, loud enough for the whole bus to hear. “Pull over at the next station. Miss Morrow’s got an urgent need that can’t wait.” I said, sliding my fingers into my mouth to taste her.
And fuck! She tasted so damn good.