can’t do that either. I want you to believe me when I say that I’m not thinking about your mother anymore, and that shouldn’t even matter. I’m fucking tangled up in knots because all I can think about is your sweet body yielding beneath me.”
Dear God, how am I supposed to respond to that? I can’t think for a moment. Can’t find my way through this thicket in my mind when I should be determining the right move. I know I should be avoiding the whole situation. Right now I could shut this down. It's terrifying, seeing how unnerved he is, and I could just escape this whole dangerous situation.
But I can’t get him out of my system. I want to tell him as much. “You’re…you’re always on my mind when you shouldn’t be. I can’t begin to imagine the things a man like you could do to my body…I’ve never had more experience then what those boys…” I can’t say it. I don’t want to say it. It taints the idea of his hands on me to think about someone unbidden and filthy and trying to take me.
“You—that’s not sexual experience. That’s rape. Are you telling me that you’re a fucking virgin?” He gets into my face now, pressing his forehead to mine. “What the hell am I going to suffer by not turning around and choosing to taste you in my office?” He tucks a finger under my chin. The heat between us boils my blood and creates a new shade of need in me darker than I’ve ever known before. “Do you want me to walk away?” His voice is dark whispers, desires I don’t quite understand, all promises that I only need to answer to them.
“I want you to fuck me so well that I’ll never forget it,” I say, my voice a whimper. “Because then we’ll both have done it, and we can forget then, right? We can quit then. We don’t have to worry about it, and we can go our separate ways after this semester.”
Something passes through his eyes that I can’t understand. “You think there’s any chance of that working, once I’ve had that deep of a taste of you?” The darkness in his voice makes me shiver. Maybe he’s telling me exactly the thing I should listen to, but you know what? I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to be saved. I barely understand what’s happening when I’m with him, but I don’t want to worry about that. I don’t want to worry about anything.
Could I trust him? I don’t know, and I don’t care.
My body doesn’t care. I want to feel his on mine if it destroys me, and knowing that I could maybe forget it all should I be able to get the taste of him out of my mouth.
“Why don’t we find out?” That’s all I can say. I don’t want to worry about the truth or the consequences.
I'm consumed by him. I don’t even understand what is happening. I just want him to touch me, and for one long night I could believe it was forever.
“You can’t possibly know what you’re asking,” he says. I can tell he’s conflicted. He doesn’t want to fight against this.
“Please,” I whimper.
Emmaline
The firm pads of his fingers sweep over my skin and I’m numb to anything but the whispering feel, coloring in the lines of sensation on my body that seem as though they don't exist anymore. I don’t care that this is wrong. It most certainly is wrong, and the fact that I don’t care should dredge up some worry. Instead I’m desperate for nothing but the sating of my desires. “Touch me,” I whimper. I need his hands on me. “Please?” I moan out, just the thought of him touching my pussy makes me want to melt.
“I am touching you,” Ethan says, the corners of one side of his mouth turning up with a smug grin.
I can’t take this now. He knows what he’s doing to me.
“Touch my pussy,” I say quietly. The words shock me. The thrill that shoots through me shocks me even more. I can’t believe how bold I am.
I see a blaze shoot through his eyes and his pupils dilate further, he leans almost unnoticeably closer. But as I’m so tuned into everything about him right now, I do notice.
This man is so much more than some teacher-crush fantasy that haunts the occasional passing thought. He’s my obsession, consuming every spare moment and making me think nothing but thoughts of his hands on me. On my pussy.
“I need to feel you there. I want you to touch me where no one else has,” I confess. My voice is husky, my mouth is dry, my throat is scratchy. These words don’t come easy. I need him to know what I need. I get the feeling that he wants me to be just as complicit, no matter the reality of the situation. He needs me to be as much as part in my defiling as he is.
But maybe it just turns him on.
The idea makes me bite my lip. I climb up on his desk. Fuck what the world thinks.
Still, there’s that chance that I’m not going to get away with the only thing I’ve ever wanted so badly.
And that’s the moment I know my soul is utterly damned, lost to me because if I get caught, I don’t give a fuck now. I want Ethan and it doesn’t matter if I get caught.
I spread my knees apart an inch and rest back on my wrists.
Ethan holds out two fingers and presses them between my knees, pressing them apart, and then he spreads me wide. His two fingers sweep up my thighs and slip into my thong. I’m sticky with lust and when his fingers touch me I shiver so hard I almost fall over. His other hand is on the small of my back, palm flat against me and holding me up. I know that he’s not going to let me fall.
“I’ve got you, Emmaline,” he says, words an equal part his assurance of my wavering not going unnoticed — and it's a truth that rings out to both our ears. I’m trapped in the web of our lust. He has me now. I cannot escape.
I don’t want anything more.
His fingers stroke my pussy lips, slowly, sensually, so that I’m ready to cry out for more. But I don’t dare. I’m moaning, sucking in my lower lip, and watching his face. I can’t take my eyes off his face. He’s a whole new man like this. Ethan is already an imposing man but now he towers over me.
His hands seem massive. Those two fingers are a huge invasion, and they’re only brushing over my skin. I can’t imagine the feel of them in me…and I can’t think of anything else. Those fingers sinking into me, God, they’d fill me up so much I might scream.