Joelle gasps. When she realizes what’s happening, she tries to pull me off of him.
Ronald jabs out an arm and knocks Joelle over, and t
hat moves my focus over to her. Ronald dusts himself off and touches his bloody nose with a yelp. “You fucking pyscho,” he says, spitting in my direction.
I don’t care though. I’m trying to help Joelle up. She doesn’t want my help, and gets up on her own. “I don’t belong to you!” she shouts, storming off.
***
Joelle never belonged to me.
I sent Emmaline away because I didn’t want her to see what I would do. Do, for her.
But the way Emmaline responded to my order … I swallow down my drink, pour another, swallow that down.
It goes down sweet and warm, just like her soft little breathing as she listened. Obeyed me. Without question. Trusted me to protect her.
When I got back in that car, blood on my hand and anger still coursing through my veins, I wanted to fuck Emmaline right there in the car.
That’s fucked up. I mean, she’s too young for me. So what if she’s attracted to me. Students have always been interested. I never have been. I knew that wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t want to be that guy, no matter how much attention I got. No matter how much young pussy I could have, that wasn’t going to be me.
And even though I don’t know Emmaline, I think this is different with her. I know it is. Fuck. I put my glass down before I throw it, and grip the desk. I squeeze it harder, my fingers pressing into the unforgiving wood, thinking about how I’d love to spread her legs wide over the edge of this desk and lick her thighs, slowly, until I got to her pussy. I want to bury my face inside of her and feel the world disappear around us. Tangle us in sighs and screams, whimpers, and lust-filled screams. I want to taste the moan on her skin.
I head back toward the hall, across the house to the kitchen. I have a wine fridge for things I want to keep in ready circulation, and the rest of my stock in the cellar. I grab a bottle of my favorite, leathery red. I pour a glass and think about pressing Emmaline up against the fridge and slamming my cock into her. I want to split that sweet little girl in half with my cock. I know she’s never had a cock like mine.
It would kill all those panting students to know that I’m built like a monster, a huge, long, thick cock that’s been too much for plenty of women. Some of them have taken a lot of lube and a lot more cock. Some of them, I’ve understood and headed back to my place.
I’ve never brought a girl back to my place, and now I’m thinking about every room, every expensive piece of furniture or fine marble countertops…and I’d like to fuck Emmaline on all of them.
Even if she thought my cock was too big for her, I’d take all night to warm her up to it. I’d eat her pussy for hours, finger her and stretch her good. If I didn’t need to feel her on me more than anything, I might fuck her with dildos until I built her up to the size of my cock. But, no, I’d finger her, stretch her, and get her ready to feel me fill up her.
I remember seeing those chocolate waves of her hair, those doe eyes. They reminded me so much of Joelle. Joelle’s soft lips make my cock hard, but then I remember Emmaline’s tongue licking over her lower lip when she looked at me. Fuck, that’s what’s got me hard right now.
Joelle never looked at me that way.
And all these years I wanted Joelle, and I’ve just met Emmaline, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted her mother. I drink more of my wine, thinking about taking a sip of this, then kissing Emmaline. She’s too young to drink, so mostly I’d want the taste on her lips to shock her. The strength of it, as I dip my hands to the curve of her breasts, and trail my fingertips along the swell. Take a sip of the chilled drink, and then run my tongue slowly along her nipple. Feel Emmaline arch into my mouth. I want to know what her little whimper sounds like.
I finish my wine, walking through several more rooms of my house. Thinking about bending her over on my couch. Holding her on top of me in my chaise.
More than anything, having her in my bed. I want to fuck her so damn bad that my cock is harder than titanium, but those doe eyes, trusting me, make me want to hold her close against my cock in my bed and feel my cock slide through the seam of her ass. Just touching her before I fuck her is enough to make me wanna burst. I fist my cock over my pants. I slide out of my clothes and head for the shower.
I was glad that I didn’t fuck her tonight. Maybe I could have. But that’s not the right thing, it really isn’t. So instead I’m going to choke my cock so hard, blow about a gallon of cum down my shower drain, and try not to ruin my sheets when I dream about her tonight anyway.
Ethan
Emmaline walks into my class late, and I chastise her. Then…I see her. I have to deal with that…did I mention that her eyes make my cock jump against my fucking thigh?
I had to come to see her. I’m fucking glad I did, because those assholes were going to fucking touch her. But I had to follow her around, get to know more about her and basically fucking stalk her.
I barely know her, and I can’t resist her.
That will be the death of me — needing to save Emmaline from some asshole that thinks being a skeevy asshole toward her should lead to fucking. I save her from him and his idiot friends…and I have to cope with how she looks at me afterward. I know that her face was a reaction to mine.
I’m normally so good at ignoring students.
If I want to hide something, like my attraction, then I normally can. But when I looked at her, I wanted to let her see just how much I fucking wanted her.
I squeeze my cock, my other palm pressed hard against the shower wall. The steam is rising around me, but the only touch I want is Emmaline’s. Her little Bambi eyes were big, full of adoration and arousal. I kept her safe, and she didn’t go on about how I don’t belong to her. That sting makes me stroke up and down the length of my cock, pumping faster. I remember Joelle’s face, and my cock jumps. I think about Emmaline’s, and I pump harder in furious strokes. I torment my cock with the twisted images of them. My past denies me. My present should stop me in my tracks.