“Was it good?”
“YES.” I blush immediately at the force in which I say it, but Ally only devolves into giggles.
“Hey! Don’t get all embarrassed! That’s awesome!” She raises a brow at me again. “So why the secrecy?”
She’s like a bloodhound with this thing.
“Oh, he’s just…”
Off limits? Wrong? My professor? A famous writer? Twice my age?
I don’t answer and Ally just roles her yes. “Fine, have your secrets, weirdo. Hey, at least you finally got laid.”
And I can’t wait to do it again.
It’s a wicked thought, but I know right then that I want more. I need more, no matter the consequences.
“I mean even if it was just a hook-up thing, good for you, girl.” Ally grins. “You finally joined the club and punched that card.”
Except I know tis not going to be a one time thing. And I know how cliche it is to even think that, as the naive, inexperienced girl who’s just lost it to the way older, way more worldly guy. But I know its not. I might be inexperienced, and new to this, but I know the look in Liam’s eyes. I know the way he looked at me, and I know I need him again.
Ally gets up from her bed. “Anyways, I’m going out tonight, want to come with?”
“Nah, thanks but I’m good.”
“Well, baby steps. We’ll get you to a party yet, Ellie Thompson.”
She goes to her closet and starts to change to go out for the night, and suddenly, I know exactly what I want that night. I know exactly where I’m going as I slip a tiny skirt on after she leaves, pulling on a skin-tight tank top that’s positively scandalous to wear anywhere but in my own bed.
And I know exactly what I want to do as I skip across the darkening campus towards the english building. It’s mostly dark, but there’s an office light on up on the third floor, and I grin as I feel the hungry tingle start to spread through my body.
Time for some more tutoring.
Chapter 11
Liam
It’s late by the time I pry myself away from the blank screen on my office computer and start to lock up. Fuck does writer’s block suck. It’s been like this for almost a year now: nothing, just blank pages. I slam the laptop shut and start to get my things together. Of course, I might not be able to think of anything to write, but there’s one thing I can’t get the hell of my brain even if I tried.
Ellie.
We don’t have class again until tomorrow, and it’s been a full day since she lay strewn across my desk writhing on my cock. A full day of basically getting fuck-all done work-wise, and grading none of the papers I needed to get graded. I mean how could I? Especially in that office and on that desk.
I like my desk WAY more with her tight little ass perched on it and her moans drifting over my ears than I do a stack of papers on Jane Eyre.
So yeah, little untouchable, tempting, delicious Ellie Thompson is on my brain, bad. I’m still dreaming about that pussy, and the way she moaned, and the way her eyes locked onto mine when she came.
I crossed a line. Jesus Christ did I. I mean I fucked a student for crying out loud. What a fucking cliche.
Yeah, its going to be an even bigger one when she reports your ass, I grumble to myself. It’s going to be a real big cliche when they run me out of here on a rail.
The hallway is almost pitch dark as I pull my office door shut, lit only by lamp-posts out on the quad coming through the windows as I lock the door.
How much longer is the semester? Three months? Fuck. That’s a long time. A long time to sit there three days a week staring at Ellie-temping-Thompson front and center. Three days a week staring at those tits, and the those legs, and knowing exactly what lies between them. Knowing how she tastes, and how her lips part and what her moans sounds like when I drive my cock in deep.
Fuck. Maybe I can cancel the class? Leave off teaching here completely and head back to New York?
“Professor?”