Half of me wishes she hadn’t come by to say hello.
The other half wants to push her skirt up, her tights down, and make her come before she meets her friends for drinks.
“I should go before I land you in hot water,” she says. “Just because I’m not technically your student any more doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to start getting it on in your office.”
“It’s a very bad idea,” I agree, and I finally take my hands off her ass, take hers, give them each a quick kiss.
“Tonight?” she says, with that half-smile and head-cock I’ve come to dream about.
I intend to say of course, tonight, I can’t wait.
What I actually hear myself say is, “The door does lock.”
She turns her head, looks at the door, like she’s confirming this information, then looks back at me.
“And if someone hears suspicious noises and knocks on it?” she asks.
“We’ll pretend no one’s here,” I say, still leaning against the desk, letting myself cup her ass in my hands again. “What are they gonna do, knock down the door?”
Her lips quirk and move in that way that I know means she’s thinking about it. I force myself to remain calm as the blood pounds through my veins, mildly worried that my cock is going to burst through my pants at any moment at the thought of Thalia bent over the desk where I graded her homework.
“I’m trying to keep you out of trouble, you know,” she murmurs, teasing.
“And I’m trying desperately to get into it,” I say, one eyebrow raised.
Then I lean in, kiss her slowly, deeply.
When I pull away, my lips still brushing hers, I murmur, “Tell me you’re not wet thinking about getting bent over my desk and fucked.”
Thalia smiles and leans into me, her belly against my hard cock, her fingers gently hooked under the waistband of my pants.
“All the way from erotic mathematics to this?” she teases.
“You’re right, it wasn’t math,” I concede, and Thalia stands on her toes again, pushing herself up until her lips are against my ear.
“I was such a good girl until I met you, Professor Loveless,” she murmurs, and pulls away.
She crosses the room. Locks the door. Double-checks that it’s actually locked, surveys the blinds, then flips off the overhead lights leaving nothing but my desk lamp on.
“Someone outside might be able to see shapes through the blinds,” she explains, coming back.
“Smart,” I say, and gather her in my arms again. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
She presses herself against me, rolling her hips along my hard cock, fingers through my belt loops.
“I thought it was my great ass,” she teases.
I grab it again, obviously.
“The ass doesn’t hurt,” I say, and we kiss. I slide my hands down her hips, grab the fabric of her skirt, and pull it up until I can reach underneath, along the smooth surface of her tights, and between her legs from behind.
Thalia makes a noise that I’ve learned by heart and she presses forward, into me, asking for more as her fingers find the button on my pants, quickly pull it apart, grab the zipper and pull.
If there’s a greater anticipation in life than the feeling of Thalia’s hand pressing against my cock as she undoes my zipper, tooth by tooth, I’ve never found it. I growl and grab her ass again, hiking her skirt up higher, this time pushing my hand between her legs from the front, though she may as well be a Barbie doll with these tights on. I can’t feel a damn thing.
Then she sighs and a tiny oh escapes her mouth while it’s still on mine, and I know I’ve found her clit so I circle that spot slowly, gently, as my zipper reaches the bottom and Thalia grabs my cock through my boxers.
This time we groan together, and then she laughs and I bite her lower lip and she squeezes me a little harder, lightens her grip and strokes me gently with the fabric still between us, the friction thrilling.
I grab her hips again, her ass, slide my hands up her body. I slide them down. As I do she moves her hand inside my boxers and grasps me hard, stroking me from tip to root and back. I groan into her mouth, grab her ass one more time, and she smiles.
Finally, I give up searching for a way into her tights.
“Get these off,” I growl. “Now.”
She pulls back, cocks a smile, looks up at me in a way that’s half sultry and half teasing.
“Yes, Professor,” she says, and reaches way up under her skirt, past her waist, and pulls her tights down, shimmying her hips from side to side as she does.
I make a note of this, for later use, and the moment her tights are past her thighs I grab her again, pull her in, hook my thumbs under her panties and pull them off until they’re tangled with her tights.