The Daddy Box Set

Today, I had purposely dressed to tease him. I knew it was dangerous, but yesterday he had complained about my jeans. Today, I wore a flowing blue dress with no panties. I felt extremely daring, but realized it could have been a huge mistake. Looking at him got my juices flowing.

I quickly sat down and crossed my legs, willing my body to settle down. I felt flushed and had to fan myself. I could feel his gaze on me. He knew. The man knew what he was doing to me and seemed very pleased with himself. I guess it was payback for yesterday. He hadn’t been able to leave the shelter of his desk for both classes.

When he stood to begin his lecture, I had to look away. If I looked at him, I was sure I’d burst into flames. Then everyone would know.

“Miss McShane!” I heard my name. He was yelling at me. Why?

“Yes?” I said, trying to rewind the last couple of minutes. I had spaced out and not heard a word he said. My mind had been in the gutter since the moment I woke. It had only gotten worse with full-blown fantasies playing out in my head.

“The quizzes from yesterday? Do you have them?” he asked, his tone irritated, but his eyes saying otherwise. He knew he had caught me. That little twinkle in his eye that said he knew exactly what I had been doing made me blush. It was only a little embarrassing to be caught fantasizing by the person you were dreaming of ravishing.

I quickly looked away, stood, and grabbed the tests. I can’t look directly at him. I looked over his shoulder. “They’re right here. Did you want me to return them?” I asked in my best assistant voice.

“Yes, please,” he said, stepping into my line of sight. I looked away again, but not before I caught him grinning.

He was going to pay for the hell he was putting me through. I took my seat and managed to avoid looking at him for the rest of class. It was horrible. I wanted to look. I wanted to stare at his ass and imagine ripping the buttons off of his shirt in a state of furious passion.

As soon as the last student left the room, it was I who slammed the door and locked it. He had been at the back of the room, putting away his props from his lecture.

He turned and looked at me stalking towards him. “Tessa,” he started in a voice full of warning. “The windows. We can’t.”

I didn’t stop walking. I reached him, grabbed his hand, and dragged him towards the tiny door in the back of the room. It was a storage closet, smaller than my closet at home, but it was a door, and it would provide privacy.

I swung the door open and pushed him inside with my hand against his chest.

“Tessa,” he protested, but it was a half-ass attempt to stop me. We both knew it.

I pounced. My lips pressed into his, grinding his teeth against his lips. I felt him jerk back in pain for a split second before he took over. I was out of control with need. His tongue was dancing with my own, our bodies pressed together partly because of the tight quarters and partly because I wanted to crawl on him.

His hands squeezed my ass through the thin fabric of my skirt. I pulled back enough so I could speak. “I’m not wearing any panties,” I whispered.

A feral sound escaped from his lips a second before they crashed into my own. Now it was me wincing from the pressure of the hard kiss. His hands were busy pulling my skirt up. Once his hands landed on my bare ass, the intensity of his kiss kicked up another notch.

“Fuck, Tessa, you’re killing me,” he moaned, squeezing one cheek and moving his other hand down my thigh.

Our kiss changed from passionate to one of ardent need. Neither of us could get close enough or touch enough. It was all roving hands and lips. I wanted to taste every inch of him, but the tiny closet brokered little room for true exploration. His hand was cupping me under my skirt, teasing me with its closeness, but he refused to give me what I was dying for.

I rubbed against his hand, asking in the best way I knew how: without actually saying the words.

I felt him smile against my lips. “What do you want, Tessa?”

I kissed him back, gyrated again.

He trailed a finger between the folds. “This,” he whispered. “Or this,” he breathed a moment before he pushed one finger in.

Pleasure washed over me. I reached between his legs, gently running my hand over his pants before pushing harder. I could feel him losing the little control he had left. It made me giddy to know he was hot for me and me alone.

“Ow,” I muttered when he pushed me into a shelf with a thrust of his hips. I hadn’t meant to break the mood, but there was something poking me in the back. I’d get over it.

“God dammit,” he muttered, dropping my skirt and stepping back an inch.

“No,” I said, following him the short distance and pulling him into my grasp again. He wasn’t getting away so easily. I was only getting started.

“Tessa, we’re in a closet—in my classroom. I almost bent you over right here,” he said, with a hint of embarrassment.

I had to giggle at the situation. “There was no way I was bending over. There is not enough space for that.”

I knew he was right. The moment had nearly spun out of control. Thank God for that shelf or we would have had sex right there in the closet. That was far riskier than either of us was prepared for.