Hey, Mister Marshall (St. Mary's Rebels 4)

How epic is his dick going to taste.

But all my hot fantasies come to a halt when he snatches his thumb away and leans over me, pressing his chest into mine. Gripping my face with both hands, he nails me with his intense eyes. “That’s not what that means.”

I grip his wrists. “The Renaissance man?”

“Yeah.”

“So w-what does it mean?”

“Why don’t you find a dictionary and look it up yourself, yeah?” he growls. “But for now let’s focus on what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I grind on his lap again, rubbing my nipples against his chest. “I was… I was sucking your thumb.”

“Why?”

“Because I was, uh,” I squirm some more and a muscle jumps on his cheek, “thinking about sucking something else.”

“Like what?”

I look into his dark eyes as I whisper, “Your dick.”

Lust spills in his gaze, on the crests of his cheekbones, making them go even darker. “And so that was a preview, sucking on my thumb?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And all this because I’m writing a paper on the Medici family.”

“Yes. As a reward.”

“As a reward.”

I dig my nails into his wrist as I say, “Yeah. For all your hard work. You won’t let me take care of you, but let me reward you at least. Let me reward you for all the things you do.”

I’m sitting on the edge of my seat now.

Waiting and waiting for him to answer.

Squirming and licking my lips.

And he’s watching me do all of that with lust-edged features and a wildly breathing chest that scrapes against my nipples with his every agitated breath.

Then he rasps, “You want to reward me, baby?”

I jerk in his lap, loving his baby and knowing that I probably won’t ever get used to it. “Yes.”

His fingers flex on my face. “Fine. I’ll let you reward me. But be careful, yeah?”

“Why?”

“You don’t want to reward me too much or be too good because then before you know it,” he brings his face even closer, “you’ll find yourself kneeling under my desk, sucking me off every time I work on a paper.”

I shudder at the image he creates in my head.

At this graphic, erotic vision of me kneeling at his feet, tucked away under that big wooden desk in his office, sucking his dick while he focuses on his Medici family and the Renaissance movement.

“Yeah, I see you understand what I mean, don’t you?” he rumbles and I nod. “I see you understand what I’m talking about. And let me tell you this too,” he adds, his nostrils flaring, “I work on a lot of papers, Poe. A lot. I also work on a lot of lecture plans and presentations and conferences, and grants. I’m even writing a book, you know that, don’t you?”

“You t-told me,” I whisper eagerly.

“Yeah. So then you should really take my advice and take all the care in the world because before you know it, I might push your mouth down on my dick every time I finish a chapter. I might hump your mouth like a fucking animal every time I get a bunch of money for my archeological dig. And we both know that it won’t stop at your mouth, don’t we?”

“No?”

“No, Poe,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Your mouth won’t be enough for me.” With his thumb, he traces the lines of my throat; he even glances down at it. “You’re going to have to let me throat fuck you.”

“Throat fuck.”

His thumb digs on my pulse. “Yeah. You know what that is, baby?”

“No.”

“Well, Poe,” he says and licks his lips, still staring at my throat, pulling my neck back even, stretching it as if he wants to examine every inch of my pale skin and my fragile tendons, “it’s when a desperate and horny man with a big dick — let’s call him Alaric, okay? — slides that dick into the pink mouth of a doe-eyed diva or his baby — let’s call her Poe. But just sliding that dick in Poe’s mouth is not enough for Alaric. He’s too horny, too fucking insane for Poe. Because her mouth is fire, yeah? Her tongue is fucking insane and it drives Alaric crazy. So then, he goes in further. He grabs the back of her head, fists her pretty midnight hair and shoves that dick down her sexy little throat.” His fingers touch the center of it, my throat, as if to point it out. “See? Here. He shoves his dick right here, Poe, and then fucks her throat like he owns it. Like he’d die without it. Like he’d expire right that second if he didn’t hump and ride Poe’s throat until his balls are smacking her chin and she’s moaning with every jab, her nose buried in his pelvis, gagging and salivating.”

“Oh God, Alaric, do you… Will you…”