Page 110 of Speak

She flips over.

“Spread your thighs and sink as low as you can, I don’t want to have to move or crane my neck. I want to eat my meal in peace. Do you understand? Do not move, do not slip, do not interrupt me whatsoever.”

She turns her head to look over her shoulder at me, her knees sliding across the length of my desk, until her pink, glistening sex is at my eye level and then she sinks forward, her hands finding purchase on the edge of my desk, gripping tightly.

I move forward, swallowing the rest of my whiskey and putting the tumbler back in the bottom drawer. Usually, I have better etiquette, but this meal is meant to be had with my elbows on the table. I lean forward, hooking my arms beneath her thighs, my hands coming around to spread the globes of her ass and I inhale deeply. My eyes cross her scent. Still clean. It's missing the saltiness of her sweat.

I lick from her clit to her hole, using my tongue to open her and lick out what she feeds me. Her gasp. Ohhhh her fucking gasp is better than my dreams. My balls are so fucking heavy, ready to burst and all I’ve done istasteher. I make a mess of my face, going over and over again, letting my nose enter her as my tongue swirls around that swollen, needy bud, as she shakes but does her best to stay still.

The wicked honor, of having her scent in my nostrils for the rest of the day excites me. When my tongue begins to fuck her only then does she rock, ever so slightly forward to meet me. I allow it, letting it distract her from my fingers edging closer to the rosebud. I pull away only to spit on it and continue my assault, eating her pussy like a starved man while my middle finger rubs my spit on her puckered hole.

The breathy sigh sounds like a plea like she’s silently begging me to please, please,pleasemake her come and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever encountered. I shove my finger inside, wiggling it along with my tongue. I pull away and spit again, shoving two fingers into her tight, swollen cunt with one hand and shove another finger intoher ass, watching as she shakes, her walls tighten, alerting me to her impending orgasm but I want it on my cock, not my fingers. The need to hear that gasp, that silent moan, that breathy sigh when I feel her break for me is as visceral as the need to fill her gorgeous little cunt with my seed.

I pull away completely to unfasten my belt and pants and in one swift motion, I tug her down, position myself at her entrance and sit her right on my hardened cock, the pressure from her pussy so hot, so tight,so fucking perfectI shudder and almost embarrass myself in my own delirium…

Three. Loud. Knocks.

GODFUCKINGDAMNIT.

I shove her off me, the loss of her weight and her warmth is felt in my soul and push her under my desk, right myself, then put her backpack with her and open the door. “Yes?”

“Professor Harrington. I was hoping you’d seen Raven?”

I motion for her to get out from under the desk so her fucking ward can see her.

“Perfect, isn’t she?” Damon grins devilishly. “Before your next class starts in…” He checks his watch, “Oh, ten minutes; Jonas will be at the funeral late and I had a last-minute appointment. I know she plans on going to the lake house, would you mind, seeing as how we're neighbors and all-"

I release an annoyed growl, “No, I wouldn’tmind.”

“Wonderful. Raven I’ll see you at home.” He winks and leaves us be.

While I want to absolutely abhor Damon Archer, the handsome prick just saved me and Raven from coming out of my office to a classroom full of gossiping fuckwits, and my job as well.

I turn to face her as I leave the door somewhat ajar while she fixes herself as best as she can. She cups her pussy, eyes wide and so beautifully brown and my dick longs to be inside of her again. I lick my lips, “The next time you choose to tease me in my classroom like the filthy, needy little slut you are, Siren, I suggest you leave them at home if you don’t want me to take them.”

She grabs her backpack in haste and pushes past me, the scent of her shampoo fills my senses.

Hunt. Catch. Rut. Claim.

______

Dr. Dick: 94732

Me: What’s this?

Dr. Dick: Just keep an eye on her.

Dr. Dick: Close up. Afar. Whatever.

I hang my head back, trying to relieve the tension between my shoulders, letting today’s stress roll backwards. I get out of my car, take the few steps it takes to get to the door that leads into the mud room then the kitchen of my house. My two story, five bedroom, four bath, and a study, too large for just me house. I set my leather satchel down on the counter, the one I’d received as a gift from my former FBI partner.

It's old, worn and has been patched in a few places, telling me it should be retired. Yet I can’t let it go. It’s a piece of me. My former life. Agent Harrington. I sigh, kicking off my shoes, hanging up my sports coat and begin my ascension up the stairs that lead to the master bedroom, avoiding the closed doors filled with beds for guests I’ve never entertained.

Never bothered to.

After a quick shower, I change into something more comfortable, sweats, sweatshirt, socks, then head back down, not eager to grade anything. Not even Raven’s debate which I usually reserve for Thursday or Friday evenings. The usual comforting emptiness of my home has become louder, unnerving me. For some reason, I do a quick sweep of my home, bottom to top and then back to the kitchen. I heat up a few leftovers, chicken, sweet potatoes, and with a glass of red wine, I sit at my empty table that’s large enough to hold six.

Suddenly my chicken is grey, my favorite potatoes taste like ash and the only noise in my home is that fucking low hum of the refrigerator, taunting me. When did my solitude become unbearable? I sit back in my chair, letting the flavor of the wine settle on my tongue before swallowing, swirling the liquid in my glass.

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