Page 138 of Give In

Grabbing the bowl back from me, Damien reached over to put it, his beer, and his laptop on the bookshelf behind us. “Stand and strip.”

I almost tripped in my hurry to climb off his lap. Stripping didn’t take long since I was only wearing one of his long-sleeved tees, a pair of sleep shorts, and bulky slippers. My moves were far from graceful, especially compared to what he’d seen me do at Sinners, but that didn’t seem to matter.

If anything, he was more enraptured by me. The real me, without the rehearsed moves and sexy costume. His gaze shifted to watch my every movement, his eyes roving over each inch of exposed skin until I stood naked in front of him.

Vulnerable.

Filled with nervousness.

Practically shaking with anticipation.

“Bend over the desk, cheek down and arms spread toward the corners,” he ordered. I began to gather the papers he had strewn about when his palm landed hard on my ass. “Did I tell you to move those?”

“No, Professor Caine.”

“Then do as I said.”

The papers crinkled and shifted under my torso as I bent over and stretched my arms out.

When I was positioned how he wanted, Damien walked to the front of the desk. His hard-on pressed his track pants out, and when he stopped near my hand, my fingers moved automatically, unfisting so I could touch him.

I hissed out a breath as his hand gripped my hair, tugging me back so I was arched to look at him. “Do that again, and I won’t let you come.”

“Sorry.”

He jerked my hair again.

“Sorry, Professor Caine.”

His hold was almost tender as he lowered my head back down and stroked his knuckles across my cheek. “Don’t move.”

From my angle, I could just barely see his lower abs and pelvis, but it was more than enough—especially when he tugged his cock free. His thumb hooked into his waistband, his forearm muscles tight and defined as he held the pants out of his way. Fisting himself with his other hand, he stroked up the length, the veins in his hand and forearm almost as hot as the thick one that traveled up his shaft.

He tightened his grip.

My pussy clenched, empty and wanting.

He stroked faster.

My desire dripped down my legs.

He stepped back, moving out of view.

And I moved, too, lifting my head, desperate to keep watching. By the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late.

“What’d I say?” Damien asked.

“I’m sorry, Professor Caine,” I rasped through the frustration welling in my chest. Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhaled deeply.

I wanted to watch.

I wanted to come.

I wanted to be his good girl.

Damien moved, but I didn’t dare try to look. It wasn’t until something soft encircled my wrist that I opened my eyes again.

Holy shit, he tied me to his desk.

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