Page 10 of Wild Skies

Greg’s laugh is pained. “At least pretend you believe in our self control, Maren.”

“Oh, I believe in it.” We’ve kept our hands off each other for months already, haven’t we? What’s a few more weeks? “Now keep going, professor.”

He gusts out a long exhale, but his hand strokes across my ribs, my stomach, the jut of my hip. For a moment, his fingertips linger at the top of my bikini, nudging at the fabric—until I make a small, desperate sound and they slip inside.

Professor Gregory Carter strokes along my seam with one long, thick finger, gliding easily. My teeth burrow into my bottom lip, and I’m so worked up already, my breath comes in short pants. My hips roll forward, chasing his touch, and I grip his wrist in both hands beneath the water, holding him to me.

“Gotta be quick,” the professor says, rough and raspy. “Can’t drag this out for you like I want to, Maren. Not yet. Not yet, but I will soon.”

Half a sob leaves my throat, and I rock against the professor’s finger. There’s still just one, probing and sliding, touching me with shameless possession. He finds the swollen nub of my clit and zeroes in there, rubbing in tight circles.

“That’s it.” The professor’s eyes are glazed, and he watches me hungrily as I pant and squirm and work myself against his finger. “Just like that. Fuck, you’re perfect, Maren. Look howpink your cheeks are. Look how badly you need this. Will you blush this much when I sit you on my cock? Will you bounce on my lap like I’ve been dreaming?”

“Mmph,” I moan, too worked up for real words. His fingers are too quick, too clever, so much blunter and thicker than mine. And feeling the professor’s starving gaze as he touches me, hearing the primal need in his voice, makes my brain short-circuit and my knees go wobbly.

Not far away in the river, students shriek and splash each other, wrestling in the icy water. The sun beats hot on our heads.

Someone could glance over at us, they could be looking right now, but above the surface, everything looks innocent. Boring, even. While below…

“This is mine,” the professor says, hushed and guttural, cupping my pussy and squeezing it for a moment before going back to my clit. “Youare mine, Maren Olsen, and the second this semester is over, I’m going to fucking worship you. I’m going to make you forget all about Tommy and those other guys your age. Going to get you addicted to my hands, my tongue, my cock, and ruin all other men for you. Do you understand?”

That already happened months ago, the first time I saw this man step up to the lectern in a crisp white shirt and lilac tie, but whatever. I’m not going to put him off his mission. I’m not a freaking imbecile.

I nod, my vision wavering as Greg’s fingers get firmer, quicker on my clit. Sparks shoot along my nerve endings, lighting up my body from the inside, and my muscles tighten up in anticipation. I’m hovering on the edge now, brought to the precipice by the professor’s skillful touch.

“Professor,” someone calls from the group of students. My chin jerks up.

“Ignore them,” he growls, moving to block my view of the outside world. “Ignore all of them. Come for me, Maren. Let me see what that’s like.”

He’s still touching me, stroking in maddening circles. My belly clenches tight, pleasure already gathering like a storm.

“But—”

“Now.”

My limbs lock tight, and my breath seizes in my lungs. His fingers press on me, merciless and demanding, making my body twitch and writhe, little ripples spreading out on the surface of the water. I come so hard that my ears ring. So hard that spots float in my vision as pleasure wracks my body in waves, and all the while the professor watches me, darkly delighted.

On the edge of my awareness, another student’s voice comes closer.

“Professor, have you ever been in a human pyramid?”

He turns and blocks me from view, while I sink lower in the river, gasping.

“No,” he says, so calm and pleasant, “but I’m happy to give it a try.”

The students whoop, and right before Greg moves away, he reaches back and brushes his knuckles against my stomach. My body jolts, so desperate for more of his touch already.

Then he moves on, swimming away in the icy water, and I slip below the surface to get a moment of privacy. The freezing water jabs at my face and head like a thousand tiny needles, shocking me back to reality.

Did that just happen?

Did Professor Gregory Carter just make me come in this crowded river in broad daylight?

When I burst back up for air, gasping for breath and slicking my wet hair out of my eyes, I feel his concerned gaze on me.I catch his eye briefly, and he gives me a crooked smile before turning back to the others.

Heart drumming, I swim toward the riverbank. Need to spend the next hour sprawled on a towel, sorting through the knotted tangle of my thoughts.

Six

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