Page 18 of Wild Skies

“That’s it,” Greg mutters, twisting his wrist to rub my clit with his thumb. It’s slippery with my arousal, and we both groan at the sensation. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

I mewl, too far gone for words. And when I seize up then shatter in his arms, waves of sensation wracking my body, the professor presses me against the door even harder and kisses me to muffle my cries.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he scrapes out as soon as I float back to myself, pulse racing and cheeks hot. Greg yanks at his belt and pops the button on his jeans; he yanks his zipper down with unusually jerky movements. He’s normally so graceful, so elegant, and seeing him overcome with arousal for me is one hell of an ego boost. I laugh faintly and preen in his arms, like I really am the perfect angel he says I am, and not a sweaty, flushed mess.

“Maren.” The head of his cock notches at my entrance, my body already twitching in response. My channel clamps down on nothing, like it’s trying to suck him inside. “Are you sure?”

Am I sure? What kind of crazy question is that?

Every cell in my body hascravedthis man non-stop since the very first day of class. I’ve tossed and turned so many nights, feverish with longing, trying to imagine how the professor would feel pressed up against me. My heart stopped every time he stared at me in the lecture hall, and I nearly went mad with hoping and wishing that he felt the same way.

Now his long, thick cock is pressed against my entrance, and he wants to know if I’ve changed my mind?

“Do it.” My nails dig into the muscle at his shoulders, hard enough to leave little pink half moons on his skin. “Please, professor. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

He curses quietly, shaking his head, then presses forward. Inch by inch. Stretching me open, claiming my body in a way no one else has. And all the while I pant and squirm and pepper kisses against his chest, his throat, his jaw.

“That’s it,” Greg mutters, hips rocking into mine now. Fucking his way deeper and deeper. “There you are, sweetheart. So tight and wet. Christ.”

Faint noises float from where our bodies join, so primal that I blush even harder. Outside in the hallway, anonymous people walk past, chatting together. Oblivious.

A bead of sweat rolls down my spine, and I arch against the professor’s chest. He’s all the way inside me now, gripping my hips hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises. I hope he does.

“This,” Greg clips out, fucking me harder now, faster, “is worth any job. Any price. God, Maren, I’d give anything for this. For the way you feel.”

Moaning, I squeeze my thighs tighter around his waist and lean forward to scrape my teeth over his throat. The professor’s skin tastes salty, with the faint scent of pine from our stay in the mountains. Will we ever go back there? Maybe the two of us could go alone and watch the meteors together.

Then lie entwined together in Greg’s tent, steaming up the small space until condensation slides down the vinyl walls.

Yeah. That’s my new dream.

“So. Good.”

I should’ve known he’d be chatty. This man is a famously good speaker, holding hundreds of students at a time enthralled with his words. Of course he’s talking even now, muttering filthy praise in my ear even as he thrusts between my thighs, stretching my tight channel around his shaft. And Iloveit. Love how badly he wants me, how he worships me with his words. Love the secret promises he makes and the darker threats of possession—threats that aren’t scary at all.

I’m his.

And the professor ismine.

And when he slides a hand between our bodies to start rubbing my clit, when he sucks on my throat, and growls against my skin, and fucks me into a trembling wreck… there’s nothing else for it. Can’t hold out any longer. Can’t keep the fireworks inside me from detonating.

I let out the world’s tiniest squeak, head thumping back to rest on the door, as a storm of pleasure swirls through my body. My limbs shake and my belly tenses. For a long moment, I stopbreathing at all, eyes screwed shut to stop tears from sliding down my cheeks.

Feels so freaking good. Soalive.

And the only thing better? When the professor grunts and shoves deeper, his cock swelling before flooding me with wet, sticky heat. It slides down my thighs and drips onto the office floorboards. It makes my chest feel all gooey and warm.

“Oh my god.” After a long beat of silence, I laugh. My voice is all raspy, like I’ve been sobbing into a pillow instead of choking back cries of pleasure. Glancing down at myself, it’s official: I look well-fucked. Flushed and sticky and rumpled.

The professor looks down at us too, mouth twisting, then looks up at me and winks.

“Good thing I’m quitting tomorrow.”

Yep. Then we can start the rest of our lives.

* * *

Three years later

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