Page 27 of Directing You
I circled myself, the sensation almost too intense…too much to take with his thick length stretching me to my brink. Gasping, I bit my bottom lip to try to stop it from trembling. His gaze never left my face, studying me intensely. Worshipping me with those gorgeous green eyes of his.
“Fuck me,” he groaned.
The pressure inside me built, and if I didn’t come soon, I thought I might explode. “I’m going to…” I tried to get it out, but the words shattered somewhere along the way from my throat to my tongue.
He was pounding harder, faster now as my head fell back, my climax overtaking my body, making my legs straighten and my spine curve off the bed, pressing my breasts against the coarse hair on his chest. Above me, Reid went rigid as his movement became erratic, jerking harder and deeper than before. He groaned, his head falling between his shoulders, his mouth landing at my neck, nibbling as he continued grinding into me as his release slowed.
We both lay there, panting. Sweaty. Spent. Satiated.
After our orgasms, I became suddenly very aware of my nudity. My chest heaved with each labored breath, and beside me, I heard his panting as well. My mind was racing, barely able to process what the fuck we had just done.
Professor Bradley was naked. In my bed. Beside me.
My body flushed hot and I reached for my blanket, tugging at the corner to cover myself as Reid’s hand clamped down over mine. “Don’t you dare,” he whispered, a hint of a smile edging the corners of his mouth. “If we only get the weekend, I’m not wasting any second of it with you covered.”
He rolled over on top of me again, pinning me both with his body…and with his gaze.
“Does that mean we aren’t leaving this apartment all weekend?”
“Oh no,” he said. “I’m taking you out for a proper date. Dinner. Maybe brunch this morning and next. A little shopping, perhaps.”
I lifted a brow. “And you plan on doing all this without getting seen by any other students?” I lived right near the university… chances of us laying low all weekend while out in public were slim. We had already pushed our luck last night.
He gave me a small smile. “Trust me. I’m not going to risk anything or get us in trouble.”
My head fell back against my pillow as I stared into his eyes. With that simple gaze, we plowed past every obstacle that might have been in our way. I could feel it. In me…in him. He was just as thrown off by this, by us, as I was. We weren’t teacher and student right now. We were man and woman. I truly wasn’t sure I would ever forget this moment. Nor did I want to. I wanted to bask in this feeling, in this warm glow of comfort and adoration, and pretend that it was okay and that I could have this forever if I wanted.
Because I did want that. I wasn’t so naive to think that I loved him. Not after one night together. But what I was feeling extended beyond lust. He was the kind of man that I could lose myself in, for better or worse. The kind of man I would weep over. The kind of man who could wreck me or heal me, depending on his actions.
I swallowed and his gaze slanted to my throat, following the movement. “What are you thinking?” he asked before dipping his mouth to kiss the center of my throat.
Just say it, I thought.Tell him what you’re thinking. Because the truth of the matter was that he had buried himself so far under my skin, I didn’t know that I could ever dig him out of my system. I desperately wanted more than just this weekend.
He blinked, tilting his head to examine my face. Shit, I was taking too long to answer. I opened my mouth, readying the words. But somewhere along the way, I chickened out.
“I’m thinking that now every time I touch myself, I’ll be thinking of you.” Sex. I always used sex as my cop out. I used it to avoid talking about my feelings. My desires. Hell, I even used it in my fucking career as a cop-out, becoming a burlesque dancer instead of pursuing musical theater. Because I knew it was a distraction. My body was a distraction. Sex was a distraction. “Will that drive you wild?” I asked, sliding my body out from under his to sit up. He countered my movement, sitting back on his haunches and staring at me, his eyes darkening. “Knowing that here…in this bed…” I slowly spread my legs wide, offering him a view of my pussy. “Every night…” I drifted my hand down my torso until I was circling my fingers over my swollen, needy clit. “I will be touching myself thinking of you?”
He groaned, his face shifting to something primal and dark. “Show me,” he demanded, reaching beyond me and grabbing another condom from my nightstand drawer. After sheathing himself again, he fisted his now erect cock once more as his eyes steeled onto my fingers tracing circles around my clit.
He stroked himself from root to tip, gripping himself so firmly that his knuckles had blanched. I didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened or the flare of color that flushed across his face as he watched me touch myself. My hips churned as arousal flooded my body and mind, pushing away my unwanted thoughts from earlier.
I was getting close. Sweat was working its way out of my pores. My breasts jiggled as I sped my movements, thrusting my hips in little pulses. “Please,” I begged him. “I need you inside of me.” I wanted to feel his thick length deep in my center and milk his dick of every last drop.
“Not yet,” he grunted, stroking himself harder, faster, the head of his cock red and plump and begging for my mouth or pussy. I’d be happy with either. “Tell me when you’re going to come,” he added. “And open your eyes when you do.”
I cried out, not wanting to come with this hollowness inside of me, but unable to deny him what he wanted. I wanted to do what he said. It turned me on even more. I writhed on the bed, thrashing from side to side as my orgasm drew closer, clawing up my spine and into my gut. “N-now,” I managed to say and forced my eyes to meet his through my web of thick, black lashes.
He thrust inside of me against the convulsing, spasming orgasm contracting inside of me. The thick intrusion sent my orgasm into overdrive. I cried out, my voice shrill, but I maintained eye contact. Locked in his eyes as he shuddered from within me, groaning as he came a second time.
Even as he lowered to kiss me, our eyes stayed open. On each other. Like we were each too afraid to blink for fear that this might not be real. That it might be over.
I felt his stare like static dancing down my flesh. Like electricity surging down my spine. His taste. His moans. His hard, thick muscles. His mouth parted and he looked stunned, like someone had sucker-punched him.
Hell, so much for sex being a distraction. If anything, sex only shone a spotlight on what we both clearly wanted and couldn’t have. How do we let this go, now that we’d had a taste?
