Page 48 of Tart
I swallowed because suddenly, all I could think about was being hot for teacher. “I will,” I agreed, my lips aching for his.
“Excellent. The first assignment is to kiss me, but instead of worrying about what anyone else will think, concentrate on how it makes you feel.”
“That feels closer to the lust side than the happiness side,” I said, my lips almost touching his.
“Mmm,” he hummed. “The extra credit is to tell me if a kiss can be both.”
His lips crashed into mine then, and he held himself over me, his hands braced on the bed to keep from crushing me while his tongue swept inside my mouth. I grasped the back of his neck tightly and let him have his way with me until I needed air so desperately I was sure I would pass out. He sensed it and broke off the kiss, trailing his lips down my jaw to the crook of my neck, where he kissed and suckled the tender skin there. The sensation made me suck in a breath, and my hips thrust up off the bed into his leg that he’d braced between mine. He moaned, the sound ricocheting through my body to drag a moan from my own lips.
I buried my hands in his hair and pulled him back to my lips, his pliable and swollen against mine. “God, Bishop, what is happening to us?” I asked around his lips as I felt his hardness against my hip. “I feel like I’m drowning in you.”
He tightened his hold on me and rolled me over on top of him, his lips barely leaving mine. “You’re not,” he promised, caressing my cheek. “I’m your flotation device in this crazy life,” he whispered before his lips were back on mine.
Our moans of pleasure filled the room, making me want nothing more than to strip us bare and finish what we started. I couldn’t do it, though. I couldn’t risk being blinded by the lust of a guy like Bishop. Eventually, we’d have to go our separate ways, and if I had found a lover and had to give him up, I would never be the same. All I could do tonight was offer him a token of appreciation for marrying me when he didn’t have to.
His hard dick was trapped between us, and he thrust against my belly with needy desire. His basketball shorts couldn’t contain the length of him when he was hard, and he moaned when I pushed back against him. His hands tightened in my hair as I braced my right knee between his thighs and rubbed my belly up and down across his length. Every motion dragged a moan from him as he kissed me.
“If you keep that up, I’m going to come,” he moaned, his lips in my neck now as I pushed upward again, his responding thrusts growing stronger with every passing second. “God, that feels so good,” he sighed, his eyes closed. “You feel so good.”
“I can make it feel better,” I promised, and before he sensed my move, I slid down and captured the tip of him between my lips, t-shirt and all, where I suckled tenderly. I loved the disbelieving gasp that left his lips and I laughed naughtily, dragging another gasp from him. I flipped his t-shirt back to get to the meat of the matter, and the sound I made when I laid eyes on him for the first time was more than needy. It was damn near weeping. He was a god of a man like I’d never seen before, with a six-pack you could count, his manhood nestled perfectly in the ridge of his navel, and a bead of desire on the tip just waiting to be stolen.
My tongue darted out and licked it, his hiss of pleasure making me want to come in place, too.
“Fuck, my little tart. Who said you don’t know what you’re doing?” Bishop moaned, thrashing while I sucked him into my mouth almost to his hilt and held him there, the heat of my lips and tongue stroking him until he slid from my grasp again, all of him quivering with need. I didn’t give him a chance to say more before I sucked him into my waiting lips and rubbed his tip against the back of my throat. He had grasped the sheet for dear life, but he wouldn’t last long if his shaking thighs were any indication.
Letting him slide from my lips again, I sucked him back in, picking a rhythm I sensed was the right one to make him come apart in my arms. “Oh, God, don’t stop,” he moaned. Suddenly, he grasped my hair and pulled me away at the last second. “I’m going to come,” he hissed, his eyes closed and his head thrown back.
I grasped him, my hand offering pressure at his base for a moment before he exploded with need across my chest, his moans low, hot, and filled with emotion my inexperience couldn’t decipher. His chest rose and fell, but his eyes remained closed as I stroked him a few more times to draw out his pleasure.
“I think I sorted out the lust part,” I said, my lips tilting up when he opened his eyes to glance at me.
“You are a naughty little tart, you know that?” he asked, using his shirt to clean me up. “That was.” He fell to his side and made the mind-blown motion at his head. “I was not expecting that.”
“Me either,” I agreed, falling back to the bed and sighing. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Probably the same thing about to come over me,” he said, sliding his hand up my thigh and under my shorts. His fingers caressed the thatch of soft hair there while his lips sought mine again. His kiss brought me back to a heightened sense of desire while his fingers stroked their way closer to my center. When he encountered unexpected moisture, his breath caught again, and his lips tugged upward against mine. “It seems you weren’t unaffected by your shenanigans, my student,” he teased.
I thrust my hips into his hand and moaned. “I’ve never been this hot for anyone before, Bishop,” I said, my voice wavering. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
He gazed into my eyes, his holding mine while his thumb rubbed my cheek. “Do you trust me?”
“I shouldn’t, but I do,” I whispered, my breath catching when he stroked the engorged bud at my apex.
“Correction. You trust me because you know you can. You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” My head nodded without even thinking about it, and then my shorts were gone.
“What are you doing?” I asked the words in barely a squeak.
“Repaying the favor.” He was pushing my legs apart carefully, making room for his head.
I grasped his hair and stopped him instantly. “No. No, I don’t let anyone do that.”
His gaze lifted to mine, and he waited. “Why not?”
“I—I don’t know. I just don’t.”
“Close your eyes,” he said, his fingers straying back to my bud. “Close your eyes, and remember that you trust me.”
My eyes closed against my will, and I held myself stiff, waiting for him to make a move I didn’t like so I could jump up and run away. Well, not run away, but get away from him. Hide. Pretend I wasn’t now his wife.
