Page 44 of The Naughty Professor
I positioned myself between his legs, the head of my cock nudging against him.Our eyes locked as I slowly pushed forward, both of us holding our breath as I entered him.The tight heat of his body enveloped me, and for a moment, I couldn’t move, overwhelmed by the intensity of the connection.
Then Thorne’s legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper, and any remaining control I had shattered.I began to move, each thrust punctuated by our mingled gasps and the creaking of the bed beneath us.The world narrowed to the man beneath me, to the feel of his body, to the desperate, hungry way he met each of my thrusts.
“Harder,” Thorne urged, his voice a guttural growl that spurred me on.I drove into him with renewed vigor, our bodies slapping together in a steady rhythm.
Suddenly the rhythm between us stuttered, and the world tilted.The air turned thin, unsteady, the edges of the room blurring into light and shadow.A wave of dizziness rolled through me, so sharp it almost broke the spell.I looked down and saw Thorne’s face—flushed, eyes half-closed, lips parted in a sound I couldn’t quite hear—and something inside me twisted.It felt wrong, or too right, or both at once.
How did I get here?What am I doing?
The air felt charged, heavy, as if the walls themselves had taken a breath and were waiting for me to remember who I was.
“Did you feel that?”I asked, my voice barely more than a breath.
Thorne’s hands gripped my shoulders with a newfound urgency.“Yes,” he gasped.“Don’t stop.”
The plea in his voice was my undoing.I thrust into him again, harder, deeper, as if I could meld us together forever.The bedframe creaked in protest, but we were beyond hearing, beyond anything but the exquisite friction between us.
Our bodies were slick with sweat, and I felt Thorne’s erection pressed between us, hard and insistent.I reached down, wrapped my hand around him, and matched the rhythm of my thrusts with the strokes of my hand.
Thorne’s head fell back, his throat working as he cried out my name.It was a sound that resonated deep within me, a sound I wanted to hear over and over again.His body tightened around me, the muscles of his channel fluttering with the telltale signs of his impending release.
“I’m...I’m going to...”Thorne’s words dissolved into a series of broken moans as his climax tore through him.Hot, wet warmth spilled over my hand as his body convulsed beneath me, the intensity of his orgasm triggering my own.
With a final, deep thrust, I let go, my vision whiting out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.I buried my face in the crook of Thorne’s neck, muffling my cries against his skin as I rode out the aftershocks.
For a long moment, we lay entwined, our breaths gradually slowing, the sweat cooling on our skin.The room was quiet save for the soft buzz of the city outside, a stark contrast to the maelstrom that had just passed between us.
Finally, I lifted my head, brushing a damp lock of hair from Thorne’s forehead.His eyes were closed, and a small smile played on his lips.I brushed my lips across his.
“Are you okay?”I asked, the words a whisper against his mouth.
Thorne’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me with a warmth that filled the room.“I’m more than okay,” he murmured.
Gently, I withdrew from him and then lay down beside him, pulling him into my arms.
As sleep began to claim us, Thorne whispered into the darkness, “Thank you.”
I tightened my hold on him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.“No, Thorne,” I murmured.“Thank you.”
* * *
I woke in the dark, my heart racing from the strangest dream.The room was still, heavy with the scent of sweat and something sweet, unfamiliar.For a moment, I didn’t even know where I was.My mind fumbled through fragments—heat, noise, light—and came up empty.
The sheets were warm, tangled around my legs.Someone’s arm was draped over my waist, their breath steady against the back of my neck.
My breath caught.Who—?
I turned my head just enough to see the faint outline beside me.The moonlight spilled through the half-open curtains, washing the room in silver.The man lying next to me was broad-shouldered, the planes of his face soft in sleep, a shock of dark blonde hair falling across his forehead.
Recognition hit like a blow.
Thorne.
My stomach dropped so fast it hurt.I froze, barely breathing, staring at him.
No, no, no.This couldn’t be real.
How was I in his bed?How was he—how was I—?
