Page 10 of Hot for Professor

He wraps his fingers in my hair and his head lolls backwards as I take him in my mouth again. His hips jerk and I slip my hand between his legs to cup his balls. They tighten and he grunts as the thick stream of his release shoots down my throat. I gobble him up, not letting go until he begs.

“I can’t take anymore, Rosalie. Christ, that was amazing. If I didn’t know you were a virgin until me, I’d swear you were a pro.”

It’s an odd compliment and makes me laugh, at least until he lifts me and tosses me on my twin bed. His big body comes down on top of me and he pulls my nightgown up and shoves my panties aside.

“Your turn, little girl.”

He closes his eyes as his fingers sink into my pussy, wet and ready for him. I arch into his touch as it sends shimmers of ecstasy up and down my legs. How does he make me feel so good?

“I’m so glad I picked you to teach me, Professor,” I say, leaning up on my elbows so I can watch his fingers delve into my body. I spread my legs wider and nearly lose consciousness when he strokes my swollen clit.

“I’m so glad this sweet pussy is mine forever,” he says. “How could I have been so stubborn? I’ve been thinking about getting my cock inside your perfect little hole for three weeks.”

He pushes three fingers inside me, stretching me so much that I gasp. “Get it inside me now, Professor,” I beg. I can’t stop smiling. He loves it when I beg and all I want to do is please him, knowing he’s about to make me scream with pleasure.

“Tell me exactly what you want, little girl,” he says, searing me with an intense look as he moves his fingers in and out of me.

I move my hips and try to get enough breath to speak. “I want you to fuck me,” I say, but he only raises an eyebrow at that. “I want you to shove your great big cock into my tight little pussy, Professor.” My cheeks burn, but his smile makes me bolder. “Fuck me so hard I’ll feel your cock inside me next week,” I gasp. “Better yet, don’t stop fucking meuntilnext week.”

“Oh God, Rosalie,” he says, his fingers still now. “Christ, little girl.”

“Hurry, Professor,” I pant. I can’t take much more of this waiting. I may come just from the way he’s looking at me.

He gets between my legs, spreading them wide and centering the tip of his cock at my opening. I writhe in anticipation of that hard rod splitting me in two, but he grips my hips to keep me from moving. Leaning over me, he gives me a long kiss that has my heart racing, then sinks his cock deep inside me in one smooth thrust. He claps his hand gently over my mouth as I scream and I remember we’re in the dorm. The strength of the orgasm he gives me makes me not care who hears.

He rides me hard and fast, making me come again as he spills his seed inside me. I grab him as he crashes on top of me, and hold him close.

“I’m never letting you go again,” I say.

He nods against my shoulder, then rolls to the side, wrapping me in his arms. “You know I can’t sleep here, though, right?”

Shit, I keep forgetting where we are. He has that effect on me. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Silly,” he says, kissing my forehead. “You’re coming to my house with me. Our house, now. Unless you don’t like it, then we’ll move.”

“I don’t care where we live, as long as we’re together,” I assure him.

“We’ll always be together from now on, Rosalie.”

“Then let’s get to your house so we can do this again. I want to be as loud as I like.”

He laughs and kisses me again, then sits up to look for his clothes. “Anything you want, my darling little girl.”

Epilogue

Adrian

Seven years later …

I never went back to teaching. The novel Rosalie inspired me to write took off like a rocket, and after a wildly successful round on the talk show circuit, I started a publishing house with the proceeds. I haven’t written since; it seems the words only flow when I’m miserable, and the last seven years with Rosalie have been the happiest of my life.

The last seven years with my company’sbestselling author, I should say. I always thought my gorgeous wife had a knack for writing, so when she graduated, I encouraged her to go back to the erotic stories she used to write when she was dreaming about getting me to take her virginity.

We have a lot of fun doing research for her books, and even though I can’t keep her on a deadline, she usually has the best excuses—like chasing after our toddler and keeping me in line.

She comes into my office with a relieved smile on her face and I pull her onto my lap. “He’s finally asleep,” she says of Monty, our two-year-old.

“Good. Now you can tell me what you want for our anniversary. Seven years is a big one.”

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