Another sound tumbles from my lips – something between a whimper and a moan. A clear indicator that I'm dissolving in his arms.
A smirk hints at the edge of his lips. He leans in closer, lips barely brushing against mine. "Will you give in to me, Eden?"
My head drops back and I groan, hands tangling in his hair.
Fuck. I thought he'd never ask.
"Tell me." He hisses, mouth traveling back to my jaw, hand moving to clutch my hair. He squeezes, pulling on it slightly, and the pain sets my soul afire and makes my eyes burn – likely a hint of the freaky shit I'm sure he's into. Using my hair as leverage, he yanks my gaze forward to meet his. "Say it."
My breath hitches in my throat.
He moves my head, using my hair as his reins, ever so slightly to let me know who's in control.
"I'm yours." I breathe against his lips. All yours. "Take me."
His lips find mine again, and this time, the kiss is rougher. Deeper.
I part my lips to allow his tongue to find mine. His hands rest on either thigh, sliding gradually towards my core. I moan into his open mouth as he rips himself away from me to yank my top over my head. He tosses it furiously to the side, and as quickly as he's gone, he's back on me, licking at my lips as if my kiss is a whole fucking meal, nibbling at my swollen pout.
My hands grab whatever they can but soon, he pulls away again, this time dropping to his knees in front of me.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, this can't be happening.
I whimper at the sight of him, the sight of Professor Harlan's face just inches from my cunt.
"Unbutton." He orders, tilting his head down to bite the inside of my thigh. Hard.
Without warning, without control, I throw my head back and let out a yelp.
I don't know how he moves so fast, but his face is in front of mine before I'd realized he'd moved. His hand is around my jaw again, and this time, his grip is not so gentle. But I can feel his fingers, his whole hand, trembling as he holds me.
He's still holding back, I realize. If I didn't know better, I'd think that he...wants to hit me.
"Be quiet." He warns through a tantalizing hiss. "And you will unbutton your..." he glances down at what I'm wearing, "...shorts," he sneers, the judgement in his voice plainer than day itself.
Lips tilted up to his, I unbutton my denim shorts. Sticking his fingers through the ripped holes on the front, the holes that I like, that show more skin, that add what I think is a cute, sexy, distressed look, he rips them down, leaving me nearly bare in my bra and panties.
I have a habit of buying mostly black undergarments. But now, here, wearing a black mega-bra that cups my tits and a matching thong – I hadn't planned for it, I just wear a lot of leggings, so generally speaking, buying thongs is the move.
I realize I look a bit like a fucking porn star.
"Look at you, wearing these things," he mutters, throwing the shorts lazily off to the side. He moves to grip my waist, hands traveling across my skin as they please, taking me in, feeling me, feeling my bare skin, fingers dragging over the waistline of my panties. "Wearing these. You walk around like you're begging to get fucked."
His hands roam up my belly to grasp at my breasts, rolling them beneath his massive, strong hands, feeling them, squeezing them with considerable force.
I hiss at the pain, hips rolling forward. I wrap my legs around his, hoping to draw him closer. He notices, and he smirks down at me.
"Looks like she is," he concludes, "begging to get fucked."
Spitting the words at me, he reaches around and unclasps my bra in less than a second.
Okay, so this obviously isn't his first rodeo. Or his second or his third or his tenth, by the looks of it. Good to know.
In the midst of my thoughts, his mouth dives onto my nipple, eliciting a whine from my lips.
"Oh, fuck," I breathe, my moans and whimpers continuing as his tongue swirls around it. He sucks me, releases, and presses with his tongue, before taking it again lightly in between his teeth and pulling away until my breast pops from his mouth and bounces against my chest. As he turns his attention to the other one, his right hand travels down to my...
"Oh, fuck" I gasp, his fingers circling my clit through my panties as his other hand works my breast against his mouth as he bites at the skin around my nipple. Pleasure shoots through my cunt, just beneath his fingers, and pleasure shoots through my nipples, the ecstasy tingling within my sensitive skin.
He dips his finger under my panties, pushing them aside and running a finger up my drenched slit. I hear him snicker darkly from in between my breasts, bragging. If my moans didn't give away my blatant arousal, this certainly does.
I wonder what he'd do to me if I weren't on such a time crunch – if there wasn't the threat of a teacher, or god forbid a student, knocking on the door from the other side. I shudder at the thought.
Harlan's moves are frantic and quick.
He's going to pleasure me, that much is clear. He's going to make me pleasure him. But he's going to do it quickly.
My suspicion is confirmed as his hands move to undo his belt, fingers working in a frenzy. He unbuttons himself and shoves the flaps of fabric to the side, reaching into his underwear and pulling out his thick, hard, pulsating cock.
It weeps at the slit, already hungry for me. He pumps himself in his hand a few times, suppressing a groan against gritted teeth. I feel sheer pleasure at the sight of it, the sight of my English professor sliding his hand up and down his cock. Him. The man who teaches me Freud and assigns me essays and judges my intelligence for a living.
The power of it, the power he has over me, in more ways than one, is enough to make my pussy feel like it's about to leak out all my arousal onto the top of his desk.
He presses a hand on the centre of my chest and pushes me down, my back hitting the desk roughly. His hands come down beside me with a thud, knocking over books and pencils aside as he splays his hands on either side of me, each item crashing to the floor, forgotten.