“Also, some ancient medical texts mention the Greek verbkleitoriazein, which means to touch or titillate lasciviously.” My uniform skirt is completely pushed up and his hand begins to caress my thigh.
“That’s very interesting, professor. You like research, don’t you? Maybe you should follow the instructions in those texts and do some clitorizing of your own.”
I don’t feel a moment's shame for my brazenness.
Alexis’s leg slides between my legs and presses deliberately against my core. “You want me toKleitoriazeinyourkleis?” His rich, accented growl sends a delicious shiver rolling down my spine, and I lose track of the conversation.
My brain is collapsing into a single, simple thought. I can't hold it in anymore.
“Alexis,” I whisper.
“Yes,pulu?”
“I have something to tell you.” I feel heat rise in my cheeks, suddenly shy.
He doesn't move, just looks down at me, his eyes gentle. “You can tell me anything, especially something that makes you blush like that.”
I squirm a little until, finding the courage, I take a deep breath. “Alexis, my professor…”
“Theo?”
Another deep breath, and then I let out the simple truth. “I’m in love with you.”
Letting the truth free makes space in my body for the totality of my love to expand to its fullest. I am swimming in it; it’s warm, dreamy, and completely right.
Alexis traces a finger along my face, stopping at my bottom lip, pulling it open slightly. Then he leans over and kisses me along the jawline until finally capturing my mouth with his. I open instantly to his probing tongue, and I feel an overwhelming joy at how thoroughly, how completely he kisses me.
It is more than desire; it is like a fundamentalclickof recognition.
“If it’s not obvious, pulu. I’m in love with you, too.”
I pull at the buttons of his shirt, and trail my hands over his chest. Alexis stills as my fingers graze the terrible scars on his arm. "I’m not like Donovan, a golden boy, whole and healthy, Theo," he whispers, his voice rough. "Under these clothes, I am a map of scar tissue."
Like I care about that! I pull the shirt down his shoulders, revealing the mess of silver lines scars that travel from his arm and across his flank, then lean up and press a kiss to the worst one, right beside his heart.
“You're perfect," I tell him against his skin. "And you're mine."
His fingers skim under my own shirt, and I quiver at the contact. “This here is perfection.” A calloused palm cups my breast.
My core heats to molten lava level as once again he claims my mouth. And now one of those magical fingers on his other hand trail along my inner thigh. The touch seems to leave a trail of fizzing bubbles along my skin. Finally, a gentle wisp of pressure strokes across the outside of my panties, directly over my clit. I let out a sob as my wetness grows. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
He teases me again with the merest tiny touches, so light they could almost mistake me for an accident. “Alexis…”
My hips rock towards him again, and as his fingers give me just a little more friction, his mouth descends onto my collarbone, biting and sucking.
“Oh, Gods.”
Alexis sets a pace to his strokes, still so delicate and never breaching the layer of cotton. It’s perfect, it’s exquisite. It’s tantalizing and desperation-making.
My core throbs. “I’m dying here, professor,” I groan.
Finally, he pauses, using one hand to push down my underwear.
“Please…” I become even more desperate as his finger starts trailing lightly against my labia.
“You sound like you need something, pulu. Do you need to come?” his husky tone sends me even more towards the edge.
“Yes, for Gods’ sake, yes, yes.” I have no pride.
