“What ques…” Professor Gibson’s voice stutters as his eyes lower and focus beneath my desk, “…question did you select?”
Skin swirls against skin, my antagonist tracing a slow, seductive figure eight up my inner thigh, turning me from diligent student to infatuated addict.
But I don’t want him to stop.
“I’m having difficulty choosing between one…” Olly presses one finger to my panties, “or two.”
I swallow a surprised gasp as he increases the pressure with a second finger.
Olly’s touch ignites me like a match. I grip the edge of the desk, trying to center myself and not combust in front of a roomful of people.
I can’t believe he’s touching me like this.
I can’t believe I’m letting him… in public.
He slumps back in his chair, nonchalantly tapping the table with one hand and dangerously close to fingering me with the other.
I can’t tell if the professor is looking our way, but at the moment I don’t care. I need Olly’s fingers to push my panties to the side and ease the ache he created.
“Sex…” Professor Gibson chokes on his answer. “Six. Six would be interesting.”
“Six it is,” Olly purrs, a sly smile curling his lips.
Professor Gibson clears his throat, looking as red as I feel.
“Lacey Wright,” he calls, looking around the room.
Olly presses down hard on the cotton just above my clit.
“Three,” I squeak, as hot, sticky arousal leaks from my core, dirtying my panties and soaking into Olly’s skin.
The professor’s wide eyes find my half-lidded ones.
Snap.
I jump at the sudden, unexpected sound. Blinking away the glassy haze of arousal, I notice the professor’s laptop closed on the desk.
“I have… an appointment,” he announces, his voice unusually loud. “The rest of you, email me your chosen question. See everyone next week.”
Professor Gibson holds the rectangular device low in front of his hips and slips from the room within seconds.
Questions and confused comments bounce from student to student, but no one wastes the early release opportunity. Bags shuffle and students pile out. The class is over, the room empty, and the professor is gone. I don’t need my wingman anymore, but neither Olly nor I move.
Last night, while kissing, we played it off as research. This feels like so much more.
His finger moves to the edge of my panties, his nail lightly scratching where cotton meets skin.
I hold my breath.
The door opens, and new students start filling the room, seeing the empty classroom as an opportunity to settle in early for the next class.
I stiffen, but Olly’s eyes flare with something dark and dirty before he drags his hand from between my legs.
I miss his touch as soon as it’s gone, but I barely have time to grab my things before he’s dragging me out of the building, over the campus lawn, to a barely used walkway between two buildings.
He leads me into a small garden and tugs me behind a tree, hiding us from view.
He slips my bag from my shoulder and holds my gaze as he lowers it to the ground.
