There’s a small love seat against the far wall. I picture my protagonist casually sitting, knees slightly spread.
I follow the plot in my head and sit.
His eyes settle on the bare skin of my knees as the skirt dips between.
The memory of Olly’s thighs between mine makes my pulse skip, and something spasms in my chest. I ignore it.
Confident Seductress.
Leading Lady.
Slowly, I let my legs fall apart, just enough to give the professor a glimpse of my inner thighs. “I didn’t wear panties today.”
I’ve written dialogue like this a lot, but I barely recognize the words in my own voice.
Professor Gibson makes a strangled sound. It reminds me of Olly’s low rumble as he pulsed inside me. “Do you make that sound when you come?”
He shakes his head, almost in disbelief, then relaxes into the chair. He runs a hand over his chin, his mouth twitching in an almost smile. “Do you talk to all of your professors like this?”
“Just the ones I like,” I say, playing the lead character. “Maybe you should put your cock in my mouth to shut me up.”
His eyes flare, and his gaze drops to my mouth.
The Naughty Professoroutline begins forming in my mind. The student walks behind her professor’s desk, his chair already turned to face her as though waiting. She drops to her knees.
His throat bobs, and his tongue flicks across his bottom lip in a nervous twitch.
I’m affecting him, just like a protagonist affects her love interest.
Just like Olly affects me…
“You’re my student…”
“And I need some tutoring…”
The outline builds and fleshes out more as I take a step toward him. Every scene forms into something worthy of that box set.
And Olly will be there to listen to all the dirty details when I’m done.
I hate the way my throat thickens.
Professor Gibson’s eyes follow me as I lower to my knees in front of him. Carpet scrapes at my skin, reminding me that this moment is real, not some fantasy I’ve written on paper.
I’m about to become the leading lady in my own story, to explore and experience a new side of myself. It’s everything I want… isn’t it?
Uncertainty makes my hands waver as Olly’s question reverberates in my thoughts.
What do you want, Lacey?
Being a leading lady is hard work, but not as hard as figuring out the answer to one simple question.
I can’t think about that now. Not with the professor’s eyes boring into me and the hard outline of his cock beckoning me.
I push all thoughts of Olly out of my head and reach for the professor’s belt buckle.
I offer him a questioning look, a moment to say no.
His teeth clamp onto his bottom lip, and he arches his hips in response.
