A spiral of desire coils inside of me, tightening with promise. My fingers switch between sliding in and out and swirling around the outer edges of my clit.
His shaft pulses on the back of my tongue—so close.
What would Olly’s cum taste like? Cherry cola?
I moan around the cock in my mouth, imagining Olly’s sweet cream coating my tongue, my face… shooting inside my ass.
Desire burns in my veins as wetness seeps between my fingers. I stroke and slide, pinch and tease, seeking that crest of relief.
I look up, the professor’s eyes hooded and glassy, full of hunger.
Olly’s were even more intense as he thrust into me so hard that tiny scrapes from the brick wall marked my back, tattooed to my skin like decadent memories.
What would it have been like to feel a second body pressed to my skin instead of a brick wall?
Heat fills my chest, and my nipples tighten as I realize where my thoughts are heading. Two guys at once is a scenario I’ve never even written about.
But it’s the one description of Olly’s that always leaves me breathless whenever I remember it.
Warmth tickles my clit, the tiny bud now a swollen ball. One flick, and I snap. White dots blur my vision as my walls grip and pulse around my fingers, sucking them like they milked Olly’s cock.
Professor Gibson grips my head and shudders, his shaft pulsing in my mouth and spurting his naughtiness onto my tongue.
I swallow his cream, but instead of the sweet taste of empowerment, a bitter dose of reality slides down my throat.
I got what I needed, my own inspiration and two-thirds of my story outlined, but it’s clear that the ending is impossible without the missing spark—Olly.
All the reasons for why we won’t work are still there, but there is one reason why we will work that I hadn’t considered…
I want Olly.
It’s time to answer my crush’s question.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Olly
I stand outside of her apartment building, hands cupping the back of my head, arousal thick and heady in my veins.
But pain slices like a knife in my chest. Is she fucking him right now?
My cock twitches at the memory of Lacey’s muffled sob against my palm, her pussy tight and hungry around my cock.
Now the professor is the one feeling her come apart.
Jealousy churns in my gut like a twisted disease, but the worst part is… I’m fucking proud of her. She’s going after what she wants—finally.
I just wish it were me.
I look up at the dark window of her third-floor apartment and pace.
What the hell am I doing here?
She’s either up there with him now or soon will be.
What did I plan to do if he turned up?
Nothing, because I’m a sucker who wants what I can’t have.
