Professor Gibson’s throat bobs, and he drags his eyes up, taking in my flushed face and swollen breasts before turning to Olly. “I had an idea, but… I’m not exactly sure now.”
Olly’s fingers slide back and forth across my hip bone, each dip bringing the pads of his fingertips so much closer to the wet mess forming between my thighs. “Lacey is a romance author, but she isn’t as sexually liberated as you profess.”
Professor Gibson flicks his tongue over his bottom lip in a nervous gesture, making it glisten. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Olly’s fingers stroke dangerously close to where I need him, then retreat. I whimper in annoyance and arch my hips, seeking his fingers.
His throaty chuckle tickles my ear, slides down my neck, and fills my chest. The fabric of my shirt stretches across my nipples, sharp like needles, teasing as it scrapes across the sensitive tips. “Tell him what you want, Lovely Lacey.”
I want Olly to stop teasing me, but that’s not what he means. “I’ve been relying on other people’s experiences to be the inspiration for my stories. I want my own.”
Professor Gibson’s sigh sounds more like a moan. “What do you want from me?”
“My next title is about aNaughty Professor.” I reach for the hem of my skirt, tug it from Olly’s grip and drag it up to my hips. “Can you show me how naughty a professor can be?”
His eyes fall to my bare pussy, glistening with moisture.
His lips part in a slow, uneven breath.
“I’m… not sure… that would be appropriate,” he argues, but his eyes watch me with the same hunger running through my veins.
He makes no move to leave. Instead, he watches, transfixed as Olly’s fingertips creep along my thigh, finding my soft, wet flesh.
I let out a low moan as my body shudders in temporary relief. Olly kisses my shoulder as his fingers dip between my folds, pushing, stroking, and curling.
Professor Gibson shifts his hips, and his wrist twitches in his pocket. The slight movement draws my attention to his crotch.
Is he touching himself?
I want him to peel open his zipper and let me watch as he tugs himself to release, but that would be such a waste when I have three eager holes willing to suck it from him instead.
A sudden image hits me, my sweaty body pressed between Olly and the professor, two hard cocks sliding in and out of me in sync.
I sag against Olly, panting, the fantasy so intense my arousal spikes to an impossible level. I already know Olly’s response to this fantasy, but what about the professor’s?
As though sensing my need, Olly’s fingers curl, finding that secret spot deep inside and drawing a gasp from me. His hotbreath pants against my shoulder. “Tell the professor what you want him to do to you right now.”
I tilt my head to the side, giving Olly’s lips more access to my neck but locking my eyes with the professor’s. “I want him to pinch my nipple.”
Professor Gibson looks from Olly to me, aroused and unsure.
Olly pushes the strap of my shirt down my shoulder until it’s hanging halfway off my arm, exposing my naked breast.
Professor Gibson lets out a curse under his breath but doesn’t move.
The confidence I felt when he walked through Olly’s door begins to wane. Is this too much for him?
I don’t want him to go, not when I’m so close to getting what I want, but Olly’s hand is on my breast, and words escape me. He cups and weighs, caressing my nipple with his thumb as he brushes it back and forth, flicking the pebbled tip.
“Like this?” Olly pinches my nipple between two fingers.
A sharp, unexpected spark shoots to my belly, curling downward and pulsing beneath my clit. “Yes.”
Olly kisses my neck again, his breath tickling the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “What else do you want the professor to do to you?”
“I want him to kiss me.” I snake my hand down Olly’s arm to his wrist and squeeze the fingers curling inside me. “Here…”
Olly’s moan vibrates on my shoulder, and his hips rock into my ass, his erection full of dirty promises.
