And he’s my boyfriend now, I remind myself. He assured me we were no longer fake dating but real dating. There’s nothing unethical about this.
“I…I’m not sure there’s anything you can do to bring your grade up at this point, Mr. Gunnarsson,” I find myself saying. “You’ve been slacking off all semester, and saving your grade now would require a lot ofhardwork.” I emphasize the word "hard" breathily.
Ash’s mouth curls into a grin as he looks up at me.
“I can work hard,” he insists. “Give me a chance to prove it.”
I sit on the desk and slide back, and his eyes flare with desire.
“Fine. I’ll give you a chance,” I say. “Shall we start with an oral exam?”
His eyes flare again, and he growls as he surges forward to hike my skirt up. He drags my hips to the edge of the desk, and I barely have time to throw a hand back and brace myself before he dives into my pussy. His lips close around my clit, and I cry out, then clamp a hand over my own mouth as I remember where we are.
I grab his head as his tongue plunges inside me, and I thrust my hips up. I don’t mean to, and I worry I’m suffocating him, but he only groans and presses his face into me so deep I seriously wonder if he can breathe. He wraps his muscled arms around my legs and pulls me even closer to him, and I stifle a scream as he sucks hard on my clit again.
I can’t stay still as he licks and sucks and teases between my legs for the next few minutes. I writhe on the desk, trying desperately to remain quiet, but I’m falling apart quickly under Ash’s tongue as he works me.
One hand is still on his head, gripping a fistful of his hair. My other hand searches desperately for the edge of the desk to give me something to hold onto. I find it just in time and grip down hard as he pistons two fingers into me and I spasm around him as my orgasm rocks through me. I fall back, whimpering as I press my lips together to keep quiet.
“Fucking delicious,” I hear him murmur against my pussy.
I’m panting like I just escaped a masked killer when my body finally goes limp. I lift my head, and Ash looks up at me from between my legs.
“Did I pass, teach?” he asks.
I have to take several more breaths before I can answer him.
“I said you’d need to work hard,” I manage. “Do you feel like you worked hard enough yet?”
“I’d say that deserves an A, don’t you?” he says as he stands.
I give him a coy smile. “You’ve brought your grade up to a C,” I say. “The question is whether you’re satisfied with that.”
“Just a C!” he chokes out. “That’s all?”
I rise on my elbows to look up at him. “Did you think this would be easy, Mr. Gunnarsson?” I say sternly. “You’ve only finished one assignment. If you want an A, you need to finish the rest.”
He looks down at me and grins. “And what are the rest?” he asks as he leans over me, bracing his hands on either side of my hips.
“Well, you’ve learned all the theory. The real test is the practical application. Can you take what you know and apply it?”
He considers me before his face goes serious, and he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket to fish a condom out. He slaps the wallet down on the desk and lays the condom next to it.
Does he carry any money in that wallet, or is it only for prophylactics?
Ash yanks his hoodie and t-shirt up over his head, and I’m treated to that luscious expanse of his muscled chest and the tattoo over his left shoulder and down his arm. I instantly go wet again.
He undoes his belt next and whips it out of his jeans. I give a little yelp of surprise as he loops it around my neck and pulls it tight, not enough to cut off my air, but just enough that I feel the pressure on my throat. The muscles tighten between my legs.
“So you want to know what I’ve learned so far,” he says, his voice a deep gravel. “I’ll show you what I’ve learned.”
Keeping hold of the belt, he undoes the fly of his jeans with one hand. He pushes the jeans and his boxer briefs down just low enough to let his cock spring free, and I bite my lip.
“I’ve learned you’re a strong, capable woman who – outside of sex –exudes confidence and doesn’t take crap,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve needed that to succeed as a woman in academia, particularly in a field like sport communication, and I respect the hell out of you for that.”
I swallow against the belt and try to pretend he didn’t just turn me on even more with his feminist awareness. There’s a knot in my throat that has nothing to do with the belt, and I mentally repeat my new mantra that I cannot fall in love with this man.
“I find your-take-no-shit demeanor incredibly sexy, by the way,” he says as he rips the condom open with his teeth and rolls it onto his cock with one hand, the other still holding the belt tight to my throat.
