The sight of precum leaking from his tip has me leaning forward, desperate to lick it up. However, he stops me with a rough tug of my hair.
“Did I give you permission?” he growls down at me as he starts to stroke himself.
I frown and finally manage to speak, my words coming out as a dry croak. “No, Sir.”
“It’s not because you were bad,” he says, and I feel immediate relief at his words. “I’m already too fucking close. I’mgoing to paint your face and your cock with my cum, and then you’re going to thank me for it.”
“Yes, Sir,” I moan.
I’m somewhat disappointed that I won’t get the chance to feel the weight of him on my tongue, but…fuck. Getting to watch him might just be the next best thing.
I stare with rapt attention as he jerks himself a few times before hot cum splatters over my face. My eyes close on instinct, but I quickly open them again because I don’t want to miss the sight of his orgasm. He groans as he aims his cock down, more ropes of cum landing over my dick that gives a rousing twitch.
When he’s finished, I tear my gaze away from his release dripping down my cock to peer up at him and whisper a breathless, “Thank you, Sir.”
“Fuck, you’re perfect.”
Grazing a finger down my cheek, he drags some of his cum to my mouth. I willingly and eagerly part my lips to suck it off his finger. It’s a new taste, and one hit is enough to already have me addicted.
“Perfect,” he says again.
I always loved my professor’s praise in the classroom before I started acting out, but the praise he gives me when we’re alone in his office and I’m on my knees covered in his cum is transcendent.
I haven’t been able toget Jackson out of my head all weekend. Every time I tried to get some work done, his face crept into my mind, the look in his eyes right before everything tipped over that line I swore I’d never cross again.
I’d read a paragraph, stare at the page, and realize I hadn’t processed a single word. My thoughts would drift back to him. To the way he looked at me like I was both salvation and sin.
I had to take too many breaks from grading papers to relieve the ache in my cock every time I pictured him on his knees or bent over my desk, and now I’m behind. I’m scrambling to get at least a couple more finished in my office Monday morning before heading to class, trying to pretend I’m still the sort of man who keeps control of his life.
Of course, that’s even more difficult considering this is where the act of my transgression occurred.
The memory plays in fragments. The soft hitch of his breath. Every time he called me Sir and melted from my praise. The red of his ass from my hand. His soft cries and his beautiful tears. The way he fucked back on my fingers, his tight hole begging to be filled.
It’s all burned into me.
As much of a distraction as my memory of that evening has been, it’s much more welcome than the guilt that comes with it.
I shouldn’t have let it happen.
What’s worse is my regret that I let myself want it.
I might’ve been a bit more intense than I should have been. But it’s beensolong since I had the opportunity to Dom, since I had a man who was as perfect a sub as Jackson was. I know he recently came out as bisexual, so it’s hard to imagine he’s had experiences like that before. It’s more like he was a natural.
Perfect.
If I’m being honest with myself, I haven’t had that kind of connection with someone since Dylan. I’ve gone to a club out of town a few times, but I always left feeling less than satisfied. Those clubs can be fun, a good way to let off some steam, but I’ve always preferred to have a sub of my own.
It’s been years since I let myself want someone in that way, since I let desire and loneliness and curiosity twist themselves into something dangerous. Since I’ve let myself cross that line.
But Jackson…He makes me forget why rules exist in the first place.
Not just the school’s but my own.
And then there’s the whole issue of…can I even trust him? Even though my doubts about that have eased somewhat after what happened between us, the suspicion is still there. It’d be reckless to let it go completely.
By the time I head off to my first class of the day, I’m still incredibly behind and feeling off balance. I’ve already lost control once, and I’m not convinced I won’t again.
When I stand at the front of the lecture hall, the quiet hum of the students settling in usually steadies me. Teaching is the one place where I feel sure of myself, where I can drown out the chaos of my mind by focusing on the sincere passion I have forthe things I teach. Where I can hide behind my role of professor and mentor and academic.
