My back hits the bookshelf, and he stops just close enough that I'd have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact if I were willing to look at him. I keep my gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder instead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered I am.
Fyodor’s voice drops to a low rumble as he says, “When I was a young boy, I had a teacher. Damn, she was almost as beautiful as you are." He uses his pinky on his right hand to lift a strand of hair off my face. "She’d lean over my desk to check my work, and I’d feel this ache I didn’t understand yet. I’d sit there hard as rock, praying she wouldn’t notice.”
His words slide over me like smoke. I should push him away, but my throat locks up and heat floods my belly traitorously fast.
As he leans in and his chest is only centimeters from mine, I feel that heat and turn my head to avoid looking at him. But it's useless at this point. I feel myself coming unraveled by him.
"Lots of boys have fantasies about their teacher, Noemi. Do you want me to fantasize about you?" His breath dusts my cheek, and I find it difficult to control my breathing. He's so close to me now, and my body is doing stupid, sinful things. Horrible things I hate.
"I've always wanted to live out those fantasies… Of course, they'd be role play, but I'm sure you could teach me things."
"Fyodor, this is inappropriate?—"
"And you love it." He captures my wrist and guides my hand to his crotch where the evidence that he's really turned on by me is too obvious to ignore. He's rock hard and throbbing, and as he makes me cup him, he twitches too, as if on purpose. "Now can we stop this little dance we've been doing for days and put both of us out of this damn misery?"
I don't move my hand even after he takes his away.
Why don't I move my hand?
Why am I still gripping his dick through his jeans?
"I'm not miserable," I tell him, but the burning ache in my groin says otherwise. It's been screaming at me for days now with no way to quench it or make it stop.
I hate myself for feeling this way. I don't remember the last time a man made me feel this way. And this man certainly shouldn't stimulate these sensations in my body at all. He's a liar and a bastard and he took me and forced me to be here. Why is my body responding to this at all?
Then his one hand is on my hip as he leans on the wall beside me so I'm caged in. His breath dances over my ear again and he nips it gently.
"When you were here asking for school supplies, I know you wanted to ask for more." A flick of his tongue on my earlobe makes electricity sizzle down my spine. "I could see it in the way you admired my body… What did you want then, Noemi? You can ask me for it now."
My mouth opens and closes but no sounds come out. Not even when he reaches out with the toe of his boot and shuts the door. I make the mistake, however, of turning to see what he's doing and my mouth ends up inches from his, our lips dangerously close to brushing.
"I'm going to take you over to my desk and bend you over it and fuck you like the good girl you are." His words make me shudder, but I don’t protest because every cell in my body wants him to do exactly that despite all the massive red flags waving everywhere now. "And if you want me to stop, all you have to do is tell me."
I whimper as he takes my wrist and backs away from me, and I realize I'd been gripping his dick that entire time. Fyodor pullsme across the room where I go willingly, not even dragging my feet a little.
My pulse is hammering so much I feel a bit lightheaded, and he wastes no time reaching for the button of my slacks to undo it. It makes me shudder again as his hand slips into my panties and curls around my sensitive mound to dip through the moisture I've made.
"Ahh, good girl, Ms. Dragunova," he purrs. "So fucking wet, aren't you?"
Fyodor's fingers slide deeper, parting my folds with firm strokes that make my knees buckle. I grip the edge of the desk to steady myself, breath hitching as he circles my clit with his thumb. The pressure begins to build in my core, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Spread your legs wider for me. Show me how much you need this."
I obey without thinking, shifting my feet apart as his hand works me. His free arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against his hard length still straining through his jeans. The friction sends sparks through me, and I arch into his touch, desperate for more.
"Good girl," he praises, and his lips brush my neck. "You're soaking my fingers already. Keep making those pretty sounds for me."
He withdraws his hand suddenly, and I whimper at the loss, my body clenching around nothing. Fyodor chuckles darkly, spinning me around to face the desk. "Bend over," he growls so firmly, I don't even want to resist. "Palms flat on the surface. Ass up high."
For a moment, I stand like a scared animal staring into oncoming traffic. I'm not a virgin, but I've never had a man speak to me like this during sex, and while I find it extremely arousing, I also don't know what to think about it. I must seem so dazed by his commands that he turns me himself and physically bends me over the desk until my face is pressed onto the wood and just as he requested, my ass is in the air.
"Look at you, presenting yourself so perfectly," he says, his voice thick with approval. "Stay just like that. Don't move unless I tell you."
A soft whimper escapes followed by a gasp as I feel my slacks and panties being tugged down. An instant chill kisses my skin which is immediately replaced by the warmth of his callused palm as he smooths it over my ass cheek. "So perfect…" he growls, drawing another whine from deep in my throat.
I'm humiliated but so turned on, I don't want him to stop at all. I hear the zipper of his jeans, the rustle of fabric, and then the hot, blunt tip of his dick presses against my entrance. He teases me there, sliding along my slickness without entering, making me squirm.
"Oh, God," I gasp, unable to hold back. I start to lift my chest from the desk, but his hand presses me back down firmly.
