“Such a needy little puppy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Professor,” he says, and the way he says it is so damn pathetic I could combust.
Heat blooms between our bodies from the friction of our clothes, and his thrusts pick up speed—every hard inch of him pushing into my soft thighs. The aching muscles between my legs involuntarily tighten and release with every stroke—coaxing me to find more more more.
"Did you think about these?” I arch and lean back to push his head into my chest—nails digging into his head. “And just how much you could take in your mouth?”
His reply is muffled by my ample breasts and blouse, but the way he’s nuzzling me sends his message loud and clear—and I want that. I haven’t let anyone see my bare tits in all this time I’ve been attending parties and hooking up with submissives. It’s been a soft limit I’ve held, but the idea of Jonah never seeing them, never touching them? I think I’d be doing myself a disservice. I want to watch him worship my breasts with tiny darts of his tongue and long, flat strokes. With maddening nips and suffocating mouthfuls.
When Jonah’s breathing becomes erratic, I yank his face to mine and push my tongue into his mouth, and he groans.
“That’s it,” I murmur against his lips. “Come for me. Be agood boy and earn your grade, Mr. Johanssen.”
He bites my lip as his body stills. “Unghhhh. Fffffuuu—”he grunts, tortured and lovely. A few more jerks follow before he slumps against me, panting like the puppy he is. “Whoa,” he breathes.
Over every ridge and plane of muscles, I stroke my hands up and down his back. “Good boy,” I praise, my tone as gentle and soothing as my hands.
He kisses my lips and draws in a deep inhale. “Thank you.”
I smile. “Thank you for the flowers.”
For a while longer, we stand there soaking up each other’s pheromones and exchanging languorous kisses until our heart rates return to normal. The voices of people walking through the hallway just outside my office door have us both grinning like a couple of naughty kids.
“Sit down in my chair,” I say, and nudge him until he does. I grab a bottle of water from my mini fridge and open a desk drawer to retrieve a Twix candy bar I have saved for the days I need a sweet fix. He watches me like I hung the moon as I stand between his spread legs and hand him the open water bottle. “Drink this please.”
His brows raise. “What? No, that’s for you.”
“I won’t take a sip until you do.” I force him to take it.
“But... that’s not how this works. I’m supposed to get you water.”
I lean back against the desk and open the candy wrapper with a knowing smirk. “And why’s that?”
I flick my eyes to him and watch the confusion stir. “Because... I’m the man?”
A snort escapes me. “And I’m the Domme. It’s my job to take care of you after a scene like that. I need to make sure you’re cared for and you feel safe. So please drink your water...” I trail off with a smile and wait for him to drink half of it before handing him a Twix. “And eat this.”
“What if I don’t like Twix?”
I level him with a glare. “You’ve eaten every cookie my kids have ever made you.”
He chuckles and takes the chocolate-covered caramel cookie. “Guilty,” he says, and bites off half.
“Are you okay with what happened here?”
With a full mouth, he looks at me like I’m bananas. “Uh, yeah!”
“Good.” I hand him the second cookie. “Me too.” Something less fun must cross his mind because his focus goes distant for a moment. “What’s wrong?”
He takes his time finishing what’s left in his mouth before speaking.
At least he has good manners.
“Have you ever...” he starts, and looks around the room.
It’s my turn for my eyebrows to shoot up. “Done stuff in here?”
He lifts one shoulder, a picture of innocence despite that fact we defiled each other minutes ago. “Like with other students?”
