In my mind, I don’t hesitate. But in real-time? I need to catch mybreath first. “Yes.”
“Put your hands behind my knees and keep them there.”
My arms obey before my brain catches up, and they cling there for dear life. He pushes everything that covers me down. It’s the best improvised corset ever, lifting my breasts like an offering, framed and full, for him.
Preston loses his composure for the first time tonight. His legs shift wider, his hips tip forward, drawn like he can’t help himself. The hissed “fuck” that follows hits me as the most obscene, most genuine compliment of my life.
He tries to top it anyway. “You’re so gorgeous, Mia. Delectable.”
I’m humping air, and I couldn't care less how desperate I look. And since I’m past humiliating myself, I beg, “Touch me. Please, Doc.”
Does he? Why, when he can torture me more instead?
“Open your mouth,” is his next command.
It startles my eyes open. I wasn’t expecting that. But at this point, I’m conditioned to follow his every lead. I want it all. What he’s giving, what he’s holding back. I’ll beg for both. He’s primed my body for it.
“Stick your tongue out for me.”
I do. He slides two fingers past my lips, and I suck them on instinct.
He gives me a wicked smile. The dirtiest, most delighted thing I’ve ever seen painted on someone’s face. My professor seems pleased he didn’t have to tell me to do that.
I get it now. Homemade porn. I want to see this again. Replay it a hundred times. So I don’t blink. I burn it into my brain.
When he pulls his fingers out, they leave with a slick,popping sound. “Such an eager one,” he rasps, then uses those same fingers to tease my nipple.
I use his leg again to muffle the moans, arching hard enough that I might need him to fix my back later. He pulls, then rolls my nipple between his fingers, and I lose control of every muscle, including the ones behind my eyes.
His touch grows bolder. I grow wetter. I’m fluttering, aching and about to explode.
I shift, grinding my clothed cunt against the quilt. Just a little more friction. A tiny bit will be enough. I’m seconds away from losing it.
I suck on new fingers, and he works on both nipples now, wet and hard. I need release, or I’ll self-destruct.
“Can I touch myself?” I beg.
It’s his turn to freeze—but he never lets go of me. “Fuck.” There he goes again. Turning curses into compliments.
His hands are back on me. His mouth. His voice. Him.
All of it has me buzzing, my whole body drawn tight and begging for release.
A groan breaks from deep in his chest—like he’s barely hanging on—and then, “Yes.”
Permission granted.
I keep one arm fastened behind his thigh as my right hand slips into my panties, sliding easily into my soaked pussy. My clit is swollen, more sensitive than I’ve ever felt it in my life.
“Are you inside that pussy, Mia?”
“Yes,” I breathe, echoing the word I’ve been repeating all night.
“Are you wet?”
“Drenched.” I bring my fingers back to my clit, circling hard and fast.
“Is every drop for me?”
