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“Just like that.” I run my hand over her ass, holding my cock in place. “Now squat down over my cock.”
She slowly lowers herself, my tip at her entrance. Inch by inch, I guide her tight pussy over me until I’m fully sheathed inside her.
“Oh, yesss,” I hiss as she begins to move her hips. “Lean forward.” I press her down till her cheek rests against the top of the desk. I reach out, wrapping her hair around my wrists a few times. “I’ve fantasized so many times about using your hair to pull you back onto my cock.”
“Oh, Professor,” she moans, the rhythm slow and deep. Hearing her say that makes me want to fuck her hard, but I hold back, wanting this to last, wanting her to build into an explosive release.
My phone begins to vibrate in my pocket against my knee. “Don’t stop; don’t you fucking stop,” I say as I reach for it, sliding my thumb across the screen to answer it.
“Nelson, what?” I say, attempting to keep my voice steady as Presley continues to ride me.
“I’ll be back at the office soon,” I say through a ragged breath. I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about. I can’t focus on anything but the grip she has on me right now. I release my hand from her hair, bringing my thumb to my mouth to get it wet. I drag my hand down, placing my thumb over her asshole and pressing against it.
“Ahhh,” she groans, and I press in harder till I’m knuckle deep.
“No, I haven’t heard from Ken. Why?” I answer him.
I slide my thumb in and out of her ass in time with her hips. Her moans grow louder, her hands grabbing a fistful of my shirt as I feel her walls begin to clench around me.
“I’ll let you know if I talk to him. Gotta go.” I toss the phone onto the ground, not caring if it’s shattered.
“You coming, baby?” I grab her bound wrists, tugging her back harder and faster onto me as I slide my thumb deeper inside her.
“Yessss,” she groans, quivering, shaking, coming on my cock.
I’m about two seconds behind her. I groan, tugging her back hard onto me one more time before I explode inside her. I release her hands and look down, my cum dripping from her pussy as I slide out of her.
“I—Fuck, I didn’t use a condom,” I pant. I didn’t even think about it in the heat of the moment. Her thighs are sticky, slick with our combined releases, and as much as I’m realizing I fucked up, I can’t deny how incredibly hot it is to see myself dripping out of her.
“I’m on birth control,” she says as she rests her hands on the desk, bent over, catching her breath.
“Well, in that case, don’t move for a second because this is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen and I want this image in my brain forever.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, my hands resting on her ass as I spread them, watching myself drip from her slit. I reach down to the floor, grabbing my phone. She looks at me.
“Are you taking a photo?”
“I am,” I say, opening my camera app before snapping a picture of her bent over.
“And what do you plan on doing with that, Professor?” Her voice is low and sexy.
I toss the phone back down, leaning forward to bite her ass. “Use it when I don’t have access to you,” I say, standing up, my cock bouncing right at her entrance. I step forward, pressing against her entrance again.
“Again?” she moans, her fingers curling against the surface of the desk.
“Again,” I say as my head falls back and I slide deep inside her.
* * *
It’s already been twenty-four hours since I last saw Presley and all I can think about is her. Only, this isn’t sexual; it’s need.
I knock back the rest of my water after a hard workout, sweat still running down my chest as I catch my breath. I thought I could get her out of my system by now, but she’s only managed to worm her way deeper into my every thought. I’m consumed by her.
I feel bad. I don’t want her to think that all she is, is a toy to me. I know I made those comments to her when we agreed to this arrangement and I’d be lying if I said those thoughts didn’t still turn me on, but I want her to know it’s deeper than that… that I see her as more than that.
I pull my shirt off and kick my shoes to the side of my closet. I strip out of the rest of my sweaty clothes and walk to the shower. I don’t let it warm up, letting the cold water wash over my body.
I contemplate texting her, explaining what’s going through my head, but I don’t think it will be conveyed correctly. Hell, I’m not even sure what I want to say to her, but I feel like if I see her, I’ll know. I finish my shower, toweling off quickly and throwing on a pair of jeans and a wool sweater. I brush my fingers through my mostly towel dried hair and grab a pair of socks and casual loafers.
