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“Would you like to test that theory, Love?”
It's reckless and stupid and we shouldn't, but my hands drop to his belt anyway.
His more practiced hands quickly replace my trembling ones.
I automatically wrap my legs around him when he lifts me off the floor and positions himself at my entrance.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he whispers.
I reach between us and tug my panties to the side.
“Fuck me?”
I dig my nails into his shoulders to keep from crying out as he buries himself to the hilt inside me.
We fuck, hard, fast and completely silently against the wall.
The footsteps slow to a stop in front of his door, and she knocks.
Pressure starts to build in my center, and it's more of a fight for me to stay quiet.
“I'm so close,” I whisper.
“Come for me then, Love. I want you to come around my cock knowing full well that someone is on the other side of this door.”
The orgasm rips through me with an intensity that I’ve never experienced before.
After I come down from the high of it, my breath is still coming in ragged gasps. Rationally, I know I’m at home in my bathtub, but half of my brain is still in that imaginary office.
I drop my vibrator on the bath tray with a clatter and grab the glass of water with both hands.
The coolness of the water on my tongue helps drag me fully back to reality.
This can never happen again, I instruct myself firmly. You’re going to be a model student from here on out. No more fantasies.
I’m beyond grateful that our first official class isn’t until next week. Hopefully, that will be enough time to compose myself.
At least there’s no danger that tomorrow’s meeting with Mr. Brooks will have the same effect on me. I didn’t look him up or anything, but I’m sure he’s going to be a lot more like how I pictured Phillip before we met.
From my (albeit limited) experience, chefs are either dorky-looking and nice or hot and assholes.
There’s no way he’s going to be attractive. The email he sent me to schedule our meeting reeked of dorky chef, so I should be safe… right?
7
AVERY
Before I enter the cafe, I pull up my email for a quick refresher on exactly what to look for when I go in.
Ms. Ross,
Thank you for your willingness to reschedule our meeting to earlier in the afternoon due to a last-minute schedule change on my part. As penance for this crime (and so it will be easy for you to spot me), I will be wearing an embarrassingly large chef’s hat and a penciled-on mustache.
Respectfully,
W. Brooks
With an amused smile, I glance around in search of my mentor.
