Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Are you always this wet in class?” he murmurs, and then he’s down on his knees behind me, hands on my hips, spreading me open. “Holy fuck.”
I bite my lip to keep from making a noise, but the first touch of his tongue on my pussy is so hot, so alive, that I moan despite myself.
“Ohhh,” I whimper as my lashes fall shut. “Mmm, that feels good!”
Talon eats me like it’s his last meal, tongue working me open, hands gripping my thighs hard enough to leave marks. I want to collapse, but he holds me up, one arm cinched around my waist. My forehead presses to the chalkboard. I close my eyes and let myself go. There’s nothing but his mouth, his tongue, the growing slickness and the sudden, sharp pleasure as he slides a finger inside me.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he rasps. “Absolutely soaked. You have a hungry pussy, Miss Vreeland, just waiting for a good fuck, don’t you?”
I don’t know how to reply so I just moan again while throwing my head back and wiggling a bit on his fingers.
“Ohhh,” I sigh. “Mmmm!”
He chuckles deep in his chest and then fucks me with his mouth and hand, alternating between deep, slow sucks and quick, fluttering licks to my clit. I’ve never had anyone do this so well, so hungrily. It’s all I can do to stay upright.
“Please,” I say, because I need him to know.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands, pressing his body against mine, the hard line of his cock against the curve of my ass. He pulls my blouse out of the waistband of the skirt and unbuttons it with practiced ease, exposing my bra. His hands come around, cupping my breasts through the fabric, then slipping inside to pinch my nipples.
I moan, and he bites the back of my neck.
“I want to taste you everywhere,” he rasps, and he turns me around, lifting me up so I sit on the edge of the desk. He peels off my bra, tossing it to the floor, and then he’s sucking my nipples, hard and greedy, making me arch against him.
“Oh!” I scream. “Yes, yes, yes!”
His hands are everywhere—on my breasts, between my legs, around my throat. He knows exactly how to touch me, how to bring me to the edge and keep me there. He alternates between sucking my tits and eating my pussy, like he can’t decide which he likes more.
“Do you want to pass this class?” he asks, voice muffled against my breast.
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Then listen closely, Miss Vreeland, and do exactly as I say.”
He drops to his knees again, pulls my hips to the edge, and goes to town. His tongue is relentless, circling my clit, dipping inside, then back again. His fingers stroke my G-spot with surgical precision. I’m so close, I can’t breathe. I grab his hair, gripping hard, and ride his mouth like I’m possessed.
“Fuck, Professor, please,” I sob, and then I break—shattering, coming so hard I see black, my whole body shaking. “Fuuuuuck!”
He tongues me through it all, lapping at my quivering folds as my pussy gushes all over his face. But Talon doesn’t care. He sucks my clit, moaning with pleasure, while worshiping at my plush cunt.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “You taste so innocent. Goddamn, sweetheart.”
The mountain man doesn’t stop until I’m limp, legs spread and twitching, skirt bunched at my waist, blouse hanging open. Then, stands, wipes his mouth, and looks at me with blue eyes gleaming.
He scribbles something on his legal pad, then says, “Your extra credit has been accepted.”
I laugh, or maybe cry. I’m not sure.
He buttons my blouse, straightens my skirt, and kisses my forehead.
“Class dismissed,” he says.
I can’t stand on my own, so he lifts me up, holds me until the world stops spinning. His strong arms are safe, solid, and when he finally lets me go, I almost collapse again.
I stagger back to my room, pussy still throbbing, breasts tender, mind completely blown.
If this is what a “roleplay” is, I’ll fail every time.
Dinner is a strange pantomime. I shuffle around the kitchen, chopping carrots and rinsing rice, while Talon sits at the counter, laptop open, glasses perched on his nose. He reads emails and types notes, completely ignoring me except to offer the occasional “more salt” or “set the oven to 400.” I’m dying to know if he’s as affected as I am, but he gives nothing away.
We eat in silence, the sound of forks and knives impossibly loud in the high-ceilinged room.
Finally, I crack: “Is this how it’s going to be?” I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “All business, no—”
He cuts me off with a look. “You want more?”
I’m not sure what to say. My heart is beating like a hummingbird’s.
He studies me, then softens. “It’s not personal, Kat. It’s research. You did great today. Speaking of which, this is actually work, so I have some questions for you.”