Copyright ÂŠ 2016 Juliette Jones www.juliettejonesbooks.com All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed or scanned in any electronic or printed form without permission. Thank you for respecting the work of this author. MY SEXY PROFESSOR is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover art photo used under license from Shutterstock Cover design ÂŠ Juliette Jones Published by Juliette Jones: email@example.com First Edition: February 2017
Ivy Quinn has a problem: she can’t stop fantasizing about her sexy professor. Economics class has become pure torture, until she makes a pact with herself: she’s going to seduce him. But can she get this sexy buttoned-up beast to unleash his wild side? Colton Harrison also has a problem. He’s sporting a perpetual hard-on for the ridiculously hot student who sits in the front row of his freshman economics class. This is not only becoming obvious, it’s also jeopardizing his job. But when Ivy comes to his office to get some extra help, there’s no way in hell he can resist taking what’s his. MY SEXY PROFESSOR is a super-sexy quickie guaranteed to get you an A … er, I mean O.
BILLIONAIRE (series) Honey Girl Jake Taming Jake Wolfe Hot Summer Lust Wild Ride Wanted: Virgin Bride Wanted: Virgin Lover
Copyright Also by Juliette Jones
Chapter One: Ivy Chapter Two: Colton Chapter Three: Ivy Chapter Four: Colton Chapter Five: Ivy Chapter Six: Colton Chapter Seven: Ivy Chapter Eight: Colton Epilogue Epilogue #2 Connect with Juliette Jones BILLIONAIRE: Part One
Every time I see Professor Harrison, my panties get wet. It’s become a real problem. I have to spend an hour and a half every Monday, Wednesday and Friday watching him write out the particulars of economic theory up on the white board with his button-down shirt straining against his big muscles and his khaki pants tight around that killer ass. He wears glasses with black frames and he has lots of black hair that he combs. I want to grab handfuls of it and mess it up. Sometimes, when he sees me looking at him, I could swear that his cock starts to get hard. His pants are so stuffed-full it drives me crazy. I want to run my hands over that huge ridge and unzip him. Every class, I spend the entire time thinking about what’s underneath his clothes and what I want to do to his big, hairy body. How I’d run my tongue over the head of his cock and tease him until he’s so overcome with lust he just has to fuck my virgin pussy. Once when he wasn’t wearing a tie and the top button of his shirt was undone I could see the light pelt of his chest hair. I imagined climbing on top of him and rubbing my naked breasts against his chest. My nipples got hard and started poking against the sheer fabric of my top. Today he’s wearing a tie but his sleeves are rolled up. His forearms are tanned and muscular and show the edge of one of his tattoos. My white cotton panties are so wet I can feel them clinging to the warm, swollen lips of my pussy. I’m sitting in the front row. My top is low cut and I’m not wearing a bra. I want to drive him as crazy as he makes me. I know he notices me but he tries to play it cool. I wonder what he’ll do when I ask him for some extra help on the paper that’s due on Friday. If I’ll be able to entice him enough to make a move on me. I put on some pink lip gloss as all the other students file out of the lecture hall. I try not to think about how wet my panties are as I walk up to the front of the classroom, where he’s erasing the white board. “Professor Harrison?” He turns to look. The stubble of his beard looks rough. I imagine how it would feel against the sensitive skin of my thighs. “Hi, Ivy,” he says, and his voice is as deep and rich as molasses. His dark eyes watch my face, then his gaze caresses my breasts. They feel full, like I’m overflowing with milk, which is crazy. The heat of his gaze on my body makes me even wetter. A fresh trickle of moisture coats my pussy lips. “How’s everything going?” “I’m having a little trouble with the assignment. I was wondering if I could get some extra help.” “Sure. Of course. I have to drop something off in the staff room on the way back to my office, but I could meet you up there in ten minutes. Do you know where my office is?” “Yes.” Of course I did. I’d googled everything there was to know about Colton Harrison. He used to play football for Notre Dame. He’d had a knee injury and had gotten his PhD in Economics. He wasn’t married and had been seen out on the town every now and then, but wasn’t in any kind of serious relationship. He lived near campus. He liked to row and spent time in the early mornings on the river. “I’ll see you at your office, then.”
I can’t help biting my lip softly as he half-smiles. His teeth are white and his lips are full and plump. I imagine his mouth on my nipple. Those teeth biting into my tender flesh and sucking on me. I can tell he’d be rough with me by the way his hunger darkens his eyes. His cock looks so big in his pants. There’s no one else here except us. I could step closer. I wish I could run my fingers over that big bulging ridge. Instead, I smile shyly and turn to walk out. My skirt barely covers the round curve of my ass. I know he’s looking. I wonder if he can tell how turned on I am. How wet. “Ivy?” “Yes?” “You can let yourself into my office. It’s not locked.” So I make my way to the third floor and I’m glad it’s after five in the afternoon. Not many people are around. I let myself into his office and close the door behind me. It’s small and cluttered with books and papers. His laptop is open on his desk and there’s a big leather office chair and another chair, for visitors. The small room smells like him. Like a mixture of smoke and leather and beefcake man in the lusty prime of his life. The scent makes me feel high with lust. My nipples are painfully tight. I unbutton one more button of my shirt. As soon as I do, the door opens. Professor Harrison walks in and closes the door behind him, brushing past me like a huge bear in the small space. His burly arm grazes against my nipple and I gasp. He stops, looking down at me with those dark eyes. He has thick eyelashes that blink behind his glasses, once, almost like he’s challenging me. His gaze is arrogant and half-amused, like he knows. He knows how badly I want him. He must know. I’m practically drooling. He’s so tall, looming over me. So big. Everywhere. My knees feel weak. I’m so turned on I feel almost dizzy. My pussy is pulsing, like it wants to come. My mouth is watering. I want to lick his chest and suck on his big cock. “Take a seat,” he says, and that velvet-rich tone of his voice touches me like a physical force. I’m close to coming. I can feel the light quivering throb inside my pussy, the juicy, spilling wetness. I pull my chair up next to his. I put my bag down on the floor as I sit, and reach down to take out my economics assignment. As I do, my breasts practically spill out of my unbuttoned white top. I wonder if he can see how taut and rosy my nipples are. I sit up, straightening my top so it’s barely covering the bouncy mounds of my breasts. The sensitive little buds of my nipples poke against the soft fabric. Professor Harrison leans back in his chair and folds his beefy arms across his broad chest. His knees are apart and I can see clearly that his cock is getting very hard. It’s so big it looks like a thick snake going all the way to the side. “Now. What did you need help with?” He’s pretending nothing’s out of the ordinary, but I feel encouraged by how hard he is. How freaking big he’s getting. “Well, I’ve described five economic systems, like you said to do. But I wanted to check with you to make sure I’m describing everything correctly.” I lean a little closer as I slide my paper towards him on the desk. He eyes me, his gaze settling on my breasts unashamedly. He’s a big, lusty beast and I want to tempt him past his breaking point. I wonder if I can. But then he picks up my paper and starts to read it. As he reads, I start fantasizing again about unzipping his pants. “Thank you so much for helping me, Professor Harrison.” He puts the papers down onto the desk. “It’s no problem. My suggestion is that you differentiate more between communism and socialism. Your descriptions are too similar.” “Oh, okay.” Who knew communism could be such a turn-on? “Professor Harrison?” I can’t help it. He’s so delicious it’s driving me insane. “Yes?” His voice is low and husked. I stand up. I move to lean my ass against his desk. I’m standing between his spread knees. “I
wondered if … since you helped me, maybe I could help you.” “Help me what?” It looks almost painful, how big and hard his cock is. I’m staring. “I could …” I can’t quite bring myself to say it. I feel shy but bold at the same time. So I just say it. I can’t believe I say it. “I could … make you feel good. If you want me to.” He glares at me. There’s lust in his eyes but also a quiet fury. Because he knows he can’t resist whatever I offer. “Are you trying to get me into trouble, Ivy?” I stare at him innocently and blink. “No.” He takes off his glasses and sets them down. His eyes are panther-dark and he looks even sexier without his glasses on. “You’re a very beautiful girl,” he says. “A very luscious, insanely sexy, gorgeous girl. And you’re also a student. You should go now.” I know I’m acting like a hussy, but I simply don’t care. I’ve been lusting after Professor Harrison for six whole months and I just can’t take it anymore. All the boys on campus seem, well, like boys compared to him. I want a man to take my virginity. A lusty, hairy hunk of a man. This one right here. And I can tell by that monster of an erection in his pants that he wants me as bad as I want him. “No one has to know,” I whisper. “It’s a very bad idea, Ivy,” he says sternly. His cock is getting even bigger. I act coy. “I just want to show you something. Then you can … decide if you really want me to go.” “Show me what?” he says, his voice rasped, like he already knows. I ease my tight pink skirt up just a little, so he can see my white frilly panties. The wet, thin cotton has gone see-through and clings to the lips of my bare pussy. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Ivy. I could lose my job.” “Do you want me to go? Or … do you want me to show you one other thing?” “I’m not going to refuse anything you offer me, sweetheart. So be careful.” I ease the top of my shirt down so it’s just below my nipples. My shirt squeezes my breasts together a little, so my nipples are pointed right at him. “I just…” He makes me crazy but I still feel shy, when I try to tell him how I feel. “I just can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I do, my nipples get like this and my pussy goes wet.” He groans a little and I know he won’t refuse me. I know he won’t turn me away. He can’t. “Professor Harrison?” He’s glaring at me. “Yes, Ivy?” “Will you touch me? Just a little? Anywhere you want. I’m so … I want you to so badly.” “Ivy,” he groans. “You need to leave. Right now. For your own sake. If you push me any further, you’re going to get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for.” “But Professor,” I say softly. “It’s just that … I’ve been watching you in class for months and I can’t stop fantasizing about what I want you to do to me. I’ve tried to stay away … but I can’t.” He stares at me like he wants to eat me. “I promise not to tell anyone,” I say. “No one has to know except you and me.” “This is your last chance, sweetheart. Turn around and walk away.” He’s still trying to resist me. But his huge, rock-hard cock is too much. I made him hard like that. He wants me, and I’m going crazy. I have to have him. I need to tempt him even more, until he reaches his breaking point. So I reach down and ease my panties to the side, so he can see my bare pussy lips. I shaved just for him. I touch myself just a little. My pussy is slippery. I’ve wanted his big cock for so long. I want him to make me come. I leave my panties bunched to the side so he can look at me. His eyes go even darker. I can tell I’ve done it: he’s not going to deny me.
I’m already learning that Professor Harrison has little restraint when it comes to me. That whatever I ask of him, he’ll have no choice but to give me. “You’re a naughty girl, Ivy. And without a doubt the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You want me to touch you? I’ll fucking touch you, baby girl. But that won’t be enough. So unless you want me to eat your juicy pussy til you come, you should pull your skirt down and get your sexy little ass the hell out of my office. Now.” He’s so aggressive. “But I want you to …” I whisper. My eyes are stinging, like I might cry if he doesn’t give me what I want. I reach tentatively to touch his hair. I’ve been dreaming about weaving my fingers through his thick hair for months. His gaze is steel-hard. With rage and hundred-proof lust. “Jesus Christ,” he groans. “Look how fucking wet you are.” “For you, Professor Harrison. This is what happens every time I see you. It’s driving me crazy.” “Fuck, Ivy. No one can find out about this. I mean no one.” It’s exactly what I wanted him to say. It’s a surrender. “I won’t tell. I promise.” I weave my fingers further into his hair, pulling gently. He follows my lead. His face is close to me. His mouth is so close to my pussy. I already feel like I’m starting to come a little. Then, he does it: he leans closer and touches his mouth to my slippery folds. He licks his warm tongue along my bare flesh. Pleasure explodes inside me. One thing about Professor Harrison: once he surrenders to his lust, he is all in. His big hands grip my thighs hard and his mouth gets greedy with lust. He licks the soft lips of my pussy open, sliding his tongue into me, fucking me with his tongue. Then he swirls his tongue over my clit, playing with me, sucking on me until my orgasm crashes through me and I’m writhing against his mouth as he eats me with all the gusto of a starving man. I’m dizzy with pleasure. He’s so rough and raunchy, just like I knew he would be. I want more of him. I want all of him. I’m pulling his hair, wanting him closer. “Easy,” he says, his mouth wet from my juices. “Sweet baby girl.” His big hands are gripping my thighs, practically bruising me. I love what my hands have done to his hair, messing it all up. I want more. I lean over him a little so my bare breasts are close to his mouth. God, his eyes are so dark. His manly face is all wet with my juices. It’s too much. I need him. I feed my taut, rosy nipple to him, easing it between his full, parted lips. He bites me and I squeal softly. Then he suckles on me and it feels so good, fresh heat coats my pussy all over again. I want to come again. And I want to make him come. He’s too delicious. His cock is so hard the broad end of it is starting to burst out of the top of his pants. A drop of precum is leaking out, gleaming. God, he’s so big. I move closer and gently sit down on his lap. My panties are still bunched to the side and I can feel the slippery head of his cock brush against my pussy lips. “Can I unzip you?” I whisper. “I just want to see it. All of it.” He groans, which is basically a yes, so move to the side a little so I can unzip his pants and play with him. He growls a low oath as I start unzipping his pants. His cock bursts free and it’s huge. I’ve seen other guys’ cocks when they’ve tried to seduce me – without any luck – and they make Professor Harrison seem like a big hairy beast in comparison. I’m glad I waited. I’m glad I saved my virginity for someone so virile and masculine. I touch my fingers to the head of his cock. “This is what I think about when you’re standing up there in front of the class doing your teaching,” I say softly, as my fingers tease the tip of his cock. It’s so hard it feels like steel. “And that’s when my panties start getting damp, every time.” I take his hard cock in my hands and it’s heavy. My fingers ease around his thick shaft and squeeze a little, until little pulses of pre-cum start spilling. I swirl the moisture over his crown and his cock gets
all shiny. “You’re a very naughty girl,” he says, his voice rasped. I smile shyly. “You’re naughty, too,” I tell him, because he is. He could get in big trouble for what he’s doing and he doesn’t even care. He wants me that much. And I want to give more. “I want to make you come,” I whisper. As soon as I say this, he pushes all the books and papers on his desk to the side. “Turn around,” he orders. His dominating tone make my pussy clench. I do it. I’ll do anything he tells me to. Then I feel his big hands on my thighs and it feels so good I moan. I feel his hands slide up my thighs and I moan loader, arching my back just a little. “Quiet,” he commands me. He takes the thin fabric of my panties and rips it so it’s just a shred that falls away. “Bend over,” he says. Oh, God. I do it. I bend over the desk. He slides my little skirt further up over my ass until it’s bunched around my waist. He forces my legs wider. My back arches further so my ass and my pussy are fully exposed to him. I feel his strong, warm hands slide higher, stroking across the skin of my ass. He opens me. He uses my juice and slides his thumbs across the tiny pucker of my ass, wetting it. He circles, over and over, until I’m squirming along with his movement. With his silky fingertips, he skates circles around my clit as he strokes my ass. My pussy is clenching with sweet heat and all I can think is how empty I feel and how much I want his big cock inside me. But then I feel his tongue. He eats me everywhere, like he’s cleaning me with his tongue. Lapping hungrily, poking into my ass as his fingers tease my clit. My orgasm is so close. My inner muscles start to clench with pleasure, milking at his tongue. He gives me more, pushing his tongue deep inside me as his fingers push into my ass, stroking, rubbing, forcing pleasure. The orgasm shatters me. I arch against his mouth, spreading my legs a little more so he can do anything he wants to me. He eats me until the waves of my orgasm start to calm. He seems to love eating me and licking me. And then I feel it. The slippery head of his huge shaft, rubbing against me, sliding back and forth between the silky-wet cheeks of my ass. He slides his iron-hard cock harder and faster, over and over. I arch up against him and he groans and his cock starts to jerk and shoot cum in hot, milky bursts all over my ass. He comes a lot. His cum is all over me. After he finishes coming, he rubs his cum over my skin, like he’s marking me. Then he pulls me closer. He sits me back on his lap. He doesn’t seem to care that I’m getting his clothes dirty. He takes some tissues from his desk and tries to clean me up a little. “I’ve made a mess of you, baby girl.” I can tell by his voice he’s already starting to feel remorse and I don’t want that. I kiss his lips. God, he’s got beautiful lips. I slide my tongue across their plumpness and bite his lower lip between my teeth. “Now I’m yours,” I whisper. He’s staring at me like I’m a lamb and he’s the big bad wolf. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, honey. But I shouldn’t have fucking done that.” I put my finger to his lips. There’s no way I’m going to listen to that. Not now. “Yes, you should. I wanted you to do everything you did. And I want more. Tonight. Please say yes.” I smile at him, and kiss him again. This time, I dip my tongue into his mouth, offering myself to him. He sucks on my tongue as his fingers play with my pussy lips. When he touches my clit I gasp. “Come to my house in an hour,” he says. “My house is three doors down from the university. Number 55. Come to the back door. If we’re going to do this, we do it my way. You do what I say, when I say it. The reality is, if we’re seen together, I’ll get fucking fired. And you might get kicked out of this university. They don’t take this sort of thing lightly.” “I know, Professor Harrison. We’ll be careful. I’ll sneak in the back door. Then you can have your way with me. Anything you want. I want you to be my first.”
He stares at me. “Your first? Do you mean you’ve never …” “No. I’m … I’ve never done anything.” For a second I feel shy again. I don’t want him to refuse me. “And I want you to be the one. Please, Professor Harrison. Please.” “Jesus Christ, Ivy. What about all those boys your own age?” “I don’t want them. I want you.” I slide my tight fist along his big, reviving cock. “I want this.” His phone pings from his bag. “Shit.” I love how his body responds to my touch. He can’t help himself. His cock does that thing where it rears up, like it’s got a mind of its own. He’s like rock-hard putty in my soft hands. But he eases my hands off his cock. “If you’re a good girl, you can have more of that later.” “Do you promise, Professor Harrison?” “Yes. I promise. But you need to go now.” I adjust my position so my pussy slides along his cock. He groans. I lean to whisper in his ear. “Professor, Harrison, I’m on the pill, by the way, so you can fuck me just like this.” “Jesus, Ivy,” he gasps. “You’re going to kill me and get me fired. Are you even eighteen yet?” “I turned eighteen two months ago.” He hold the head of his cock to my soft, parted pussy lips. He sucks my tongue into his mouth as his cock presses strongly against my clit. “Then tonight you’ll get everything you can fucking handle, sweetheart.” I don’t want to go. But he lifts me up and sets me on my feet. He takes one of my nipples between two fingers and squeezes it, which makes me wet all over again. But then he lets go. “Pull up your shirt.” I do, but I look a mess. My skin is sticky with his cum. My clothes look ruined. My cheeks feel flushed. And I’m happy. I’m finally going to get what I’ve been fantasizing about for months. “See you in an hour, Professor Harrison.” He’s watching me with this stern look on his face that makes me giggle. I pick up my bag and blow him a kiss before walking out.
I’m completely fucked. The truth is, even though I’m being considered for tenure at an outrageously prestigious university, my heart hasn’t really been in this gig for quite a while. Every morning I row for an hour at dawn and I think about it: making a break. Taking my sailboat and disappearing for as long as I fucking feel like it. I’ve reinvented myself once before and I can do it again. All those years ago I thought I’d play pro football. I had NFL offers. I’d been so close. One low tackle was all it took to smash all those hopes to smithereens. Three knee operations later, that door had decisively closed. Nothing worked. The healing took too long and by the time I could play again, I no longer wanted it. So I went back to school for four years and got my PhD in Economics. I’ve done well enough and fuck knows I can charm an interview panel when I put my mind to it. On the side, I’d started my own investment portfolio, teaching myself how to play the market and make money. It worked. Slowly, at first, then things had picked up. A lot. Last time I checked my little hedge fund, it was doing very nicely indeed. So nicely, in fact, that this job was no longer necessary. I could walk away whenever I wanted to. And things are getting weird with one of the other professors, whose name is Marcia Helms. She’s fucking stalking me day and night. She’d asked to have a drink a couple of times and I finally relented. The entire time I was with her, I was so bored I thought I was going to fall asleep right there at the goddamn table. I left early, making some lame excuse. After that, I was completely uninterested in pursuing anything further. Which I told her. But what does she do? Shows up at my office unannounced, asking inane questions she already knows the answer to and basically making a pathetic ass of herself on a regular basis. It’s fucking irritating. Not only that, but she’s the head of the department so I can’t piss her off too badly or she could potentially veto my tenure bid. And then, one Monday morning, that very first day of the semester, in walks Ivy Quinn. Of course I noticed her. The second she walked into my class. Lost-looking, sweet as fuck. A lot of students come on to me, all the time. I ignore it. None of them have been worth losing my job over. But every fucking day she walks into my class, I can barely keep my cool. Her hair, like liquid mahogany. Her face, like a sultry little fallen angel up to no good. Her body: don’t even get me started. She used to wear baggy clothes. But after about a week in my class, watching me with those soulful eyes the entire time until I thought my heart was about to break, she started wearing tighter outfits. She started getting bolder. To get my attention. As if she didn’t already have my attention. Tight tops straining over those ridiculously plush tits. No fucking bra. Short little skirts showing off every goddamn luscious curve. Torturing me. Half the time I teach my class with a fucking hard-on. I jerk off ten times a day to try to relieve some of this nightmarish, insanely-intense lust that consumes me every second of every fucking day. None of it even comes close to making things easier.
So she needs extra help, she says. She wants to see me in my goddamn office. As soon as she said it, I kissed my job goodbye. It would be worth it, of course it would. There she was, waiting for me. My tiny office overflowing with her scent. Her low-cut top taunting me. And then. I just want to show you something. And so she did. I will never be the same. The sight of her. That sweet, beautiful, perfect, unbelievable sight of her. Will you touch me? Of course I’ll touch you, you sweet, luscious little creature. Of course I’ll lick your pussy and taste your honey until you blow my goddamn head off. Of course I’ll rub my raging hard-on all over that tight little ass until I spurt my hot cum all over you. And so it begins. I’ll resign before the news gets out. But first, I’m going to enjoy tonight. I’ve been fantasizing about how tight and sweet that little virgin pussy will feel for months on end. Tonight, I’m going to take my time and make her feel so goddamn good she’s never going to want to let me go.
I spend the next hour getting ready. I take a long bath and put on my favorite perfume, but not too much. I want him to taste me. I brush my long dark hair until it shines. I put on some lip gloss and a cute little pink baby doll mini-dress. I don’t bother with a bra. All I have on under it is a tiny pair of white cotton panties. I’m already starting to get wet again just thinking about him. God, his mouth. Once he tasted me, it was like he didn’t care about anything except getting more of me. Like I promised, I take the path behind the trees until I get to his house. I knock softly on the back door. After a few seconds, the door opens. Professor Harrison fills up the entire doorway. He’s big, muscular and so handsome I can’t breathe. He looks outside briefly before pulling me in, closing the door and locking it. He’s holding me close, and he takes in all the details of my skimpy outfit. “Are you sure about this, Ivy?” I stand onto my tippy toes and kiss his mouth. “I’ve course I’m sure, Professor Harrison. I’m already yours. You made sure of that in your office.” His eyes narrow and he licks his lips. He looks clean and ridiculously virile. He’s wearing a nice shirt and worn jeans. He combed his dark hair, which is still wet from his shower. Standing here next to him in my flats, I feel so small compared to him. He probably weighs twice as much as I do. “Are you hungry?” he says.
“Not for food,” I say quietly. I can’t believe I just said that. I’ve been thinking about his big cock ever since I touched it and felt it sliding against me, spurting all over me. I wonder if he’ll let me taste him, like he tasted me. I notice then that the lights are low and all the curtains in his house are closed. “I lit the fire,” he says, taking a sip out of a glass of wine he’s drinking. He pours me a glass. “I know you’re not old enough to drink but we’re already about to break the law, so it hardly matters at this point.” I smile and take a sip of the wine. “It’s not really breaking the law. Just a rule. But no one’s ever going to know except us.” “As I told you earlier, if we’re going to do this we’re going to do it my way.” I’m not sure why but his bossiness makes my pussy feel tingly. “All right,” I say softly, twirling a strand of my hair around my finger. I wonder what he’s going to make me do. He takes my hand and leads me into the living room, where the fire is lit and there’s only one low lamp on. He sits on the couch, and I sit next to him. “Any time you want me to stop,” he says. “Just say so. I don’t want to hurt you or scare you.” “You don’t scare me, Professor Harrison. You’re … nice. I watch you. I see how you go out of your way to do things for people. I know I can trust you.” “The problem here is that –” He pauses. “What?” “Nothing,” he says. “There’s no problem. I just want you to feel completely safe.” “I do feel safe.” I touch his shirt. The straining muscles under the fabric are hard, and warm. “You’re so strong, Professor Harrison. But I know you won’t hurt me.” “I’m going to take off your dress,” he says. “I want to see you. Now.” He’s so bossy. I like it. I want to please him. I start to slide the dress up and over my head. He helps me but he’s rough and he rips the fabric as he pulls it over my head. My tiny white panties don’t cover much. My breasts feel warm and full. My nipples are soft and my pussy feels warm. “I don’t really know how to do anything,” I tell him, feeling suddenly shy again. “Come here.” I do as he says and I sit on his lap. He touches my nipples, squeezing gently and drawing little circles around them with his fingers. “Does that feel good? Do you like it when I touch you?” “Yes. Everything you do makes me feel good.” My panties are already clinging to me. “I liked it when you –” It’s hard to tell him how I feel. It sounds so intimate. “You can tell me, honey. Don’t feel shy. You can tell me anything you want.” “… when you put your mouth on me.” “Climb up here and feed them to my mouth. Let me suck on those sweet little cherry nipples.” I do what he says. I straddle his lap, lifting up so my breasts are close to his mouth. His warm hands slide up my thighs. His fingers rest just under the elastic of my panties. He licks one of my nipples lightly. “Do you like it when I lick you, Ivy?” “Yes.” His hands slide up my body. He holds my full breasts in his large, rough hands and squeezes them together so he can suck on both my nipples at the same time. He starts nipping at the sensitive tip, then licks me and bites one gently between his teeth. I gasp. The bristle of his beard is scratchy against my tender skin. Then he starts suckling on my nipples like he’s drinking from me. It feels so good. Each tug of his mouth sends a warm current of pleasure to my pussy. My pussy lips feel swollen and tingly. I lower myself a little so my pussy rests against the hard ridge of his cock. His cock is so hard that when my clit rubs against it through his jeans I think I’m about to come. But Professor Harrison holds my hips with his strong hands so I can’t move as much as I want to.
“Slow down, sweetheart. We’ve got all night.” “But Professor Harrison,” I breathe. I really have gone crazy. He makes me so hot. “Please.” “Please what?” He’s teasing me. He can tell I’m on fire for him. He’s going to play with me. “I want to feel your …” “Feel my what?” It’s hard to talk dirty like this. I’ve never done it before. “Say it.” His grip on my thighs is so strong. I can’t move and I want to move. Against him. “I want to feel your cock. I want to touch it. I want to rub myself against it and I want –” “Want what? I’m not going to give it to you until you say it.” “I want you to fuck me with that huge, hard cock.” “That’s my good girl,” he says, biting gently on my nipple until I squeal lightly and squirm against his cock. “First I need to get you nice and wet and ready, baby girl, so I don’t hurt you.” I love hearing him call me ‘baby.’ Professor Harrison lifts me easily and carries me to a big plush rug next to the fire. He lays me back. He kisses me long and slow. He tastes so good. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. So beautiful. Do you want me to make you come now?” “Yes,” I whisper, looking deep into his eyes. He kisses a line down my body, sucking on my breasts, licking his tongue into my belly button, teasing me with his mouth and his fingers. Then he spreads my legs and runs his fingers across the wet patch on my panties. “Sweet girl. My girl is so wet for me. Is this where you want me to touch you? You want my tongue to lick your pussy and taste all that sweet honey, don’t you, Ivy?” “Yes,” I say, breathless. “Yes.” He rubs my clit through the thin, wet fabric of my panties, until I’m begging him for more. He starts peeling off my panties with his teeth. He ends up ripping them off. If this keeps up, I won’t have any panties left soon. Professor Harrison pins my knees so my legs are fully open. “So, what I was going to say is this: the problem is that now that I’ve tasted you once, sweet baby girl, I’m one hundred percent addicted. You taste too fucking good.” I can feel his hot breath on my tender flesh. Tiny ripples of pleasure start pulsing inside me. “You want my mouth on you, sweetheart? You want me to make you come right now?” “Yes, Professor. Please. Please kiss me. Kiss me now.” I like how Professor Harrison does everything I ask him to do, like he can’t deny me anything. Slowly, he lowers his head and kisses my pussy in a scorching, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue pushes inside me. The stubble of his beard is rough and scratches against my sensitive flesh. I moan. The slight pain feeds an aching pleasure. Two of his fingers glide easily between my pussy lips. But when he starts to slide them deeper, it burns and I writhe against him. “Shhh,” he says. “It’s okay. You want my thick cock inside this tight little pussy, don’t you, baby girl? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You want me to fuck you real good, don’t you, Ivy?” I try to say yes, but all I end up doing is moaning louder. He licks me again and then his mouth latches onto my clit. He sucks hard and I can feel the ripples starting deep inside my pussy. “I need you soft and wet so my big cock will fit,” he murmurs, suckling my clit in a pulling, tugging rhythm as his fingers slide deeper, stretching me open. My inner muscles start to clench around his fingers, trying to pull him deeper. Then he climbs over me. He pulls his shirt over his head. His shoulders are huge and his skin is tanned. His chest is covered with a light pelt of dark hair and he has a few tattoos. I run my fingers through the hair on his chest, loving how strong and masculine he feels. He unbuttons his jeans and kicks
them off, laying himself over me. I feel the broad head of his cock against my slippery pussy. He rubs his cock back and forth against my clit. I come again, instantly. My orgasm crashes through me and I have to squirm and wriggle my hips just to handle the overload of pleasure. He presses his cock between the folds of my pussy, easing himself inside. My pussy is still clamping voluptuously and he groans as his cock slides an inch deeper. “Fuck, you’re tight, baby.” It hurts. He’s too big. His cock is too thick. “Relax for me,” he murmurs. “My big cock wants to get all the way inside your perfect little virgin pussy so bad, sweetheart. I’m going to make you feel so good. And then I’m going to pump your tight pussy full of my hot cum.” Who knew professors were so good at dirty talk? And so damn lusty? Professor Harrison’s fingers start stroking my clit as he drives his cock deeper, then he holds his big body still. He’s still not even halfway in. But his fingers play across my clit and the pucker of my ass in a sweet, skating rhythm. With each stroke, he grinds his hips so his massive cock slides a tiny bit deeper each time. And then, when I start coming again, he uses the milking clenches of my pussy to drive even deeper. And deeper. Until I’m totally impaled by his huge, rigid cock. I can feel it stretching me and filling me. Now that he’s all the way inside me, he goes still, looking into my eyes. “How’s my girl? You okay, sweetheart?” My fingers are weaved into his thick, dark hair. He’s so gorgeous. And the concern in his deep, rasped voice touches something else in me. We’re one, and it feels that way. He’s so deep inside me it’s like he’s become a part of me. He feels so good there, so big and comforting and powerful. I want to keep him there. “Sweet Ivy,” he whispers, as though he’s feeling this newly-forged bond just like I am. “You feel too good.” “You feel too good, too, Professor Harrison,” I whisper. He laughs a little and I can feel the motion of his body deep inside me. I can feel his laughter and his heartbeat. “I think this qualifies. Call me Colton.” And then he starts sliding his cock out of me, and all the way back in. It’s the most pleasurable feeling in the world. Getting fucked by his beautiful big cock. “I can see your cum and your virgin blood all over me, baby. Do you want me to make you come again? Do you want me to fill you up with my hot cum? I love the way you feel.” “Yes.” He laughs again and starts driving his big cock deep, withdrawing less each time, going as deep as I can take him, grinding and fucking me slow and hard. The delicious friction rubs me everywhere, until the tidal wave crashes over me and I come again. My pussy tightens around his pulsing cock until he groans loudly. His cock jerks inside me and the jetting ropes of his cum fill me and spill over my pussy lips and down my thighs with each thrust of his big, driving body. We come hard and long and when he’s finished he holds himself above me, gazing into my eyes and smoothing my hair. “How am I ever going to get enough of my sweet little girl?” he says. It almost scares me, how good I feel when he’s inside me, looking at me like he is right now. How addicted to him I am already. Because it’s true. How will we ever get enough of this?
I knew I was a goner the minute she asked me for extra help. And now? Now I don’t give a fuck about anything. Except this. Except her. My cock is still deep inside her, still rock-hard even though I just came harder than I ever have in my life. She feels too good. I don’t want to pull out. I want to fill her pussy up with my flooding cum, over and over. I’ve reverted to caveman mode and I simply don’t care. Lately I’ve almost wondered if there was something wrong with me. I date women who are basically a bunch of uptight bitches I have no interest in. They’re bossy or they’re demanding or they’re rude to a waiter for not getting their fucking salad order right. It’s irritating. Then there was Ivy. Watching me with those inky eyes. Sweet and perfect and so damn young. Staring at my cock all through class until I can think of nothing else but her. Of having her. Fucking her. Keeping her. I’m crushing her, my weight pinning her under me so I can get deeper. I’ve forced her legs wide. My tongue is in her mouth, my cock deeply rooted as my fingers slide in and out of her ass. I’ve tasted heaven and now all I want is more. She’s sore so I slow my pace. Remind myself to be careful with her. She’s so small, so sweet. She’s mewing little moans as I thrust my cock into her, burying myself to the hilt. I’m already fully hard again. The squeezing, fluttering tightness of her juicy pussy is too damn luscious. “Professor Harrison,” she’s cooing. “I can’t. It’s too much. I can’t.” “You can and you will,” I tell her. She’s already come four or five times but there’s no way I’m stopping now. She asked for this and now she’ll fucking get it. My lust has a mind of its own. My cock is too hot and too needy. It wants to bury itself over and over in all that tight wetness until it spills my seed deep inside her. She cries out as she comes again and the soft-tugging pulls of her pussy clenching around my overflowing cock blow my mind. I come hard, thrusting as deep as I can get, flooding her with fresh cum. There’s so much, it spills down over her ass and her thighs. I want to keep fucking her but she’s got tears in her eyes. Fuck. I can’t have that. “I’m sorry, baby girl,” I say, sliding my still-hard cock from her limp body. Milky cum spills from her pussy as I pull out. Her thighs are stained with her virgin blood. Her face is smudged with tears and shadows of her make-up. “I’ve been too rough with you.” Her fingers wind into my hair. “I like you rough, Professor … Colton. But it’s so much. You’re so big. I’m a little sore.” Of course she is. She’s a virgin who just got fucked – twice – by a raging eleven-inch cock. I smooth her hair and kiss her lips. Carefully, I pick her up. I carry her upstairs to my master bathroom and turn on the shower. Once it’s warm, I set her gently down under the removable shower head. She’s unsteady so I stay close. I take some shower gel and run my hands over her skin, soaping her everywhere. I start with her tits. Damn, they’re perfect. Bouncy and full and perky as fuck. Her nipples are
practically pointing towards the ceiling. I swirl the soap over her creamy mounds, focusing my attention on her soft nipples. I squeeze gently, pulling and playing the little buds until she’s moaning. I soap her stomach and her thighs. Her round little ass. I soap her pussy, gently. She gasps a little when I touch her sensitive flesh. I remove the showerhead from its holder and start rinsing her. I lick and suck on her nipples. Then I kneel down in front of her and hold the shower head close to her pussy. I use my fingers to open her pink petals. Her clit is like a tiny pink pearl. I lick it, playing it with my tongue until she’s moaning my name. Then I hold the showerhead so the gently jetting water hits her clit. I slide my fingers into her pussy and her ass, thrusting in a subtle rhythm as the pressure of the water makes her come. Her pussy starts to spasm around my fingers and her knees give out so I catch her and hold her as her orgasm spins out. She’s limp and dazed, shattered by her release. I flick off the shower and lift her. I dry her with a towel and carry her to my bed. I dry myself and climb in next to her. She’s gazing at me with those watchful eyes, blinking her long eyelashes at me. “You okay, baby girl?” She snuggles up next to me and kisses my mouth in tiny, fluttering love bites. Her eyes close. “You make me feel so good,” she says. “So safe.” And just like that, in my arms, she falls asleep. I hold her close, just watching her, for a long time. The longer I watch her, the more I realize: I’m in too fucking deep. I don’t want to let her go back to her life and her friends. I want to keep her. Fuck.
When I wake up I’m naked in Professor Harrison’s arms. He’s lying next to me with his muscular body completely wrapped around me. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t escape his iron-clad embrace without waking him. He looks peaceful when he’s sleeping, but he still reminds me of a big, hairy bear. A really buff, sexy one. There’s dark stubble on his face. His chest is hairy, too. His face is absolutely gorgeous, like a rugged GQ model and a bad-ass pirate all rolled into one. His lips are parted and his mouth is so luscious-looking, I can’t help myself. I want to kiss him. I remember some of the details of last night. God damn. He didn’t just take my virginity, he freaking obliterated it. And as I move a little, snuggling closer, I’m reminded of how punishing his big, thick cock was as he thrust into me. So demanding. Every muscle in my body is sore. But the demands he made were all about getting closer to me. Giving me pleasure. I had never known such pleasure even existed. Here, in his arms, I feel safer than I have for a long, long time. I know part of the reason I was attracted to Professor Harrison in the first place is because he’s older and so successful. Growing up without a father, I’ve always felt that gap in my life like a big black hole. And once I got a little older, I realized I could fill that gap. The very first time I saw my professor, I wanted him. Partly because he’s sexy as hell and built like a wall of hard muscle. And partly because I’ve always dreamed about having a man just like him to protect me and take care of me. Not that I can’t take care of myself. I can. And have been for a long time now. But sometimes it gets so lonely. Sometimes I have sweet fantasies about being taken care of. Not financially (I actually have plenty of my own money from a video editing app I developed about two years ago, then sold), not at all. I want to feel emotionally involved with someone. Someone strong. Someone in control of their own life. Not weak or lost or wishy-washy. I want to feel not only physically protected but dominated. I don’t know why, but it turns me on. I think that’s why I’m not attracted to boys my own age. They just don’t seem manly enough. They don’t give me that feeling of safety. What I want is a big, seasoned man in the prime of his life. The first time I saw Professor Harrison, I knew he was the one. Confident to the point of being arrogant. Completely in control. And so gorgeous I went wet every time I was near him. After fantasizing about him for six months, it feels so good to be here with him now. In his bed. Remembering all the things he did to me last night. He made me feel like the most desirable, safest, perfect girl in the world. A girl could get addicted to feeling like that. I wriggle closer. The hard silkiness of his cock rubs against my stomach. I thought men were supposed to be soft sometimes. Not Professor Harrison. He’s always hard. My body starts reacting. My pussy starts tingling again. This lusty hunk of grade-A male turns me on so much I can hardly stand it. I kiss his lips, licking lightly into his mouth, nipping at his plump bottom lip. Still groggy from sleep, he suckles on my tongue and his monster hard-on digs into my stomach. “Mornin’, baby girl,” he
says. His voice is low and rasped and sexy. “How’d you sleep?” “Good. So good.” Like nothing could every harm me or make me afraid when I’m in his arms. He looks into my eyes. “What are your plans for today, honey? I was thinking of taking my boat out.” “You have a boat?” “Spend the day with me.” I’m excited. He wants me to stay with him. He doesn’t want to let me go. “I would love to,” I say shyly. I don’t know why I’m feeling shy. He’s already seen and tasted and had almost every inch of me. Professor Harrison kisses me, taking my mouth with lusty aggression. His hands are on my breasts, teasing my nipples. “I want you,” I whisper. He slides lower, fingering my pussy, slipping inside. I wince a little. I’m tender from his punishing possession the night before. “If you can’t take my fingers, little one, how are you going to take my cock?” But I want his cock. I don’t want him to deny me more of that star-studded pleasure. I curl my fingers around his thick length and guide him closer to where I want him. “I want it. Give it to me.” “I’ll give you everything, baby girl. Everything you want. Let me show you another way I can give you pleasure.” I stare up at him innocently. “What other way, Professor … Colton?” I giggle. It sounds funny saying his name. My giggling seems to have turned him on even more. I’m still holding his cock in my fist and a burst of pre-cum seeps out, over my fingers. I want his seed inside me. So I wriggle closer, putting the head of his cock between the lips of my pussy. Professor Colton flips me onto my stomach. “What are you doing?” I ask. I’m getting impatient. I want him inside me. His hands are on my hips and he positions himself behind me, pushing my head down and lifting my hips. He forces my knees apart with his thighs. I can feel his cock slip between the cheeks of my ass. Then I feel him spreading something cool and slippery over my ass. There’s lots of it. His fingers push inside me and it feels so good. “What is it?” I gasp. “It’s lube, baby. I’m going to fuck your sweet little ass, honey pie. It’ll feel real good, you’ll see. Just lift up a little higher, baby girl. That’s it.” How will he even fit? For some reason the idea of doing something so … naughty makes me even wetter. And hornier. I don’t care where he fucks me, as long as he does. Professor Colton pushes the head of his cock against my tight backside. I ease back against him. I lift my hips a little higher so he can do whatever he wants to me. He pushes harder. The head of his cock nestles inside me. It feels so tight. He uses the lube to slide deeper, inch by inch, allowing my body to adjust to his slow, forceful invasion. I hear a low moan and realize it’s me. It feels so good with his big cock inside me this way. Once he’s all the way in, he crouches over me, fingering my clit as he eases himself in and out, in and out, thrusting deeper with each drive. I’m coming. I’m coming so hard I can’t think. I can’t see. I can only moan and buck softly and take everything he has to give. “You’re so fucking tight, baby girl,” he growls into my ear. “You feel too fucking good.” I feel it then: the violent jerking pulse of his big cock inside me as he finds his own release. The flooding wetness that spills everywhere. The dark, beautiful bond, enough to change me. To forge a connection that’s all about pleasure and lust and … just now, as he pulls out and holds me close, kissing my lips and making sure I’m okay … something more.
I’m so fucking hot for this girl. I’ve just come harder than I ever had in my life. All over her. In her sweet pussy, three times. And now in her unbelievably tight little ass. Her body is driving me insane. She’s so needy. She’s as hot for me as I am for her. And that’s fucking saying something. I literally can’t keep my hands off her. I take her to the shower – again – to wash her plush little body. Everywhere. Running my hands over her smooth skin. Mine. All of it. Then I help her dress. “My dress is ripped,” she says, blinking her long eyelashes like a minx. “And my panties are a lost cause.” “Your dress isn’t too bad.” There’s a rip up the seam of the short skirt but other than that it looks fine. “And you don’t need panties.” She giggles again and the sound of her laughter gives me an instant hard-on. Not that I wasn’t already hard but this is fucking ridiculous. I just came and already I’m leaking more pre-cum. “Professor Colton?” Another gush at the way she says my name. “Yes, sweetheart?” I’m grumpy, not at her, but at what she’s doing to me. Basically making me batshit crazy. For her. She’s eyeing my spilling monster of an erection. “I’m thirsty.” Fuck. She’s going to kill me with lust. I’d let her suck me off but to be perfectly honest I think I’ve worked her too hard already. I want to feed her some breakfast – actual food – and take care of her. My needs can wait. And since my needs seem to be on constant and non-stop overdrive, they can at least wait until after breakfast. Or during. I put on some jeans and leave them unbuttoned since there’s no way in hell I’ll get them buttoned right now. Then I carry her downstairs and gently set her on the wooden island in my kitchen while I cook her some food. Before I start cooking, though, I lift the skirt of her dress so it’s above her thighs. I spread her legs a little. And I lean down to lick her, just a little, so I can see her wet little pussy while I work. “Mine,” I growl, sinking my tongue deeper, and she giggles again, running her fingers through my hair. “Keep your legs open for me, sweetheart. So I can see what’s mine.” “You’re so cute, Professor Colton. You’re so greedy!” I kiss her lips so she can taste herself and I fuck her sweet mouth with my tongue. Until I finally manage to get a grip again, and pull away from her, which is fucking torturous. But I need to feed her. So I put some bacon and eggs on to fry and cook some hash browns. And I pour her a mimosa, even though I shouldn’t. She’s only eighteen. But I want her loose and happy and relaxed. I don’t want her to have any doubts about anything. She takes the champagne – which is admittedly a little light on orange juice. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Professor Colton? It’s not even lunchtime yet.” “Actually, it’s one o’clock.”
“It is?” Our sex marathon made us lose track of time. I don’t even want to think about time. Or reality. Or anything but my sweet baby girl. I dish up the food and put our plates on the table. I lift her up and carry her to my chair, sitting her on my lap. I arrange her body so her legs are open. And I start to feed her. “That’s my good girl.” She takes a bite. Then another sip of champagne. “You’re so good to me, Professor Colton.” “I’ll always be good to you, sweetheart. I’ll give you everything you want.” She runs her fingers through my hair again. “You’re so nice. I love being with you.” I feed her the rest of her food and as she chews, she moans a little. “It tastes so good,” she says. “I need to keep you well fed.” “Because you work me so hard,” she smiles. I narrow my eyes at her and she laughs. She’s finished all her food and she takes the last sip of her drink. I top it up. “Professor Colton?” “Yes, Ivy.” She pulls her dress up over her absurdly lush breasts. She wriggles on my lap, making my cock so hard it’s painful. She blinks her eyelashes coquettishly. “I’m still thirsty.” Naughty girl. “Baby, you’ve had enough for now.” I just feel like I’ve pushed her too hard. I want to pace this so she doesn’t get worn out, or run away. Admittedly, she doesn’t look worn out. Her nipples are pink and taut against the pale perfection of her creamy mounds, begging to be sucked. Her pussy is so wet she’s making a wet spot on my jeans where she’s squirming against my cock. She makes a little face, petulant. “I haven’t had enough.” She’s pouting. “I want to suck your big cock and taste your cum. Please, Professor Colton. I want you to come in my mouth. Please? Let me.” “Ivy,” I say sternly, but who the fuck are we kidding here. She’ll get whatever she asks for. She knows this. She bats her eyelashes again and puts a cushion from one of the chairs onto the floor between my knees. She peels her dress all the way off. Then she feeds her nipple to my mouth. “Pretend you’re drinking,” she says. Fuck. I suck on her and she squirms and giggles again but she’s shimmying down my body. Kneeling between my legs. My jeans are already unbuttoned and my cock is mostly out, wet with her honey and the pulses of pre-cum that won’t stop spilling. “You’re so big, Professor Colton. I want to suck you til you come in my mouth. I want to drink you,” she smiles mischievously. I’m powerless. I’ll do whatever this little nymphet says. She pushes my jeans all the way open and takes my ludicrously engorged cock in her delicate hands. Then she licks me. I almost come, just like that. I groan. “I’m not going to last long, baby girl.” “That’s okay,” she giggles. “I don’t want you to last long. I want you to lose control.” She takes the head of my cock between her lips, licking me clean. She takes me deeper, sucking harder as her nimble little fingers squeeze my cock and tentatively explore. I exhale, swearing some filthy oath. Because I can’t take it. My orgasm is roaring up my cock like a fucking freight train. It’s too much. She’s so sweet, so innocent. And my cum spurts out in throbbing jets, into her mouth, until she can’t take any more. She’s trying to swallow some but there’s too much of it. And I’m still coming. All over her face, her hair, her bouncy breasts. It’s spilling down her chin. It looks dirty and seedy, what I’m doing to her. I love it and I hate it. I’m making a mess all over my little girl and I don’t want to stop. I can’t stop.
Once my climax finally spins out, I pull her back up onto my lap. I take a napkin and do my best to wipe away some of the mess I’ve made of her. I feed her another sip of champagne. I study her sweet face, pushing her hair behind her ear, wondering what’s going on in her head. Is she mad? Freaked out? “Baby girl? You okay?” She smiles at me from under long eyelashes, touching my face with her fingers. “I am your baby girl. And I guess I won’t have any trouble getting pregnant when I want to, will I, my big, lusty Colton Harrison?” I’m not sure how to answer this. But my heart beats faster. Comments like that mean she wants to stay with me. To be with me. “If that’s what you want, honey. But you’re still a baby yourself. There’s a big wide world out there for you to explore.” “I like it here with you.” She runs her fingers along the rough surface of my jaw. “You come so much,” she laughs. “That’s because you’re so beautiful, honey pie. I can’t help myself.” She kisses my lips. And I kiss hers. “I’m going to clean you up a little, then I’m going to take you for a spin out on my boat.” I lift her up and kick my jeans off, taking her back up to my shower. “Can I stay with you again tonight?” she says, and her eyes look shiny, like she’s about to cry. “Of course you can, baby. I want you with me every night.” “You do?” “Of course I do.” “Colton? It’s okay if call you that?” She could call me Douchebag and I would answer. “Sure you can.” “I wish we didn’t have to sneak around. I want to stay with you all the time.” “I’m going to resign on Monday,” I say. “So we won’t have to sneak around.” I guide us under the hot spray of the shower and she wraps her arms and legs around me, her eyes wide. “Resign? Are you sure? Isn’t that sort of … drastic? And final?” “I’ve been thinking about resigning for a while. I don’t actually need this job. I have a very healthy portfolio that’s growing by the hour. I also have a boat that I spend a lot of time on. I’ve been thinking about sailing south, maybe to the Caribbean for a few months. The faculty at this school are a bunch of fucking idiots anyway. I need a change.” “Oh.” She looks a little worried so I kiss her again. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” “I just don’t know if you should quit your job.” “How about you let me worry about my job? And everything else. All you need to do is relax. And kiss me again.”
It’s so extreme that he wants to quit his job. For me? I mean, it’s only been one night. One extremely amazing night, but still. I feel a little worried that we’re taking this so fast. Then again, this is something I’ve been planning and obsessing about for six months. And it’s better than anything I fantasized about. My professor – my lover – is the sexiest, lustiest red-blooded man I’ve ever known. Maybe he’s been planning for it, too. I can’t get enough of him. I just want to keep touching him and tasting him as much as he lets me. And enticing him in every way I can think of. We’re driving to the marina where his boat is parked. We’re in his newest model convertible red Mustang and he drives it fast. I guess it’s true what he said about his portfolio, because he definitely seems like he has plenty of money. So do I. If he quits his job to go sailing around the world on his boat … I want to go with him. I can’t believe I’m even thinking this. But I am. I can always go back to school, if I want to. I don’t need to. I’ve made enough money from my app to live comfortably for the rest of my life without ever working again. Colton notices me watching him and smiles at me. He’s wearing wayfarer sunglasses and his hair is windblown from having the top down. He looks so sexy I can hardly stand it. “I’m going to stop at this general store and get a few supplies. That way we can stay on the boat tonight if we want to.” “We can sleep on it?” “Of course. I want you to pick out anything you want to eat or drink.” So we look around the store and fill up our shopping basket. Colton goes to the glass refrigerators to pick out some more champagne for us. I walk over to the magazine rack and start leafing through one of the magazines. The guy standing behind the counter winks at me. He’s around my age. A college boy, probably, maybe even one from my school, although I don’t recognize him. “Hey,” he says. “Hi.” He walks out from behind the counter. “Can I help you find anything?” “No, it’s fine. I’m just looking.” I realize I must look a little strange. The short skirt of my dress is ripped all the way up my thigh. And I’m not wearing any panties, so the skin of my thigh all the way up to my hip is visible. All it would take was a light breeze to lift the front of my dress to reveal my bare pussy. My pink baby doll dress is tight-fitting and looks like it’s been manhandled. Which it has. And my breasts are bare under the thin fabric and possibly a little too big for this dress, so my nipples are clearly visible. Basically, I’m not wearing enough clothes to be in public like this.
This guy doesn’t seem to mind. In fact he’s staring. And he walks closer. “You’re in my economics class,” he says. “You’re Ivy.” Now that he’s said that, I do remember him. Vaguely. “Yes. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” “Jason.” “Hi, Jason.” “You look amazing,” he says. I’m not sure how to reply. And just as I’m trying to think of something to say, Colton grabs Jason’s shirt at his neck and pulls him aggressively so they’re standing face to face. Colton is so much taller and about twice the weight, he’s sort of looming over Jason with this furious look on his face. He’s so big and so masculine, he makes Jason look like a little boy. “P … Professor Harrison?” Jason says. “Don’t fucking look at her,” Colton growls. “At Ivy?” “Don’t you fucking look at her.” “O … Okay,” Jason stutters. “I won’t.” Colton releases his fist and Jason sort of falls backwards a little before regaining his balance. Jason looks at Colton, then back at me. “You two are … together?” “If you say a word to anyone,” Colton says, “you’ll live to sincerely fucking regret it.” Gosh. Colton could get into big trouble for this. Sleeping with one student, threatening another. “I … I won’t say anything,” says Jason. “I swear.” “Good. Now, are you going to sell me this shit or what?” Colton picks up our shopping basket and slams it down next to the cash register. “Sure. Yes. Of course.” Jason’s a wreck. As anyone would be if Colton was so rough with them. I should know. Remembering how rough he was with me, I can’t help smiling and touching Professor Colton’s huge bicep. After all the food and bottles of wine are paid for and bagged up, I wave to Jason as we’re leaving. “I promise I won’t tell,” he says. “Thank you,” I say. “We’d really appreciate it if you didn’t.” I’m sure he won’t, after Colton’s very-persuasive warning. But even if he does, does it matter? Colton’s surly as we drive the rest of the way. “You’re beastly,” I say. “Scaring that poor boy like that.” But I’m easing my palm along his thigh, to his big cock, which is, as always, hard as stone. I touch its bulk through his jeans with my fingers. “You like me tough, and mean,” he says. “You like it when I protect you.” He’s right. I love it when he’s tough. And I love it when he goes all caveman on me. In fact, it’s almost scaring me how much I love pretty much everything about Colton Harrison. We park at the marina and he takes me to his boat. “This is your boat?” I gasp. “Yes.” “This is a yacht.” “Technically, yes. Forty feet.” He helps me onboard and leads me down into the spacious galley kitchen with modern appliances, to a huge living area with big windows and comfortable couches. There’s even a t.v. There’s a big bedroom, too, with a king-sized bed and a round window that looks out just above the water level. “Professor Colton. This is amazing.” He sets down some of the groceries he bought and scoops me into a hug. “You like it, baby girl?
Let’s take her for a spin. Just you and me.” I put the groceries in the fridge as Colton gets the boat going and by the time I climb back up onto the deck we’re out in open water with an amazing view of the shoreline. The sun overhead is hot and the sky is blue. He brings me a glass of champagne and I sit on one of the reclining seats. “I love this,” I tell him. “So do I, sweetheart. It’s perfect.” He clinks his glass against mine. “You are perfect.” He’s so sweet. So nice. So protective. I want to make him as happy as he makes me. And just watching him, sun-tanned in his white shirt and jeans, like a preppy Greek god, I want more of him. So I peel my dress up my body and over my head, tossing it aside. I’m young, I’m free and I’m turned on. I want to feel the sun on my naked skin. I need to feel his gaze on my naked body. I take another sip of my champagne, smiling at him as his face goes stern again, with reckless, white-hot lust. I dip two fingers into my drink and touch my pussy, wetting it, opening my petals so he can see me. I dip my fingertips into my slippery core, moaning a little. I touch the ice-cold champagne flute to my nipple, gasping at the contact, until it peaks into a tight little bud. One, then the other. He drains his drink, setting it aside, and slowly unzips his pants, taking his engorged, angrylooking cock in his fist. Rubbing along the length of it in a slow up-down slide. It’s too much. I want his cock. It’s mine. I want all of him. Everything. So I get up and walk slowly over to where he’s sitting. I climb onto him, touching his cock to my clit, sliding his crown inside my tight, saturated pussy. His hands grip my ass and he helps me slide lower, taking more of him. I’m too tight, and still sore, but I don’t care. I want him too badly. I slide up and down, using my own juices to wet him, bouncing lightly to take more of him into my body. Holding my hips, he bucks up into me and I cry out. His level gaze watches my face and I lean closer, licking his lip. Biting gently. “More,” I gasp. The thick girth of his cock inside me feels delicious, stretching me, forcing its way inside. I start writhing onto him and he bucks into me again, sliding deeper. We continue this searching rhythm until I’m fully impaled by his hot, slick length. I start riding him, sliding up then all the way down, taking him as deep as I can. On each down-slide, his cock drives deeper pleasure into me. So I do it again. And again. “Mine,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. I like that I’m naked and he’s fully clothed. I like that we’re out in the open where anyone might see us. There are boats in the distance but I don’t care. The only thing I care about is taking more of him, riding him, fucking him. The waves start. His fingers are everywhere, rubbing the pleasure higher. Until I come. And the swell crashes hard as he finds his own release, pumping me full of his hot cum as my pussy tugs and squeezes lusciously around him. I collapse onto him, totally spent by the intensity of my orgasm. After a while, he pulls out and the rivulets of his cum gush down my thighs. He lifts me. He gently sets me back on the reclining chair and he lays next to me, lazily rubbing his seed over my skin. “Mine,” he smiles, kissing my lips. “You’re mine, baby girl. I’m not letting you go.” “Good,” I say. “Because I’m not letting you let me go. I want to stay.”
If I hadn’t known that I was resigning on Monday morning and that Ivy was dropping out of school to come with me to sail around the Caribbean for the next few months, I wouldn’t have returned home. Our weekend on the boat was too good. Her face. Her body. Her ridiculously sweet mouth. But the sooner I get all this shit dealt with, the better. I plan on resigning today. At first I tried to talk her out of it. She should stay in school, I said. We could work something out. She could still live with me, I could grow my investments and we could sail on the weekends. Or something. I don’t actually give a fuck what I do as long as she’s with me. I’ve never been in love before and when it happens, you fucking know it. Because it hits you like a goddamn ton of bricks. So then she starts crying and telling me she doesn’t want to stay in school. That she doesn’t need to. She’s got a shitload of money she made from some app she developed and sold. I was impressed. My little goddess is also a business prodigy. And a temptress. And an angel. Still, I argued: getting an education is important blah blah blah. She insisted she doesn’t need it and started crying again – which I can’t take. I just can’t. I’ll do anything to get her to stop crying. So I agreed. Of course I fucking did. I agreed she could put her studies on hold and come with me. Who fucks someone then invites them to spend three months with them on their yacht? That’s what I want to know. Me, that’s who. Because it was a long, agonizing build-up. We’d been lusting after each other for six fucking months, trying to resist. Trying to ‘do the right thing’. According to who? From now on, I’m living my life for one thing and one person only. Her. For making her feel good and safe and happy. And that’s exactly what I plan on doing. Starting now. I storm into my office. I’m in a shitty mood. Because it’s been an entire hour since I saw her. Or tasted her. Or smelled that ludicrously young, sweet scent of her. And yes, she’ll be in my class in exactly thirty-five minutes. Which will be even more torturous. Seeing her but not being able to touch. I knock on Marcia Helms’s office door. Since she’s the head of the economics department she’s the person who can officially accept my resignation. She smiles and sits up straight as soon as I walk in. “Colton. So nice to see you again.” “Marcia.” “What can I do for you? Were you thinking maybe we should go out again? Because I –” she titters and the sound is annoying as fuck – “well, we shouldn’t, really, since we’re work colleagues and everything, but it would be fun.” “That’s not why I’m here, Marcia.” “Oh.” Her lips purse into a tight little pucker. “Why are you here then?” “I quit.” “What?” “You heard me. I quit. Effective immediately.” “Colton, you can’t just quit. You need to give notice. Two weeks’ notice, at least.” “Marcia, I’m sleeping with a student.”
She looks shocked. “You and I both know it’s in the college’s best interest if I step down right away. Before the news circulates.” “But, Colton … who is it?” “It doesn’t matter.” “I mean, was it a one-off or is it something … on-going?” “On-going.” In fact, I’m planning on going home as soon as I can get the hell out this boring, crusty old institution. At my very first opportunity, I plan on fucking her tight, wet little pussy until she screams my name and digs her fingernails into my back. Any questions? I’m in a foul mood. Marcia taps her pencil on her goddamn desk. “Well, I guess under the circumstances it would be best if you …” “Left now?” “Finished out the remainder of the day and then … quietly took your leave.” “Fine.” “Colton?” “Yes?” “If you broke it off immediately, it could probably be overlooked. I’m sure you’ve been discrete.” Actually, no. People were watching through their binoculars as she sat on top of me on the deck of my yacht, naked, riding me into the sunset. “I don’t want to break it off.” “You wouldn’t rather a legitimate, legal relationship with a very … respectable admirer?” “No.” She scowls. “Colton, think about what you’re doing. You’re willing to throw away your career for some underage bimbo?” “She’s neither underage nor a bimbo. And yes, I am. I have a new career.” She looks hurt, but I can’t worry about that. “Well,” she says. “It sounds like you’ve made your decision, then.” “Yes. I have.” “I’ll facilitate the necessary paperwork, in that case.” “Thank you.” I turn towards the door. “Colton?” “If you change your mind …” “I won’t. Goodbye, Marcia. Good luck with the department overhaul.” “Thank y—” I close the door behind me, making my way down to lecture hall C, where I have my first class of the day. I’m dreading this. Badly. I get to the class and there are a few students there, sitting in their seats, talking quietly. Ivy’s not here yet, thank fuck. I hope she doesn’t come here at all today. I hope she’s deferring her placement as we speak. Taking a semester off to do some traveling: that was the excuse. Leave it openended, in case she wants to come back. So nine o’clock rolls around and I start talking about Economic theories. I start to relax a little. She’s not coming. I start to get into my routine, droning on about the topic for a few more minutes, writing a few things up on the white board. I hear the door open. Fuck. It’s her.
She’s dressed in a tiny little white dress that hugs every curve and leaves nothing to the imagination. She sits in the front row. “Sorry I’m late, Professor Harrison,” she coos in her little angel’s voice. I glare at her and try my best to ignore her. Fuck. Just having her that close to me, after everything that’s happened. Shit. My cock starts to harden. I start desperately thinking about football scores and the goatherders of Mongolia – anything to get her out of my head. And when I look at her again, she’s got a mischievous little grin on her perfect face. Her legs are apart and I can see she’s not wearing any panties. Her bare pink pussy is lightly swollen and glistening with moisture. My cock goes instantly rock-fucking-hard. “Ivy,” I growl. “Can I see you outside for a minute, please?” I don’t care that the other students look confused. And I don’t wait for her answer. I storm over to the door and vacate the premises before my hard-on becomes too obvious to anyone else in the room. As soon as she’s out in the hall with me I drag her down to a locked closet, which I happen to know has office supplies and textbooks in there because I sometimes use it. And I have a key. I open the door, turn on the dim light and drag her inside. “Are you crazy?” I seethe. She’s laughing, the little minx. She’s enjoying torturing me beyond reason. “Your face,” she giggles. “You should have seen your face.” I push all the textbooks off a table. Then I lift her and sit her ass on the edge of it. I unzip my pants and touch the head of my cock between the insanely slippery folds of her pussy. I don’t wait for her permission. She’s pushed me too far. I thrust deep, filling her entirely with my fiercely-hot manmeat. She cries out but it’s a sound she makes when she’s getting close. “How does my face look now, baby girl?” Her eyes are drowsy with her lust. Her pussy tightens and quivers with the first spasms of her climax. “It looks beautiful. I love you, Colton. I’m sorry I teased you. I just love it so much when you fuck me.” So I do. I fuck her hard until she’s moaning loudly and I hold my hand over her mouth to try to keep her quiet. “Quiet, baby. We’re in a goddamn office supplies closet.” Just as the first spurt of my orgasm starts, the door opens. I try to stop coming, but I can’t. I pull Ivy closer and wrap my arms around her, to protect her from whoever is invading our haven. I’m trying to focus on what’s going on but I’m coming. Hard. Ropes of cum are pulsing out of my cock as her pussy clenches lovingly around me. It’s so fucking intense I can’t see straight. We just hold each other, breathing hard, locked in a secret, rippling embrace. “Colton.” Jesus H. Christ. Someone’s standing there, watching us. It’s a few more seconds before I can speak. “Marcia.” “Your class was wondering what happened to you.” “I guess it’s pretty fucking clear what happened to me, isn’t it? I fell in lust. And, against all odds, I fell in love. So if you don’t mind leaving us the fuck alone so we can finish up, I’d appreciate it.” Marcia gives me a sad-faced once-over. “Get out,” I growl. Then – thank Christ – the bitch finally closes the door. I hold my baby closer, kissing her face. “Probably not a good idea to tease me like that again in public, baby girl.” “Maybe you’re right, you big lusty beast,” she says, giggling. I’m glad one of us can find humor in this situation. “So can we go back to the boat now?”
“Yes. Yes we can.”
Colton and I have spent the past three months sailing around the Caribbean. We got married in a small private ceremony on a beach in the Bahamas. He proposed to me three days after we left our ‘real’ lives behind, but he said we should wait. Until I was a little older, so I was really sure I wanted to marry him. It took a little bit of convincing him that I loved him. That I had absolutely no doubt I wanted to marry him and spend the rest of my life with him. Eventually, he relented. It made me cry that he refused at first and I made love to him so sweetly, I think I finally convinced him. I can’t imagine anyone being so careful with me, or loving, or protective. He is simply the dreamiest man who ever lived. And every day, he just gets dreamier. We’re on the boat, which is my favorite place on earth. It’s our little haven and we can be together without anyone interrupting us or even knowing where we are. Ever since that day I went to his office for extra help, we’ve hardly been apart at all. We don’t want to be apart. We’re in bed and it’s morning. I have no idea what time it is. It doesn’t matter. We get to just exist and live and make love whenever we want. It’s like paradise. His cock is still inside me and I can feel the usual trickle of his cum down my thighs. He overflows me every time. “I was thinking about something,” I tell him, kissing his mouth. He’s staring into my eyes, his hands cupping my ass, keeping himself deep inside me. “What were you thinking about?” “Babies.” We’ve had this conversation before and he doesn’t think it’s the right time. “You’re too young,” he says. “There might be things you want to do first, like traveling and finishing your studies and whatever else.” “We are traveling.” “I mean like to Paris or Rome or Tokyo or something. The Grand Canyon or Bali or Barcelona. Places like that.” “Babies aren’t allowed in those places?” “Ivy, you’re only eighteen. Wait a few years. I’ll be right here and we can make babies whenever you want.” “I want to make a baby now. With you.” “How about this,” he says. “Let me take you on a round-the-world tour. We’ll make a list of all the places we want to go, and we’ll spend some time exploring exotic locations. Then we’ll come back here and live on the boat. Or maybe buy a house in the Keys somewhere. And I’ll give you a baby.” “You will?” “I will. But what about your studies? Don’t you want to finish your degree?” “I do, and I just signed up to finish it online. Since I live with a professor and I can get extra help whenever I want, I thought it might be a good way to do it.”
He smiles, squeezing my ass. I can feel him getting hard again. “You sure do need a lot of extra help.” I kiss him again. “Your lessons are so thorough, Professor Harrison. I feel very well-schooled.” He laughs and I can feel his laughter inside me along with the beat of his heart.
I open my eyes. The light is soft like it gets just before dawn. The windows of our room are open and the air is warm. I’ve become used to this feeling, of not knowing exactly where I am and not caring. All I need to know is that he’s here with me. My beautiful husband, his big body wrapped around me, keeping me safe. I’m curled on my side, drowsed with warmth and sleep, entirely encompassed in Colton’s protective embrace. He kisses my neck lazily and I feel the playful bite of his teeth. His arm is wrapped around me, his hand fondling my breast. He teases my soft nipple between two fingers, rolling gently until it hardens into a tight little bud. Then he moves to the other breast, doing the same, touching both with the span of his fingers, playing my body with sensual tenderness. “Where are we?” I whisper, easing back against him more snugly, loving the feel of his warm body against mine. “Venice,” he says, and I remember. Yesterday we rode in a gondolier’s boat and ate our dinner at the Michelin-starred restaurant below our hotel, which looks out towards Piazza San Marco. It’s our fifth day in Venice. This time, we’ve been traveling for six months, through Europe and before that Asia, and South America. Our next stop is Rome. “After Rome, I think we should go home,” I say. Last year we bought a house on the big island of Hawaii. It has five bedrooms, a covered dock with two berths for Colton’s boats, and our front yard is a white-sand beach. After spending the past three years traveling to every continent and almost every country on earth, it feels like time. Plus, just last week we made a decision. I went off the pill. We talked about it and even though I’m only twenty-one, I want a baby. I want a family, with him. Colton says he never thought about having a family until he met me. He never thought he would find the right person, until that first day I walked into his class. We fell for each other at the exact same moment. It just took us a while to act on it. Money is no issue. Colton’s investments have skyrocketed in the past year. Turns out he has a knack for reading the stock market. With his help I started my own little portfolio. In just six months, it has more than tripled. And I’ve almost finished earning my degree, which I’ve been completing online and through correspondence. His hand roves to my hip, caressing lower, to the back of my thigh, which he eases higher, positioning me. I feel the length of his scorching shaft against my backside, rubbing between. His fingers open me and he guides himself inside, just barely entering me from behind. He holds himself still, leaving the head of his cock nestled between the lips of my pussy. “I want you,” I whisper. “I want you to come inside me.” Knowing he can get me pregnant any time has made me even more wild for my man. I want to make love to him all the time. I want him to spill his hot seed deep inside my body. My husband knows this, and he teases me, making me beg. He continues to stroke and touch my breasts unhurriedly, smiling against my neck. With his other hand, he fingers the tiny delicate nub of my
clit, circling with languid deliberation until my pussy is slick with honey. “You sure you want me to, baby girl?” he teases, knowing I’m desperate. He can tease me as much as he wants, but I know how to tempt him until he loses all control. “You know I do,” I gasp, breathless with my desire for him. These past few years have been like a dream. Colton gives me everything I could ever want, and much, much more. I never imagined I’d find a man so beautiful, so dedicated to fulfilling my every desire, so strong and protective and caring. And so incredibly willing and able to give me mind-blowing pleasure every minute of the day. The pleasure and the love has bonded us irrevocably. I love him more than I ever thought I could love anyone. I need him. I need him to touch me and hold me and make love to me. And he needs me. He tells me this on practically an hourly basis. “Do you know how much I love you, baby girl?” he whispers. “Do you know how happy you make me?” I arch my back and ease my hips against him, taking more of his thick cock inside. He groans and holds himself still. But I squirm against him, wanting more, squeezing him with my inner muscles until he can’t resist how good it feels. He pushes deeper, and deeper, until he’s fully inside me. My body welcomes him, clenching invitingly around this thickness until he groans again. “I love you,” I tell him softly. “I love you so much.” “Oh, God, Ivy, you feel too good.” “Give me everything,” I gasp, trying to control the pleasure, but it’s bigger than I am. It fills me as he fucks me and the melting bliss is too good. My pussy starts to squeeze him in soft, rhythmic tugs, pulling him deeper. He pulls me closer and his huge cock presses deeper into me, forcing my pleasure even higher. I start to come hard. My whole body is coming, working the length of him until his cock starts to jerk and spill hot, pulsing jets of his cum deep inside me. Our climax lasts a long time. Our bodies pump and writhe and grip like we can’t get close enough, until every drop of his cum is inside me. I can feel the flooding warmth of his seed everywhere. He doesn’t pull out. We’ve had enough sight-seeing. All we want to do is stay in bed all day and make love. Again. And again. By the time the sun starts to set, we sit at the window. He orders room service. He holds me on his lap and feeds me as we look down over the canals and watch the boats as the sun sets over the water and the spires of the Piazzo San Marco. He smooths my hair back from my face and kisses my lips. He looks into my eyes. “You all right, sweetheart? You’re quiet tonight.” I am all right. I’m so all right I can’t speak. My heart feels so big, like it might burst, and there are tears in my eyes. His brow furrows and he gives me a look of such concern I cry even more. “Hey. What’s wrong with my baby girl?” He looks so handsome, with his hair messed up and his face swarthy and tanned from the sun and the sea. “Nothing,” I say. “Nothing. Everything’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love you.” “I love you, too, sweetheart. More than I can bear. You’re my girl. My beautiful girl.” I can’t know for sure, but I can feel it. I feel like a vessel that exists to contain love. My heart beats for him, as though slowed by satiation of body and soul. My body feels beyond replete, filled with his seed and ripe with possibilities. I might have his baby inside me. This fills me with so much joy I make love to him all over again.
A few weeks later, we get back to our house in Hawaii. The renovations Colton asked some contractors to do were finished while we were away and the house looks divine. Big folding doors framed by wood open the entire front of the house to the beach. Our master bedroom suite has been completely redone and is beyond my wildest expectations. I leave him to bring in the last of our luggage as I go into the master bathroom and take out the little kit I secretly bought before we left Italy. I’m late. By almost a week. I take the pregnancy test. Then I wait, looking out to the view of the turquoise ocean, amazed at what my life has become. This. With him, the love of my life. Then I do it: I look at the small plastic stick resting there on the marble sink. And there, in the little window, is a small + sign. My heart’s beating fast. For some reason I always knew Colton would get me pregnant right away, as soon as we started trying. He is, without a doubt, the most virile hunk of masculinity I’ve ever seen. It’s one of the reasons I fell so hard and so fast for him in the first place. And here it is. Proof. I’m going to have his baby. I put my hands on my tummy. I’m overwhelmed. I feel powerful, humming with my own fertility. I feel young and healthy and happier than I’ve ever been. Then I go out to find him. He’s out in the kitchen, pouring us two glasses of champagne. He sees me come in and smiles at me. His dark eyes sparkle and he looks so handsome he literally takes my breath away. I stand close to him and when he looks down at me, it’s like he’s thinking the same thing. He looks as euphoric as I feel. “Professor Colton? There’s something I need to tell you.” I sometimes still call him professor. It always makes him smile. He lifts me, carefully, and sets me on the island of our brand new kitchen, holding me in his arms. “What do you need to tell me?” “I’m not going to be drinking champagne for a while. For around nine months, to be exact.” He looks at me, blinking his dark eyelashes. Then a huge smile spreads across his remarkable face. He lifts me up and I wrap my arms and legs around him. “You’re pregnant?” “Yes.” I laugh, because he looks so happy. Colton starts kissing me. And kissing me. He carries me over to the huge new couch and lays me down. He peels my dress off, kissing every inch of me. It tickles, making me laugh and squirm. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant with my baby,” he growls, suckling my nipples into the hot silk of his mouth. God, he’s voracious. “Professor Harrison,” I scold him, because it makes him even more voracious, and he kisses a line down my stomach to my bare pussy, which he eats and licks like I’m the most exotic fruit in the world. “I love you,” he’s murmuring against sensitive flesh, making me moan. Then he lays himself over me, looking into my eyes. “I love you so much, sweet girl. I’ll be so careful with you. I’ll take such good care of you. And I’ll make you happy every hour of every day for the rest of our lives.” Then my sexy professor, my lusty beast, my true love, does exactly that.
BILLIONAIRE (Part 1)
I felt a cool sense of confidence as I rode the elevator skywards, not because I thought I was in the running for the job I was about to interview for, but for the opposite reason. It was a dream job, beyond the scope of my experience, and I knew I was unlikely to score a gig this good. Sure, I had an English degree from Princeton; I’d graduated near the top of my class; I’d brought along a portfolio of publishing credits. But I was hardly alone in those credentials. The small, neat ad for CEO’s assistant at Skyscraper would attract the best of the best. Every college graduate within a three-state radius would be clambering to get their résumés seen. Not because we had a lifelong dream to be a CEO’s assistant, but because an underling job like this one would lead to other opportunities within the company. And it was a company that every aspiring writer and journalist alike would have sold their teeth to work for. That rare combination of glamorous and highly acclaimed, Skyscraper was the It magazine of the year. I knew most of the other applicants would have more experience than I had, which happened to be exactly none, since I’d graduated only two weeks ago. So there was an element of resigned defeat to my mood as I approached the meeting. Still, as I checked out my look in the glass reflection of the polished elevator walls, I couldn’t help but notice that my new makeover had definitely done wonders. At the insistence of my roommate, Eva, who’d orchestrated not only a shopping spree but also a pampering frenzy, I’d undergone a startling transformation. I had a stylish new haircut. I’d been massaged, waxed, trimmed, glossed and groomed to within an inch of my life. New city, new priorities, Eva had proclaimed. You’re no longer a student, you’re a hot young urban professional, she’d told me. Living the dream in New York City. I’d argued that I wasn’t a professional until I actually landed a job but she’d laughed that comment off as a technicality. Looking like you do, it’s only a matter of time, she said. Employers love hot, and you, my friend, are the total package. Time would tell. I tried to let her enthusiasm rub off on me as I studied my own reflection. My long, honey-blond hair fell in sleek, waving skeins; highlights of platinum caught the light. My dark eyelashes had been lengthened by some carefully-applied mascara. A light green wrap sweater over a short black skirt hugged my curves and emphasized the green of my eyes. I had wondered if the V of the neckline was too low for a job interview but Eva had laughed at my prudishness and ordered me to ‘get real’. She’d even insisted that I wear no bra or underwear. According to Eva, it was the secret to success. It gives you an added sensuality that no one can quite put their finger on, according to Eva. I’d protested, of course, but her mulishness had won me over. Just try it, she’d insisted. You’ll see. So here I was, clad from head to toe in exactly one layer of clothing. To-die-for black leather boots completed the outfit. The boots had cost a fortune, but Eva had reasoned that the cost would spur my impetus to get earning as quickly as possible. I didn’t bother telling her I had that impetus anyway, cringing every time I thought of my student loan. Anyway, I knew I’d never looked better. And it was true: my wanton secret made me feel bold and somehow risqué. With that in mind, as the elevator binged and the doors slid open, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and entered the lobby of Skyscraper. A lone receptionist sat behind a large mahogany desk with a massive print of the New York skyline mounted on the wall behind her. She watched me approach and took in my hair, my body and my boots with a somewhat critical eye. If I had worried that more than hint
of my own cleavage was visible, I laid that concern decisively to rest now, as the receptionist’s ample breasts were barely concealed by an almost-sheer fitted black top. Her outfit, her gleaming long dark hair and ruby red lips seemed to announce that her after-work plans were already on her mind. Employers love hot. Apparently so. “Lila Carmichael?” she asked. “Yes. I’m meeting with the interview panel at three o’clock.” “Actually, Miss Carmichael, several members of the panel are otherwise engaged this afternoon. You’ll be meeting with Mr. Wolfe himself.” I had heard rumors about Alexander Wolfe’s reclusiveness and also his ruthlessness and acumen when it came to matters of business, but even so, I felt mildly relieved by this. Public speaking had never been my strongpoint, and a one-on-one meeting sounded less intimidating than a full-blown inquisition before a panel of many. “He’s expecting you,” said the receptionist. “Go right on down this hallway. Take the elevator up to the 27th Floor.” The phone rang and the receptionist gestured down the long wood-panelled hallway before she picked it up. I wanted to ask her what number Mr. Wolfe’s office was, but she was already immersed in conversation. His door probably had his name on it. Fine, I thought. I can handle this. No problem. A brief interrogation by a stuffy publishing executive, followed by a dismissive ‘We’ll call you if we’re interested’. I knew already it was a phone call that would probably never come. I’d wait a few weeks before reality settled in, as I meanwhile resumed my search through the classifieds for an opportunity that might be slightly more realistic. I walked down the hallway, finding the elevator. I wondered if this was a private elevator. I knew it was not the same one that accessed the lobby of the building. And as the doors closed, I noticed the elevator car had an opulent air, with gold features and lengths of plush velvet panelling. When I reached the 27th floor – the top floor – I stepped out to a glass hallway boasting a killer view of the city below. There were several swanky leather chairs flooded with sunlight that I wouldn’t have minded sitting in for a while, appreciating the view. Next to the chairs was a single door. So Mr. Wolfe was the only executive with an office on the 27th floor. Maybe he was the president of the company, or the lone CEO –a thought that didn’t help ease my nervousness. I wished now that I’d read up on the power structure of Skyscraper. I’d only seen the ad in the paper two days ago and between my shopping agenda and Eva’s groomingappointment schedule, I hadn’t had time. I knocked on the door. It may have been a full minute before the door opened. A man stood there, silhouetted momentarily by the sunlight streaming in from behind him. If I had been expecting an ordinary, middle-aged, workaddled managerial type, I was sorely mistaken. In fact, it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the extent of my miscalculation. There was nothing ordinary about this god-like creature. He was tall, and big, dominating the space entirely. His black hair was neat but slightly longer than one might expect from a man of power, which he clearly was; it touched his collar, lightly curling in places. He wore an extremely well-cut suit but didn’t appear entirely at ease in it, as though it constricted a natural wildness that could barely be contained. “Mr. Wolfe?” I said, and my question came out breathy and cautious. His eyes were as black as his hair and were narrowed in surprise at the sight of me, as though I had somehow caught him off guard. His face was swarthy and tanned, and his features were incongruously rugged for the setting, as though he spent more time sailing the Southern seas or wrangling broncos than doing deals in an oppressive, airless boardroom. He was too masculine to be called beautiful but it was a word that came to mind. His full lips twisted into a slight sneer as he motioned with one hand for me to enter, his eyes trailing intently across my face and my body as I stood before him.
“Ms. Carmichael.” His voice was deep, tinged with bass notes that sounded almost like a purr. “Please, come in.” I experienced a violent rush of contradicting urges. Deep-rooted instincts piqued with genuine warning, which I found unsettling. Was he dangerous? Even more disconcertingly, these warnings were overridden by a potent wave of undiluted longing, which stunned me with its ferocity. I don’t care if he’s dangerous, I thought. I could not tear my gaze away from his huge, broad shoulders and his strong arms, where the muscles were defined even under the layers of his clothing as he clutched the edge of the door with gripping, brutal fingers, opening it further. Isolated and alone as we were, I couldn’t help feeling I was walking into Mr. Wolfe’s lair. No one will hear you if you call for help. Oddly, despite this flicker of fear, I didn’t hesitate. I walked into the room and felt a thrill of anxious excitement as he closed the door firmly behind me, clicking the lock into place. “You’re very punctual, Ms. Carmichael. I like that in an employee.” A good start, I thought. “Please,” I said. “Call me Lila.” “Lila.” My name, spoken in that molasses-rich voice, sounded strangely erotic, like the subtle vibrations of his speech poured lazily into my body, charging me with a new, sensuous hum. I wanted to hear him say it again, to groan it, to growl it in deep, pleading tones. What was wrong with me? This was not like me at all. I was a clean-cut girl, a scholar, punctual, reliable, conscienscious to a fault. And embarrassingly inexperienced. I’d had boyfriends, but this was the first time I’d ever felt such an instantaneous and desperate pull of white-hot lust. That his mouth caressed my name in that way seemed almost indecent, as though he’d tasted a part of me. At that thought, my nipples tightened as I watched his mouth. His full, pouting lips. What would that mouth feel like on my body? Licking. Biting. Everywhere. I silently cursed Eva for encouraging me to go commando. I felt like my clothes were entirely sheer, like he was somehow penetrating them with his predatory appraisal. My aroused nipples would be easily visible, and I could feel the warm, wet heat between my legs; I hoped desperately that it wouldn’t be detectable somehow through the thin wool of my short skirt. I willed my body to control its responses, but it was no use: I felt needy and entirely lacking in self-discipline. I want to step closer, to touch him. I could barely restrain myself from doing this. I’d gone mad, that was all there was to it. Flustered, I forced myself to unlock my eyes from his sinfully perfect mouth. I distracted myself by taking in the surroundings. His office was large, and circular. Half of the oval was lined with pale wood shelving, concealed cupboards and the subtle framed outline of two doors. The other half was floor-toceiling curved glass windows. A large, modern desk sat in the middle of the room. He half-sat against his desk and folded his arms across his chest, causing his suit jacket to tighten against his arms. He’s inhumanely strong. He could so easily overpower me. These thoughts only served to arouse me further, until my nipples were painfully beaded. Copying his motion, I folded my own arms in an attempt to conceal myself, but he noticed my body’s response to him and his mouth quirked in a lazy half-smile. He moved to take off his jacket then, which he tossed onto a chair. Amused or not, I couldn’t help but notice – through a quick, tentative peripheral glance - a swell in the area I didn’t dare stare at. This was too much. My body was combusting within the potent cloud of alpha-male pheromones he was emitting. I turned abruptly away from him and walked over the window, looking out over the vast expanse of the hazy city. “Nice view,” I commented. I gave myself a point of victory for the blithe, offhand tone of my voice. Meanwhile, a light throb in my slippery depths was pulsing distractingly. “Would you join me in a celebration, Lila?” he said. I dared a glance over my shoulder. “What are you celebrating, Mr. Wolfe?” “Call me Alexander,” he said. That he was a rich, powerful man was obvious enough. That I was an unemployed entry-level job seeker was equally obvious. I was, in more ways than one, at his mercy. His request for me to call him by his first name felt like a small triumph, an invitation for a familiarity that was inappropriate, maybe, but wickedly enticing. I wanted to issue invitations of my own. An inner sense
of decorum and better judgment wondered at my pleasure at his offer. Alexander. The name suited him. Strong, dark, controlling. “Today is my birthday,” he said. “Happy birthday.” “Thank you. I was just sent a bottle of Moët on ice by my brother Jake, which was delivered only minutes before you arrived - which to me seems rather serendipitous.” “Oh?” “I don’t like to drink alone,” he said. “Can I tempt you?” I couldn’t even begin to describe how tempted I was. I knew it was unwise to accept his offer. A glass of champagne would only amplify the effects of my desire. But my desire had a mind of its own. It wanted to be fed and stoked and ignited. It was a wild thing that was inhabiting me and taking over, causing my skin to flush and my body temperature to rise. I slid the cashmere of my top down an inch or more over my shoulder in an attempt to cool my rising flame by a degree. “I wouldn’t want to you drink alone on your birthday. As long as you won’t hold this against me. This is, after all, a job interview.” He smiled, and his gaze caressed the milky-white skin of my exposed upper shoulder. “There’s no reason we can’t get down to business while we enjoy my brother’s gift. Please, have a seat,” he said. He pulled a chair close to his own. I sat, and he handed me a glass of champagne. He stretched out his long legs and leaned back in his leather office chair. By this time it was fully apparent that he was as aroused as I was, but he acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He sipped his champagne and glanced out the window, as though to allow me to take my time studying the magnificence of his long, powerful body. Even concealed beneath the civilized layers of his business clothing, the outlines of his form were, in every way, impressive. I imagined myself unfastening his pants, taking him in my hands, in my mouth… I took a drink, following his gaze, concentrating on the steely lines of the city far below. “So you’re looking for an assistant?” I asked, instantly regretting my ridiculous comment. Of course he is, you idiot, or you wouldn’t be here. His eyes glimmered as he seemed to read my internal banter. “I’ve had the same assistant since I founded the company twelve years ago. She’s sort of a Moneypenny type. She’s retiring.” “You founded Skyscraper?” After a long pause, he confirmed, “I did, yes.” “You … own the company?” “Is that surprising to you?” he asked, taking a drink from his flute. His large hand held his champagne glass carefully. He looked like he easily could have snapped the stem of it without any effort at all. Amusement lurked in his dark eyes at my naiveté, maybe, or my complete lack of tact. I felt foolish for even asking the question, and especially for being so shocked by his pronouncement. I fumbled with a reply. “No, of course not. I just … you just seem too young to own an entire publishing company.” Not only too young but too hot, was my unspoken thought. Publishing people were typically dowdy and pale, like they’d spent months on end in a musty, dimly lit library. “Thirty-three isn’t that young. I was young when I started. I’d only just graduated from Princeton.” “I … just graduated from Princeton.” “I saw that on your résumé. It was one of the reasons I decided to interview you. And you completed your degree in only three years. Impressive.” I took a sip of the bubbling liquid, wondering what the other reasons were, but I held my questions. Maybe it was best if he did the talking. My nervousness had made me thirsty, and the champagne was the most delicious I had ever had. It tasted refreshing and expensive, and I sipped again. “A woman who enjoys a good drop,” he smiled, topping up my glass. “Another quality I admire.” His playful tone and suggestive smile only succeeded in igniting the traitorous urges of my body
one notch higher. My senses felt hyper-aware, and my erogenous zones felt piqued and unsettlingly heated. Alexander ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his jaw, as though sensing the signals I was struggling to control, and tuning into them. His outrageous handsomeness caught the chiaroscuro light of the shadowed interior space and the bright light of the day. His tanned face, his lips, his glinting dark eyes rimmed with thick black lashes. The man was an absolute specimen of masculine beauty. “Are you aware that Skyscraper is only one of the companies owned by Wolfe Enterprises? One of the smaller ones, in fact.” “No,” I said. “I didn’t know that.” “We run a number of publishing companies. Two magazines and a book publishing company, as well as three Internet businesses and several investment companies.” I was beginning to grasp just how rich and powerful Alexander Wolfe was. “I have to be honest,” I told him. “I’ve never been an assistant before. I did an internship last summer for a literary agency, but the job mainly involved reading manuscripts and writing up reports. But I’m a quick learner, and very eager to please.” His dark eyes spangled, and I realized I sounded like a complete try-hard. Eager to please? I’m coming across like a total imbecile. “I’m very glad to hear that,” was his languid reply. “I think you and I have come to an agreement, then.” His black-satin voice seemed to penetrate the air as a physical force, touching me and ruffling me. My arousal was very nearly uncomfortable, blooming in a furtive aching swell. The champagne’s effect swirled through me pleasantly, allowing my barriers to soften and my nerves to settle somewhat. Rather than fighting my body’s responses, I eased into them. Instead of straightening the neckline of my thin sweater, I left it askew, allowing the upper skin of my breasts to be revealed. I shifted in my chair, settling onto one hip and crossing my legs, which forced the hem of my skirt to ride scandalously high. This was entirely unlike me, but I was hardly doing anything he wasn’t doing. His erection was straining at the fabric of his pants and was in fact so enlarged that it threatening to escape the confines of his waistband. I found myself wishing that it would. At this point, high with desire and a glass of champagne, I hardly cared if I got the job or not. I was enjoying this foreplay much too much. It was a completely new feeling for me, and one that I decided I needed more experience with. “I do require that whoever I hire must be available immediately.” “I’m available whenever you want me,” I replied, only realizing after I’d made the statement the double entendre. Despite the effects of the alcohol, I felt my cheeks redden. “I meant, of course, that I’m available if you decide you’d like to hire me.” “A few more questions first,” he said. “Of course.” “It’s a somewhat demanding job. Long hours. I need someone who can basically be at my beck and call, at any hour of the day or night. We have affiliates in London, Los Angeles, Paris, Sydney, and so forth, so we’re a 24-hour business. It can be hard on … significant others, if you were to be working a lot.” “I don’t have a significant other. I have a roommate, but her hours are ridiculous. She works for a law firm and she’s studying for the bar.” “Fine,” he said, and his smug charisma hit me in the low pit of my stomach. “There will be times when my assistant will be required to travel with me. Frequently, in fact. Do you like to travel?” “I’ve always wanted to, but I haven’t had much opportunity to travel, actually. I never, well, we never had the money. But as a graduation present to myself, I decided to get my passport issued, just in case I get the chance someday. I just got it. This morning, in fact. I have it here, in my bag.” I was so excited about my passport, I considered retrieving my bag from where I’d placed it near his desk, and
showing it to him. This incredibly beautiful man is a sophisticated billionaire. Stop coming across like a hick and a schoolgirl. “Perfect,” he said. He reached for a pen and a small piece of paper. He scrawled some numbers onto the paper and handed it to me. “This is the starting salary. Negotiable, of course. I will cover all business-related expenses. You’ll have a driver, and an expense account, if you agree to take the position. In addition, my apartment is in this building, and I have an adjoining studio apartment available for your use, if you have need of it from time to time, which you will, when I require you to work late into the night.” I glanced at the number he’d written, and held back a gasp, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me. It was more than triple what I might have expected to earn from an assistant’s job. A salary this generous would allow me to pay off my student loan within the year, especially if I could cut down on other expenses. “What do you say?” he said. “I say … yes.” My voice was no louder than a whisper. “Well, then, Lila. You’re hired,” he purred, leaning forward to place his empty glass on the desk. As he moved, I caught a light whiff of his scent. He smelled of soap and mint and masculinity. And there was more to it. Something elusive and outrageously, crazily appealing. The light-musked spice seemed to unfurl something in me, intoxicating me with an unruly obsessiveness. Unconsciously, I leaned slightly towards him. The long strands of my hair fell forward with my movement, spilling over my bared shoulder. “Your hair,” he said softly, fingering an end strand, “is lovely.” My lips parted. I was having trouble breathing in enough air. I wanted to breath his air, his breath. That scent of him, that one whiff, was not enough. I leaned closer, quietly urgent for more. His fingers twirled around the strand of my hair, forming a lightly ensnaring hold, pulling gently. I followed his pull, encouraging it, accepting any invitation he was giving. Sensing my consent, he pulled me closer, and closer, until my mouth was only inches from his. My nipples had softened during our discussion and with the soothing effects of the alcohol. Now, at his nearness, they rose and peaked into tight little buds of sensation. Concentrated lust seemed to center there, and radiate slowly throughout my body in shimmery, uninhibited waves. Alexander released his grasp on my hair. His movements were dreamlike and tentative, like he was being guided by foreignly intense urges that he was attempting – unsuccessfully – to control. His hand paused near my breast. His lower lip was close to my mouth, as plump as ripe fruit. Unable to hold myself back, I brushed my mouth against his lips in a feather-light kiss, touching my tongue to the rounded curve of his lip. He groaned, and his fingers touched my nipples through the soft fabric of my top. He teased them between his thumb and fingers, kneading them into ripe buds. Searing sensation surged through my body. I gasped as he pinched tighter, rolling my aching flesh more insistently, controlling me entirely with his touch. “This is not actually a requirement of the job,” he said against my mouth, cupping my breast in his large palm, squeezing lightly. “Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to continue and I … will.” “Don’t stop,” I whispered. The ferocious urges of my body were driving me, and I realized with a passing current of concern amid an ocean of surrender that I would do anything he asked. Anything. His effect was flooding me with fire. “Please don’t stop.” He pulled at the ties of my wrapped cashmere top, until the fabric parted. My full breasts bounced gently as he freed them, the rosy hue of my swollen nipples sultry against the pale white of my skin. Alexander deftly peeled off my top, until I was naked from the waist up. My skin sang under his worshipful stare as he drank in the sight of me. “I was not expecting such a perfect … luscious creature to walk into my office this afternoon. I had no intention of …” He seemed almost overcome. He swore under his breath. He was torn, I could see, by the thought of taking advantage
of me, his new, young assistant. It was a strange and sudden turn of events, and entirely unforeseen. But I was too far gone to allow his internal dilemma to steal from me this stunningly needy anticipation. “Alexander,” I said, kissing him again. I licked his lips with tender, inviting supplication, opening to him. His tongue sank into my mouth, searching intimately, filling my entire being with want. I sucked on his tongue, gently greedy, desperate to take more of any part of his body into any part of mine. “God, Lila. You taste so fucking good.” His voice had become rasped with lust and … not indecision, but turmoil over a decision already made. I wanted more from this big, perfectly made pirate-mogul than I had ever before imagined, ruled entirely by the pull of his intention and the promise of his touch. I stood before him, loving the heated feel of his gaze on my body. Willing him to touch me, to put his hands on me, I looked into his dark eyes, letting my eyes rove to his sinfully inviting mouth. A stranger to myself, I felt a jolt of pure joy as his hands rested on the curve of my hips. His fingers circled the waistband of my skirt, easing to the back where he began to slowly unzip. I squirmed as he pulled my skirt down, to rid myself of any barrier between his hands and my scorched, restless skin. He made a soft, savage sound of appreciation as he saw that I wore nothing underneath and his breathing quickened. Clad only in my tall boots, standing before him, I felt utterly foreign to myself, like I’d just climbed out of some underwater seashell and been reborn as a lusty nymph who had no inhibitions, who was made purely of hot, lurid physical sensation. I knew the pink, swollen petals of my sex would be fully visible to him. He would see how wet I was, how much I wanted him. His black eyes were heavy-lidded as he touched me everywhere with his blazing gaze. He licked his lips. A hint of shyness – some vanishing vestige of my old self – loosened as I reached my hands to rest on his muscled thighs. I eased his thighs further apart, standing between them. My breasts were just above his mouth and felt sensuously full and aching with need. I touched myself, pinching my nipples, playing them. “Taste more of me,” I whispered. I offered myself to him and he held my breasts in his big, warm hands, plumping them to his mouth, taking my nipples in lust-driven pulls, one then the other. I moaned with the billowing sensation he inspired. His hands were on me, slow and stealthy, wandering but not delivering, as though to torture me. It wasn’t enough. The pulls of his mouth were too good, too rife with sensation. Each tug sent a wash of molten feeling into my liquid core. My sex felt unbearably hot and ripe, like I’d been dipped in warm honey. I climbed onto him, straddling his hips. The massive rigidity of his raging erection was stunningly hard, and hot, even through the layer of his clothing. His strong hands clamped onto my hips, holding me exactly where he wanted me. Our eyes locked in a connective link. A strand of his black hair had fallen over his forehead, somehow softening his severe beauty. I touched the thick silk of it, as our gazes held, and a startling thread of tenderness passed between us, strengthening the lust, stoking it. He began to move me, just slightly, rolling my body against him. Answering his lead, I writhed against his straining erection, rubbing against the rock-hard outline of his cock. The intense hardness of him pressed against my plumped sex, kneading it, forcing a rolling, circling pleasure. Not satisfied, not close enough, I began to unfasten his belt buckle, and unzip his pants. I fumbled with the fastenings, unable to find ease or dexterity. I was too hazed in a trancelike eagerness as he was revealed to me. I might have moaned at the sight of him. At the sheer size and perfection of him, dusky and silken and immense. I wondered abstractly if he would protest. Instead, he helped me as I pushed his pants down low on his hips. After a long moment of awed appreciation, I took him into my hands and caressed the long, stiff length of him. He was so hard his erection lay against his taut stomach. I touched him tenderly with both hands, fingering his length, cupping him, feathering my fingertips everywhere as he watched me do this. Alexander’s hands were still on my hips and he pulled me closer, until my sex was touching his, rubbing against him, along his length, wetting him with the honey of my desire until his cock was slick
with my own juices. I was so aroused that the tiny nub of my clit felt electric and hyper-sensitive. Alexander’s thumb circled my saturated folds, centering, touching. With the squeeze of his fingers, he pulled lightly on that little erect bud, igniting a potent bloom that almost undid me. Blind with need, I guided the broad tip of his cock to my snug, slippery entrance. He swore under his breath, the sound agonized. He said my name. He bucked upwards, at the same time grasping my hips in his firm grip, thrusting into me, once, and again. I was forbiddingly tight, yet his thrusting drives forced his thickness deeper. He lifted me slightly, allowing my arousal to moisten him, to ease his passage, and he thrust again. I moved with him, grinding and opening to him until I was impaled fully, riding the huge length of him, clenching my soft core invitingly around him. His fingers found my clit, working a soft, squeezing motion, while his other hand rubbed me from behind, finding the tight, secret place, pressing in a dueling, connective rhythm. Aware of nothing but the harmony, the rising pleasure of our joined bodies, I lost myself, engulfed by a release so powerful that my body writhed and clenched with the overload of ecstasy. My inner muscles drew so forcefully around him that he groaned as if in pain. He was saying something but I could barely comprehend. Wait. I can’t hold on. But my body was too possessive, too slippery, and I was still riding, still pulling him deeply, again and again. I felt the flooding wetness, the violent pulse of him deep inside me. The silky beat of his climax rubbed sensuously against a sensitive place, causing another wash of spiralling waves that milked him softly, again and again, until I had collapsed on top of him, wrapped naked around his still-clothed body. We sat that way for some time, rocked by the intensity of what had just taken place. His arms were around me. My head rested on his chest. I could hear his heart beating. Despite the glaring fact that, in a distant long-ago state of mind, I might have felt remorseful for my total abandon, that the consequence of what I – what we – had just done could and would be far-reaching, I felt supremely, ridiculously peaceful. I was warm, and euphoric, cocooned in a circular haven high above the bustling city, wrapped in the arms and still moistly connected to a tycoon Adonis, stranger or not. I didn’t want to move. I savored the lingering bliss, the recalcitrant pleasure that, even now, held on. I wanted more. After a time, my sated body stretched slightly, attempting movement, testing soreness. With the small change in position, Alexander’s barely-softened shaft slid inside me. I was surprised that he was still as large – and erect – as he was. I was hardly experienced with these things, but I knew this to be somewhat unusual. In a subtle adjustment, he swivelled his hips, causing his cock to sink deeper in a vague, circular rub that triggered a new, instant arousal. I was unsure how I could be so easily renewed, and so soon after what we had just done. But the sweet pressure as he continued to explore his deep, lazy thrusts caused me to gasp and to moan. I unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest. I inhaled his masculine scent, layered now with sweat and musk and satisfaction. I clasped his nipple gently between my teeth. He flinched, chuckling darkly, and hugged me against his body, gripping me and lifting me. Still connected, he lay me onto his desk. He was above me, his mussed-up hair framing his heartbreaking face in a lion-like mane. I smiled at his transformation from only a short time ago: the cool, unapproachable top-floor CEO turned unruly, untamed sex god. I loved what havoc my hands had wrought upon his hair. His dark eyes glimmered and his gaze was meaningful and tender. Then he kissed me, softly at first, gaining momentum as he thrust into me. Now he was in control, utterly, gripping me with both hands, lifting my hips higher so he could drive deeper. I wasn’t sure I could come again after the momentous releases I’d already experienced but his drives were measured, relentless in their pursuit of not only his pleasure but my own. He was listening to me, gauging my every breath, my every whimper. He was reading my reactions as he played my body, taking every quivering flutter to heart. With great skill and unequivocal insistence, he coaxed a rising surge within me. “Come for me,” he whispered. “I love the little sounds you make. I want you to come for
me, Lila.” “Yes,” I moaned, as he found a brazen sweetspot. Triumphant, he rocked me, pushing deeper against the sensitive trigger, forcing the bliss. I rode the tidal wave, exploding from within, shattering in pleasure. I scraped my nails along his back, drawing him ever deeper as my body coerced his own orgasm with long, tight, silky pulls. He didn’t try to pull out of me this time, even though he easily could have done so from this position, and I didn’t ask him to. It hardly seemed to matter; we were already bound. Alexander stroked my hair absentmindedly for a time. Then he pulled gently out of me. He stood above me, his eyes roving my body. Abruptly, he paused, touching his fingers to my intimate folds. He face looked appalled, almost furious, as he held up two blood-stained fingers. “Lila. My God. You’re a virgin?”
Fuck. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so ridiculously carried away. Christ. I just fucked my new assistant. The new assistant who was still peacefully sleeping in my bed with me. I’d meant to pull out, at least. But I’d been so fucking overcome with lust that I’d spent myself inside her. More than once. There was simply no way in hell I could have disengaged myself from that tight, clenching, juicy little heaven on earth. Goddamn it all to hell. That had never, ever happened before. Not even close. It hadn’t even occurred to me to put on a condom. Or anything else. The minute that goddess had walked into my office, with her sultry green eyes and her short skirt, practically oozing sexuality, my brain had taken flight and left the room. Leaving my goddamn cock in charge, which was never a good thing. She was so fresh, so innocently voluptuous, so fucking young. The sane part of my mind wanted to wake her, to politely ask her to leave, to tell her I still had a few more people to interview and I’d be in touch. I wouldn’t call. I’d send her some flowers and a gentlemanly note. Done and dusted. She wasn’t the most qualified for the job anyway, not by a longshot. I watched her as she slept, surprised at myself for even bringing her here. I never brought women to my apartment, which was adjacent to my office. It was a door I kept decisively closed. Until now, apparently. Her sunny blond hair spilled over the pillow in a silky cascade. Her pink lips were puffy from my greedy kisses, insanely soft and tempting. The smooth skin of her jaw was reddened slightly from the stubble of my beard. I’d been rough with her. Too rough. I’d taken her not only in my office – twice – but several times during the night, damning all consequences. And she was a fucking virgin. Or at least she had been. Yesterday. She must have been twenty-one at least. Maybe twenty-two. What kind of girl waits that long? And why? Her dark-blond eyelashes lay in graceful curves against her pale cheeks, dark at the roots and lightening to an almost white-blond at the tips. Her makeup was all but gone, aside from some light smudges on the pillowcase. I thought of waking her, just so I could see that sea-green burn in her eyes. The sheet lay low on her hips, drawing a line across the concave plane of her stomach, framed by the jut of her angular hipbones. Her breasts were a work of art – there was no other way to describe them. Full and rounded, high and plush with youth, the little buds of her nipples like cherries on the perfect, creamy vanilla mounds. Her nipples were soft now, in sleep. And I couldn’t resist. I was already harder than I’d ever been. Maybe equal to yesterday, or last night. I hardly cared about the comparison. What I cared about was the soft bud of her rosy skin, tightening even as she slept, under the glide of my tongue. She tasted like nothing I’d ever experienced. Sweet, somehow. Floral. Like she’d stepped out of a garden at midnight, while eating sugary cake and blossoming into full-blown womanhood. I sucked on her like I was trying to draw that taste from her body. It was perverse, almost, the greed and need I felt. Mother’s milk, or something like it. Virgin’s milk, sweetened with honey, mixed with lust and the loss of innocence. Little mews of pleasure came from her mouth. She writhed under the sheet, displacing it. She opened her legs in a reflexive plead. For me. For this superhero between my legs that had never known
such stamina. I could see the lavender-pink pleats of her pussy. Fuck. I was a fucking goner. I was whipped like nothing I had ever known. Just the sight of that moist, wanting flesh was enough to blind me, once again, to every normal consideration. I’d been a highachieving, successful, responsible, Type-A paramour, sometimes more darkly than others, all my life. Every fucking second of my entire miserable straight-A millionaire – actually, as of last month, billionaire – life. But this. This girl. She disarmed me. She made me want to fuck everything up. I wanted to dirty myself, and her. I wanted to feel what it felt like to not care about anything but the moment, because I knew that this moment would be so good, so incomparably fucking good that nothing else mattered. I licked my way down her body, but I didn’t linger. I was too frantic to taste that sweet place that would swell and squirm and pulse under my tongue. I’d taken her to the shower sometime during the night, to wash my own scent away. I wanted her taste undiluted. And now, after a few hours of sleep, the scent of her had deepened into a humid, dewy musk. I almost lost it just tasting that, that feminine bloom, letting my tongue delve into the softness. Her willingness only compounded this overblown, excessive desire. Her hands were in my hair and she was lifting herself to my mouth, pulling me closer. I found the little nub of her clit and sucked it, playing it with my tongue, easing two fingers into her. I waited for her to relax into the invasion. I waited for her to come to me, to beg for more, slowing the lapping pressure of my tongue. Gently, I zeroed in on that tender bud, drawing it into my mouth with soft, cyclical pulls. Her moans and the clutch of her hands in my hair were driving me mad, but I reminded myself who I was. A control freak. An accomplished, driven, intensely disciplined man. A few soft moans of a willing woman should hardly undo me. But then it began. Her hips swayed in a back-and-forth rhythm. I slid my fingers deeper and her pussy clasped tightly around them, sucking them into her body. She cried out my name. I was mildly appalled with myself, with my reaction, how much I loved that sound. Of her, calling to me. Saying my name in that dreamy exhale, like I was a mythical god-like being she couldn’t believe. Like I was too good to be true. I was about to come whether I was inside her or not. And there was no question I would enter her, take her, fuck her, make love to her. The semantics hardly mattered. All I knew was that there was nothing more sacred to me at that moment than being inside her. Her climax was still happening. Her pussy was still spasming as I slid into the wet, welcoming constriction, driving into her and compounding her pleasure. If I’d cared about proving myself, of prolonging and lasting, the concern at that moment was inconsequential. That luscious, snug, pulsing embrace was so tight, so insistent, all my restraint was pulled from my body in silky, furtive tugs that left me no choice. This was ecstasy in its purest, most beautiful form. The release was complete and total. I fell willingly, succumbing entirely to the perfect bliss of her, beautiful as sin, absolute as death.
Table of Contents www.juliettejonesbooks.com Copyright Also by Juliette Jones Chapter One: Ivy Chapter Two: Colton Chapter Three: Ivy Chapter Four: Colton Chapter Five: Ivy Chapter Six: Colton Chapter Seven: Ivy Chapter Eight: Colton Epilogue Epilogue #2 Connect with Juliette Jones BILLIONAIRE: Part One