“The sound you made.” I moan softly when he slowly starts to fuck me. ”Fuck, that’s good. Please. Harder.”
Keith kissed me hard before surging into me. When he bottoms out and I moan, I also start fighting him. He let’s go of my hands before he starts to rail me harder and harder. I push his chest, acting like I’m trying to get him off of me, but I don’t want him to go. My moans are growing ragged, and my body is shaking as rapid-fire orgasms flood out of me. My eyes are rolled back in my head and his moans are deliciously overwhelming, but I keep fighting him. My weak attempts at getting him off of me lead it to him abruptly sitting up to flip me over to my belly. He drags me up to my knees before he continues to fuck me.
I push my hips back to meet his force and it makes us moan helplessly. I fall into rhythm with him, and the world disappears. A feeling of pure bliss takes over and finally, my intrusive thoughts go silent. Keith’s moans turn to a near growl and something about this feral sound throws me right off a cliff into another orgasm, dragging him with me. He groans as he pushes deep and drains himself. Come spills out of me and down my thighs before he brings me down to the bed.
I remain in my stupor as he cleans me up. Just as I’m about to pull myself out of it I’m shoved right back in when he starts massaging my back. A calming scent of chamomile fills the room when he applies oil to my back, ass, and thighs.
“Fuck, that almost feels better than you trying to destroy my insides,” I mumble.
“I don’t know if that’s an insult or a compliment,” he chuckles.
“You are incredible,” I sigh. “But…”
“Oh, I don’t like the sound of that,” he says before rolling me to look at him.
“We need to discuss this giant elephant in the room that you are my professor,” I say, cupping his cheek.
“Well… I decided something while you were taking a shower,” he says.
“Oh?”
“Mhmm. After this semester, I am going to go back to my therapy practice. I still have clients, but I work part-time. I would be a liar if I said that my desire to be with you is not influencing this, but I want to make a bigger difference than just teaching. I want to help people that need me,” he says. “Helping you reminded me why I started doing this to begin with.”
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“Remember the sister I mentioned?” he asks.
“Yeah…”
“She is a few years older than me. When she was at college, she was drugged, and gang raped. Her attackers did not use a condom and her rape kit revealed ten samples left behind. Based on the areathat she was at when she was found, it showed an additional seven DNA samples that were specifically semen,” he says. “Fortunately, they were all morons and took a video. They didn’t hide anyone’s face and posted it online. This led to all of them being charged with her rape,” he explains. “She attempted suicide the week after her rape. Our parents were able to get an ambulance to her in time, but it fucked her up. Our parents ended up having to involuntarily commit her because she simply could not cope. What ended up helping was telling her that it was okay to be traumatized. Everyone kept telling her that she just needed to force the feelings to go away, but I encouraged her to feel every single one of them. I told her that she felt like she had nothing to lose, at least try to make all of those feelings. From there, she learned how to heal. That’s when I decided that I wanted to help people like her. It didn’t even necessarily have to be sexual assault, but I wanted to help people overcome trauma. She is also a psychiatrist now.”
“Seventeen men? No wonder she had such a hard time. That’s awful,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says. “All of this reminded me of what influenced me back then. I got comfortable with the routine of teaching, and it took over my life. I want to get back to that feeling of helping people.”
“So, what does that mean long term?” I ask. “Part of me wants to say it’s the trauma, but I have wanted this and more from you since before the rape. I knew you kept me at arm's length because you felt the same way. I can’t sit here and wallow in self-pity foreternity. If we both have feeling for each other and we both want this, I refuse to let my rape dictate how I live my life.”
“Do you think you could handle starting something?” he asks.
“I know I will have good and bad days,” I say. “I know we have obvious challenges ahead of us, like making sure no one knows before the semester ends, but I will face whatever I need to ensure my happiness. I refuse to let myself end up like my mother and let the world consume me.”
“Then we take baby steps,” Keith says. “When to comes to our relationship and anything we do physically, it stays inside this house until after you are done in my class. I will hand in my resignation tomorrow,” he says. “It should go without saying, but I don’t want you stay in the dorms. I would really like for us to go get your belongings after we sleep for a little bit.”
“I don’t know what to tell Penny,” I sigh.
“Tell her the truth. Tell her that you were brutally gang raped and you don’t feel safe. The police will recognize me as your advocate, so it’s not a big deal for you living here. The school will have someone else administer tests though.”
“Well... let’s sleep then. I need to do a paper for your class anyway, so I need my laptop.”
“That’s due tomorrow, Bekah,” he says.
“Every assignment in your class I do at the last second,” I laugh. He smiles and shakes his head at me before lying beside me and pulling me to his chest. “I’m going to be so sore when I wake up.”
“Yeah, your bruises are pretty gnarly,” he says. “Later on, I’ll run you a bath. It’ll help relax you.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I yawn. Instead of saying anything, he kisses my head and pulls the covers over us.
Keith and I fell asleep a little after five in the morning and woke up shortly before noon. It took me a moment to get my bearings after almost panicking when I opened my eyes, but he was so patient with me. He is truly amazing.