I pull my hands away, sudden and sharp. “I can’t go back out there. I can’t look at him again.”
Liam’s jaw tightens. “That asshole is bluffing. He has nothing.”
I want to believe him, but the trembling in my hands won’t stop. I press my forehead to his shirt, the fabric stiff but clean, warm from his skin.
“We have to be more careful,” I say.
Liam nods, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he traces a slow, steady circle against my lower back, grounding me. “Like I said, we’ll stop meeting on campus,” he says, voice firmer now. “Only at my place. Or somewhere safe. At least until you graduate.”
I look up, and his blue eyes are backlit by the glow of the lamp, irises so dark they could swallow me whole.
He kisses me, and it’s nothing like the frantic, desperate hookups we’ve had in storage closets and dark classrooms. This is deliberate, slow, a promise and a warning. His hand cups the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, and I can’t believe the heat between us. We just spoke about being careful, and yet the tension between us is undeniable.
My body is already humming, every nerve on high alert. He moves us backward, slow and careful, until my hips are against the edge of the desk. I brace myself with both palms, tilt my chin, and let him kiss down my neck, each brush of his lips an apology for every terrible thing I’ve had to endure.
I whisper, “I thought we were going to be more careful. Someone could walk by.”
Liam grins, teeth white and wolfish. “This room is soundproofed and there are no windows. No one can see us.”
The words go straight to the softest part of me. I part my legs without thinking, and he slides between them, the pressure perfect, the heat of him intoxicating. His hands are everywhere—up my thighs, under my sweater, ghosting the edge of my bra before moving higher to cup my breast, thumb grazing my nipple through the cotton.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning, but he sees the struggle and smirks. “You always try to be so quiet,” he whispers. “But I like it when you’re loud.”
He pushes me back a little, careful with my hips but not delicate. The way he handles me is always a little rough, like he wants to see what I’ll do if he pushes just a bit harder.
“You’re wearing a skirt,” he observes, voice low and thick. “Did you wear this for me?”
I shake my head, but it’s a lie and he knows it because I always dress for Liam now.
He tugs the fabric up, fingers skating over the band of my panties, tracing the edge where thigh meets ass. He doesn’t go straight for my pussy, not yet. Instead, he slips his hand around to the back, palm spreading over my right cheek, squeezing hard enough to leave a print.
“You have any idea what this does to me?” he asks, kissing behind my ear. “The way you walk into class, knowing I’m the only one who gets to fuck you?”
He pulls me forward, and I feel his cock straining against his pants, already leaking. He grinds slow against my clothed center, and the friction is enough to make me gasp.
He slides a hand between my legs, fingers pressing the wet heat of my panties. He cups me, lets his finger drag up the soaked cotton, then back down, teasing. “Always so wet for me,” he murmurs.
I want to say something back, something biting and clever, but the words get lost in the haze of his touch. I squirm, needing more, but he’s in no hurry.
He brings his other hand up, and for a second I think he’s going to push inside me. Instead, he hooks his thumb under my panties and pulls them to the side, exposing my glistening pussy to the cool air and the heat of his gaze.
“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he rasps, blue eyes fixed to my pink flesh. He strokes the outer lips, slow and reverent, then dips one finger in, just barely, drawing out my arousal.
“Ooooh!” I squeal softly, my head falling back, golden hair like a waterfall. “Unnnh, Professor Thomas!”
He lifts his hand, lets the lamplight catch the slickness coating his finger, and brings it to my mouth. “Taste yourself,” he growls, and I open without thinking, suck his finger clean, moaning around the salt and musk of my own desire.
He groans, like the sound is pain and pleasure all at once. “Fuck, I’m obsessed with you, Simone.”
He moves fast now, hikes my skirt higher, and kneels between my thighs. He spreads me open, tongue flat and wet against my clit, and the shock of it makes my head slam back against the wall. The pain is sharp, but I ignore it.
“Ooooh!” I squeal softly again. “Unnnh!”
Liam grins.
“Your horny little kitty needs attention, doesn’t she? She needs what only Daddy can provide.”
Then, he laps at me, slow at first, then building to fast, hard circles that have me trembling and digging my nails into the edge of the desk.