Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Professor

by Delilah Devlin

  Harder, deeper, he came. And now both hands played with my pussy—fingers stretching my cunt, nails raking my clit.

  I shook head to toe, so aroused I couldn’t breathe, so close that darkness pushed in the sides of my vision. “Please, Darien.”

  “Come, little slut,” he whispered.

  I howled as he quickened his thrusts and pounded against me. I cried when I came, my hands fisting the bedding.

  His movements slowed. He pushed inside as far as he could reach and warmth filled my ass. I clamped around him and released, milking his cock and his fingers, prolonging both our pleasure.

  When he pulled free, he brought me to the mattress, spooning our bodies together. His fingers continued to stroke me, calming me now. “Were your nipples sprung?” he whispered.

  I knew he was talking about my encounter with the professor again. “Tight and tingling.”

  He nipped my shoulder. “I’ll do my best to finish the changes by Thursday evening. I think we should both see Professor Allcock.”

  I snickered. “All the girls called him Professor A. They just couldn’t call him by his full name without blushing.”

  “I bet you did.”

  I reached back to slide my hand along his cheek. “You know me so well.”

  “Horny little slut.”

  Outwardly, the clothing I wore was respectable. But underneath, I wore nothing except for the straps Darien had fastened around my waist and upper thighs, which held the vibrator in place.

  His idea. The remote was in his pocket.

  We strode down the long, dark hallway, not glancing at each other directly but from the corners of our eyes, and I knew he could see the smirk kicking up one side of my mouth.

  A hum sounded, and a vibration shot through me, causing my jaw to sag and my lids to lower.

  Darien clicked off the remote, clamped a hand on my ass and pushed me forward.

  We’d decided to play. No plan really. But we were ready in case there was even a flicker of interest from the handsome professor. Just the thought of what was under my short skirt was enough to fuel our excitement.

  His door creaked open, a student stepped out, his gaze going to Darien, to whom he gave a nod, and then I drew his attention, and I gave him a sultry smile. He halted in his tracks, and I turned my head to watch him as I passed, enjoying the fact that he continued to stare after me.

  I knew I looked good. Short black skirt, flirty knee-high boots, a powder blue sweater with one large button fastened between my boobs that hugged my upper chest, and it was obvious from the pout of my nipples I wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Darien knocked on the door. The sound within was muffled, but my brother pushed inside then held the door to let me precede him.

  Professor Allcock’s expression tightened, his gaze going from Darien to my chest, and back to Darien. He settled deeper in his chair and regarded both of us with a wary gaze.

  I took a seat.

  “I’ve finished the paper,” Darien said, and bent over the professor’s desk to slide it across. From the side, the sight of his erection tenting his pants made me grin.

  When I raised my gaze, I found myself caught by the professor whose eyebrows were lowered. He knew he was being hunted. But I couldn’t read him to know whether he was into this, into us, or just irritated.

  “You must be warm this evening,” he said, his gaze going to my sweater.

  My heart began to pound, because I understood his unspoken command. “I am warm,” I said, and flicked open the button. The sides parted, but only revealed a bare strip down my middle.

  And because, for the moment, I had his undivided attention, I leaned back and opened my legs.

  Darien coughed, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

  The professor’s frown stayed in place, but his gaze snagged on the sight I revealed.

  A hum began, so loud there was no chance the man across the desk missed it. Pleasure quivered through me. I gasped, settled deeper in my chair, and parted my legs farther.

  The professor cleared his throat then pulled the paper closer.

  The men commenced talking about the paper while I grew warm and wet and squirmed a little on my seat. When I leaned back, I opened my sweater fully to let the cool air tease my nipples. Exposed, my desire quickly ratcheted up.

  Darien reached across and pinched my inner thigh. His head turned, and he gave me a blistering glare. “Not until I say.” Then he returned to the conversation.

  The professor seemed to take it all in stride, his gaze skimming the paper and asking questions, but now and then, he’d glance at my pussy.

  Was he afraid I’d wet the upholstery? Did he like what he saw? The mystery fueled my desire, and I took short breaths through pursed lips to hold onto my composure.

  The professor slid open a drawer. He held out a hand toward me. “You left these the other night.”

  My sequined pasties lay on his palm. I picked them up, letting my fingers slide on his skin, but he drew calmly away, as though he’d just handed me a pencil.

  The vibrator’s speed increased, and I bit my lip, fighting the urge to climax.

  “May I?” the professor said, holding out his hand.

  Darien handed him the control.

  And now, any pretending they were actually talking about the merits of Darien’s paper disappeared. Both males stared as I gripped the chair’s arms and scrunched my features because I was close. So fucking close.

  The vibrator stopped, and I widened my eyes. His gaze was narrowed. His cheeks flushed. He leaned to the side, and the sound of another drawer, this one lower down and sliding open, filled the small room.

  When he straightened in his chair, he held a pointer, a long one he would have used to point to a screen as he lectured. He passed it to Darien then swung his gaze back to me. One brow rose—a challenge thrown down?

  I pushed up and stood on wobbly legs. Then never letting my gaze stray from his, I raised my skirt to my waist and bent over his desk. He was deprived of the sight of my ass and swollen pussy, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned back in his chair, wearing a small, tight smile.

  The first stroke of that thin wooden wand made me gasp. It felt like a switch. Stung like a bitch. Another stroke, and I cried out. The professor held out the remote, his thumb hovering over the button.

  My gaze locked with his as another strike stung me, and then he hit the remote, and the vibrator quivered to life. My pussy closed around it, making a wet, slurpy sound.

  His gaze dropped to his crotch.

  Mine followed.

  His cock strained against the fabric of his dark slacks. If he’d opened them, I’d have begged to suck him, but he merely rubbed himself slowly, as he hit the trigger again and quickened the hum.

  Darien slashed me one last time, and I couldn’t stop myself, I bit my lower lip to muffle a cry as my orgasm slammed through me.

  Slowly, I came back to awareness. Darien was wiping my thighs and pussy with tissues the professor handed him. What was said between the two men, I didn’t care. The professor stood, and Darien pulled me upright, fastening the button of my sweater and tugging down my skirt to cover my sex and my ass. He rubbed my bottom, and I gasped at the welts he’d left. Welts my customers would see when I danced the next night. But I didn’t care.

  Professor Allcock’s expression was no longer a neutral mask. Warm approval shone in his luscious green eyes. He gave Darien a nod, and then my brother grabbed my hand and led me away.

  *

  The club manager didn’t seem to mind the marks on my ass. Neither did the customers. Tips were good. Better than good. All I had to do was slide around and around the pole, giving them quick peeks of my reddened skin, and the comments came.

  “Baby, what’d you do? Did Daddy spank your ass?” Of course, that comment was accompanied by a crotch grab from the guy in the black suit, who was probably some salesman come to get his dick hard before he went home to screw his frigid wife.

 
I watched him make some other crude gestures with the hard knot in his pants, but I didn’t care. Just the memory of coming in the professor’s office was enough to keep me floating on clouds of desire.

  Which was probably why the tips were so damn good. My pussy was soaking my G-string.

  It was when the guy in the black suit held up a hundred and shouted for a lap dance that I saw him wending his way through the small round tables until he found an empty seat in front of the stage.

  I gave a vague smile to the guy in the suit, but turned my back, lifted my leg and hooked my knee around my pole. Leaning backward, I let my hair fall to the floor and my body stretch as I met the professor’s gaze. Staring at him upside down somehow robbed me of the ability to read his expression. So I continued to move, hanging on the pole with both legs raised, toes pointing to the ceiling before I let one leg gracefully drop forward until the ball of my foot rested on the floor, and I let go of the pole to lower myself. On my hands and knees, I rolled my shoulders to the beat of the music, letting my breasts dangle below me while I slowly pumped my hips. All the men lined up at the stage stared at my tits as they imagined them swaying over their bodies as I fucked them.

  All except for him. His gaze narrowed on my face, while his lips thinned.

  How dare he judge me. Anger fueled my movements, and I knelt and ran my hands over my belly, over my crotch, letting my eyelids drift downward while I half-pretended to pleasure myself.

  “Baby, I can do it better,” the black suit said. “I’d rub that twat good.”

  I ignored him, watching the professor from under my lashes as I bounced my tits in my hands and spanked them. I heard a whistle from the bar, and knew Mac thought I was going too far. Seriously? I gave him a glare, but the song was ending away, so I pushed up and strode slowly past the men, letting those waving bills slide them into the side of my G-string.

  Black Suit waved his bill, beckoning me closer. And although he disgusted me, I bent toward him. But rather than sliding the bill where he was allowed, he slid it down the front of my G-string.

  A shout sounded, and I quickly backed away. Rather than risk a fight, because Black Suit wasn’t going to get what he thought he was paying for, I pulled the bill from my crotch and crumpled it before I tossed it back.

  With as much dignity as I could manage, I pranced toward the curtain, flinging it open without a single backward glance.

  After a grilling from Mac to find out what the hell had gotten into me tonight, I drew on my coat and pulled a set of sweats on over my costume, too tired to peel away the pasties or remove the stage makeup.

  I stepped out the back door and headed toward my banger car.

  “Miriam.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and turned, eyeing the man who stepped out of the shadows with wary desire. I tilted my chin. “You satisfy your curiosity about where I ended up?”

  “I’m far from satisfied,” he said in his even tone.

  Which oddly aroused me. My nipples tickled as they sprung behind the pasties. “Can’t help you with that. I’m a dancer, not a prostitute.”

  “I wouldn’t be interested if you were.”

  I tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes. “You’re…interested? Are you slumming?”

  “That’s not me speaking. You disparage yourself.”

  I lowered my head. “What is it you want? I’m tired, and I haven’t had dinner.”

  “Let me take you out for a bite.”

  Lord, I wanted a bite, but not likely the kind he was offering. But now, I was curious. I walked toward him. “Sure you want to be seen with me?”

  “Maybe you could remove some of the paint in the restroom…”

  I bit the inside of my mouth, then slowly nodded, following as he led me to his car.

  I knew I should be worried. I didn’t know him outside of the classroom. For all I knew he was a serial killer who hid behind his academic facade. But the look he gave me as he opened my door and waited for me to slide inside made my insides melt. Suddenly, I wasn’t nearly as hungry as I had been…at least, not for the burger I’d planned on eating.

  Once he’d climbed inside and started up the car, he turned to me. “What are you hungry for?”

  I met his direct look with a steady one of my own. “You.”

  He made a sound, a soft masculine grunt, and then nodded. “Will your brother be worried if you’re late?”

  “I’ll text him,” I said, reaching into my large bag. I quickly texted my brother whose curiosity was evident in his long pauses.

  What’s up?

  All-cock’s up

  Another long pause, and…

  Lucky fucker

  I put my phone away and glanced at the professor. The silence wasn’t comfortable. It felt charged. Expectant. I chewed my lip as he turned into a subdivision. The houses were nice. Comfortable. Old and cozy. Not what I’d expected. When I thought of him at all, I pictured him in a sterile, cold home with plenty of beige and gray. Restrained. Maybe because his voice was always so calm and even.

  He pressed a button overhead and a garage door began to open. Once inside, I sat, waiting as the door closed us inside.

  He placed his hand over mine, which was clutching my bag. “Miriam, call me Carl.”

  I glanced to the side and gave him a nod then reached for the handle and opened my door.

  He led me into a laundry room-pantry, through a kitchen and a living room. His furnishings were large and overstuffed, but minimal, except for the crowded bookcases in every room. At last, we reached the bedroom, and he flicked on the light.

  The bed was a California king and dominated the room. It sat on a platform and was empty of anything except two long pillows and a velvety gray cover. A long mahogany dresser, with grooves rather than pulls, faced the bed. A large unframed mirror hung above it. Again, there were books, stacked on a nightstand, on a bench beneath the window, on the floor beside his bed.

  He came behind me. He settled his hands on my shoulders and smoothed off my jacket, then grabbed the hem of my light sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. Then his hands slid around my sides and cupped my breasts. He held them up in his palms as though weighing them, then slid his hands downward and slipped them under the waistband of my pants and beneath the elastic band of my G-string—one hand sliding between my legs, the other to cup one buttock.

  My pussy tightened as his fingers traced the length of my folds. And there was no way he didn’t know how aroused I’d become.

  But after sliding a single finger between my slick inner lips, he withdrew his hands and stepped away. “Miriam, remove the rest of your clothes and go to the bed. Beneath a pillow, you’ll find a leather cuff. Wrap it around a wrist and then lie down on your stomach.”

  I angled my head to look at his face. His features were set, maybe a little hard. A shiver worked its way up my back, and I faced forward and walked toward the bench. There, I toed off my runners, and slid my sweats and underwear down my legs. When I straightened, I was nude, except for the pasties. His gaze dropped, and I slowly peeled them away, loving the tingling that pricked them erect.

  His expression remained unchanged. Neutral. His gaze was locked with mine. I walked to the bed and turned, crawling onto the mattress with my ass angled so that he could see everything as I moved toward the center. I slid a hand beneath a pillow, found the cuff, which was attached to a chain and disappeared over the edge of the bed. I wrapped the leather around a wrist, closed it with a buckle, and lay on my stomach.

  He moved around the room. But I didn’t look. I remained with my cheek pressed to velvet and staring out his window, which overlooked a stand of trees lit by floodlights. A closet door slid open and closed. The sound of clothing, rustling as it was removed, had me tightening, because this was really happening. The professor was going to give me his cock. Lord, now I wished I could see it to know whether it would stretch me. Whether I’d be pleased.

  Hands closed around my ankles and pulled my legs a
part.

  Two pairs of hands.

  “What?” I pushed up and twisted, but a hand pressed between my shoulders and held me down. “I didn’t agree to a threesome. I thought it would just be us.”

  Breath stirred the hair beside my ear. “Sis, shut up. Do everything he says. You want me to pass, right?”

  But there was humor in his voice…and tension. Darien was into this.

  “When did you two set this up?” I whispered.

  “I pulled your brother aside after class,” came the professor’s voice from the end of the bed.

  Darien bit my earlobe. “He wanted to know what you like. What makes you hot.”

  I drew a quick sharp breath.

  “No worries. I told him he couldn’t leave marks. Not like I did.” His hand lifted, and I went to my knees, at last glancing backward and finding both men nude. Darien’s cock was already hard, the professor’s only beginning to lift from his shaved groin. Both were lovely, but the professor’s was already longer and thicker.

  The professor held up a paddle with holes. My gaze shot to Darien, who was grinning.

  “Yeah, I told him about that. He said you needed to know how it was properly applied.”

  Darien had smacked me with his hand, occasionally with a belt, and then the professor’s pointer, but the paddle looked serious. My eyes widened.

  “Darien, keep her mouth busy. Miriam, spread your knees and sink your back. I want your cheeks high.”

  Fluid wet my pussy, but I complied then moved my hand to allow Darien to sit with his back against the wall, his legs spread wide. He gave himself a couple of strokes then smiled. “You know what I like, sis.”

  Feeling like I’d entered a dream, I went to my elbows. Rubbing my cheek up and down his cock, I gazed up at him. “This is crazy, you know it, right?”

  “Crazy as you flashing him your boobs? Crazy as you getting off on a vibrator while we talked about my paper?”

  Rather than reply, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. I rubbed it over the soft cap and tickled the underside of the crown. When I sank deep over his cock, letting him fill my mouth, a hand smoothed over my bottom.