by Havana Scott
When it seems like she’s reached that plateau phase she often gets stuck in, it’s time for something new. I lift her up and move her to the bedpost. “Hold onto that.”
Knees apart, she holds onto the bedpost with both hands, seductively looking over her shoulder. Her shiny long hair cascades down her slender back, and I can’t help but reach out and grab her mane, tugging it back. “Do exactly as I say, understood?”
She nods.
“Bring your knees back. Bend over and hold on.” I guide her into position, her ass up in the air. Then, taking her own hand, I press her fingertips against her clit. “Keep those there. Don’t move.” I stroke my cock for a minute, relishing the sight of Sabine with her heart-shaped ass up in the air, holding onto the bedpost and touching her clit. As much as I want to drill myself into her, first I have to smack that gorgeous work of art.
My hand whirs across her cheek, administering a soft, sharp slap. A pink mark appears. She cries out, squirming for more. “Did I do something wrong, Professor?”
“Yes, you called me Professor when I told you to call me Liam.” I slap her again.
Again, she cries out. “Liam, sir. I’m sorry for calling you Professor.”
“You’re teasing me,” I whisper in her ear, still holding onto her hair. “Every day, you come to class looking gorgeous. You come to my office, you tempt me when you know I can’t have you.” Even though I’m playing, I’d be lying if I said a big part of this isn’t true. Sex amplifies what we already think and feel. She has been a huge temptation.
Am I subconsciously upset with her?
Or upset with myself for falling so hard?
“I’m sorry, Liam—Professor. It’s just that I want you so much. I need you.” She reaches back, and with both hands, spreads her ass cheeks, showing me that beautiful vulnerable spot. “Lick me, and I promise I won’t tempt you anymore.”
Holy fuck, yes. I almost come right then. If God himself came down from heaven and fashioned me a woman straight from my own ribs, he couldn’t tailor a more perfect one than Sabine.
11
SABINE
“You want me to lick your ass?” he asks, administering another soft slap. They sound harsh, but they feel good. Mostly, I love how his slaps wake me up inside.
“Yes.”
“This little asshole right here?” He presses his thumb up against my opening and swirls it around teasingly.
“Yes, Professor. Liam.” I don’t know why I asked for this, except that I always wanted Glenn to do it but never felt he would. I trust Liam and also had the feeling he would love it.
“Only if you play with yourself. Are you touching your clit?”
“Yes.” I press my fingers onto my swollen core and feel the pressure mounting behind it. Even though I always felt silly masturbating, ever since being with Liam, it’s now a part of everything we do, and it’s amazing to me how second-nature it’s becoming.
With both his wide hands holding onto my ass, his breath warms my skin then comes the heat of his tongue. My mind is blown. I had no idea this could feel so good. There’s something so dirty about it, so wrong, but that’s what makes it so intimate and amazing. He slaps my cheeks, squeezes, then slaps again. I know I have a curvy bottom, so I revel in knowing he loves it too.
“Flawless,” he says.
I want to feel his tongue on me again so badly, I arch my back and practically shove myself into his face. “Easy girl.”
And then I get it—his hot tongue flat against my opening, slowly lapping up then starting at the bottom again, licking up. It’s warm and wet and wonderful. It’s hard not to imagine Liam as my sex slave, licking me clean, doing his feminist duty to adore and cherish every part of my body. I moan in appreciation, loving the sensation. My fingers work my clit into a frenzy, and I almost come, but Liam pulls my hand away.
“You want me to come, but then you don’t want me to come?” I laugh. I love that we can play during sex, that we don’t take this too seriously. I think that might’ve been my issue before—taking it way too seriously.
He smacks my ass again. “I do, but you’re tempting me again, Sabine.” Then, I feel his thick finger pressing against my opening, sliding a tiny bit of the way in. I suck in a sharp breath.
“I’ve never had any—”
“And when you tempt me, you have to face the consequences. Do you think I’d hurt you?” He kisses each ass cheek slowly, caressing the spots where he slapped me earlier. “Really hurt you?”
“No.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“Really trust me?”
“Yes, Liam,” I say and mean it. I would. I know he’s priming me. I know I’m inexperienced and he’s readying me for things to come. I know he’s not going to ever venture where I don’t want him to go. But I do want him to go there. It’s probably wrong that I do, but I do. “Go slowly.”
Instead of delving further inside of me, however, he pulls his fingertip out and positions himself behind me. I think he’s going to fuck my ass without getting me more ready, but instead, his thickness slides up and down my slick folds. “I’m not going to fuck your ass today, Sabine. I only wanted to hear you say you trusted me.”
Today? So, he wants more on another day. This makes me so happy knowing it won’t be the last time I see him. “Then, what are you going to do?”
“I am going to plow your dripping cunt, Sabine. If you want to get technical.”
Lordy. It’s that word again.
I’ve only heard it used in a negative sense before, but Liam makes it sound like pure sex magic. My pussy clenches in response, pushing my tension higher, building pressure I wanted to let go of when I first arrived. Holding onto my hips with two, solid hands, he gives me a massive thrust, and I—holy shit—see stars. He fucks me hard and long, with purpose, claiming me so good, I almost can’t take it.
“Yes, I needed this. I needed you,” I tell him. The pressure between my legs is so delicious, that with each thrust, I feel closer to that high I’ve only recently learn to recognize.
I understand this now, the way it works. It’s not a sudden release, at least not for me. It’s pleasure that builds and piles onto itself, working itself higher and higher until you reach that glass ceiling then burst yourself through. Right now, Liam is taking me there with every plunge, every time he fills me up with his thick cock.
I love it.
I love it so much, and when he flips me over onto my back and climbs between my legs to continue plowing into me, lifting my knees so my pussy tightens even more around his shaft, I nearly can’t take it anymore. Then I see his eyes—his clear blue eyes and rugged, sexy face—that beard, too. I remember the way he beamed at me when he walked into class that first day. Now, I’m here, in the professor’s home, and he watches my face carefully, analyzing my every need, filling me up. Liam, my mentor, my teacher, who I admire and adore.
Making love to me.
Taking me higher.
Teaching me.
With every delightful assault on my body, his hips slam against my core, pushing me closer to the edge, urging me on, whispering things I can’t understand. He takes my face with both hands, and I see his sweat on his temple and feel the heat between our bodies, and I love the way he grunts like a man, an animal—and we become one. Not Liam, not Sabine, but one person for a fraction of a second, for a minute, or maybe longer.
I don’t know how long, because time makes no sense right now.
Seconds and minutes are measured with breaths and groans and pleas to make this beautiful feeling end in the most glorious of ways.
I don’t know what this feeling is, this connection between us, but I surrender. He brought me here, he took my body and mind to this level…now, I’m completely his. I give in and let myself fall over the precipice. As I’m crying out, I hear him encouraging me and never felt more loved in my life. Something takes possession of him, and he’s calling out my name, drilling hard into
me a final time, then spilling deep into me.
I’m his. Maybe fate brought us together. Maybe I wasn’t meant to experience pleasure until I met Liam first. A scary thought wends its way around my consciousness as we collapse into a tangled sculpture of arms, legs, and hearts beating outside of our bodies—I could do this with only him for the rest of my life, and I would be perfectly happy.
Scary thought indeed.
The next seven days go the same way. And then the next seven. We meet at school a couple times a week before or after class and use his office for torrid interludes we know we shouldn’t be having. At his house, sex takes longer, but we relish every moment. I’ve spent a couple nights at his house, and it’s the long hours sleeping together, tangled in the sheets with him that kill me.
They kill me, because I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I keep wondering if and when he’s going to get tired of me. Will he? I hear my mother’s and Leo’s voices in my head all the time, warning me that older men have one agenda, yet Liam has yet to get rid of me. On the contrary, he asks about my life, my studies, my life in Florida. He takes lots of photos of me in front of flowers then shares them with me. He loves having the upper hand when it comes to musicians and actors’ names, and he hates when he doesn’t know who sings a song on the radio, but I do. He gives me music and film trivia, tests my knowledge.
He tells me modern music sucks.
I tell him his old person music sucks.
We agree that both are awesome, then we laugh, and I think sadly about how long it will last.
While he cooks, I stand there marveling. How he comes up with all these flavor combinations I don’t know, but after eating ramen noodles and supermarket sandwiches every day, it’s a nice change of pace. With every glance he gives me, every smile, as he leans over, spatula in hand, to lay a soft sweet kiss on my lips, I know I’m falling deeper and harder for Liam. If anything happened to us now, I’d be devastated beyond words.
By the end of the third week, I feel like we’ve been together a lifetime. It’s amazing how quickly you can bond with a person, especially when you see each other every day. The only thing that rubs me the wrong way is when we arrive on campus. He doesn’t exactly ignore me, but there’s definitely an attitude shift. I can’t help but wonder if he feels embarrassed to be seen with me.
I notice it when others are around or when he walks into the Aarons Building. He lets me walk ahead of him or gives me quick, stoic nods. It’s like I’m his dirty little secret. I understand it has to be this way for now, but is his standoffishness because I’m his student, or because it’s just me?
While that felt fun and forbidden the first week, now it’s getting to me. I know he can’t come right out and hold my hand or kiss me in the hallway, but I wish he could. Three more weeks. Some days, I blame myself. If I hadn’t gotten involved with a college professor—my college professor—I wouldn’t feel like anybody’s side slut.
In class, Tanelle has taken to torturing me.
I know it’s because she saw me coming out of Liam’s office two weeks ago with my shirt unbuttoned. It could’ve been an accident, but now she whispers five rows up from me, and I catch phrases like “teacher’s pet” and “sloppy seconds.”
Waiting for Liam to arrive to lecture on the chapter of venereal diseases, I do my best to ignore her, but I can’t help but wonder what she means by sloppy seconds. Is she suggesting Liam has another woman? Is she even talking about me?
Ugh. I write in my notebook, pretending Tanelle isn’t here. She’s in Siberia sucking snowman dick, anywhere but in my same breathing space.
“Sabine, is he as big as he looks? Come on, tell us. We won’t tell anyone.” She and her two other friends laugh inwardly, right as Liam enters wearing a light gray buttoned shirt, a different pair of glasses, sexier than I’ve ever seen him. Wowza. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m seeing this man on an intimate level.
My head spins like the little girl in the Exorcist. “Shut up,” I tell her with a dead-on glare.
Tanelle fakes being hurt. “Oh? Why? We all know what grade you’re going to get in this class. We all know he fucks you because you said you couldn’t orgasm that day.” She laughs her ass off, and I feel a deep crimson blush creeping up my cheeks. I’m going to kill her any second. Is that true? Everyone has me figured out?
“I never said that.”
“You may as well have. ‘Excuse me, doctor? What about phantasmagoria?’” She does a terrible impression of me asking questions on Liam’s first day. Her friends, better suited to a high school classroom, all giggle. How old are they?
Liam gives me a curious look, secretly asking if I’m okay.
“It’s anorgasmia, you fucking idiot.” I mutter under my nose, but she hears me and says, loud enough to hear…
“You’re the idiot, freak. If you thought nobody would find out.”
She can’t prove anything. I say nothing more to her. She’s only pushing my buttons, and I won’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, I focus on Liam’s concerned looks, his ability to make syphilis and gonorrhea sound interesting, and allow myself the pleasure of imagining, for just a moment, that that’s my amazing husband up there.
Eventually, Tanelle stops but my nerves are still shot.
After lunch, Liam rushes to keep up with me on our way off campus. “I can’t believe you didn’t rip her a new asshole,” he says, as we climb into his car on the south side of school, same way it’s been for a few weeks now. Where things are painfully quieter, and people are less likely to notice us. I’m getting tired of this.
His hands on the steering wheel appear manly, thick, and sexy. The same fingers that work me into a frenzy. One of them would look so great with a band on it. Reminds me of my dad—before he took his off, that is. I will probably never see that happen. I am probably Liam’s “sloppy seconds.”
“I would have, but I’m tired of her immaturity.” I turn my attention to the changing world outside. Bright green and pastel colors are everywhere, and rain showers have given way to blooming foliage.
“Well, that’s very adult of you,” he says.
I cast a glance his way. “I’m actually very adult, I’ll have you know.”
“Oh, I know.” He cocks his head. “That’s one of the things that drew me to you.”
I hope he never forgets that. I’m doing my best to be like the older women he’s used to, but I’m not always going to get it right. The rest of the ride is silent. There’s a lot on our minds, and for all the time we spend together, I still feel like he’s holding back, like he wants to take things to the next level, but he won’t.
We haven’t even gone out in public yet.
Whenever I’m in Liam’s car, I feel like I’m in a Lexus commercial on my way to a benefit at the country club instead of his house to be sexually commanded. Not that I don’t love the sex. I’ve learned so much about myself these last four weeks, but like everything else, even new things get old. Yes, I’ve gotten used to having orgasms. And yes, they are utterly amazing, especially when he draws out foreplay.
But what I want, more than anything, is to have Liam all to myself, be seen with him, have him acknowledge me in public. I would tell my parents I’m in love with my professor if I wasn’t so sure they’d berate me. Is it wrong to want him? Why can’t I be happy just to spend time with him? Why do I have to want all of him?
Because I can’t resist him. Because I’m obsessed.
Because I already think of him as mine.
But where is it all leading? I have to keep reminding myself that when the semester ends, and I’m no longer his student, everything will probably change. For the better or worse, I’m not sure.
“Are you okay?” His hand touches mine.
“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine.”
I know I don’t look fine, and he senses it. Still, I’m happy he asked.
When we get to the red light near his neighborhood, he stops the car and leans on the steering wheel to look at
me. “Do you want to go out tonight?”
As in an official date? I look at him, reliving the words, making sure I heard him right. “Isn’t that too risky for you?”
“It’ll be alright. We’re far enough away from the college.” He reaches across the console to cup my face in his hand. “I want to take you out, Sabine. Let’s forget all this shit and go have fun for once. Yes?”
I can’t help it and let a big, doofy smile eradicate my blues. Of course! Of course I would love to feel like a real girlfriend. Wouldn’t any normal girl? For once, we can scrap the sinner labels plastered to our foreheads and just have a good time. My hand hangs off his, and I close my eyes to soak in its scent on my skin. “I would love that.”
12
LIAM
There’s a great comedy club in town called Pepper’s Ghost everybody’s been talking about I’ve been wanting to check out. Sabine and I could really use a laugh tonight, so I drive to the college apartments to pick her up (a block away, as usual), then head back into town. It’s a long circle but a) a date close to college is a huge NO right now, and b) she doesn’t have a car, so it’s my only choice.
When we arrive, there’s a line to get in. We wait the ten or so minutes only to be told by the ticket booth attendant that it’s a 21 and older club. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. I haven’t had to think about age limits in a long time, but stupid me—they serve drinks.
I turn to her. “Fake ID?” I whisper with a hopeful grin.
“Don’t have one.” She pouts, looking so gorgeous in her mini black dress and heels. I feel terrible that she got dressed up for nothing. “Sorry.”
“I was kidding, but wow, a college student without a fake ID. You really are a good girl. Let’s talk about it over here.” I pull her aside so the patrons behind us can purchase their tickets. “I didn’t realize they were twenty-one and over. I feel like an idiot, Sabine.”
