by Parker Grey
“I think I’ve got chocolate gelato in the freezer,” he says. “Think that’ll do?”
He clears the plates and I follow him into the kitchen, where he grabs two bowls and the quart container from the freezer. We eat the fancy ice cream standing at his kitchen counter, not even bothering to sit back down.
“You’re leaving campus tomorrow,” he says slowly, dragging his spoon around the bowl.
I nod. My last final was today, so now I’m going home for winter break.
“Yeah, my dad is picking me up at one,” I say. “I should be packing right now, probably.”
He laughs softly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever packed for a trip more than four hours in advance,” he admits. “Even when the trip was a four-month archaeological dig.”
“How’d that go?” I ask, smiling.
He eats a spoonful of ice cream, savoring it for a moment before answering me.
“The dig was excellent,” he says. “But only having two pairs of socks got old pretty fast.”
I laugh, glancing over at him. He’s laughing too, and as strange as this feels it’s also good. All this time that I wanted him like I did, that was all — I didn’t realize that he was also sweet, funny, and a really good chef.
“I have a list on my computer,” I admit. “And every time I go somewhere I print it out, check everything off, and if there’s something I want on the trip that’s not on the list, I add it when I get home.”
“Very organized,” he says. “I bet you’ve never forgotten socks.”
“Not yet,” I say.
Minutes later, I’m licking melted chocolate gelato from his fingers while he pushes me against the counter, his sweet, funny eyes burning again with lust. I feel like a storm inside, winds whirling around a center as he pushes his hand up my thigh to my soaking wet slit.
Then he fucks me against the counter, so hard and fast that I’m pretty sure my hips will be bruised the next day, and I come shouting his name.
Well, I guess it’s his title.
I shout Professor, and I swear every time I do he gets a little harder.
I’m going to miss him like crazy for the next three weeks, but it’s a pretty good sendoff.
Even though I didn’t pack the night before, by eleven-thirty the next morning I’m ready to go. Erica, my roommate, has already left for Christmas break so it’s just me, reading a book in my living room and listening to Christmas music.
I’d watch Love, Actually or something but my laptop is already packed, and besides, I hate getting into a movie only to stop it halfway through. Doing that with a book feels much more natural.
I’m not going to see Professor Sharpe for three weeks. Three entire, endless weeks. My parents live four hours away, so it’s not like I can convince them that I need to go back to school to study or something.
Besides, my eighteen-year-old sister is also out of school, and my parents only have two cars — it’ll be a miracle if I get to go anywhere. But still, I wish I were staying here longer. Now is the perfect time to do whatever I want with Professor Sharpe and not worry about getting caught.
I throb at the thought.
Just as I do, there’s a knock on my apartment door, and I sit up on the couch, checking the clock. I’m not surprised that my parents are early — they’re my parents, after all, and I love being early — but I’m surprised that they’re this early.
“Coming!” I call, marking my place in my book and walking to my front door, the floor in my old apartment creaking beneath my feet. “You’re—”
It’s Professor Sharpe, standing there in a scarf and winter coat, hands in his pockets.
“—You’re Professor Sharpe,” I say, my voice dropping.
He looks behind me, into my apartment. I’m frozen.
“Your roommate is already gone, right?” he asks, his voice low and needy.
I just nod, breathless.
He steps inside, closing the door after himself as he unwinds his scarf and takes off his jacket, tossing them onto a coffee table I got for free.
“I need you one more time,” he says, and pulls me to him. He plunders my mouth like he’s desperate, and I feel myself melt at his touch, going weak in the knees.
But I pull away, already panting for breath.
“My parents will be here at one, and they’re always early,” I say.
He runs his hands up under my sweater.
“It’s not even noon yet, kitten,” he says, and pinches my nipples through my bra, bending his mouth to my ear. “And don’t worry, we won’t get caught.”
I just nod, already speechless with desire. He pushes me backward until we’re in front of my crappy old couch, and as we move I take off my sweater, my shirt, my tank top, and my bra, littering them across the floor.
At the same time, he gets his clothes off, and I realize that I’m seeing him totally naked for the first time. Up until now, we’ve either been trying to keep this secret, or I’ve been too out-of-my-mind horny to wait to get my clothes off.
I run my hands across his muscled, powerful chest, and he grabs my hair and pulls my head back, just a little.
“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, his other hand tracing its way down my body. “You like it when I’m rough and hard and take what I want.”
I swallow.
“Yes,” I say, because what he wants is also what I want, every single time.
He puts his lips to my neck, pulling my head backward, and I close my eyes.
“Please don’t leave a mark,” I whisper. “Not now.”
He just chuckles, pushing me backward until I’m against the couch. I fall to the cushions and his mouth travels down until he’s licking and sucking at my nipple, hard, so hard it almost hurts but feels fucking divine instead.
Then he does the same to the other one, kneeling in between my legs, one hand still in my hair. Finally, he stops and I look down.
There are faint bruises around both nipples. I touch them lightly with my fingers.
I shouldn’t find them sexy, but I do. It’s like he’s marked me as his.
“Anyone else sees those, they’ll have to deal with me,” he growls.
Professor Sharpe lets go of my hair and stands. His enormous, thick cock is waving in the air in front of me, hard as a rock, and I reach for it almost instinctively.
He grabs my wrist, stopping me, then pulls me to one side, anchoring both my hands on the arm of the couch. I know what he wants, and instantly I’m on my hands and knees, looking at him over my shoulder, ass high in the air.
This is it, I think, my back-hole puckering in anticipation. He’s going to claim my ass.
The thought makes me squirm, it turns me on so much, and then his hand is between my legs, roughly. He pinches my clit lightly between two fingers, making me gasp, then pushes them inside me and I moan.
“What do you say, kitten?” he asks, twisting his fingers, making me gasp. “Want something to think about on the drive to your parents’ house?”
“Please,” I say, my voice nearly breaking. “Take me. I need you now.”
His fingers twist, and over my shoulder I can see him stroking his incredible cock.
“You can ask better than that,” he says.
I take a deep breath.
“I need you to fuck me with that big, thick cock of yours,” I say, my voice half a whisper. “I need you inside me, Professor, and I need to feel you fill me up and stretch me out and I want—”
I stop, my face flushing hot.
I can’t say that.
“What else do you want?” he asks, his voice low and teasing as he rubs against my pleasure spots, driving me wild.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I want you to fuck me in the ass and I want to feel you leaking out of me as I drive home with my parents,” I whisper.
He inhales sharply. He pulls his fingers out. His weight is on the couch behind me, and then he grabs my hair, slides the head of his cock ag
ainst my wet pussy, and then drives it home.
“Fuck yes,” I whimper. “Please, I need you one more time before I leave, God...”
Within seconds he’s pounding me mercilessly, his balls slapping against me as he sinks himself deep again and again. I know I’m saying something but I think it’s nonsense, just babbling because this feels so good I think I might lose my mind.
I come, hard, because his cock is hitting exactly the right places, all of them at once, and my defenses are just gone. Then I come again, and again, and he’s fucking me so hard that I’m just face down on the couch, screaming and moaning and hoping this never, ever stops.
“I’m gonna come inside your sweet, tight little cunt,” he growls into my ear. “Because you’re mine, Melody.”
Everything goes white for a moment. My eyes roll back into my head and we come together, my pussy spasming around him, milking him dry as he pumps load after load into me, right here on my couch, minutes before my parents come to pick me up.
Without pulling out, he slides one finger along the base of his cock, wet with our combined juices, then rubs it in a circle around my asshole, just barely pushing the fingertip inside.
I spasm again, because I don’t think I can handle anything else right now.
“This is mine, too,” he says. “When you’re back from break.”
Then he kisses the back of my neck, and we stay there, like that — him on top of me, him inside me — for a long moment, and I swear I feel a perfect, glowing happiness descend over me before he stands up.
Chapter 20
Professor Sharpe
I don’t want to leave. Even after we’re unentangled, re-dressed, and I’m ready to go, I don’t want to say goodbye. But I know that Melody is getting increasingly agitated at the thought of her parents catching me, so I kiss her goodbye and go.
I’m walking, head down against the wind, and at the end of her block a station wagon with a man and a woman in the front seat turns down Melody’s street. I nod at them once, a friendly neighborly greeting, even as my stomach clenches.
I try not to watch, but the station wagon pulls up outside Melody’s building and stops.
We came this close to getting caught.
All I hear for four days from Melody are short, sweet texts: Hi, I got home safe, Merry Christmas, that sort of thing. I spend Christmas Day itself at my sister’s house, playing with her three kids and dodging questions about when I’m finally going to settle down.
It’s December 27th when I finally get a video chat from Melody, and I race to close the curtains in my living room.
“Melody,” I say before I can even see her picture.
“Hi, Professor,” she says, and then the video gets clearer.
She’s naked, holding her giant dildo upright, between her perfect breasts.
“Miss me?” she asks, grinning.
And then, without missing a beat, she deep throats the dildo and I groan, cock already in my fist.
Whenever Melody has the house to herself, which isn’t nearly often enough, she calls me and we fuck, long-distance. Sometimes she gets herself off with her vibrator, sometimes she fucks herself with the dildo. Sometimes we just talk, no video, and I listen to her call me Professor as she comes.
Three days before she comes back, she’s on her knees in her parents’ shower, her phone propped up on the sink, her suction-cup dildo on the floor. She’s got her hands on the glass of the shower enclosure, her back arched, the head of the dildo teasing at her lips.
“Professor,” she whimpers. “I wish you were here.”
“Me too,” I growl, my fist tight on my cock already.
She lowers herself onto the dildo, moaning, pinching her own nipple with one hand.
“You look so fucking sexy,” I say, stroking myself slowly. “Do you like that, fucking a sex toy in your parents’ shower while I watch?”
“Not as much as I like fucking you,” she says.
Gradually she starts bouncing up and down on it, gasping and moaning, leaning against the glass shower stall almost like she’s boneless.
“I’m gonna come, Professor,” she moans. “Oh, God, I wish it was you.”
Then she falls apart, hands curled into fists as she writhes on the dildo, and I’m fucking jealous as hell, stroking myself furiously.
I come into a tissue for the thousandth time this Christmas break.
Finally, it’s the day she gets back into town. I know she’s getting back in the early evening, since that was when her parents could take her, and I tell her that she has to call me the second she gets in. That I have to see her, right away, or I might explode.
That Friday is the Friday from hell.
Stupid administrative meetings all morning. The head of my department, Greg, hasn’t given me any more grief or had me attend any more ethics meetings, but I can tell he wants to. I could kick my past self for sleeping with that one girl, all those years ago — I didn’t even enjoy it. She was just there.
Then I have to give my syllabus to the secretary for copying, double-check that all the textbooks for my students are available at the bookstore, and make sure I’ve actually been assigned classrooms for the upcoming spring semester.
All I can think about is Melody, though. The way her breathy moans echoed off the glass of her parents’ shower, the way she said I wish it was you.
I get home at five-thirty, and decide to take a walk because I don’t think I can stand still, and I can’t text her while she’s with her parents. But before I know it, I’m walking past her apartment building, pushing my hands further into my coat pockets, hunching my head into my scarf.
Then I see it. The car she drove away in. It’s parked out in front of her apartment, again, and now I feel like some sort of stalker. Like I’ve been lurking around, just waiting for my prey to come back. I walk to the end of the block slowly, casually. I walk around the block once.
When I come back, two older people are laughing together and getting into the station wagon. They drive away.
I wait for them to turn a corner, and I knock on the door.
Chapter 21
Melody
God, I thought they were never going to leave. I was at home for three whole weeks, probably driving them crazy, and they still had to hang around my apartment for ages, chatting about my classes, when Erica’s getting back, my extracurriculars, all that.
I love my parents. Of course I do. But all day I’ve been soaking through my panties, thinking about how I finally get to see the Professor again tonight, and I can’t wait. It doesn’t matter how much I use my dildo, it’s just not the same.
“Okay, honey,” my mom says, hugging me one last time. “Be safe. Lock the door the second we leave, I don’t want some creep coming in here when we go. I’ll be waiting outside to hear the click.”
I smile dutifully. My mom is a little overprotective sometimes.
“Of course,” I say, as she backs away and my dad hugs me. “I’ll see you guys in a few months.”
“Get good grades, honey,” my dad says, and then they’re out the door.
I can hear Mom hovering, so I roll my eyes and lock the deadbolt with a click. Finally, I hear their footsteps going down the stairs, and I exhale.
I hit the bathroom, drink a glass of water, and take my stuff to my bedroom just so I can give my parents time to leave and make sure they don’t come back because my mom forgot to tell me something.
Then I sit on the couch and call Professor Sharpe.
The moment it rings for the first time, there’s a knock on my apartment door. I jump, the phone still to my ear.
I wonder what they forgot, I think, stand, and pull open the door.
It’s not my parents.
It’s the Professor.
I turn my phone off, my heart suddenly hammering, my knees practically jelly.
“Hi,” I say, the only word I can think of.
“Can I come in?” he asks, the very pinnacle of politeness.
I swallow and step back into my living room. I don’t know why I’m so surprised to see him standing there — I guess I just wasn’t expecting it.
“Of course,” I breathe, and shut the door behind him.
Instantly, he pushes me against it, his lips crushed against mine. He pushes his tongue into my mouth as I open my lips, letting him in as he plunders me.
It’s all I can do not to moan as he runs his hands roughly up my legs and lifts me until my legs are wrapped around his hips, his long, thick girth a hard rod against me. His lips move away from mine, and he traces a trail of hard kisses along my jaw to my ear, where he takes my lobe between his teeth until I whimper.
Then he chuckles.
“Tell me you missed me,” he growls.
“I missed you,” I whimper.
He moves his mouth down my neck, licking and sucking, and I moan out loud. He bites my collarbone, still pinning me to the wall, undoes my jeans and pushes one hand inside, sliding his fingers along my wet slit.
“You did,” he says, his voice rough as he moves his slick fingers against my clit, rubbing it softly.
I let my head fall back against the door behind me, my eyes half-open as his fingers keep circling and circling. I feel like I’m slowly sliding into delirium, because even though I came twice this morning I’m wound so tight, so pent up, that I think he might make me come in seconds.
The glow inside me builds, the river of fire rushing downward. My eyes shut, my body almost completely limp.
His hand slows, then slows more.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, squirming.
Professor Sharpe smiles and pulls his hand away from me, licking his fingers one by one. Then he leans his forehead against mine, his closeness almost overpowering.
“New rule tonight,” he says, cupping one breast in his hand. “Can you obey?”
I swear my pussy is twitching in disappointment, so I lick my lips once.
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Don’t come until I say,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. He puts his thumb against my mouth, and I open my lips and suck it in, my tongue against his rough fingerprint. “Melody, your mouth belongs to me. Your pretty little tits belong to me. Your sweet cunt belongs to me. Your tight little ass belongs to me.”
