Crave
1166 Words
✤ Sera ✤
Three days.
It had been three days since Professor Thorne had driven me home, and I still couldn’t stop thinking about it. The sound of the storm. The pounding rain and the way it had soaked us the second we had stepped into it. The way my blouse had clung to my skin. And the way he had looked at me before he had hurriedly removed his jacket. I wasn’t even sure where the bravery had come from. But in that moment, I had wanted him to touch me. I had wanted it so badly that I had taken his hand and pressed it against my breast. I closed my eyes, and I swear I could still feel it. The weight of his palm against my breast. The warmth of his skin and the way it had burned through the fabric. The way his fingers had twitched like he didn’t know whether he wanted to pull away or enjoy the moment.
Five seconds.
For five seconds, he had kept his hand on my breast. Five glorious seconds. And then he had pulled away, and the moment had been broken. But not forgotten. I had seen the look in his eyes. The hesitation, the conflict, and the desire. In those five seconds, I had seen it all behind his careful expression. I rolled onto my back and stared up at my bedroom ceiling. The air in the room was warm and thick. The rain was heavy just outside the window, and I was home alone. Lina had gone out again, not that I cared. I preferred the silence, the only sound of the rain against the window. I just couldn’t stop thinking about him. I replayed the scene in my head. Again, and again. I couldn’t stop seeing the look in his eyes. Adrian Thorne had been wrecked. He had looked like a man torn between everything he believed in and everything he wanted.
And I was what he wanted.
That thought alone made my heart race. He was married. I knew that. Everyone knew that. But that didn’t stop me. It didn’t even slow me down. His ring didn’t mean love. It meant habit. Obligation. The kind of thing people cling to when they are afraid to admit they are already gone. He wasn’t hers anymore. Not really. He was mine. I bit my lip and grabbed my pillow. I held it over my face and let out a frustrated groan. Not that it helped. I threw the pillow somewhere and stared up at the ceiling. Not that I was seeing anything other than his face. His desire. For me. I slid my hand over my stomach, not thinking, just feeling. The soft fabric of my sweater. The way it felt beneath my fingers. The way my pulse quickened as I ran my hand lower. I slowly lifted my sweater, and the sudden coolness made me shiver. I closed my eyes, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Adrian Thorne,” I whispered his name, and it felt forbidden. As if saying his name aloud was sinful. I slid my hand up my sweater and cupped my breast. My n****e hardened, and I let out the softest moan. I gently ran my thumb across the hardened bud as my breathing quickened. My other hand slid between my legs, and I didn’t even hesitate as I spread them. I groaned as I imagined that it was him touching me. That it was him giving me this forbidden pleasure. I pictured him on my bed, hovering over me as he explored me with his hands. With his lips. I let out another moan as I forced my hand inside my leggings. I was hot. Wet. And desperate. I didn’t expect him to rush, so I slowly teased the lips of my p***y. I could feel the slickness of my desire. “f**k,” I muttered as my fantasy Adrian pressed his finger against my c**t. I arched my back into his touch as I silently pleaded for more. He teased his finger lower, and I spread my legs even wider. I pressed the tip of my finger against my opening, and I held my breath as I imagined more than just his finger.
I imagined that it was his c**k.
I had no idea how big he was. But my imagination was just the perfect size for me. My fantasy Adrian held the tip of his c**k against my opening, and his gaze held mine as he slowly pushed inside. Inch by inch. I let out a slow moan of pleasure as he filled me. For a moment, I was so lost in my fantasy that I almost forgot to breathe. In and out. Slow and steady. The rhythm felt deliberate and intoxicating. My breathing hitched as I finger f****d myself faster. Chasing the impending orgasm that I so badly wanted. Adrian was still with me. f*****g into me at a punishing pace as he whispered all the naughty things he wanted to do to me. My orgasm hit me so suddenly that my eyes opened, and I let out a whispered shout of pleasure. Slowly, tiredly, and somewhat lazily, I got off my bed and went into the bathroom. I glanced at the mirror and smiled at my reflection. If only Professor Thorne knew what I had just done. And as I slid off my leggings, I lightly touched the wet spot. If I could, I would have taken a picture and sent it to him. But I didn’t have his number. The thought alone made my heart skip a beat. But the ache hadn’t gone away. Not really.
“Ugh,” I muttered as I removed my sweater. I took a quick shower, and suddenly I felt the urgency to hide what I had just done. As if being caught would lead me into trouble. I threw my clothes into the hamper and, instead of returning to my bed, I opened the window for some fresh air and left my room. I didn’t care if it rained in. I didn’t want my room to smell like s*x. I got comfortable on the couch, but even as I channel-hopped, my mind was once again back on Professor Thorne. My body still hummed, but my thoughts were clearer now. He could run from it, bury it under lectures and papers, and that polished professor act, but I had seen what was underneath. He wasn’t untouchable anymore. And neither was I. Maybe I was crossing a line. Maybe I already had. But it didn’t matter. Because the thought of him, the way he had looked at me, the way his hand had felt on my skin, it was mine now. And I wasn’t going to let it fade. It was dangerous. It was wrong. But I knew what I wanted. And I wasn’t done testing how far he would let me go.
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- Writer
