A Slút For My Professor (9)
I walk into my apartment, bag in hand, practically bouncing with excitement. I toss my coat to the floor and crack open the bottle of whiskey I got from a friend. My body drops onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, lazy and exposed. I don't have any brá or pántíés on..
I take a slow sip, letting the burn roll down my throat as memories from last night crash over me like waves. I’m still slíck from them. From him.
Cassian.
I should feel used. I should feel ashamed. But I don’t.
I feel wanted. Safe. Devoured.
I close my eyes and let myself sink into the delicious warmth of it all. I'm Nákéd. On my couch. With a bag of God-knows-what still sitting in the corner, taunting me like a wrapped Christmas gift. I chuckle to myself, picturing what I must’ve looked li
