Sweet Temptations

TEMPTATION UNBOUND WITH MY PROFESSOR 2

The taste of me on his lips was a primal, grounding shock. My body hummed with the aftershocks of my climax, a delicious heaviness in my limbs but the weight of him in my hand, hard and straining against the fine fabric of his trousers, a new, urgent demand. I fumbled with his belt, my fingers clumsy with the anticipation of what was to come.

He didn’t let me struggle for long. With a growl that vibrated through his chest and into mine, he captured my wrists and pinned them against the door.

“Later” the word was a promise, his hazel eyes dark with a possession that made my breath seize for a few seconds “I need you somewhere I can really see you”

In one swift shocking motion, he bent and hooked an arm behind my knees, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. A squeak of surprise escaped me as my world tilted, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck. He carried me through the living room, past the books and the leather sofa, his stride purposeful and sure. My bare skin pressed against the crisp cotton of his chest and shoulders working with each step.

The bedroom was shadowed, dominated by a large, low bed with a dark duvet. He didn’t lay me on it gently, he walked to the foot of the bed and set me on my feet, his hands immediately on my hips, turning me away from him. My heart began to pound a frantic, anticipatory rhythm.

“Bend over” he instructed, his voice a low command that left no room for argument, not that I wanted to argue “Grab the footboard”

The order, so direct, so devoid of the polite façade of our old life, sent a fresh rush of wetness between my thighs. This was it. The fantasy I’d replayed in my head during countless lectures, now rendered in stark, breathtaking reality.

I obeyed, leaning forward until my torso was parallel to the floor, my palms flat on the cool, polished wood of the frame. The position arched my back, presenting myself to him in a way that felt profoundly vulnerable and utterly, sinfully erotic.

I heard the rustle of clothing behind me, the slide of a zipper, the soft thud of his trousers hitting the floor, then his hands were on me again, smoothing over the curves of my ass, kneading the flesh with a possessiveness that made me whimper. One hand slid between my thighs from behind, his fingers delving into my slickness with a groan of pure male appreciation.

“So wet for me, so f*****g wet” he coated his fingers in my arousal, spreading it over sensitive folds before sliding two fingers back inside me, curling them expertly. I cried out, pushing back against him against his hand, my hips rocking of their own volition. The pleasure was sharp, immediate, a direct reignition of the fire he’d just banked.

He withdrew his fingers. I felt the broad, blunt head of his c**k nudge against my entrance, probing through the wetness. He didn’t ask. He didn’t hesitate. With one hand firm on my hip, he pushed forward, sheathing himself inside me in one long, relentless stroke.

I saw stars.

The fulness was breathtaking, he was thick, stretching me deliciously, filling a deep ache, aching emptiness I hadn’t fully acknowledged until that moment. A choked moan tore from my throat, my fingers scrambling for a firm grip on the smooth wood.

He was still for a heartbeat, buried to the hilt and I felt the tremor that ran through his body, the immense control he was struggling to maintain.

Then it broke.

He pulled back almost completely and drove into me again, setting a rhythm that was urgent, possessive, and perfectly punishing. Each thrust rocked my entire body forward, the force of it jolting through my spine. The angle was deep, each penetration hitting a spot that made stars burst behind my closed eyelids. The sounds were obscene and glorious, the wet slap of skin on skin, his ragged breaths, my own helpless, high pitched cries.

“This is what I pictured” he gritted out, his voice strained with effort and pleasure “You, bent over, taking me. Letting me have you” his grip on my hips tightened, surely leaving marks and the thought thrilled me. He was claiming me, branding me with his possession.

The pace was relentless. He f****d me with a single minded intensity that erased everything else, his professorial demeanor, my own name, there was only this, the driving force of his body, the delicious friction of him moving inside me, the building, coiling pressure that began low in my belly and spread like wildfire. My earlier orgasm had sensitized me, making every nerve ending scream with heightened awareness. I could feel every ridge, every vein of him, the perfect way our bodies fit together in this primal, vulnerable act.

One of his hands left my hip and fisted in my hair, not painfully but firmly, tilting my head back. The change in angle made in him go even deeper and I screamed, my back bowing.

“Yes,” he panted out “Come for me again”

The world shattered a second time. It wasn’t a slow build but a sudden, violent detonation. His command, “Come for me had been the trigger” My body obeyed before my mind could even process the words. A raw, guttural scream was ripped from my throat as the orgasm exploded from the deepest part of me where he was buried, radiating out in convulsive waves that clenched around his c**k with a fierce, rhythmic pulse. I shook, my legs trembling so violently I would have collapsed if not for his iron grip on my hip and in my hair.

He didn’t stop. As my climax wracked me, he drove into me through the contractions, his own control visibly fraying. “That’s it… take it…” he grunted, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, more desperate. I felt him swell inside me, the sensation incredibly intimate, a precursor I could physically feel. With a final, deep grind and a choked roar, he came. The hot, sudden rush of his release filled me, a stark, primal contrast to the cool air on my skin. His body shuddered against mine, his forehead pressing between my shoulder blades as he emptied himself with a series of ragged groans.

“I could get used to this” he whispered in my ear.

A tired yet sated smile spread across my lips, he was right, this was something I could definitely get used to, definitely.