Lips…lips that are soft and hot, but the motion is violent, like he is starving. I am starving too, I realize, and don’t even give question to the possibility of resisting. Professor Harlan turns me, shoving me against the counter.
Then, she is gone – the young woman who’d developed a violent crush on her professor a year ago. And I am back. I shove him away but keep my clutches around the collar of his dress shirt. My eyes are dark.
“I’ll show you weak,” I spit, giving him another good shove so he is turned around, taking my place pinned against the counter.
I grip his tie with one hand and grip his jaw with the other, nails biting into his skin. He groans slowly as I slip my tongue forcefully into his mouth. He steadies his hands on the counter, knocking over papers and supplies. I pi
