Drawn That Way

by Bronwyn Green

  It was all she could do to hold still and keep from canting her hips toward him, but he kept her immobile with his gaze and with his hands. Her nails dug into her wrist as she tried to keep from reaching out and touching him. It was a second-by-second struggle to stay in the position he wanted.

  It was worth it, though. She loved the feeling of him holding her motionless, the thick heat of his cock sliding in and out of her mouth, the ache in her lips and jaw as she stretched to take him. She loved it all—even the foot between her knees keeping her from any kind of physical stimulation. She moaned around his cock, again, loving the shudder that worked through his body at the sensation.

  He thrust deeply a few more times before finally pulling completely free. Yanking her head back hard, he stared into her eyes.

  “I can see that I’m just going to have to find a different way to punish you, aren’t I?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Rory stared down at where Tristan still knelt watching him with those big green eyes—frantically aroused and so trusting. Her lips were swollen and slick, and it was all he could do not to shove his cock back in her mouth and shoot his load down her throat. As if she knew the battle that was playing out in his head, she just stared at him, patiently waiting for him to decide.

  He couldn’t keep from imagining what it would be like to have her like this all the time. Not necessarily on her knees, but with him. Christ, he was a desperate, pathetic fuck. He wanted to be the only one she ever played with like this. The only one she ever looked at like this. He wanted this to be it for her. He wanted to be it for her.

  But he couldn't ask that of her. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, and he wasn't sure he could give it to her even if she was. All he could offer her was what they had—sex and friendship. And fantasies. He could give her those.

  Hell, he’d give her all the fantasies she wanted for as long as she wanted. He’d make them all come true. And, for now, he’d just refuse to think about what would happen when she lost interest in their arrangement or found someone else. Right now, he’d just focus on her.

  “Stand up,” he bit out.

  Shivering slightly, she stumbled to her feet, keeping her hands behind her back.

  He turned his monitor toward her then grabbed the ruler and used it to point at the screen. “Explain what’s going on with your grades.”

  She stared blankly at document open on the screen. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Look at these. You started out as an A student. Now, you’re lucky to get a D.” He ran the side of the ruler up the inside of her thigh, feeling her sharp intake of breath all the way to the soles of his feet.

  “I’ve offered you tutors, extra credit…and you’ve ignored them all.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He slid the edge of the ruler back and forth across the crotch of her panties, loving the way she stiffened and pressed her lips together against the whimpers that threatened to escape.

  “You say that,” he murmured, “and yet, I don’t think you are.” He tapped at her cunt with the wood.

  “I am. I swear.” Her voice trembled with what sounded like a mixture of fear and excitement.

  Pressing the flat side of the ruler to her pussy, he stepped closer to and whispered, “You will be.”

  This time, there was no stopping the sound that broke free from her lips. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, he let himself take in her beauty. Lips parted, breathing shallow, her breasts rose and fell, and he wanted to see all of her—wanted her bared to his gaze. But he forced himself to slow down.

  “Elbows on the desk,” he demanded. “Bend over.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, eyes lust-filled and shimmering with excitement.

  “Now.”

  Taking a shuddering breath, she bent at the waist, leaning her forearms on the piles of papers covering the surface. Her head dropped forward to rest on the backs of her hands.

  “Spread your legs wider.”

  She did as she was told, and his gaze followed the graceful slope of her back up and over the curve of her ass. Bowed the way she was, her skirt barely covered her panties, and the insides of her thighs were shiny with her juices.

  If he’d had any doubt at all that she wasn’t enjoying this, that concern was long, long gone. Grabbing the hem, he flipped her skirt up and over her back, baring her plain, white cotton panties. Her sopping wet, plain, white cotton panties.

  “What do we have here, Ms. Weaver?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her breathless voice sounding slightly muffled.

  Reaching forward, he cupped her pussy with his hand, watching as shivers worked through her body. Her legs shook as she clearly tried to hold herself still. “Imagine my surprise to find your cunt dripping down your thighs. Are you enjoying your punishment?

  “No, sir. Of course not.”

  “That would be foolish, wouldn’t it?” He smacked her pussy once, his fingers connecting dully with the wet fabric.

  “Very foolish, sir,” she gasped.

  He yanked down her underwear, letting them hang around her thighs. “Remind me again why you’re being punished.”

  “My grades are bad, sir.”

  He rubbed his hand over her bare ass cheeks, carefully avoiding her slit. As desperate as he was to fuck her, he wanted to draw this out as long as humanly possible. “And why is that?”

  “I’m distracted, sir,” she whispered. “Too distracted to focus.”

  “We’re going to fix that, aren’t we?”

  “I hope so, sir.”

  Shifting, he brought the ruler down against her ass cheeks. The impact startled a yelp from her that she quickly smothered with her hands.

  “What’s distracting you?” he asked as he brought the ruler down, again.

  “I can’t say.” She groaned. “It’s too embarrassing.”

  He smacked her again, admiring the flesh that was reddening beneath the wood. “You can.” Another smack. “And you will.”

  “You,” she blurted.

  He struck her again. “What about me?”

  “I can’t.”

  He let the ruler fly a few more times then glanced at her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and tears seeped out from beneath her spikey, wet lashes. Fuck, she was so goddamn beautiful it made his chest hurt.

  “You can,” he repeated, rubbing his hand over her burning flesh, letting the wool of his sleeve drag across her over-sensitized skin. “And. You. Will.”

  “I can’t. Please, don’t make me.”

  His cock twitched at the sound of her begging, but he ignored it and let the ruler fall, setting up a steady, unrelenting tempo. The only sounds in the room were her erratic, weepy breaths and the smooth wood against her flesh. Both had his cock jerking and fluid dripping down his shaft.

  “Tell me,” he demanded, smacking her cheeks again.

  “I saw you once,” she whispered brokenly. “Fucking Professor Collins over your desk. And all I could think about was having you do that to me.”

  He bit back a groan. For someone who’d never role-played before, she was exceptionally good at it.

  Rory leaned over her, pressing his cock against the cleft of her ass, loving the way she lifted into him and whimpered.

  “So, you thought maybe if you got called into my office, I’d fuck you?”

  She nodded frantically.

  “You thought I’d shove my cock inside your tight, little cunt?”

  “Yes. God, yes. Please.” She lifted into him again, clearly wincing as her sore ass brushed against his clothes, but she didn’t try to pull away. “Please, sir. I need you to fuck me.”

  Reaching between her legs, he shoved two fingers inside her pussy. Crying out, she stiffened as her body rippled around him. He thrust his hand in and out several times but withdrew before she could come. She groaned in frustration, and he murmured, “It’s far too soon for that.”

  He brought his fingers to her
mouth, tracing her lips with the wet digits before urging her to open. She drew his fingers inside and sucked, each pull creating an answering throb in his dick as he remembered the feeling of her lips wrapped around it. He rocked his hips against hers, wanting to plunge into her tight heat with nothing between them. The desire to be inside her was almost overwhelming, but he paused, realizing he needed something more. He drew back slightly and stared at her.

  Tristan turned to look at him over her shoulder, his fingers pulling from her mouth as she did. Her eyes were glazed, but uncertainty bloomed in their depths. She swallowed hard and asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” His voice was almost as strangled-sounding as hers as he trailed a still damp finger over the bright welts covering her ass. “I just want to memorize the sight of you like this. I swear to fuck I’ve never seen anything hotter.” Except that was a lie. Everything about her was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen. After a moment, he admitted, “I want to draw you.”

  “Like this?”

  He nodded, still staring at her.

  She silently held his gaze for the longest time, until she finally murmured, “You’ve got a camera.”

  His mouth dropped open. He felt it hanging there, unable to close.

  She lifted a shoulder. “I trust you.”

  His chest tightened uncomfortably at her admission, and his cock spiked harder than he’d ever felt it at the thought of photographing her with her ass red and her panties hanging down around her thighs. Gaze never leaving her, he grabbed blindly for his camera that sat on the corner of his desk. Focusing on her, he zoomed in on her eyes where she still watched him over her shoulder. The naked trust there nearly brought him to his knees.

  Zooming out, he shot the entire scene, and god help him, he nearly came when she said, “If you draw this, I’m going to want to see it,” as she lowered her head to the desk and lifted her ass higher for him. He took a tight shot of her ass and her damp thighs, the dark skirt framing her perfectly—then a few more of her draped across his desk.

  Remembering the fantasy he was supposed to be giving her, he set his camera aside and moved to stand behind her, and trailed his fingers through the wetness between her legs, then traced the welts on her ass. She shivered as he did it again.

  “Do you think you’ve sufficiently made up for your poor class conduct, Ms. Weaver?” he asked, as sharply as he could manage, wanting to bring her back to where they’d been before.

  She drew a shuddery breath. “No, sir.”

  “No?”

  “No. I don’t think I’ve quite learned my lesson.” She rubbed her ass against him.

  Pressing against her and reaching over his desk, he slid open the drawer and grabbed a condom. Tristan froze at the sound of plastic crinkling as he straightened and tore it open. He shifted slightly, sheathed himself then dragged the head of his cock through her slick folds. She groaned at the sensation, as he notched himself at her opening.

  He paused, his lips at her ear. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for, Ms. Weaver?”

  She drew a shuddering breath and nodded.

  He brought his fingers around the front of her body to trace her along her labia. “I can’t hear you.

  “Yes,” she choked out. “Please, I need you inside me, sir.”

  He entered her just barely, and when she tried to push back on him, he grabbed her hips, stopping her. “Are you the professor or the student, Ms. Weaver?”

  “The student,” she gasped, clearly desperate for more than he was giving her.

  “And who does the teaching?” he asked, never softening his grip.

  “You, sir.”

  “And who’s going to fuck your pussy?”

  Her entire body shook. She was that close to coming. “You, sir,” she whispered. “You.”

  Rory slammed forward, shoving inside her, pushing a scream from her chest. He quickly clapped his hand over her mouth as he pounded into her, riding her hard and fast. He delved between her legs with his free hand and stroked her opening as he slid in and out of her.

  “Don’t you dare come, yet,” he breathed against her ear. “I want you to hold back as long as you can. Until I say you can.”

  He pumped harder, and she screamed behind his fingers fixed tight to her face, meeting every thrust. Her entire body shook, and tears streamed over her cheeks, dripping hot on his hand. She was so close. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge, and when she fell, he knew he’d follow right behind.

  Reaching between them, her fingers tangled briefly with his until she found what she wanted—his balls. She fondled them, tugging at them, and teasing the base of his cock with her fingertips until he was just as wet as she was. And just as desperate to scream out his release.

  He slid the heel of his hand to her clit and pressed down, letting her grind against him. “Now, Tristan. Come, now.”

  Her entire body went rigid, and her cunt pulsed around him so hard, he could barely move. Lightning strikes of sensation shot down his spine to pool in the small of his back before exploding outward. His vision dimmed slightly as his orgasm ripped through him, and he slumped against her, both of them breathing heavily.

  When he could finally move, he pressed a kiss to her back through her sweater. How pathetic was he that they were both still mostly dressed? Reluctantly, he straightened and withdrew from the warmth of her body. Running a hand down her spine, he said, “Don’t move, yet.”

  She turned her head to look at him but didn’t attempt to stand. “Couldn’t if you wanted me to. I’m too tired.”

  Rory removed the condom, tied it off and threw it away before cleaning up and righting his clothes. Grabbing a warm, wet cloth for Tristan and some aftercare lotion, he returned to where she was still draped across his desk.

  “I should probably go,” she mumbled. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and she looked ready to fall asleep right there.

  “You’re not going anywhere for a while.” Squatting down behind her, he pulled her panties the rest of the way off, cleaned her up then gently rubbed the lotion into her ass. Her breath hissed through clenched teeth as he carefully treated the welts.

  “I’m awake now, though.”

  “Don’t care,” he said, standing and helping her into an upright position. “I want to keep an eye on you for a while. This was intense…for both of us.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tris stared open-mouthed at Rory for a minute then let him lead her to couch. Her arse was unbelievably achey, but the lotion he’d so sweetly rubbed into her skin helped. It was a good ache, though. She shivered as she remembered the way he’d looked at her, his stern, almost harsh, expression as he’d walked around her as she knelt on the ground, the way he’d fucked her mouth and paddled her arse. He was practically all her fantasies come true. A twinge of longing settled in her chest, making it momentarily difficult to breathe.

  Rory stopped in front of the couch and stripped off his jacket and oxford, revealing a worn, mudblood t-shirt beneath. Slouching back into the corner of the couch, he motioned for her to join him, but when she turned to sit, he said, “You’re not gonna want to do that quite yet.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds then knelt on the cushions before shifting to rest on her side against his chest. He wrapped one arm around her then tugged the blanket from the back of the couch over them both. She lay stiffly, not quite able to settle for a moment, but the sound of his heartbeat against her ear and the feel of the soft cotton against her cheek lulled her, and she slowly relaxed against him.

  His other arm came around her, and he slid his hand beneath her sweater and shirt, resting his big, warm palm on the small of her back. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she snuggled closer. “I thought your uniform was at your parents’ house.”

  “It is. I picked this one up at that uniform shop at the mall. Luckily, there are enough Parochial schools around here that I had my choice of colors.

  He chuckled, and his chest vibrated
beneath her cheek.

  She craned her head back to look up at him. “Did you go to a private school? Is that how you knew about checking for skirt length?”

  Shaking his head, he grinned. “Nope. My grandparents lived across the street from Saint Mary Magdalene’s. Skirt checks were a regular thing during the morning line up before the students were allowed into the building.”

  “Develop a little fetish for schoolgirls, did you?”

  He shrugged, moving her against his chest. “Maybe. A little.” He reached down and skimmed his fingers over her sore bottom. “The uniforms, anyway.”

  She shivered, and he frowned.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little sleepy and spacey.” She slipped an arm around his waist, enjoying this quiet closeness more than she should probably allow herself to. After all—this wasn’t a relationship. This was just friends-with-benefits. Just because those benefits had extended to role-playing and a little aftercare that involved cuddling didn’t mean this was anything other than what it was. And she needed to remember that.

  “I wasn’t too rough on you?”

  “No.” She breathed deeply, wriggling against him. “It was amazing.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her lips. It was sweetly tender, and, at the same time, it stirred the need she’d thought was completely satisfied. What if she wasn’t ever satisfied when it came to him? Unease prickled across her skin, and she stiffened slightly.

  He lifted his head and murmured. “You were amazing.”

  Warmth and something else she refused to acknowledge fluttered through her stomach. He leaned his head back against the couch and smoothed his hand through her hair, dragging his fingertips over her scalp. Any residual tension faded with each stroke of his hand, and she sank into him.

  Eventually, his hand stopped moving, and his breathing deepened. She glanced at his face. His eyes were closed, and his jaw had gone a little slack. Reaching up, she carefully lifted off his glasses and set them on the little table next to the arm of the couch. He shifted and murmured something unintelligible then pulled her closer.