Trapped With My Teacher
Page 7
I lean back just far enough to grin, mischief sparking in my eyes. “You want me, Professor Lakewood?” I arch my hips, press his cock closer toward the entrance of my pussy.
White-hot desire flares in his gaze. “Fuck yes, Corina.”
“Then take me, Professor.” I spread my legs, keep one wrapped around his waist.
He takes advantage of that and grabs me with both hands. Flips us over until I’m pinned beneath him on the couch, and his body weight sinks against me, a heavy, welcome pressure that only increases my desire. I wrap both legs around his waist now, and arch up against him. We both moan aloud as he slides his cock along my slit, back to front, slowly, and then back again, coating himself in my juices. I am so wet I can’t stand it. I groan and reach down to wrap my fist around his cock, stroking him.
He smirks and catches my mouth in another kiss, this one hard and fast. He nips my lower lip as we break apart. “Hungry for me, Corina?”
“Always,” I whisper.
That smirk widens. He positions the tip of his cock at my entrance, toys with me, little tiny thrusts against my pussy that aren’t enough to thrust inside. Not yet. “You want this? You want my hard cock?”
“Fuck yes, Tony. I want you to fuck me. I’m yours.”
“That’s right.” He locks eyes with me, and I cannot get enough of the hunger in them, the fire as he slowly leans down and presses his cock inside me, an inch at a time, stretching my walls wider. “You’re mine, Corina. And I’m yours. We belong like this.” When he’s fully inside me, he pauses a moment, letting me adjust to his size, and I squeeze my pussy, savoring the feeling of having his cock buried in me, filling me in a way I’ve never felt filled before.
Feeling like I belong. Feeling satisfied. Right. “Tony…”
“Corina.” He stills for a moment, completely inside me. He brushes a hair back from my forehead. I reach up to cup his cheek. “I’m falling for you,” he breathes.
I lean up, close the distance between us. With our lips an inch apart, I whisper, “I’m falling for you too…” His lips press into mine, soft and sweet. When he pulls back, it’s slow, so slow, and he thrusts back in to meet me again, both of us gasping with pleasure.
This time, we don’t go hard and fast. Not yet. We take our time. Savor it, feel every inch of each other. My hands roam across his back, his chest, his washboard abs, along his biceps. His hands trail across my breasts, circle and tease my nipples, before he runs them down my sides to my waist, my hips, my thighs. “You are so fucking glorious,” he murmurs between kisses. “I could study your body for hours…”
He draws one hand in between us to stroke my clit gently, toying with me until I’m moaning into his mouth, and then he fucks me a little faster, harder. My hips buck, and he grins down at me. “Come for me, Corina. Please…”
My head falls back against the couch as I near my climax. He keeps stroking, keeps fucking me in that steady, slow rhythm, even as his finger moves faster, circles my clit, teases and toys with me. He increases the pressure, and a faint cry escapes me, my pussy clenching around his cock at the same time.
“I love the way you come,” he says, eyes locked on mine, savoring the moment.
I’m still twisting beneath him, so close now my whole body is trembling on the brink of release.
“You look so fucking gorgeous when you lose control.”
I lock eyes with him. Let myself fall, over the edge, into the orgasm. He strokes me harder, thrusts into me again and again, adds his thumb along my clit, and suddenly, my whole body shakes. I cry out, breathless, as I come. Fire fills my whole body—I don’t even remember being cold anymore, not with him heating me like this. My pussy clenches hard around him, spasms, and that sets him off. He grabs my hips with both hands, thrusts into me faster, faster.
I’m still sensitive from the orgasm. When he grabs my hips and pulls my ass and thighs up off the couch around his waist, angles himself down into me so that the head of his cock strokes along my G-spot with each thrust, I start gasping again, nearing the edge once more.
He’s lost in his own pleasure now, a wild animal with lust in his eyes as he gazes at me, thrusting into me over and over.
I look down to savor the sight of his thick cock pounding into me, wet with my juices. His abs contract as he pumps against me, and I reach up to grab his shoulders, pull his face down toward mine just as he nears his own climax. The feeling of the swollen head of his cock is too much for me. I cry out with my second orgasm, and my pussy clenches hard around him. He comes then, with a guttural growl, and clutches me tight against him.
We both collapse against the couch, tangled and drenched in sweat. But he stays inside me, stays lying along me, even when his cock begins to soften. We lie like that, pinned together, and I savor the feeling of being with him, having him inside me, so completely filling me.
When he finally does roll off, we both laugh a little at the cum that trickles down my inner thigh. He tugs me against him, curled up on that couch together, and repositions the blankets over us. The fire is still burning bright, I think, as I gaze into the flames, my eyelids growing heavy.
At least it will last the night…
We’ll figure out what to do about everything else in the morning.
11
Rescue
A deafening bang startles me awake. I gasp and bolt upright, shredding the dream I’d just been having. Tony and I were somewhere warm and sunny, a beach, playing in the sand, both of us splashing through warm waves as we watched one another, stark naked under the hot sun…
But no. The moment I sit upright and knock the blanket aside, the cold comes rushing back in, crushing any dream of warmth. I squeal and collapse back against Tony. Tony, still lying next to me on the couch. Tony, blinking and rubbing his eyes and shivering, naked, in the sudden onslaught of cold air since I knocked the blanket off us both.
“What—” he starts to ask.
He’s interrupted by that sound again. Three bangs this time, one after another. The whole cabin rocks with the force of them, until I realize what’s happening.
Someone is knocking.
By the time I piece that together, it’s too late. The door creaks, then bursts open, as someone turns the knob and shoulders it in. As for me, I’m still kneeling upright on the couch, completely naked, above Tony, who’s also naked, his stiff morning wood alert in the air between us.
I shriek and grab the blanket, throwing it around myself and Tony’s waist, even as the two snow-suited rangers who kicked in the door burst into laughter.
“I see you two found a way to keep warm in here,” one of them comments with a smirk. He politely turns the other way until I have the blanket more firmly tied around myself and the spare blanket draped around Tony.
Tony sits up, still rubbing away sleep, while the other ranger stomps into the cabin. “Saw your cars from overhead,” he says, gaze tactfully avoiding us as he sizes up the cabin. “We’ve been in the air all morning, ever since the last storm cloud cleared.” He sniffs as he eyeballs the fireplace, now dead and cold, the last of our wood burnt up last night in warming me after my disastrous escapade. “How long have you two been up here?”
“All week,” Tony says, finding his voice first. “Got trapped after the first storm.”
“Christ.” The two men exchange a look. “Good thing you had plenty of provisions,” the first one adds. “Though looks like we got here just in the nick of time. Come on, we’ll drive you back down to the hospital.”
“Right, lucky.” Tony glances at me. “But first can we, er…”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” The men exchange another look, this one more amused. They stomp toward the door. “We’ll be out front when you’re ready,” the second calls over his shoulder.
They close the door. Only then do Tony and I burst into breathless laughter.
We’re saved.
We lock eyes, laugh again, and grab one another for a quick kiss before we start to scramble ar
ound the cabin, finding clothes to put on and packing up any of our remaining possessions, now scattered all throughout this place.
The whole way down the mountain, we entertain the rangers with stories of how we survived. We talk about how much wood we had, how much food we found. “You really lucked out,” they say, over and over. “Finding a place like that in this storm. And both of you being able to reach it, despite the two cars.”
“Right,” I say, locking eyes with Tony, then quickly looking away again. We really did luck out… In more ways than just in finding a well-stocked cabin to hole up in.
Who’d have thought that this week could have turned out… well, like this?
Nobody gets lost in a blizzard and holed up in a cabin and has their life changed for the better, do they?
Tony changes the subject, starts to talk about cabin constructions up in this part of the mountains instead. We don’t mention our separate arrivals, our “lucky break” again. When we reach the nearest hospital, about halfway from the cabin down to the town where our university is located, they split us up. I only have time to glance at Tony, exchange one quick look, his brow knit in concern, before we’re dragged off to separate examination rooms with different doctors.
A few hours of poking and prodding and phone calls to Daddy and my brothers later, I’m still there. Alone in the hospital bed, waiting for the doctor to discharge me.
Staring at the ceiling thinking about the look on Tony’s face as we parted. We’re here now. Back in the real world. Saved. But where do we go now? He said he wanted me, wanted to be with me, but that was back there. In the fantasy where we were living. In the world where all we had to do was survive from one day to the next.
Things can look very different back here in reality. Under this harsh hospital lighting, where we have to deal with the fact of who we both are. That he’s my professor, I’m his student. Neither of us can be involved, not publicly, not until I’ve graduated and moved on to who knows where. And would he even want that? Was any of what we felt real, or was it just a symptom of the situation we were in?
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. That’s when the door creaks inward, and the doctor appears silhouetted by the hall light.
“You’re free to go now, Ms. Driver,” he says.
I push myself to my feet and grab my coat, hands only quivering slightly. Time to find out what the real world has in store.
12
The Truth
I head to the waiting room first. Daddy isn’t here yet—he sent me a slew of texts explaining he’s on a business trip out west—it’s why he didn’t know about the storm, didn’t even know I’d gone missing, whereas normally he’d have been all over the news hunting for me. He’s jumping on a plane here now, but until then, I’m alone in this hospital, and I can only think of one person I want to see.
That one person, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be here anymore.
“Mr. Lakewood?” the nurse repeats. I’ve already spelled it for her twice.
“Yes. Tony Lakewood. He checked in around the same time as me, earlier today.”
She purses her lips, then makes a soft little ah sound. “Here we go, yes. Tony Lakewood, being checked for exposure and malnutrition… Released earlier today. About an hour ago.”
An hour ago? He didn’t wait for me. Didn’t check on me. Just fled.
I clench my hands to keep them from trembling. “I see. Thank you.” I turn to go, my car keys already in my pocket. The tow trucks brought both our cars down the mountainside while we were in the hospital, I was told. It’s outside in the lot now, ready to head home.
That’s all I can do now, I guess. Head home. Acting like everything is normal.
I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. That’s okay. Until a week ago, Tony Lakewood was nothing more than my irritating and overbearing professor. He can go back to being that again. I’m fine with it.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway. It doesn’t feel very convincing.
Especially not when I step outside and Tony is standing there in the parking lot, leaning against his car, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips as he waits. The moment he spots me, he drops the cigarette, stomps it out, and crosses the lot toward me with his arms spread wide open.
“Corina. I just stepped out to smoke…”
“Tony.” I crash into him before the word is even out of my mouth, so I wind up mumbling it loudly into his chest. Tears sting the corners of my eyes.
He’s laughing. “What’s gotten into you?” He leans back, tilts my chin up so he can meet my gaze. “Those better be happy tears, I hope.” He leans down to kiss my cheeks, my forehead, the corners of my eyes. “We made it, Corina. Can you believe it?”
“I thought you left me,” I gasp, catching the back of his neck and leaning up to kiss his stubbly cheek.
“What?” He laughs again and shakes his head. “Corina, what are you talking about?”
“We’re here now,” I say, lifting one arm from his shoulder to gesture wildly at the parking lot. “We’re back in reality. I thought you’d rethink everything now. Realize this is madness, you and me.”
“Corina.” His voice goes deep and serious. This time when he turns my face toward his again, his green eyes bore into me, more intense than ever. “If anything, this week was madness. But you and me, we’re the only reason we both survived. You mean the world to me, Corina. I would never leave you behind. I never will.”
I can’t help it. The tears have built up too far already. One escapes and trickles down my cheek, even as I laugh, my face splitting into a smile so big it’s almost painful.
“You dummy.” His kisses me again, slow and soft and sweet. “You clearly haven’t been paying attention if you thought I would leave you.”
I snort with laughter, then elbow him, then grab him and kiss him again, too wildly happy right now to care who sees or what it means. We’ll figure this out. If we survived a whole week in a blizzard, against all odds, together, then I’d say we can handle anything life has to throw at us.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Professor.” I grin up at him. He cups my cheek and smiles back.
“I’ll forgive you this one time, Corina,” he replies jokingly. Then those eyes of his go dark with intensity. “Because now, I know how amazing you really are.”
THE END
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HER DIRTY PROFESSOR
PENNY WYLDER
Copyright © 2016 Penny Wylder
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.
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1
Georgia
Normally I don’t pay much attention to the other students in my classes, but it’s hard to ignore people while they’re watching porn in the seats right in front of me. Two of them: a wealthy Abercrombie-type kid, and his sorority villain girlfriend. Both Barbie- and Ken-doll blonde and spray-can tan. They huddle together, eyes glued to an iPhone propped up against a beaker, snickering and whispering to each other.
It’s a fairly large class with long science tables lining the room in two parallel rows. I’m surrounded by Bunsen burners, flasks, beakers, stacks of notes and flashcards, electric balances, and burets. The place always smells like rubbing alcohol.
The distance between our desks make it difficult to see the little screen from where I sit, but not so difficult that I can’t make out the two naked bodies humping away at each other.
Dog-earring one of my notebooks, I glance over at Mr. Johnson, who’s lecturing abo
ut alkaloids and chemical reactions at the front of the room, oblivious to the perverts in front of me.
I continue to glance between the video clip over their shoulders and Mr. Johnson. As far as I can tell, it’s normal porn. Two people in a staged room with bright lighting, going at it. So why are the couple in front of me watching it in the middle of class, laughing? Seriously, who watches porn in public? I try to stretch farther for a better look, but I’m too short and the table is too wide. They either know something I don’t, or they’re ridiculously immature. Whatever it is must be worth the risk of getting caught, which only sparks my curiosity more.
For as long as I can remember I’ve always been an overachieving, overly curious girl. It’s my Achilles heel. My mom thinks it’s an asset, but for me it’s a burden. I can never seem to mind my own business. It’s great for academics, always wanting to know what happens next in books, or how someone came up with an equation. That inquisitiveness got me to the top of my class, earning me a spot as high school valedictorian before I graduated last year, but when it comes to my social life, it hasn’t helped me make any friends. I can’t seem to stop myself from butting in where I don’t belong. I try to hold my tongue. It doesn’t stay still for very long. I’m just too damn nosey for my own good.
As much as I tell myself to ignore it, I can’t help myself. I lean forward, practically on top of my desk, tapping the girl on the shoulder. She slowly turns in her seat, a glare already prepared on her face before looking at me.
“What’s so funny?” I whisper to keep Mr. Johnson from hearing me. He’s wandered to the other side of the classroom with his back to us.
The girl—I think her name is Serena—looks like she puts on her makeup with an airbrush, hair sculpted out of satin, nothing out of place. All of her clothes bear logos and have French names. She’s alien to me. I can’t imagine a world where I could afford a pair of shoes that cost more than my parents’ combined monthly wage. I can’t even fathom for a second being her. I wouldn’t know where to start.