by Penny Wylder
When I hang up Alyssa is beaming at me. "I bet that felt almost as good as me getting to slap her."
"No, but I think getting the security footage of her being escorted out of the building will definitely feel that good."
Alyssa giggles. "Can I watch?"
"Of course."
We've snuggled together on the couch, her legs propped over mine, her head leaning against my shoulder. "I really am sorry, Alyssa."
"Please stop apologizing. It all worked out. We're here. We're together. But we still have to figure out a solution for Heely and the company. Even if Jennifer is fired there's nothing to keep her from spinning things the way she did in your office. I don't want things to fall apart because people think you were too busy with me."
I smile. "I've already figured that out."
"You have? When?"
"While I was pacing the apartment waiting for you to get here."
She looks at me expectantly. "Well, are you going to tell me?"
"No." I lean down and kiss her. "Not yet, anyway."
She huffs. "Why not?"
"Because we won, and I don't want to talk about business for a while. I want to talk about us."
"Okay," she says, relaxing further into me.
"Are you hungry?"
She plays with the buttons on my shirt. "Not really, why?"
"Just wondering."
"No.” She sits up straighter. "You're hedging. What do you want to say?"
"Well, it's actually more like something I want to ask."
Alyssa rolls her eyes, "I'm waiting."
"Do you remember when I asked you to trust me?"
She pulls her hands away. "Yes."
"We took one big step in our relationship today, and I'd like it if we took another."
"You want to tie me up,” she says quietly. It's not a sad quiet, more contemplative, and I feel a spark of hope.
"I do want that. If you're not ready for it, that's fine. I'm not going to pressure you into it by making it into a fantasy you can't resist. I'm not going to manipulate you that way. Although, I will tell you I do find it unbelievably sexy."
"Why now?" she says, rubbing her palms together.
"Because I want you to know that you can trust me. Deep trust. In here." I press my hand against her stomach. "I can't think of a better way to show you that."
She takes my face in her hands and pulls me closer, looking into my eyes. Looking for something. She must find it, because she says, "Yes."
"Really?"
"Really."
I close the space between our two faces. "You're not just saying that to make me happy, right?"
"No." She bursts out laughing. "It's something I've thought about. I wanted to be sure. This is a good time. And if I'm not actually ready, there's always rule number three."
"Yes there is." I say, pulling her to her feet and towards my bedroom.
"Hang on a second, when you asked me if I was hungry you were asking because--"
"It's going to be a while until we're finished. You need to keep your strength up." I pull her into my bedroom and spin her so her back is against my chest and she gets of the view of the bed. The very large bed that I've always been a little bit proud of. She covers my hands with hers. "I already said yes. Are you going to tell me how sexy it is now?"
"It is sexy,” I whisper in her ear. "You're going to be spread open for me, unable to move while I take you whatever way I want." I feel the shiver that runs through her, and I kiss her neck. "Get undressed."
I move over to the bed, pulling the restraints from under the corners of the bed. I bought the set for the bed online and set it up hoping we might have the opportunity to use it. I really didn't think it would be this soon. I still have the box, and in it are the cuffs that attach to the bed. I get them and turn to find Alyssa naked.
My gaze travels up her body from her feet up past her pussy--which I can see is already wet with anticipation--across her stomach to her breasts which are moving with her breath. Finally her face, staring at me, and I can see the trust there. She's stunning. She'll always be stunning.
"Tell me the word to stop," I say as I move to her. "I want to know that you remember it."
Her mouth quirks up into a smile. "Milkshake."
"Use it if you need to,” I say, reaching for her hands. "You are more important than this."
She nods.
I buckle the cuffs on her wrists, checking to make sure they're not too tight. Then I kneel in front of her, attaching the ankle restraints the same way. I can't resist, I take a taste of her pussy while it's so close to me. No taste will ever compare to that. I work my tongue inside her, thrusting until I feel her hips moving against me.
"Not yet,” I say, pulling away. "We have a long way to go first."
"Yes, Sir."
"Get on the bed."
She crawls to the center of the bed, and I get a beautiful glimpse of her ass. I meet her at the edge of the bed. One by one, I clip her cuffs to the restraints. I pull her legs wider, her pale skin luminous against the darkness of the sheets. When I attach the last restraint I look at her. Limbs stretched to the corners to the bed, hair fanned out against the pillow, breath coming fast. I'm rock hard in an instant.
I see her squirm, testing the restraints. "How are you?" I ask. She doesn't answer. "Alyssa."
19
Alyssa
I'm tied to a bed. I pull against my ties and I can't move. Nothing will move. Panic starts to rise. I need to move. I need to move now.
"Alyssa." Charles voice is stern, "Talk to me. Does something hurt?"
I shake my head.
"You need to speak to me."
"No, Sir. Nothing hurts."
He comes to where I can see him. "Good. Do you need to use rule number three?"
Rule number three. Right. I can stop. I can leave at any time. My breath eases and I stop fighting the restraints. This is Charles. He's not going to hurt me. "No, Sir."
A wicked gleam appears in his eye. "Good."
He disappears from my sight and I feel the end of the bed dip. I feel his fingers at the entrance to my pussy. "I love how open you are." He slides a finger in deep, stroking me from the inside. His sucks my clit between his lips, and I suck in a breath. His finger keeps moving inside me, stroking the inside of my pussy until he finds a spot that makes my whole body jump. His tongue swirls down to meet his finger, and I'm holding my breath because it's all too much, the waves of sensation coming from inside me.
"Breathe,” Charles says, and he bites lightly on my clit. My hips roll, and are snapped back down by my restraints. I can't move even if I wanted to, and he can do whatever he wants to me. The rush of desire through me lights my body on fire. This isn't like his office where nothing bound me but his words. I am truly helpless and vulnerable and I understand why he knew this would me trust him, make us trust each other. I'm giving him everything, and I've never wanted anything so badly.
My mind goes blissfully blank as he slides another finger inside me, stroking my g-spot and using his tongue wherever he can reach. Waves of pleasure are moving outward from that spot, and I can feel my orgasm building already. My voice comes to life and every time another wave hits, I moan. "Do you like this?" Charles asks, running his tongue over my clit again.
"God, yes."
A third finger slides in and I begin to feel stretched. My orgasm is getting closer, and I move my hips, riding his hand as best I can. The pressure inside me feels different--expansive. I can't move, and all my energy is focused lower. Charles curls his fingers inside me, stroking my g-spot and his tongue flicks my clit.
It feels like going off a cliff.
There's a rushing sound in my ears and my entire body spasms as the immense orgasm rocks through me. Charles' hand is still moving and I can't breathe. There's a fog on my vision, and I think my body might be humming. I blink my eyes, seeing the ceiling for what feels like the first time. White ceiling, navy walls, tied to a bed, and Charles.<
br />
"That was amazing."
"No breaks." His mouth crushes my pussy, sucking deep. His tongue plunges inside me, and my pussy contracts. He licks me from bottom to top and back. Every angle of my clit is touched. There isn't an inch of me that isn't tasted, and he doesn't stop. He sucks on the lips of my opening, taking them deep into his mouth. Then my clit is consumed again by the warmth of his mouth, tongue flicking across it in unpredictable patterns.
I feel the impossible wave coming again. "It's too much," I say.
Charles blows across me, his breath cooling and tingling. My whole body contracts, goosebumps breaking out across my skin. "It's not enough,” he says.
He fucks me with his tongue, licking inside of me like I'm the best thing he's ever tasted. He forces it deeper, finds my g-spot. Oh god. Everything hovers on the edge in a fog of pleasure. He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks me deep. Once. Twice. A third time. Then he bites me.
It's not hard, but it's enough. From somewhere far away I hear myself scream. My back is arching off the bed, and I'm consumed with bliss. Somewhere at my core I can still feel Charles licking me, sending more bursts of shattering pleasure across my body. I revel in it.
I feel like I'm floating for a long time. My eyes are open, but unseeing. When I do see something, it's Charles. He's over me, and I've never seen that look before. A look of awe and love so pure it hurts.
He's at my entrance, sliding in. It's so slow, it's almost painful, sending zings and spasms up and down my nerves. He rocks into me and stops. "Do you want to know my solution to the problem at the company?"
I blink, staring up at his beautiful, stupid face. "You want to talk about that now?" My voice sounds different. Low and scratchy and well satisfied.
"I do. As the solution involves you." He rocks his hips again, making my already sensitive pussy jolt. I squeeze down on him in response, and he grins.
"Okay. What is it." I never thought I'd be having a business conversation while being fucked and tied to a bed.
"Marry me."
Everything stops. I think the world actually stops spinning. I know I'm not breathing. "What?" It comes out as a nothing more than a breath.
He leans down and kisses me, moving slowly inside me. "Marry me,” he says again. "No one can say I'm doing a bad job with my company because I'm engaged."
"That's true,” I say.
"But I don't care about that. That's a bonus. I care about the fact that it's the only thing I actually want in this world." He presses a soft kiss to my lips, my forehead, my eyes. "Marry me."
I smile. "Is that a command?"
"A request."
"Then I say yes."
He kisses me again, harder, and starts to move in earnest. He doesn't let me go, and we breathe together as he moves faster, plunging deep inside over and over. He moves inside me until I'm crying out against his mouth, begging for release. He thrusts a final time, and he sends me over the cliff. This time I know he'll be there to catch me.
20
Alyssa
Six Months Later
This beach at night might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The moon is floating over the water, and behind me the brand new Saxon Hotel on Italy's southern coast is lit up like Christmas. The grand opening party is still going strong, and music floats down to where I'm standing.
The moon catches the ring on my finger, and I can't help but be distracted by the way the moon sparks off the diamond. The warm water of the Mediterranean snakes through my toes, and warm arms circle me from behind. There's a kiss behind my ear. "I lost you,” he says.
"Looks like you found me." I lean my head back on his shoulder and gaze up at the sky. "It's so beautiful here."
"Good spot for a honeymoon?"
I sigh. "I suppose I can wait six more months to come back here."
"Six months to the day,” he says, his lips leaving a trail from my neck to my shoulder.
"You're counting?"
He moves the strap of my dress off my shoulder to have better access to my skin. "I am. In one-hundred and eighty-three days I get to call you my wife."
A blush of happiness moves through my chest. "Husband."
I feel him smile against my skin. "See? It's worth counting."
We stand in silence for awhile, swaying with the music and feeling the sea wash way the sand beneath our feet. "We could do more than honeymoon here, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean…” He spins me around to face him, and his face is illuminated by the moon. "We could get married here if you want."
"Here?"
"Here." He's smiling.
I look around at the beach, and I imagine walking towards him across the sand, a white dress floating around my feet. Suddenly I can't keep the smile off my face. "That is absolutely perfect. Family and friends?"
"They'll have a great free place to stay, conveniently close by."
I laugh. "That is convenient."
He pulls away, and kneels in the sand. "Alyssa Marie Harrington, will you marry me in Italy?"
"I will."
He stands and pulls me in for a kiss. It's not soft but demanding, and I melt into him. My body knows his now, it knows when to submit and to surrender.
"Hmm." The noise comes from the back of his throat. "I've just noticed it's pretty dark out here."
"You just noticed that."
"Mhmm."
He runs his hands up my sides. "In fact, I think it's so dark that no one will notice two people in the water."
I nod slowly. "You're probably right. Too bad we're not dressed for swimming."
His laugh rings out across the beach. "You say that like it's a problem."
"Isn't it?"
He presses his lips to my ear. "Get undressed."
I smile at him. "Yes, Sir."
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Her Dirty Professor
HER DIRTY PROFESSOR
PENNY WYLDER
Copyright © 2016 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.
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 about 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.