The Fall of Troy

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Go.

  Venez.

  Leave.

  Partissez.

  “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work.” Those words registered in the back of my mind, drawing my gaze to his as he reached for the doorknob. Turn it. Turn. It.

  Troy sucked harder, knowing her moment of power was almost up and she hadn’t won the battle. My cock begged to let go, but I didn’t care if it begged, pleaded, or fell the fuck off—I wasn’t going to come until her mouth was stuffed full of me.

  Get. The. Fuck. Out.

  “I don’t like telling you how to run your class, but I need you to do this. I’m sorry.”

  Oh, I knew what I was going to give them—at least one of them. One of them was about to have her gag reflexes tested and throat full of cum.

  The door clicked shut and I didn’t care that it wasn’t locked. I pushed my chair back, my dick slipping from the warm suction of her mouth with a pop. I sat there, trying to breathe down my orgasm as I watched her crawl out from underneath the desk.

  Her pale cheeks were flushed pink, her reddened lips parted and moist from laving over my body.

  “Were you enjoying yourself, Troian?” I growled, leaning down to her face. “Did you like stroking my cock, sucking on the tip like it’s your own personal lollipop, little girl?” She nodded, her eyes becoming foggier with lust. “Is this your favorite game to play with boys? Torturing them with your sweet, hot mouth?” I watched her throat bob as her head shook back and forth in response. “No? Well then I hope you’re ready to finish what you started, ma petite.”

  My hands gripped the armrests of my chair and pushed me up. My pants hung low on my hips, only undone enough to slip my dick out of them. She stared at me wide-eyed as I closed the distance between us.

  Shoving my fingers through her hair, I tipped her head back and locked in on those wide eyes. I wondered if they would get wider the farther I shoved myself inside her smart little mouth.

  “Léo…” I pushed my thumb against her lips to stop her from talking.

  “I know why you’re here. Not because of the book. Not because of Giselle. You came here for this—for me. You want me to fuck you again, n’est-ce pas? You want me to pound into you and make you bleed all over my desk even though it won’t be your first time?” I played with her lower lip as I spoke.

  A smile spread over my face watching that lip begin to tremble.

  “I’d make you come so hard that you’d lost your voice screaming my name. And then what would happen? All the people in this hallway would rush through my door to watching you naked and panting, writhing around my cock. My boss would see. Your mom would see. Giselle would see.” Her face turned redder. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To let everyone see that it’s finally you? That you are the one getting the attention that you deserve?”

  “Wh…what?” she stammered. “N-no.” The heat in her gaze didn’t lie.

  I looked down at her with a smile that felt permanently stamped on my face. “Your mouth gets redder when you lie. But don’t worry, ma petite, I’m not going to fuck you today. At least not in your hot little cunt. These lips though… they have demanded a lot from me this morning, Troian. Now it’s my turn. Ouvre.”

  Even though her lips parted wider, I still put firm pressure on her head and chin, spreading her mouth open for me.

  This time I heard my own hiss as I shifted my hips and let my cock slide back into her mouth. She immediately latched onto me, sucking until she realized that I wasn’t stopping until I’d settled on her gag reflex.

  “Not enough, Troy,” I growled.

  Both hands in her hair, I pushed through her tongue until my tip hit the back of her throat. She winced and her body tried to back away, but I held her head firmly in place.

  There was a slight twinge of fear in her eyes when she looked up at me. I wasn’t going to hurt her, but she should be afraid.

  “Trust me, ma petite,” I said, softly. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  The confession renewed my anger at the situation and the hot grip of her mouth reminded me I had a place to put it. With a growl my hips began to move, sliding almost fully out for pushing back in until I hit the wall of her throat. Mon Dieu, it felt so good. So tight. So warm.

  “You demanded this,” I accused her as I began to thrust. “This is what happens when you come to me, demanding my attention. You get every last, painful piece of it…”

  I watched for as long as I could—my hips rocking back and forth, stuffing her little mouth full of my red, pulsing length. I watched the tears ball in the corner of her eyes and slip down her cheeks. I saw the way she coughed around my cock as I stabbed against the back of her throat—each time causing my balls to tighten with the need to come. It wasn’t comfortable for her—it wasn’t meant to be, but her hands on my hips that tugged me harder into her with every stroke said that she wanted this just as much as I did; she wanted this because it required me losing control.

  The world spun around me. I drank so much, so frequently now that getting drunk wasn’t a luxury I was able to achieve any longer, except like this. Now. With her. Drunk on loathing. Drunk on something more.

  My head fell back with a groan as Troy became smarter, using her tongue to apply pressure along my length each time it invaded her mouth. She licked along the groove that went all the way to the tip. But it was when she realized what an attempt to swallow did—her throat muscles constricting around the blunt head of my cock, that I knew I was done for.

  Dragging my gaze back to her face, I stared in awe at how beautiful she was. And it had nothing to do with her tear-streaked cheeks or the way that drool leaked from the corners of her raw mouth. Her fierceness. Her determination. I wanted all of it.

  With a grunt, I shoved my cock deeper and harder and came, my fingers rubbing her scalp as she had no choice but to let the hot jets of cum drain down the back of her throat.

  I thought this—punishing her mouth—would be winning the battle. Instead, it felt like I’d just sacrificed one more piece in this match to the Queen.

  Flushed and panting, I watched as she stood from underneath my desk, licking her lips as she watched me tuck myself back into my pants.

  “You’re playing with fire, ma petite,” I rasped.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up her tiny tits that I could see were hard as rocks.

  “Maybe I like the burn.” Always pushing me.

  I felt a grin spread. She couldn’t stop her legs from rubbing together. I was satisfied, but she wasn’t. And that meant now it was my turn to attack because now she was defenseless.

  “Do you?” I raised an eyebrow. Bending down between us, I picked up her book that lay open on the floor. “You like that burn between your legs right now? The burn for my dick? For release?”

  I closed the remaining distance and put my face in hers, smelling my own desire on her breath. Her mouth thinned, but she didn’t answer. She’d soon learn that when it came to this, she was just as weak as me.

  “Then leave if you love it so much,” I taunted.

  Her mouth fell open, anger and lust spilling from every inch of her expression.

  “I should let you walk out of here right now, aching and needy. I should let you walk home in your soaking underwear to remind you that this is not how it’s going to work. You need me, ma petite. And I shouldn’t touch you,” I ground out. “Which is why you’re going to have to beg.”

  Her chin tipped up. “I hate you,” she said breathlessly.

  My smile grew. Loathing was our love language.

  “Then, I guess, your lust is just convenient now.” My shoulders gave a small shrug.

  She didn’t leave. She didn’t protest.

  “I want to see how much you want me, Troy. I want to see how much your burning pussy is begging me.”

  “Wh-what?” Her almond-eyes widened.

  “I want you bare from the waist down and then lay back on my desk, legs spread.” She didn’
t move. She froze and fought herself. “I know this is what you came here for, ma cher.” My finger trailed down her cheek. “Let me give it to you,” I finished with a whisper.

  I heard the way her breath shuddered just before the shuffling of her shoulders told me she was undoing her jeans. A second later, with barely a glance at the still-unlocked door, her delicious ass was up on my desk and she was resting back on her elbows.

  “Spread them,” I bit out.

  Her legs slid apart to reveal her moist slit. Pink and bare. I was hard again in an instant, my cock recognizing where it belonged—in her exotic, desperate pussy.

  Not today.

  Not now.

  Now, she needed to be reminded that coming here unannounced to demand things of me, to yell at me, to torture me was unacceptable.

  I put my free hand on her knee, rubbing down the length of her thigh and back up again. “You might not beg for me, ma petite, but she does.”

  “Léo…” Troy whimpered.

  “This is all I think about, Troian,” I growled at her. “You open for me. Beneath me. On top of me. Sinking myself into you from behind while I use your back to hold my sketchbook. Working while my cock is buried inside you.”

  With each word, desire leaked from her folds, dripping down onto the desk and then onto the floor.

  “Léo, please,” she finally begged as her hips shifted on the desktop. I put my hand on her stomach to hold her down, teasing her with my proximity. I saw tears pooling in her eyes again, desperate for my hand to slide lower and touch her. “Please, Léo… touch me…”

  “The memories aren’t enough. The rules aren’t enough. The distractions aren’t enough… They aren’t enough to keep me away from you.” My voice was low and hard—angry at the truth I couldn’t stop speaking. “You want to know who I’m jealous of, Troian?” My fist clutched her book tighter. “I’m jealous of your Baudelaire. I’m jealous of the dead man who gets to have his words permanently inked onto skin that belongs to me. I’m jealous that you search for comfort in that sad bastard. I’m jealous that you came here for me—but you also came here for him.”

  It was irrational. It was mad.

  It was lust. Loathing. Lo—

  “I’m not going to fuck you. I’m not going to touch you. You already got a piece of me. Now, you are going to get him.” I smirked dangerously and I watched confusion blow across her flushed features. “Now, he’s going to make you come, and when you do, it’s going to be with my name on your lips.”

  I pressed the spine of her book against her slick pussy and watched as she jerked in surprise and pleasure.

  Her head dug back into the wood. “Léo—” she cried out. I knew she wanted to protest—for her precious book. But she wanted me more. And that made my smile harden into granite.

  I rubbed the book against her swollen clit, back and forth, demanding her release. I couldn’t look away as her juices ran down the spine and seeped into the pages.

  Just like I’d promised, she cried my name over and over again as I massaged her swollen pussy, never touching her with my own hands even though I wanted to. My jaw locked together feeling her desire drip over my fingers as I swirled the hard binding over her tight little bud. I was unrelenting. Commanding. Merciless.

  This was meant to be punishment.

  Both mine and hers.

  The second I felt her muscles tense, her legs locking, and her jaw falling open, I reach up and shoved my hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. Even muffled underneath my palm, there was no mistaking that it was ‘Léo’ that left her lips.

  “Tu es la mienne.”

  You are mine.

  His words filtered in with my unsteady breaths.

  You are mine.

  The world felt like it was a tornado spinning around me in the center. My very own natural disaster whipping and howling while I lay frozen in the calm. He was right. I was his. Every last begging, dripping, pleading piece of me. I bit down hard into my lip because I was afraid that I’d admit it.

  “Time to get up, ma petite.” I groaned at the low command, but my body knew nothing else but to obey him. Slowly, his office came back into focus as I sat up. Oh, God. I felt my face heating as I caught sight of Léo—using a tissue to wipe off the spine of my book.

  I’d just gotten off to Baudelaire between my thighs. Literally.

  My whole body shook as I slid off the desk and reached for my pants, wadding my underwear into a ball and shoving them in one of the pockets.

  When I looked up, there was a wrinkled shirt in front of me and stormy eyes searched for mine.

  “Don’t come to my office like this again, Troian,” he said with a low, angry voice, pressing my book against my chest.

  Instinctively, I clutched it, and his hand, to me. But not for long, he pulled his hand back a second later like I’d burned him.

  I knew he was mad. I knew because he didn’t touch me. I came here and accused him. I made him admit to his jealousy, to his weakness. I taunted him with my body. And I reminded him of his flaws—his failure in fucking a student.

  “Léo—”

  “Why did you come here?” he demanded and then changed his mind, adding, “Did you do what I told you?”

  “W-what was that?”

  “Talk to your father.”

  I bit into my lip again and shook my head.

  “Merde,” he swore and wiped over his mouth. “Don’t come here again, Miss Milanovic. I can’t risk it—I can’t risk your future.”

  “Stop using that as an excuse,” I shot back. “It’s my future. And after everything you know about my past, you of all people should know that it’s my choice what and who I want in it.”

  “Even if it wasn’t wrong, I still have to leave. You deserve someone who can be here for you. You deserve more from a man than I am able to give.” He dragged in a long breath but it didn’t seem long enough to reach his lungs. “I know you don’t think it, I know you don’t see it, but that’s because you don’t see the whole picture. You see the finished sculpture rather than the punishment of the man being turned to stone. I’m not at the end of my suffering, ma petite. I’m not at the bottom desperate for you to bring me back to the top. I’m still falling. And you are just a star that I managed to hold for a little while along the way.”

  I shook my head, finding it hard to argue against a problem I had no solution for and hard to fight for a man who wouldn’t give me his whole story.

  “Is it because of her? The woman who hurt you?” I asked quietly.

  His silence was answer enough.

  “Léo, you’re wrong, and if you’d just talk to me, I could show you. But whatever it is, you’re wrong to blame yourself for whatever happened with her. You blame yourself because you said your all wasn’t enough. You blame yourself to the point where you can’t even do what you love anymore. I know because there’s a part of my heart that feels yours. When I’m around you, I feel how each beat is a scream, a cry, a shake of the cage that is holding you hostage.” I sucked in a breath hoping that my voice wouldn’t waver. “And all I want to do is make you free.”

  His face was tense and angry, and even though I shouldn’t have, I let his hands cup my face and gently wipe my cheeks like there were tears on them. Maybe there was.

  “Ce n’est pas possible, ma petite.” That is not possible, my darling. “I am broken. There is no freedom for a man like me.”

  I winced at my nickname. From his lips, it always sounded like the battle it was—the battle I was destined to lose. “Don’t come here again.” All I heard was ‘don’t make me do this again.’ “Please.”

  I laughed because my emotions were now caught up in that tornado, spinning and flying every which-way, crashing into things and causing damage where they shouldn’t.

  “No, Léo. What you are is a coward. I come here because all I think about is you. Because I want you too badly to be afraid of how much I do, to be afraid of what the consequences are. But you? You give into you
r feelings for me and then you run,” I accused sadly, not caring how sharp his eyes glinted at me—like an ocean of steel.

  “You’re a coward,” I repeated as I stepped away from him toward the door. “Léo the Cowardly Lion.” I laughed again because the stupid ass probably didn’t even know what the ‘Wizard of Oz’ was. “I’ll let you know if I run into a wizard you can beg for courage from on the way out,” I shot over my shoulder as I opened the door to his office, relieved to see no one waiting in the hall eager to catch a glimpse of who was being book-fucked by Professor Baudin. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you.”

  There were a lot of things I didn’t want anyone in the hall to hear—the sound of me slamming Léo’s office door wasn’t one of them. In fact, I hoped the boom was loud enough to cover up the breaking of my heart. True fear chased my feet, knowing that it wasn’t.

  “What do you think is holding you back?”

  I could smell her lavender tea from the other side of the coffee table—potent and calming. I’d refused a cup, knowing that I was meeting Kev for coffee afterward at the Bean, but now I was regretting my choice.

  Distraction. That was what was holding me back from calling my dad. I was too distracted with the encyclopedia of emotions that I felt around Léo. Some days, it felt like I was borderline obsessed thinking about him… wanting him… All exacerbated by the shell he’d retreated into—a shell that was solid and fortified with self-loathing.

  It was a week and a day since the argument in his office. And each minute that passed felt like more little pieces of me were withering away into nothing.

  That’s what happens when you feel so much for someone—being fed anything less isn’t enough to survive on.

  I wanted to ask Dr. Shelly what she thought was holding him back.

  Push and pull. Advance and retreat.

  Focus, Troy. But I wasn’t here to talk about him. I was here to talk about me… and my father.

  “Troy?”

  My eyes jumped up to hers. It was the second time this session that she looked at me wondering where I’d gone off to.