Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
He pulls another piece of glass out of my hand, then stretches my wrist toward the sink.
I can’t think. Can’t function with him this close. It feels like my body is going to erupt right here in the classroom.
“Enough,” I snap, hopping off the counter and onto the floor, glass underfoot be damned. “Class, I’m going to take care of this cut. Keep working quietly.”
I beeline it out of the room in my bare feet, blood dripping in my wake. I don’t look back to see if the class is going to follow my instructions. I definitely don’t look back to see Asher‘s reaction.
I don’t think I can withstand the view of his beautiful angry visage.
I unlock and shove open the door to the faculty bathroom. My heart pounds at an uneven rhythm. My head swims. I can’t think.
I pace in a tight swift circle. The air feels too thick to breathe. I stop in front of the sink and turn the water on. Blood washes into the basin as I rinse the rest of the glass from my thumb. My chest heaves as I try to regain control.
But that’s an impossibility.
I must not have shut the automatically locking door when I came in because Asher somehow appears in the bathroom with me.
I stare as he shuts the door with a click and closes the distance between us in one long stride.
He tears off my shirt and throws it to the floor.
Chapter Ten
Lotta
I mean to tell him to get out. He shouldn’t have followed me in here. We’re at school! I can’t be seen with a student.
But none of those words come from my lips. My hands fly to his shorts, fingers fumbling with the button.
His mouth is on my breast, lips locking around my nipple. I don’t even know how he got there so fast.
He pins my body against the wall, one hand cupping my ass to boost me up. I prop a foot up against the double sink, parting my legs for him.
I work his erection free from his shorts and boxer briefs and use it like a handle to drag his hips toward mine.
“You need me to fuck you?“ Asher‘s muttered words are gravely, skidding out his lips between pants. He seems as frantic as I am, as desperate to get relief.
He yanks my skirt up to my waist and shoves his hand down my panties, rubbing a finger between my legs. I kick out of the panties and push his hand away. It’s not his fingers I need right now. I certainly don’t require foreplay.
I’m about sixteen hours past the foreplay stage. Well beyond the female equivalent of blue balls, whatever that may be called. It feels like someone punched me in the vagina. My clit is so engorged it hurts.
“You need this cock?” He barely breathes the words in my ear.
“Yes,” I snarl, teeth bared. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall, so I don’t have to look at the proud planes of Asher’s handsome face so close to mine.
I don’t want this. I need it, but I don’t want it.
He spears me with his length, driving my hips up the wall to take him deeply. His exhale hits my ear with a hot blast.
I choke back a cry of satisfaction. “Oh fate,” I whisper.
He shoves in again.
My eyes roll back in my head. “Oh fate, oh fate, oh fate.”
This is everything I needed. No, it’s more than that—it’s glorious.
I wrap my free leg around his waist, so he can bounce me over his erection, my pelvis angled toward him.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
Asher’s thumb finds my lower lip, and he traces it then penetrates me there, too. I suck hard on his digit, scrape my teeth over the skin.
My core contracts around his cock on each instroke.
The sensation of Asher pumping into me is better than finding out I got into art school. Better than leaving Wolf Ridge. Better than winning first prize in our college art show.
It has the sensation and significance of life purpose. Like all I ever will need is this. As if I could die in this moment and be complete.
But that’s just biology, I remind myself. It’s not real. This isn’t the real me.
This feeling will fade when we’re done, and I can figure out how to never do this again.
Lies, my wolf snarls.
Tears spear my eyes. I dig my nails into Asher’s built shoulders and use my foot on the sink to leverage my hips to meet his.
Asher stifles his groan. Both of us are in a muffled frenzy of panting breath and silent sobs. If someone walked by, they would only hear the water still running in the sink.
Tears streak my face. I’m not sure what they’re from—sexual frustration, maybe. Disappointment and anger with myself for losing control this way. For being so needy. For letting a student of mine—a student!—hate fuck me against a wall in a bathroom during the middle of class.