Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
But I’d had a taste of that forbidden fruit, and I wanted more. I wanted her. Wrong or not, taboo or not, and completely fucked up or not, I wanted every single part of her, again. I wanted to possess her, and feel her tight little body press to mine. I wanted to taste those lips again and swallow her moans as she spread her legs around my waist and slid down every inch of my cock. Pulling her away from that piece of shit earlier had been one thing, but I wanted to keep protecting her. I wanted to save her from the world.
A girl like that — as whip smart as she was — screamed to be taken advantage of by assholes like that Matt kid. I mean, fuck, had I done the same thing? I knew her as my smart-as-hell, clearly good-girl student. She got A’s, she did all the bonus work. She always sat in the front row, and never looked stoned or hungover like most college kids at a morning class.
Seeing her that night, lost and at the mercy of the world, had lit something inside of me that I’d never felt before. One part protective, two parts possessive, and a whole fucking heap of raw need. Plus, that outfit — I groaned into the darkness of my room, my cock throbbing rock hard as my blood roared. There was something so fucking hot about knowing the good girl from class could dress so, well, slutty. The little skirt that barely covered her tight little ass, and that skimpy little blouse and knee-highs that made a man’s pulse do fucking cartwheels.
I imagined her back in the guest room, slipping out of the little skirt and letting it pool at her feet. I growled, my hand sliding to my belt and yanking my pants open as I imagined her standing there in those little white cotton panties — the ones I’d pulled aside while I slid my cock deep in her pussy. The ones that were probably sticky and wet from my cum. I pictured her biting her lip as she opened the door back up for me. I imagined dropping to my knees, grabbing her ass in my hands and using my teeth to pull those soaked panties away from her glistening little cunt.
My cock sprung free of my pants, hot, hard, and throbbing as I wrapped my hand around the shaft. I stroked, groaning as I felt my thick pre-cum bead at the tip and trickle down, making my hand slick as I started to pump. I was still slick from her, and I could still smell the sweetness of her little cunt as I stroked my hand up and down my length. I imagined picking her small body up in my arms, my mouth still buried between her thighs, and carrying her over to her bed. In the fantasy, I threw her down and spread those legs wide before I crawled between them. I imagined her begging me to fuck her again, clawing at my back as I eased my big cock into her tight little slit and drove it home.
The memory of her soft, angelic lips pressed to mine roared through me, my blood burned like fire, and my balls tightened.
Untouchable, inappropriate, and tempting as original sin, lying all alone in a bed just twenty feet down the hall.
With a groan, I felt myself let go. My cock pulsed in my fist, my balls jumping as my cum jetted through my shaft to come spurting from the swollen head. I growled into the darkness, my thick, sticky cum landing in hot white ropes across my abs and my hand, dripping down my balls as my muscles flexed and my breath caught.
…And the memory of those soft, off-limits lips on mine, her sweet little moan, and those big blue eyes were the only thing in my head through the whole thing.
Oh, this was going to be a problem. This was already a big problem. I’d let temptation into my house. I’d broken every moral code and fucked my student. And now she was sleeping down the hall.
But I knew one thing: in the morning, morals be damned and rules be fucked, I was going to have to figure out how to keep her, because the thought of her not being under my roof made my blood boil.
That, and I was going to have to explain to my two best friends how and why a nineteen year-old student had spent the night in my house, wearing my clothes.
5
Garret
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
I glared at my friend, shaking my head, which was a bad idea because the hangover came back with a fucking vengeance. I grimaced gripping the coffee mug tighter.
“Nolan,” I growled into the mug, narrowing my eyes at him.