Yes. This is what I need. A distraction. A completion. A way for the itch to be scratched so I can go back to normal. So I can think straight. So I can keep my feelings in check.
“Then I think it’s time you let me fill you up,” he decides.
I nod again. He picks me up, cradling my thighs with his hands, and takes a step toward the hallway.
“On the couch,” I tell him. Because I can’t do this in his bed. Not when my feelings––and resolve––are already all over the place.
No. I need this to be physical. I need this to be about getting off and only getting off.
“Okay.”
Carrying me to the dark leather couch in the family room, he sets me on my feet in front of it, but we both stay standing as I fumble with his pants, releasing his very hard cock and falling to my knees. I rub the head of his dick against my lips, anxiety licking at the base of my spine.
“Mia, wait.” His hands find my hair, and he pushes it away from my face. “When I said I wanted to fill you up, I meant––”
“I know what you meant.” I peek up at him and tease his tip with my tongue, reveling in the spark in his eyes as I take him deeper into my mouth. I’ve sucked a lot of dicks in my life, not gonna lie. Call it daddy issues. Call it a need to impress. To be needed. Wanted. Craved. But none of the guys I’ve sucked have ever looked at me like this.
Like I’m beautiful.
Not hot.
Or sexy.
Or tempting.
But beautiful.
And it’s all wrong.
Because it’s hitting too close to home. The affection in his eyes scares the shit out of me, so I let my eyelids close and suck him deeper, hollowing my cheeks and bobbing my head up and down on his thick length.
I’m desperate to please him, but I’m even more desperate to keep our boundaries intact. They’re boundaries I want. Boundaries I need. They remind me this is an arrangement. Remind me we’re nothing more than friends who like to get each other off. One of our rules is totally a cliche, but it involves our hearts staying out of the picture, and I hold onto it harder than ever as I swirl my tongue along the head of his dick, refusing to acknowledge the way his groan of appreciation makes my chest swell.
But when he touches my face, rubbing his thumb along my jaw, it isn’t rough or derogatory. It’s gentle. Sweet. Soft.
I release him from my mouth with a soft pop and squeeze my eyes even tighter. “Henry, stop.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need you to use me.”
His muscles tense. “Use you?”
“Fuck me. Spank me. Tie me up. Do whatever you want, but don’t be gentle.”
“Mia––”
I stand, but he grabs my hand, holding me in place.
“We both know what this arrangement is, Professor, and if you can’t give me what I need––”
His muscles vibrate with tension as he tugs me into him. My hands slap against his naked chest as I catch myself, my breathing shallow. With deft fingertips, he drags my pants down, twists me around, and presses his hand between my shoulder blades, guiding me toward the wall. It’s forceful. Almost rough. And exactly what I need.
“Hands on the wall,” he orders.
I do as I’m told.
“Spread your legs.”
My feet scoot out.
“Wider,” he growls.
I spread them a few more inches, and his hands find my waist, tugging me into him until I’m bent over, displaying every intimate part of me.
He grabs the base of his dick and rubs it against my center, collecting my juices, and fuck me, I’m pretty sure I could come by this alone. Lining himself up with my entrance, he thrusts into me without a word. I jerk forward, nearly hitting my head on the wall as my jaw drops.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
He smacks my ass. The delicious burn makes my knees weak. His hard cock slides out of me and he shoves himself back inside with even more force.
Over and over, he thrusts, increasing the pace as he uses my body exactly how I asked him to. My orgasm builds from his bruising grasp on my waist, but he slips out of me, yanking me around until I’m facing him. He picks me up and shoves himself inside me all over again. Chest to chest, the new position is more intimate. My back hits the wall with a loud thump, his pants still hanging around his ankles as I catch my breath.
This angle is different.
It’s deeper.
“Play with your nipples,” he growls. “Lift your shirt, and let me watch.”
I shove my top up and palm my breasts through my bra, savoring the feel of it. Of him. Us. He pounds into me harder and harder until I swear I see stars.
“You wanna be fucked, Brat?” he growls.
I nod. “Yes.”
“You wanna be used?”
“God, yes.”
“You wanna feel my cum slide down your legs when I’m finished with you?”
I nearly moan, the last of my logic and what a bad idea it is to have sex without protection dissipating into thin air. Besides, he’s clean. I’m clean. And what’s one more bad decision when they’re all I ever make?
“Mia,” he growls, repeating, “You wanna feel my cum slide down your legs when I’m finished with you?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“Good girl.” He smacks my ass again, leans forward, and buries his head in the crook of my neck. The sharp sting of his bite makes me quiver around him, but he doesn’t stop pistoning in and out of me.
“Squeeze my cock, baby,” he orders. “Let me feel you.”
My back arches. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He carries me to the table, setting me beside the pizza box. Dragging my body to the edge, he tugs me into his hard length with a punishing grip on my thighs.
“Play with yourself. Let me see you.”
My hand slides down my body as he enters me at a bruising pace. I rub my fingers against my clit and come within seconds, my muscles turning to mush beneath his expert touch. Euphoria wraps around me like a warm blanket, and he follows seconds later, groaning my name through gritted teeth.
“Fuck,” I pant, the room spinning around us. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
His softening cock slides out of me, followed by his cum. He cups me with his hand and rubs it over my sensitive clit.
“What are you––”
“You told me you needed to come twice,” he reminds me, mentioning our earlier conversation.
I shake my head. “Henry––”
“One down. One to go.” His fingers dip into my center, gathering his cum. Finding my clit again, he rubs it in slow circles.
The stimulation feels like I’m being touched with a livewire, and I shove at his hand. “It’s too much.”
“It’s just enough,” he argues, continuing his punishing touch while shoving my shirt to my neck. He picks the marinara up from the pizza box with his opposite hand and pours it on my breasts. It’s cold now, and my nipples pebble. Then his mouth is on them, sucking and nibbling while his fingers play with me like I’m his own personal toy.
And fuck me, he might be right. Maybe this isn’t too much. Maybe it’s exactly enough. Because this feels freaking amazing. My breathing turns shallow as I grab his wrist between my thighs, slowly riding his hand, my hips rolling against his fingers.