“I’m on the pill.”
Her words rush through me. Blood pumps into my already aching length. Fuck the condom, I want to feel her wet pussy on my cock.
I stand, grabbing her cheeks to kiss her.
“Are you sure?”
She nods, and I lose myself to the frenzy.
Tugging my pants down, I spin her to face the wall. I grab at the globes of her ass, massaging them as I push into her. The feeling of her pussy wrapped around my bare cock, knowing how she feels, how we both feel, is enough to bring me to the edge. I pause, thinking of anything other than how perfectly we fit together as I attempt to gain a tiny sliver of composure. Her body presses back on mine, taking control. For a moment I let her use me for her pleasure.
When I take over, slamming into her, she screams.
“Fuck, yes.”
I reach around her to pinch at her clit. The pressure has her coming again. Her walls contract around me and I thrust into her furiously as my balls draw up. I follow her over the edge with a burst of uncontrollable light.
It feels strange, packing up my office. Stranger still that Madison is at my side, helping to load framed certificates and office supplies into a cardboard box.
“You don’t have to help.”
She turns to face me from the other side of the desk. “I know, I want to.”
Waking up yesterday morning, I never imagined the day would end how it did. But I’m grateful for the unexpected turn of events. Even if it means I’ll never teach again, I’m not sad about that loss.
Madison and I spent the afternoon in bliss, worshipping the way our bodies fit together. It wasn’t until my phone rang that we were shocked into the reality of the situation. I’d just left my job, with nothing but a verbal offer of another one from Mateo.
Professor Dausset had called to say I was expected in her office first thing this morning. That conversation was about as awkward as to be expected. She was adamant that I was fired, I maintained that I quit, and neither of us were willing to back down.
It was Madison that stepped in, in the end, surprising us both. She managed to convince Dausset to allow me to terminate the contract. Something about how damaging it would be for the university if word got out about our relationship.
I stood in awe as she fought for me. Fought for us.
There’s still a lot for us to figure out, but we can do it together now.
Madison reaches into a lower cabinet, searching for anything I might want to take with me. Stepping around the desk, I hover my body over hers, pressing my weight against her behind. My hands wrap around her waist to hold her up as I push my cock against her ass.
“Can you not wait until we are home?” She giggles when she reaches a hand between us to run her palm along my rapidly growing erection.
“No.”
“Okay professor.” Pushing me back with a smirk, she strides away. First to the door, where she clicks the handle shut and twists the lock. Then, with a seductive sway to her steps, she moves to the window to twist the blinds closed.
Turns out I’m going to fuck her over this desk after all.
OLIVER
6 years later
Under the setting Sicilian sun, Madison looks just as beautiful as the day I met her. Probably more, considering the overwhelmed, sobbing state she had been in that day. Her golden hair reflects the sunlight. She sweeps it over her shoulder as she looks out at the sweeping vineyards of the winery.
After two years of marriage, I’m still deeply in love with my wife. If anything, I love her even more now than I did back then. But since then, we’ve grown together. Our lives have changed drastically, but nothing could ever smother the fire that still burns between us.
“We should write about this,” she muses from the balcony. “About having to wait two years to have a honeymoon.”
Madison could write about anything and sell a million copies. After she finished her degree, Madison focused all her energy on becoming the published writer she always dreamed about being. Her first novel—a romance set right here in Sicily—blew up, selling thousands of copies and gaining attention all over the world. The publisher was unsure about her second. The creative non-fiction style broke all the rules of her genre, but they gave it a chance and it too exceeded all expectations.
After that, they stopped questioning her stories. Sending off her fifth manuscript just days before we left for our honeymoon, we weren’t supposed to talk about work while we were here. It was meant to be a time for just us. No agents, no editors, no laptops. But we’ve never been good at sticking to the rules we make for ourselves.
