“I imagine it’s me. I imagine how soft the folds of your pussy will feel against my tongue. If you’re sweeter directly from the source rather than licking you off my fingers.”
And then his head was between my thighs, his tongue digging into my opening before trailing up to circle my clit. His moan vibrated through my core, and I thrust against his seeking mouth. He sucked and bit and laved at every part of me as my whimpers filled the room. My thighs shook with the effort to hold them open and let him have his way. He ate at me like a starving man, and I couldn’t ever remember anything feeling so good.
Maybe it was because he was older with more experience, but that moment when he thrust his tongue inside me over and over, I didn’t care. He moved back up to flick across my clit and I was close. I needed him to stay there. I dug my fingers in his hair to hold him and he grunted, his whole body jerking before his hand shackled my wrist and moved it back to the desk. He held it there as he put all he had into making me come.
I wanted to ask why he pulled my hand away, but his mouth sucking at the lips of my cunt distracted me. The more he worked, the more lost I got, falling into an abyss of pleasure until finally I was exploding. Long moans slipped from my lips as my whole body contracted, my hips pushing hard against his mouth, my fingers clenching around nothing as they dug into the wood of the desk.
His licks softened and eventually turned to gentle kisses before he worked his way back down my thigh, ending at my knee.
Panting, I watched him sit back and wipe his chin with the back of his hand8and I knew I needed more. I wanted to taste him like he had tasted me. I wanted him to be a part of me like I was a part of him.
I dropped my feet from the arms of the chair and slid off the desk before he could object and worked on his belt.
“Oaklyn,” he panted, his breaths coming heavy.
“I want to taste you. I want to hear you moan as I suck you.”
His breathing picked up faster once the button on his pants was undone, his loud exhales fighting with the sound of his zipper sliding down.
Looking up, I bit my lip and took him in. Sweat had broken out on his brow and his eyes were pinched shut in what looked to be concentration. I reached my hand inside his boxers, just grazing the soft flesh covering his hard length when the chair jerked back, and he stood. The force knocked me back on my butt and I stared up at him in confusion. His eyes were wide and frantic as his chest heaved up and down in what I was beginning to think wasn’t restrained desire.
“Callum,” I whispered.
He dropped pained eyes to mine. “I’m sorry, Oaklyn.” Then he stepped away and fastened his pants. I scrambled up from the floor.
“What?” I asked. I was so confused, my mind scrambling to keep up. But my body knew. My chest squeezed tight, a piercing pain in my heart. My face flushing in embarrassment of rejection.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
I stared at his back as he paced to the door. When he reached it, he didn’t turn around to look at me and the rejection hit me like a slap to the face.
“What the hell?” I asked, hating the tremble in my voice.
Finally, he turned, but kept staring at the floor. “It’s late. We should get going.”
The piercing in my heart spread, causing a fire to burn in my chest. The burn reached my eyes and I blinked, not wanting to cry in front of him, but confused and hurt by his rejection. He wouldn’t even look at me. Was he so ashamed of what we’d done? Why? Why had he gone so far only to turn me away?
I didn’t understand and the more I tried, the more questions bombarded my thoughts, and I couldn’t get any of them out past the painful lump in my throat. It choked me, and I hated it. I hated it even more when a tear broke free.
I refused to stand there and listen to any possible reason he may have had to pull back so suddenly. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Brushing the tear away, I turned to gather my things.
It was pointless as more tears fell, my sniff giving away my weakness.
“Oaklyn, I’m so—”
“No!” I spun around to face him. “Fuck you, Callum. I get it, I’m young and your student, and you probably regret it, but maybe you should’ve figured your shit out before burying your face between my legs.”
His pained eyes took in the tracks of my tears. He stepped forward with his hands out, but I would crumble if he touched me now.
“No,” I said again, swerving around him to the door. I stopped at the entrance but didn’t turn around. “I’ll see you in class,Dr. Pierce.”
And with that, I walked out with my head held as high as I could, choking back my tears.
When I got home, I fell to my bed and cried. Hating how mad I was at him for rejecting me.
Hating that he was ashamed of what we’d done.
Hating that he was the one to stop it.
