MY HOT TEACHER: (Volume 5 of the "My Hot..." series; a stand-alone, New Adult novel) (17 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

On the first Tuesday back at school a heavy spring snowstorm sweeps through New Hampshire, huge flakes falling throughout the day and night.  The many unplowed streets make it difficult to drive, impossible to bike.

I walk.

With my heavy boots on I trudge through the drifts, tree limbs already bent from heavy accumulation, and make my way toward his house. 

I envision going immediately to his room, waiting for him to kiss me, then stopping him by holding a finger to his lips.

I want to ask what’s going on with Sharon, what does she really mean to him, can he ever love me, does he want to see me after graduation, can he ever be with me for real as a boyfriend once I’m out of school and he’s no longer my college professor?

Is that the solution?

I know the Professor well enough to know most of his answers.

What I don’t know is what Alan would say.

I leave my wet parka, scarf, hat, and boots just inside his front door.  I climb the familiar stairs to his bedroom.  He’s there, waiting, smiling, seemingly glad to see me again. 

He motions for me to lie down on the bed.

I comply.

I notice a mug of hot steaming tea on the night table. 

What does he have planned? 

Is he going to make it like last time: romantic, tender, simply about pleasing me?

That didn’t work fully, at least not for him.

But it’s not like last time, because instead of sensually undressing me he says, in full Professor voice, “Take off your clothes.  Now!”

I’m thrilled to hear his commands.

Yes I miss my Dom.  This is our bridge and there’s no reason not to cross it.

I do as I’m told.

Then he makes me watch like last time as he peels off layers of his clothing—sweater, shirt—slowly, provocatively, my breathing increasing as I stare at each new doorway that opens, revealing more of his hard, beautifully shaped bod.

He clearly enjoys my reaction as he smiles with the complete knowledge and security of someone who knows his Sub.

He takes his time with the belt buckle.  Instead of just unfastening it and dropping his pants he slips the leather out of the loops and gives it a little snap as if indicating this might be part of this evening’s lesson plan.

He releases it to the floor then slides his pants down.

For the first time he’s not wearing underwear and the sight of his already engorged member springing toward me makes me exhale a soft, needy moan...which he takes pleasure in.

He takes a sip of tea, seemingly hot, but not so scalding that he can’t hold it in his mouth, which he does.  Then he puts one knee on the bed by my hip, straddles over me so the other knee rests on the opposite side.  He stares down with all of the strength and dominance he possesses and it makes my pussy moist.

He swallows the liquid.  As he leans forward to kiss me I finally glean what the tea is about. 

How arousing it will be to feel his normally warm tongue so hot in my mouth, lashing me with his fire.  Tonight, probably, his tongue will be like his hands were last time, drawing paths from each pleasure spot on my body, connecting them, inspiring soothing heated surges that will meld into one large density of rapture.

Just the thought of his burning tongue exploring my pussy makes my hips arch up, desperately seeking some kind of friction.

But just as his lips are about to greet mine I hold up my right index finger, press it against his closed mouth, and halt his motion forward.

I do say something, but not my many questions that hunger for answers.

Instead, in a firm, confident voice, reminiscent of
his
Professor tone, I say, “Kiss only my finger.  That’s all you’re going to get tonight.”

He’s startled, but not unmoved.

After a brief hesitation he obliges, using all of his artful sensuality to work my finger as if it’s the clitoris already swelling between my thighs.  His eyes press into me while he kisses, looking only to return my gaze, visually ignoring the shapes and ridges of my flesh, his stare seemingly probing me, daring me, almost incredulous that I can take this any further while under his spell.

“Suck it,” I say.

I don’t wait for a response, just force it into his mouth.  The extra heat of his tea-soaked tongue burns against my fingertip and this arouses me.

I move my finger in and out of his mouth, ever so slowly, as he sucks.

“Stare at my breasts while you take me into your mouth.”

He does.

With my free hand I caress and tease my nipples until they enlarge, point right at him.  It thrills me to see his cock twitch, grow even larger, as it dangles between his legs.

I certainly have his attention.

But if he suddenly lays his body down on top of mine, at this very moment, and enters me, I will be all Sub again, helpless to my Dom.

He doesn’t.

I take the moist length of my finger out of his mouth and run it all over his face.  For a second his eyes flicker closed with pleasure.

I take this opportunity to slip out from under him.

I order him onto his back and straddle him the exact way he hovered over me.  Only I let my pussy rest on his stomach.  Enjoying the feel of his hard abs under me, I rock my hips back and forth, relishing the warm pressure of his tight curved flesh against my clit, taking pleasure in his passivity, one that allows me to use my body this way.

But I won’t let the sensations distract me.

He wets the finger again and I run it across his chest, around his nipples, teasing, the way he has done so often to me.  Incredibly, they enlarge, just a fraction, going from flat bumps to rising nubs. 

I like that.

I reward him with full contact from the rigid wet tip, moving from one nipple to the other with equal attention, brushing, flicking.

Perhaps he was going to moan from this contact alone, but a full-fledge whimper escapes his lips and his eyes widen when I say, “You’re such a dirty slut for letting me do this to you.  Lying here so exposed, so eager for any contact with your
mistress
.”

More wetness from his mouth.  More tracing along his body.  I follow every line of every curve of his six pack, moist as well from the warm fluid he inspires in my pussy.

As I hike my body lower, my face brushes past his groin and my own hot breath escapes and bathes his penis with pressure.  A tremor passes through him.  He looks toward me hungrily, then down at his erect cock, as large as I’ve seen it, as if his eyes are trying to direct my mouth to give him the relief he so desperately craves.  He gyrates his hips just a bit, like an exotic dancer, causing his cock to sway like some hypnotic serpent drawing in its prey.

How I’m drawn to it.

I want to taste it.

I want to feel it inside me.

Two weeks without even the touch of him makes me as needy as a puppy starved for affection.

But I don’t want to yield, to return the power to him that he so easily recaptured the night I seduced him as the ingénue.

“No, needy boy.  This is all you get.”

I circle his cock and balls with the wet finger, enjoying how it twitches again.

He fights me off, arching his hips up high now, trying to get additional consideration, pushing it so close to my mouth that contact would be made if only my lips would pucker into a kiss.

I straighten up, hover over him again.

“Did I tell you to move?” I ask in a tone so accurate to his I almost laugh outloud.

“No.”

I rake my nails across his nipples as I had seen Sharon do.

“Did I say you could speak?”

He cries out but is smart enough not to answer.

“You’re a quick learner.  Now you may answer.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you what?”

I flick a finger against his balls as if launching a marble.  The quick jolt of pain mixed with gratification from my attention causes him to exclaim, “Thank you, mistress.”

He adds, “Thank you for allowing me this pleasure.”

He’s so ready for me to press my fingerprint against the underside of his shaft, stroke up and down, and allow the release of the full river of sperm that’s forming.

But the sincerity in his tone gives me confidence to take this even further.

“Turn over on your stomach.”

He follows my command.

“Get up on all fours, you naughty little whore, and show me your ass.”

He does.

“Arch your back the way a girl would.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath as he follows my orders.

I stick the finger back in his mouth.

“Make it very wet this time.”

He responds eagerly.

Once it’s drenched I trace it around his most sensitive opening, along his ass cheeks, by the tender flat spot near his balls. 

His body writhes under my touch and I like the sexy way he moves his ass, as if it’s all for my pleasure.

I get closer and closer to his opening and he quivers for me to enter him.  I remember how much I enjoyed his tongue at my very same spot, how vulnerable I felt when he took my virginity there.

But with the patience and astuteness taught to me by one of the best, I hesitate...long enough to dip my finger into the mug still warm with tea.

Soaked with heat and fluid, I touch the opening...and stop.

He feels the warmth he craves but not the pressure.

He groans his disappointment.

“BEG!”

“Please, mistress.  Please.  I need it so bad!”

I reward him by entering slowly, but with a forcefulness that reveals my full control over this small part of his body so connected to his entire being.

The firm fire pressing into him from behind releases a feral groan I never heard.

I start off gently, as he did with me.  He arches his back even more to greet my finger, welcoming this penetration with a passion.  I have the urge to spank him, maybe lift the belt he might’ve planned to use on me and crack it across his butt cheeks.

But I promised him only one finger and I will stick with it.

After all, one single digit has gotten responses from him that I’ve never seen despite how many times we’ve made love.

He isn’t done displaying new reactions because as I go forward then recede he lets loose with steady deep rumbles as he buries his face into the pillow to stifle his uncontrollable sounds.

Feeling fully empowered I rise up on my knees, my waist directly behind his buttocks, my hand between my legs, my finger pointing from my pussy to his opening.  I fuck him deep, my hips unconsciously moving back and forth in rhythm with my hand. 

I feel him open in a way I never thought possible.

I feel his deep vulnerability, offering this most sacred place to me as I had offered my own to him.

I know how much I want him.

Now I feel how much he wants me.

My heart soars.

He cannot run from me.

He doesn’t want to.

He opens completely as I push in then out and our words pour forth inspiring the heated exchange I yearned to hear for so long.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” I say with full boldness.

“Yes.”

I drive even deeper.

“Yes,
mistress
!”

“You need this?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“You want this?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“You need me?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“How much?”

“So much.”

“You don’t want to lose me?”

“No, mistress.”

“No one else can make you feel this way?”

“No one.”

I’m not sure this is the case so I double my efforts, achieving new depth and pace as he groans under me.

“One night isn’t enough?” I continue.

“No, mistress.”

My belly slaps against his ass and I suddenly shout,

“YOU WANT THIS ALL OF THE TIME?” 

“I do!”

“YOU WANT ME ALL OF THE TIME?”

“I really do!”

There’s truth in his words and it thrills me.

I want to do it all to him at this very moment.

I want to pull on his hair as he did with me! 

I want to suck his cock! 

I want to spank him! 

I want to press him down on his stomach with all of my weight and continue penetrating him while I lick his neck and bite his ear! 

I want to make him so totally mine that he maintains these feelings forever...even out of the bedroom!