"You know that all you've been thinking about is how my cock would feel inside you," he says, standing and crossing the table until he's behind me. I tense, but not because I'm afraid.
I tense because the attraction to him is so strong that I'm afraid I'll come the minute he touches me.
He pulls my skirt up over my ass, his palm traveling over my cheek, and he groans low in his throat. "Tell me, Cassie. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me that you've been touching yourself thinking about me. Tell me that, when I pull off those panties and slide my fingers between your legs, you're going to be soaked."
I ache for him to touch me. Every part of my body is on edge as I wait for him to do what he said, to pull my panties down my hips and thrust his fingers between my legs. I don't just want his fingers, either.
"I've been thinking about it, Colton," I whisper. "I've been thinking about how your cock would feel inside me."
He yanks my panties over my ass and down the middle of my thighs, not even bothering to take them off. When his fingertips brush against my pussy lips, I nearly come. "Slick, wet Cassie," he whispers. "Trying so hard to be professional when all she wants is to feel me filling her up with my cum."
I groan at his filthy words, and the groan turns into a long moan as he thrusts two fingers inside me. "Colton," I whisper.
"I want to hear you call my name when you're coming, Cassie," he says, his fingers stroking me inside, playing me like an instrument, touching me at exactly the right spot.
I feel dizzy from the sensations washing over me, consumed by my own pleasure. "Colton," I whisper again.
"I'm going to make you come over and over and over," he says, his words edging me closer and closer as his fingers find a rhythm that takes me further along toward my climax. "When you're ready, I'm going to bend you over just like this. It won't be my fingers that you come on. You'll feel my cock throbbing inside you, pressing against you the way my fingers are pressing against you now."
"Oh my God, Colton," I cry out. I'm so close, hurtling toward an orgasm with no ability to control it.
"Do you feel this?" he asks, pressing his erection against my ass cheek. I can feel the pre-cum drip from his cock onto my skin, and the thought of him coming inside me makes me nearly scream. "That's what you do to me."
I call out his name over and over as he brings me higher and higher, losing track of what I'm saying, rendered virtually incoherent by his masterful touch.
"You're so tight and wet, Cassie," he whispers. "I can't wait until I can feel that pussy squeezing my cock and milking it of every last drop."
The thought of Colton fucking me from behind, of him coming inside me, pushes me over the edge. When I come, it's harder than I've ever come before, my hand on the bed as I'm bent over, barely able to hold myself up. My pussy squeezes the vibrator, and I imagine that it's Colton's cock, his hands on my waist as he pulls me tight against him.
I slide the vibrator from between my legs.
Holy shit. I've never lost control like that before. My heart is still beating furiously in my chest, my pulse racing from the fantasy.
A fantasy about Colton King. There must be something really wrong with me.
I tell myself that it's just a harmless fantasy. One that I definitely don't need to have again. I need to focus on tutoring Colton. Not on his cock.
I can't cross that line.
"This would be your monthly stipend," Coach Walker says. He hands me a sheet of paper with the details. It's a larger monthly stipend than what I'd had in the Sociology department, that's for damned sure. Holy crap. They must really want these football players to pass their classes.
"This is… awesome," I gush. I don't have any other word for it. Awesome. I sound like a cheerleader.
"This is the contract," he explains. "There's a standard non-disclosure agreement, of course, for anything you might be exposed to in the course of tutoring –"
Anything I might be exposed to?
I look at him with a quizzical expression.
"It's standard," he repeats. "To cover anything a player might inadvertently tell you, behavior from a player, things like that. All of the players are public figures with public images."
"I see." I don't see at all why we're talking about college football players like they're celebrities, but whatever, I'm going to get paid. I need this position. Desperately. If I don't land something, I'm totally screwed.
"You'll be bound by the university’s professor-student rules," he says. "An inappropriate relationship with a player will result in termination as well as any separate consequences as your department sees fit."
"No problem. I'm not going to be hanging out with a football player." I blurt it out without thinking. Shit. He looks amused. "I mean, no offense. I'm sure they're really nice and –"
The coach holds up his hand. "The fact that you have no interest in football is why you're the perfect fit."