My mouth slackens, my chin tilting upward as I reach for it. I fall into his smoldering gaze and feel the expanding pressure, right there, like a brewing storm inside me, collecting and strengthening. But I don’t know how to make it happen. “I—I’m trying. I don’t know…”
“Get out of your head.” He rotates his thumb and trails his tongue across my pliable lips. “Let it all go.”
My earlier confessions had been shockingly freeing. It should’ve relaxed me enough to do this with him. And I am relaxed, but also nervous about what’s happening and what it all means.
He shakes with the urgency of his arousal, rubbing himself wildly against my thigh as he fingers me into insanity. With each circle of his thumb and pump of his hand, my release hovers on the ledge, galvanized with determination yet teetering with uncertainty.
“Stop thinking, dammit, and feel me.” He drives his cock against my leg, his breath catching in his throat. “Feel how much I want you. How much I want you with me. I’m not finishing without you.”
An invisible wall crashes down inside me, and an outpour of quivering, overwhelming heat spills from my spine, detonates through my womb, and shatters every neuron in my body. The shock of it steals my breath, my back bowing against the force of so many new and frenzied sensations.
“Ah God, there you go. So beautiful,” he rasps. “So fucking mine.” His fingers, hips, and breathy groans work in tandem, shoving me deeper into tingling bliss and shredding his voice. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”
He comes with a strangled shout, his body jerking as he rolls halfway on top of me and captures my mouth in a breathless kiss. His weight slouches against me, and the rocking of his hips ebbs into a lazy roll. His hand slips from between my legs, his chest heaving hard against mine. But his movements are slow, reverently gentle as he cups my jaw and kisses me into a languid, dreamy cosmos.
I died somewhere between my release and his. And now I know how it feels to be alive.
I can’t seem to move the muscles in my face to kiss him back. My skin is hot and slippery with perspiration, but who cares? Every inch of me is luxuriously numb, listless, and happy.
He holds my gaze, his eyes wide and mesmerizing as he chokes a jagged sound against my lips. “Now I know why you’re illegal.”
I lift Ivory’s beautifully exhausted limbs, molding my hands around her flexuous curves and touching more than required to slip the shirt off her arms. “Still with me, sleepy girl?”
Her hooded brown eyes make a sluggish climb over my mouth before meeting my gaze. “Mm.”
My smile is so deep I feel it in my lungs like a nourishing breath. There’s no limit to what I would do to put that look on her face every night. But what are her limits? What is she willing to gamble? Her education? Her future?
If she’s caught in my house, I’m the one at risk. I’m the adult, taking advantage of a student, a victim. While I might end up fighting a legal battle, she would be safe from all blame.
When I pull my head together, I’ll figure out a plan. But right now, her safety far outweighs the consequences I might endure.
I remove the rest of her clothes. When I toss the final scrap to the floor, I’m left with a view so fucking tantalizing I couldn’t have dreamed it—and hell knows I tried for weeks.
Sprawled in my bed, her nude hourglass figure beckons every masculine nerve, organ, and connective tissue in my body. From her wet mouth and the slackness in her muscles to her abundant chest and flushed clit, she draws me in and holds me in mindless fascination.
She hasn’t said a word since she came on my fingers. She seems to be in shock. Or soaring in bliss. Definitely in awe, given the widening of her eyes as she slides a hand between her legs and feels the swollen flesh of her *.
Christ almighty, she’s innocence wrapped in sin.
The innocent part rattles me the most. Not only have I crossed the line as her teacher, there’s a ten-year age difference between us. Add to that her abusive past and the ruthless dominating way I fuck, and we’re navigating a land mine. If I move too fast or make the wrong step, the consequences will be devastating.
I run my fingers over hers, brushing the dark curls on her cunt. “Don’t shave this.”
She glances at our hands and returns to my face. “Why not?”
“I don’t want to feel like I’m—” Touching a little girl. “You’re young, Ivory. I don’t need any more reminders.”
“I’ve been with a lot of guys older than you.” Her cheeks bloom with heat, and she pulls her hand away. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
The impulse to demand she never mention other men burns in my throat, but I bite it back. “If you need to talk about it, about them, I want to be the person you turn to.” I kiss her lips and trail my finger over her *. “Okay?”
“Okay.” She grips my wrist and squeezes. “Thank you.”
I slip off the bed and swat her thigh. “Up.”