I stand up and my chair screeches loudly. The professor halts midsentence. People are staring at me, but for once, I don’t care. I collect my things and address the professor, hastily saying, “I, uh, I’m not feeling well so I’m gonna leave.”
I don’t wait for his reply as I bound down the stairs of the lecture hall and run out of there. Ten minutes later, I’m inside the Labyrinth, dodging the crowd that always lingers in the corridors as if the classes are too small to fit this many people. A flash later, I’m standing in front of his office, my hand on the knob. I open the door and find Thomas in his chair, his head bent over some papers.
I close the door behind me, shutting out the noises, or at least dulling them. His attention usually makes me calmer. It soothes something inside of me, the animal that growls when he isn’t around.
But I’m not calming down today.
“It didn’t mean anything,” I say without any preamble. “The kiss. Dylan was just angry and…well, he kissed me, but I moved away.”
Apart from putting his pen down, he remains silent, but something lurks on his face, a softening of his features. I can’t explain what it means. My mind is clouded. Thomas stands up and rounds the desk, but he doesn’t approach me.
“You’re mad, right? You’re mad because he touched me, aren’t you? You have to be. You have to be angry and…and jealous, because I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry that I can’t think straight.” I come to stand before him. His smell invades my lungs and I shiver. “You never talk to students. You are never nice to them. So why were you being nice to those…girls? I don’t even know their names but I hate them.”
“Melanie,” he says in a gravelly voice.
“What?”
“That’s one of the girls’ name.”
“It’s a stupid name.”
“You don’t like it?” His lips bloom into a mocking, lopsided smirk.
“No. I hate it. And I hate you right now.”
His eyebrows arch and I move even closer. The tips of our boots are touching. He’s wearing the same boots from that night long ago, a lifetime ago when I thought I had a crush on him and when I thought he was a man who had everything.
It was a foolish thought. I never had a crush, and Thomas might be the poorest man alive. What I feel for him is indefinable, and I have no desire to think about it right now.
“Then what name would you like me to say?”
“Mine. Say my name.”
I shudder thinking about yesterday when he forced me to remember his name as I sucked him off. Oh God, his cock. His taste. The length of it, the weight. I could write poems about it, and I’m not even a legit poet yet. And his words. My cunt is still wet from his filthy poetry, as if my lust never went to sleep.
In fact, it has evolved into something stronger, angrier.
My fingers fist his shirt and I jerk him closer to me. “I’m hungry.”
He watches me with hooded eyes. “Is that right?”
I hook my leg over his waist, going up on my tiptoes, and pout, “Yes. Starving. And I want to eat your cock. I promise to not use my teeth.”
I wonder when I became so bold as to say such things. I wasn’t so courageous last night. I wasn’t this courageous even a minute ago. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s this achy feeling inside me.
His swollen flesh jerks between our bodies. “Why should I let you do that? What’s in it for me?”
I want to slap him. Stomp on his foot. Shake him.
Can’t he see how mad I am right now? How fucking jealous? I’m out of control, but now I know what game to play, what game will make him lose his mind.
I tuck my face between his shoulder and neck, and toy with the top button of his shirt. “Because I’m gonna make it good for you.”
“Yeah? How are you gonna do that?” His lazy, indulgent voice is making me see double right now. The lust is so thick and potent in my veins.
I become a poet in this moment and describe my filthy thoughts in detail, in my tiny voice—the voice he likes so much.
“I’ll give it a lick first. There’s this…this groove in the middle. I’m going to pay special attention to that, and then I’ll nibble on it so that white stuff? You know the stuff that’s salty and slippery? Your pre-cum? It’ll ooze out, and then I’m gonna lick that up too. Then I’m gonna suck and suck until I get my prize at the end, and then I’m gonna swallow all of it.”
Our breaths have escalated. His fingers on my ass flex and knead and run in circles. Every time they lift up more of my skirt. I wish I weren’t wearing my tights. I wish I were naked underneath.
Christ, what’s wrong with me?
It’s the middle of the day. This building is alive. There’s a tap, tap, tap of computers. The ringing of a phone somewhere. Footsteps. All of this should make me want to stop and turn back, but it just makes me even hornier. The fact that people around us are unaware of the depravity inside these four walls makes it even more appealing.
His face is harsh, nostrils flaring. Maybe the same things are running through his head as he growls, “If this is your way of driving me crazy, then you better make it good, Layla. Because my cock is hungry too, and it won’t be full until it feeds on your pussy and eats out all your cum.”
I want to smile with victory but I’m busy being super turned on. I move away from him and watch his body go lax, as if he’s surrendering himself to me. It’s such a surreal moment that I feel dizzy, with power, with lust.
He knows what I want.
He can see how hard up I am for his cock and in a very, very surprising move, he is giving it to me, letting me be in control.
I push him back and he goes easily. I keep going until he drops into his chair, making it squeak like crazy. I almost moan out loud. I crouch on my feet, careful about my banged up knee, and tuck myself under the desk. It’s enclosed on three sides, turning it into a dark, erotically claustrophobic space.
I rest my palms on Thomas’ thighs, bringing him closer to me. His muscles strain under my fingers and I can’t stop myself from tracing the hard patterns with my hands. Up and down. Up and down. His muscles grow tighter by the second. The bulge of his cock is thicker.
In this moment, my hands mold him. I’m the sculptor who creates him.
I manage to open his belt, followed by the zipper. He maneuvers himself and helps me take out his cock. He hisses as I run my hands all over it. I answer him with a long sigh.
Last night, he took my virgin mouth and abused it, but today, I use it against him. Today my mouth is greedier, hornier, a seductive beast of teeth and tongue that sucks him and sucks him like my life depends on it.
The veins in his forearms are ready to jump through his skin with the need to touch me, yet he doesn’t move his hands from the armrest. My body feels heavy with the power. I yank off my coat and top and expose my tits.
Thomas almost jumps off the chair at my actions. The creak of it hits my cunt, making it pant with need. He’s mesmerized by my body, hypnotized by it, and I put on a show for him. I play with my nipples and he curses, says my name in a helpless moan.
A rush of power douses me and the world loses its meaning. I don’t care about anything but sucking his cock forever. I never want to stop, not for anything.
Not even for the jarring knock at his door.