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There is a reason bars are referred to as watering holes. Aside from the sticky, sugary residue that coats the floorboards and every other surface, there is an undeniable variety amongst the patrons. I could have pretended like I was somehow above the average person at the establishment I was sitting in, but I always try my hardest not to lie if it isn’t absolutely necessary.
Most nights, I was just like everyone else — seeking regrettable company to cope with the mind numbing monotony of my program.
Most nights. But not that night.
That night I saw him, still wearing his three piece suit and nursing something that matched the treacle color of his eyes while the hue of the bar lights reflected into a golden halo around his head. He looked so unfortunately, tragically beautiful seated alone at the crowded bar.
There was something else about him, though. Something strange and hollow in his usually lively movements. His hand rubbed over the back of his neck, and I wondered if it was because he felt my gaze cutting through him. My suspicion was confirmed seconds later, when he finally turned just far enough to meet my eyes through the crowd.
The contact made my heart beat harder before stopping entirely. I was so busy battling my own instincts and selfish desires that I wasn’t able to respond to the challenge in his eyes. Instead, I looked away, hoping I would snap back to my senses. It wasn’t for long, but it was long enough that he vanished by the time I had the courage to look for him again.
I wasn’t going to chase him. If he wanted to hide among the crowds, I would let him. I would let him slip away from the watering hole back to the safety of whatever he called home.
I wasn’t going to chase him, but he found me.
He passed by me with such a casual step that I almost missed him. But just as he’d felt my eyes, I felt his. My body was drawn to him like the most powerful magnet. All it took was one look, and I found myself leaving my seat and trailing after him through the back of the bar.
He had to have known that I was following him, but he never turned around to check. Maintaining the same slow pace and mysterious aura, the man led me straight out the back door and into the cool night air. The latch clicked shut, the noise making the silence of the alleyway all the more noticeable.
“Fancy meeting you here, Professor.”
“My being here is odd,” he said, leaning back against the brick wall and refusing to look me in the eyes, “Yours is very predictable.”
“Ouch,” I winced, though my body language depicted anything but a wounded pride, “You make me sound so cliché.”
“Aren’t you?”
Rather than falling into the trap that he’d set, I laughed. I accepted his perception and played further into it. He didn’t even try to maintain our distance when I stepped closer.
“I’m sensing a lot of judgement here, Professor. Why is that? You’re also here.”
He finally looked at me, and it caused shivers to run down my spine.
“Unlike you, I don’t have more pressing concerns.”
I didn’t let his words nor his boredom dissuade me. I came as close to him as I could with his stance, and then leaned forward to make up the difference.
“What are these more pressing concerns of mine? I’m pretty content with where I’ve found myself.”
“You really want me to say it?” he challenged, a hint of playfulness finally sparking behind the apathy.
When I nodded, Spencer also craned his neck forward. He was close enough that I could almost feel his cheek against mine, but he denied me anything that could be mistaken for affection.
With his breath hot against my ear, he whispered, “With your marks, you should be spending a lot more time worrying about your academic career, and a lot less time worrying about finding someone to fuck you.”
Goosebumps rippled over my skin, but they still were not the most visceral of responses I had to the filthy words dancing along his tongue. When he pulled back, there was a hunger that was too potent to simply be my reflection. He looked into my half-lidded eyes, and he found something worthwhile.
“What if it’s you? Would that count as me worrying about my academic career?” I asked with a poorly feigned innocence. Spencer laughed. It was a dark, bitter sound, but enough to encourage my antics. “We can even talk about different kinds of marks.”
Any amusement that might have been found among his features was ripped away from me by his hand rooted into the hair at the base of my skull. Spencer used that hold to force my head back before pulling me closer.
“Listen closely, young lady,” he said like I had any other option. Like I wasn’t enchanted by the feel of his warm breath once again hitting my ear. He could feel the way breath stuttered and my body stumbled straight into him with eager hands. I could almost feel his smirk against my ear when he concluded, “I would never... ever sleep with you.”
And just like that, he was gone. He didn’t just drop me; he tossed me to his side like the very notion of being that close to me disgusted him. The desire that had been burning inside of my chest quickly shifted to rage.
He could pretend like he didn’t want me, but there was no other justification for bringing me out to the back in the first place. There was no reason to allow me to confront him, nor for him to discuss my sex life in any manner at all.
Seconds after we were both inside again, I grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back to me. Surprisingly, there was very little resistance. It was almost like he was waiting for me to do it. I tugged him into the small, dimly lit bathroom without a care in the world for who might have seen us or what whispers might follow. Spencer was already laughing, apparently amused by anger rolling off of me.
“Say it again,” I ordered through heavy breaths, “Say it to my face.”
I’d prepared myself for a number of responses — most of which were varying levels of humiliating, such as a reminder that he hadjust said it to my face. What I hadn’t prepared for, however, were the words that actually came out of his mouth.
Casually, and without question, Spencer ordered, “Get on your knees.”
He was so calm that I felt like it must have been a trick. It took everything in me not to fall to my knees, and instead I managed to ask, “Why?”
His answer was as unhelpful as it was alluring.
“Because I said so.”
The world was spinning, and I couldn’t tell if it was from my labored breathing, the alcohol in my system, or if my heart had actually just given out. Either way, I stumbled down onto the tile. Spencer didn’t offer any assistance; he just watched me struggle in heels and a too-short dress.
Once I was settled, wavering just enough to show my enthusiasm without him being able to question my capacity to consent, he finally started to undo his belt. I watched with rapt fascination when the buckle finally fell away. I was so fixated on the sight of his hands about to reveal himself to me that I almost failed to respond to his question.
“Is this what you want?”
My cheeks were burning, and a sudden shyness overcame me as I whimpered. It wasn’t enough of an answer for him, though. He demanded something else.
Spencer slid his palm over my hair, taking his sweet time on his descent to my chin. I nuzzled into his hand like there was actually any affection in the gesture rather than the condescension I was certain that he’d felt.
But then he lifted my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with him, and my whole body shook.
“Yes,” I finally breathed, “Please.”
When my eyes were able to focus on him again, though, I found no mercy in fiery golden irises. In fact, I found just the opposite.
“You’re pathetic,” he sneered through more dark laughter, “Look at yourself. You really think I’d let you do that?”
My stomach twisted in knots. The heart that had been lodged in my throat quickly dropped from my chest just as quickly as Spencer’s hand fell away.
Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking, or if I honestly believed anything that I had said during the night. But what I did know for sure was that I wasn’t ready to let him slip away from me that easily.
So, with unfettered hope and a pitiful stutter, I replied, “Y-Yes.”
“What?”
It was a decent enough question. Whether it was meant to be rhetorical or not, I didn’t care. I answered him, nonetheless.
“Yes! I think you would let me. In fact… I think you want me to.”
I raised shaky hands and pressed them against his thighs. Spencer did not stop me; he continued to dare me with narrowed eyes and a tightly shut jaw. So, I moved, smoothing my hands over his legs until they came to rest at his hips. I didn’t remove his pants any more than he had.
I did something better. I listened to every sound I could elicit, running my nose over the fabric and waiting for him to do something. I was a little impressed by how far he was letting this game of chicken go, but I knew what would cause one of us to fold.
Parting my lips around the unmistakable bulge beneath his briefs, I let out one hot breath. Just one. That was all it took for Spencer’s hands to fly to the back of my head and pull me harder against him. Of course, that very movement caused another breath to leave me, albeit this time through the form of a loud moan.
“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, and I took it as a signal that my plan had worked. Unfortunately, before my hands could get anywhere near close enough to remove him from the confines of his clothes, Spencer had grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back to my feet. He held tighter when I stumbled, ensuring that I wouldn’t go far while he refastened his pants with one hand.
He looked at me again, with slightly smeared make-up and pupils blown wide.
“Fuck!” he repeated, and that time it made me smile.
Whatever delicious thought that he’d hidden behind the profanity wasn’t shared with me, but I hardly cared about the words when Spencer moved again. With his hand still clutching my arm, he all but dragged me out of the bathroom and straight through the bar.
I was barely able to keep up with his pace, much less formulate any meaningful thought. I followed him in a purely instinctive, lustful haze. I didn’t care about the friends I’d abandoned at the bar, nor what they would think watching me chase after our professor like a lovesick puppy.
I’d wanted him for so long, and I was close enough that I could taste it.
Like a true gentleman, Spencer opened the passenger side door of his car for me. Unfortunately, I was a bit too shocked that this was really happening for me to do anything. I turned to look at him, to confirm once more that this wasn’t a cruel joke.
He wasn’t feeling patient, however.
“Get in.”
I crossed my arms, now determined to be as problematic as possible in response to his order.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home,” he answered bluntly.
Still, I scoffed at the pretense he’d chosen.
“Seriously? What are you, my daddy?”
Spencer continued with his frustrated stare, refusing to budge even a little in response to my frankly hilarious joke.
“Fine,” I muttered, my ego soothed by the fact he’d offered his hand for me to hold for balance when I climbed inside. He did not become any more amiable once he was in the car. Every time that I moved in my seat, whether it was to readjust my hair and makeup in the mirror, answer a text, or literally just breathe, he looked over at me with an obvious disdain. He didn’t speak, though. Not until I lifted my foot to rest against the seat.
“Sit appropriately or I’ll leave you on the side of the road,” he snapped immediately.
I tried to respond with a gasp, but I couldn’t help the laughter that filtered through it. “But Professor, I thought you were trying to save me? You’d really throw me out there in the cold?”
“First of all,” he started, and I knew I’d already lost, “It is 75 degrees outside, so it’s hardly cold.”
“I don’t know, Professor... in this dress?” I slurred, drawing his attention back to me quickly by parting my legs.
He was entranced by the fabric inching up for approximately five seconds before he snapped back to reality with a loud, “Second, there is no saving girls like you.”
I suppose I had just proven his point.
“So why are you taking me home, then?”
Spencer didn’t need to think about it for even a second. He’d anticipated the question and probably determined his answer from the moment he’d realized that I’d followed him out of the bar.
“I said there was no saving you,” he explained in a low tone, “That doesn’t mean you don’t have a use.”
The words caused a shiver to flow through me that felt like lightning. My hand slid over to his as it rested on the gearshift. He didn’t even flinch at the touch, and actually loosened his hand just a little.
Enough for me to lift it and guide it over the expanse of my thigh. He didn’t resist when it passed underneath the spandex and inched closer to lace that only barely kept me modest.
“You wanna use me, Professor?” I purred.
Again, he had been waiting for the question. With just one quick glance, he flashed me a smirk that was perfectly timed to his nails digging into my skin. My back arched immediately in response, my hips bucking in the seat to try and draw him closer.
Spencer just laughed and removed his hand like he’d proven his point.
“You are so fucking pathetic.”
But I had my own point that deserved to be recognized by a brilliant mind like his.
“What does that make you then?”
The car came to a sudden stop, which wouldn’t have been nearly as surprising if I’d been paying any attention to our surroundings rather than watching his knuckles turn white from their grip around the steering wheel.
We’d arrived at the dorm, but I wasn’t ready for the night to be over yet, and I knew he wasn’t, either. Before he could come up with any clever little quip or witty insult, I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned close enough to him that he would be able to smell the ethanol on my tongue.
“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
His response was predictable, albeit a bit boring.
“Get out.”
I couldn’t have expected him to be a gentleman for long, I figured. So, instead of waiting or demanding he open the door for me, I threw my own door open. As he’d described, the night was calm and comfortable. Nothing at all like the way it felt when he looked at me.
I’d barely noticed he’d gotten out of the car himself until he was beside me. He didn’t stay there for long, either. His hand caught my jaw and his body pinned me against the side of his car with enough force to make me dizzy.
“You keep your mouth shut until we are in that room, do you understand me?”
For the umpteenth time that night, I was speechless. I gave a dumb nod that felt impossible against the strength of his hand. One might expect that he’d be gentler with my hand, but he wasn’t. He held my fingers so tightly that they were throbbing by the time we got to my room.
I thought I’d been impatient with myself as I struggled with the lock, but Spencer’s temper was another beast entirely. The second the door clicked shut, he was on me like an animal starved.
He tasted sweeter than I’d expected, but it was hard to focus on any thought for too long. His mouth’s insistence on claiming as much of me as it could was nothing compared to his hands. I was almost surprised he hadn’t torn straight through my clothing.
“You’re a bit impatient for a man who said he’d never ever fuck me,” I said with a chuckle the moment he’d freed my lips.
I almost regretted it, considering it made him stop. But I knew it wouldn’t last long.
“Shut up and take off your clothes.”
I was right.
I took my sweet time removing my dress, much to his annoyance. That only made me want to go slower, to draw out that frustrated look and the ache he must’ve felt from the tent in his pants. I wanted him to want me so badly it hurt.
With my undergarments still on, I took to working the buttons and buckles he wore, instead. He watched me with a shocking amount of desire at the domesticity of it all, and I tried not to let it get to my head. The second I’d stripped him of everything but his own final layer, I pushed him away from me and onto the bed.
I left mine on as well when I followed him onto the bed. I straddled the man I’d been on my knees for earlier and reveled in the feeling of the pure, unadulterated power that I possessed. Before I could kiss him again, though, he stopped me with a few pointed words.
“I thought I told you to take off your clothes.”
“I’m bad at following directions,” I whispered against his lips just before I diverted them entirely. I dropped them to his throat, where I made sure to leave my mark in pink, red, and purple patches.
He didn’t stop me, though. In fact, he laughed at the way my mouth seemed stuck to him.
“Trust me, I’m aware,” he hummed. The vibrations tickled my lips and led me back to his, just as he’d probably planned.
I wasn’t so lost in the kiss anymore, and my hand haphazardly reached into my bedside table until I finally got ahold of the crinkling foil. No sooner than I’d pulled the condom out had Spencer firmly tugged on a small lace strap holding my underwear together.
The sound of snapping fabric was enough to cause me to separate our lips, and I groaned in annoyance as I tried to maneuver to get the rest of the damned fabric off.
“Are you really that desperate?” I asked during the struggle, to which he flashed me a proud, devilish smirk as he answered, “I guess we deserve each other.”
In case his words hadn’t been enough to set off the butterflies and lust raging through me, he paired them with a hand sliding surely up my inner thigh. I heard him chuckle as my eyes fluttered shut, but he never stopped. Now that he was granted access, he was quick to take advantage of that.
One lithe finger slipped between the folds, gathering the wetness he’d caused over the last half hour. He teased me for a few seconds with similarly tantalizing, barely-there motions until even he’d heard enough of my whining to actually do something about it. He entered me slowly at first and removed it at an even slower speed.
I’d nearly forgotten about the condom in my fist against the sheets, too busy chasing his fingers with my hips.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I sighed, finally opening my eyes only to shut them again when I was immediately overwhelmed by the sight of him. “Fuck, Professor.”
He laughed again, although this time there was a blatant delight and fondness in it. Spencer continued his ministrations like there was nothing else in the world that mattered more than keeping me shaking and panting above him. But his other hand traced my jaw gently. It flowed down my arm and a single fingertip settled over my fist where the condom remained unopened.
From there, he patted the back of my hand carefully with a click of his tongue.
“Look at that. Little miss whore can’t even focus on the task at hand.”
“I’m greedy,” I groaned, only getting louder in my objections when he removed his hand in favor of helping me remove his final layer of clothing.
“Again, I am aware of your nature.”
It was my turn to giggle when I finally saw his erection spring free from his briefs. I was only patient enough to allow him to kick off the garment before both of my hands flew to hold him. I abandoned the condom for the time being, opting instead to feel the silky skin I’d fought so hard to have access to. The soft grunt he returned was enough like praise to urge me on.
I scooted closer, pressing myself against him for just a second before I slurred, “I wan’ it.”
“Then do your job,” was his immediate reply, given through clenched teeth and with blunt fingernails back in their place pressed firmly into my hips. “Earn it, you fucking brat.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I took my hand back, filling my palm with spit before rubbing it against the tip of his dick. Spencer threw his head back, filling the room with the most beautiful sound of breathy, rolling moans. I watched the way his stomach tensed, and the aching between my legs got progressively more difficult to ignore.
As soon as he felt my heat pressing against the shaft, he looked up at me again. I think he liked whatever it was he saw in my half-delirious, lustful stare. I continued to rock against him while my thumb clumsily traced the head of his cock.
“I want it,” I repeated more clearly then, “I want it inside of me, please. I want you so bad, Professor.”
“Then do it. I’m not stopping you,” he strained. It hardly sounded like an order. It was more like a beg.
He held up the poor, ignored foil wrapper between two fingers. Relief washed over him as he watched me tear it open between my teeth. We were so close to finally getting what we wanted, but I still had to take my time. Just to be a brat, as he’d so kindly called me. Just to drag it out longer, to be with him longer.
Spencer didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, he looked delighted with the show I’d been putting on for him. The attention he paid me even started to get to me, and my hands began to shake as I began to roll the latex over him.
He only made it worse when I did finally position myself above him. He settled into his place with his hands beneath his head and a proud smile on his cheeks. He’d hardly look affected when I started to sink down on him, but I was struggling to not lose all remaining composure.
“Don’t act so modest,” he teased, “I know this isn’t your first time.”
I wanted to respond with a similarly snarky comment, but I couldn’t. The farther down onto him I fell, the harder it was to make any noise at all. The noises I could make were just pathetic whimpers and gasps that fed into his already enormous ego.
Spencer laughed again, removing his hands from behind his head and beginning to roam my body. That was the way he showed me just how much it really affected him. He could keep a straight face, but his grip on my hips was ruthless, and his words were strained.
“Awww. You’re not so scary when you’re sitting on my cock,” he cooed. “You’re almost even cute.”
My hips rolled in response to the praise, and I was rewarded with a deep, low groan from the man beneath me. Once I was finally accustomed to the size of him inside of me, I started to move. My motions were still stuttered and inconsistent, but I pressed on all the same.
I hated the way my legs were already shaking less than a minute in. It wasn’t even because I was tired — it was something about the way he looked at me like he was ready to devour me.
I would have let him, too. In so many ways, I’d given more of myself to that damned narcissistic professor than I’d ever planned. I’d done it so quickly. All it took was one thrust, two hands on my hips pulling me down to take him in entirely, and I collapsed onto him.
Spencer responded differently than I’d anticipated. Rather than fully mocking the display of weakness, he gently guided me back up to my previous position. It was probably just selfish, I reminded myself. The desire to see my breasts bounce and my stomach tense.
I found my rhythm again, slamming down onto him with everything I could considering the alcohol still flowing through me. It heightened every sense I felt, and every few seconds, I would catch those coffee colored eyes staring back at me and urging me on.
As if on cue, Spencer’s voice filled my room at the same time his hand cradled my face.
“That’s it,” he praised. His next words, however, were anything but kind. With that wicked smile and a harsher grip, he chuckled, “Show me how badly you want to pass.”
My legs moved harder and faster before I even ordered them to; my whole body was working off instincts. I craved his validation with my everything, and he was finding any and every excuse to dangle that promise in front of me. But he knew I wanted that, too. The thrill of the chase.
That was why he continued, “You won’t, but it’ll be cute watching you give an effort.”
His movements betrayed the nonchalance in his words. With each motion, his hips rolled up to meet mine. We moved together in the way the waves meet the rocky shores - both forever altered by their own unique form of violence.
Spencer continued with sharp words that cut straight through to the broken, competitive parts of me.
“Is this why you act so stupid all the time? Because you get off on men humiliating you?”
“No,” I answered a little too quickly, “just you.”
Luckily, he met my vulnerability halfway. Although his grip remained ruthless, his voice was soft when he whispered, “I bet you love the praise even more, don’t you? You want me to tell you you’re a good girl?”
Still too fast to reply, I nodded. It wasn’t the only obvious affirmative, considering I had started to move too fast for my lungs to even keep up.
“That you’re my pretty little whore?”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring in enough air to stop the world from rocking with my movements. I didn’t care; I wanted to be so lost in him that I forgot everything else. The muscles in my stomach were tensing in a new way, bringing me closer and closer to the ledge where I’d hoped I could turn to seafoam with him. Where we could stay forever, lost in the bliss that is the natural rhythm of the vast open blue.
While I was busy thinking such poetic thoughts, I’d missed the signs of his own fast-approaching end. Spencer grabbed me by the hair again, tugging me forward into a haphazard kiss that barely came to be.
“I’m so proud of you,” he gasped, “you make me feel so good with your tight little body.”
“P-Professor...” I tried to speak, but the tremors wrecking my body made the words shake too much to be comprehensible.
That was fine, though. Spencer had more than enough to say for the both of us.
“I love how you tremble. I wonder how much further I could push you.”
“Harder,” I cried, “Please, Professor! Please, fuck me!”
That was all it took for him to seize all control of us. He used all possible force of gravity and his own strength to bring us together again and again. He read my body like one of his many books, and with the same proficiency, as well. He felt as my walls started to flutter around him, and he didn’t once stop.
Not even when he spoke through labored breaths, “How bad have you wanted this? How many times have you laid in bed at night wishing it was me between your legs?”
Since the moment I met you, I thought to myself, I have always wanted to break you.
But it wasn’t him that was shattering into a million pieces in my bed. It was me, stuck wordless and practically drooling. Completely in his control, and never wanting him to give it back. He knew it, too. He saw the submission and he basked in the glory of me, finally giving him everything he wanted.
“Now I’m here and you’re a helpless, filthy mess. But that’s okay,” he reassured me just as I started to feel the world again. “I know how use stupid sluts like you.”
With one final thrust, one more cry from myself and a string of curses from the man below me, I watched the bliss wash over him. My eyes were clear and captivated; the endorphins coursing through my veins and making me fall even harder from the brink of sanity.
He was so beautiful. So vulnerable, guileless, and free. Honeyed eyes were filled with nothing but appreciation and praise, and his lips parted just enough to whisper mangled versions of my name over and over like some sort of prayer.
When he stopped holding me up, I fell onto him. While the lack of structural integrity had gone almost unnoticed by me,despite landing on what was essentially a human made only of bones, Spencer was less understanding.
“You’re heavy.”
“And you’re huge. This bed is small as fuck,” I scoffed back.
“Fine,” was all he replied. But hidden within that one little syllable, I detected the faintest hint of something else. Something not entirely unlike submission.
Something almost sort of like fondness.
Something that some might call falling in love.
——————————————————
The next morning was the most beautiful sort of nightmare. I woke up before the man — my Professor — draped on top of me, and I wondered if it would be worth it to try to wake him. My arm was numb, and my head was pounding, but he looked so goddamn cute with his lips half-pouted in his sleep.
I’d almost wanted to keep him there longer, even at risk of my own discomfort. I took in the innocence and comfort he clearly found in my bed, and my stupid sentimental heart even had the audacity to pitter-pat before it came to its senses again.
Its timing, however, was poor. Unfortunate and disastrous.
Spencer’s eyes opened at the same time I’d realized that I was staring, and he immediately took note of the tender longing I’d managed to convey while hungover and apparently still blissed out from what was definitely the best lay of my life.
His feelings on the night, however, were summed up very easily. In just two simple sounds.
“Ah, fuck.”
“Good morning to you, too, asshole,” I groaned before shoving him off of his position on top of me.
But, keeping on trend, Spencer took all of the covers with him as he toppled gracelessly off of my bed.
Then, cold and markedly less comfortable than before, I shouted loud enough to hurt my own head, “Oh my god, you ruin everything!”
“You’re such a brat,” I heard him grumble from the floor.
“Yeah? Do something about it, then.”
“Give me five minutes.”
I reached down to take the blanket from him but abandoned the effort when I realized just how heavy a bag of bones could be. Instead, I just stayed hanging off the side of my bed until my Professor finally managed to stand.
He had been kind enough to toss the covers back over me, but the rest of the morning was spent in an awkward, tense silence. I sat with the blanket wrapped around me, watching him wordlessly gather his things and make himself look as presentable as possible in a desk mirror and while covered in hickeys.
When it was time to say goodbye, his demeanor shifted for the first time that morning. A strong undercurrent of something I’d willfully misconstrue as regret ran beneath the apathy. In retrospect, ‘fear’ was a better descriptor.
“I’m not a snitch,” I informed him as he stood in front of me at his full height.
“I know,” he said, blowing just enough air out of his nose as he smiled for me to categorize it as a laugh. “You wouldn’t tell anyone because if you do, this will never happen again.”
Gentle, practiced fingertips traced over my jaw as a smile finally appeared on my own face to match his.
“That’s what you said last night,” I correctly pointed out.
I thought he would have a clever reply — something to win, something to shut me up for good.
In a way, I guess he did.
His lips met mine with just enough force to knock the breath from me, but still tenderly enough to lend me his in return. Spencer kissed me unlike the night before. There was no battle of dominance. There was no fear or uncertainty. There was only that strange, gut-wrenching feeling that I’d spotted in his eyes just before we turned to foam together.
“You’re not scary anymore,” he whispered before placing another chaste kiss on my forehead.
I rolled my eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the way my throat closed around the half-hearted scoff that followed.
“Goodbye, sweetheart,” he called while halfway through the door.
And I wondered to myself how it could have been possible to have already missed him as much as I did then.
——————————————————
There are times in every girl’s life where she doubts herself. Those times had been fewer and further between as I’d gotten older. But that day, sitting in Professor’s Reid’s class, I realized that I might have gone too far this time.
Although I found the tie – Spencer’s tie – wrapped loosely around my neck to be a cute, albeit odd accessory, he decidedly did not appreciate the bold statement piece. Maybe he just had something against women wearing traditionally masculine clothing. But realistically, I knew he was probably just jealous that his clothes looked better on me.
Throughout the class, his eyes would settle on me with every excuse. He returned to me, with a fire burning through him that was likely to burn down the whole building if given enough time and oxygen. I could feel how badly he’d wanted to scorch me, to light the offending fabric aflame and see how I choked on the smoke.
He said nothing, though. He would just pause and smirk whenever our eyes would meet. Then, he would let them wander over what he could see of my body. His memory would make up the rest. I could almost see those images myself, just by the way he cleared his throat like that would stop everyone from noticing just how red he’d gotten.
Spencer remained cordial as we exited the room together. He walked beside me without a word. Until I spoke, that is.
“Good morning, Professor.”
“We’re definitely going to talk about this,” he answered immediately. He’d just been waiting for the opportunity.
But I had also been waiting for one.
“Professor, please!” I balked before whispering, “not with all these people around!”
The other people in the elevator seemed completely unfazed by the supposed scandal. I figured Spencer might be a little more upset, or at least unimpressed by my confidence in my sarcasm abilities. But instead, he just smiled as the cabin started to move.
“I happen to have office hours right now,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Maybe I’ll meet you there.”
“Maybe?”
“I have a pretty busy schedule…” I sighed.
When the elevator doors opened and the people began to exit, I leaned over to the man beside me, only to find that he was also inching closer. So, when I did finally manage to finish my sentence, our faces were practically touching.
“I might have more pressing concerns.”
Spencer didn’t answer, but his eyes lit with a familiar fire that made my cheeks burn and the oxygen evade me in favor of feeding into the flames. As soon as the doors closed again, though, the smoke of his lust drowned out all other thoughts.
With no one left to bear witness, myprofessor slammed me hard against the wall of the elevator. But even still, that impact was nothing compared to the way his mouth hit mine. He seemed hellbent on crushing me to the point of bruising; of writing his name on every inch of me until the impression stayed.
“Come with me,” he said breathlessly, “… Please.”
He begged. A single word powerful enough to shatter the illusion that this meant nothing.
“Oh my god!” I shouted as my hands firmly shoved him away from me, “Shut up — You like me?!”
“What?!” he said, forgetting to scoff until a few seconds had passed. Needless to say, I wasn’t convinced.
“You do!” I screeched with a shudder. “What the fu— How can you like me?!”
And Spencer, consistent in his inability to deceive, gave the worst denial known to man.
“I don’t kno—I mean, I don’t! That’s ridiculous!”
It earned him a firm, but still playful punch in the shoulder, which he had the audacity to pretend hurt him.
“I can’t believe you, Professor!”
I sounded angry, and in many ways, I was. But when I stepped off of the elevator, I took the turn towards his office. I beat him there, too, and I didn’t hesitate to throw the door open. The man behind me had built up enough inertia that when he barreled into the room, he both slammed the door and ran me into his desk.
Before I fell too far, though, he caught me by a handful of his silk tie.
“You are infuriating,” he seethed with something other than anger.
“Yeah? Kiss me, then,” I dared.
And then he actually almost did it. Almost. He was stopped by my palm flat over his mouth, clumsily shoving him to the side as I shouted, “You aren’t supposed to actually do it!”
But to my surprise, and my pleasure, Spencer was quick on his feet. His hands found my hips the same way they had that wonderful night, and he used that hold to hoist me up onto the edge of his desk. From there, he felt comfortable pushing the fabric up my thighs.
“Why not?” he teased with his lips finding my neck just as quickly, “I happen to know for a fact that you’re good at it.”
Realizing how the tides had shifted, and that the carnal desire we’d harbored between us had returned in full force, I gave in to him once again. I spread my legs to make room for him to step between them, and he eagerly accepted the proximity.
“This I’m cool with,” I sighed.
“Yeah. I know,” Spencer chuckled as he pulled a condom out of what appeared to be thin air, considering I couldn’t focus on anything other than the way his lips felt against my skin.
While he worked to tear the wrapper open, my hands were busy undoing his slacks. Just as we’d been before, we remained perfectly in tandem. I helped him work the rubber over his erection and guided him to me without an ounce of hesitation. Likewise, he didn’t wait before pushing into me as far as he could before the tense muscles stopped him.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Any other praise was kept to himself, but I felt it. I could feel the way he cherished every spasm, every atom of my being that accepted him. Inch by inch, he worked himself to the hilt inside of me.
Once I’d become accustomed to his size again, I felt a surge of power. The realization that the man currently between my legs was completely enamored with me; that he had begged me to come grant him an audience.
So, wielding that power, I asked, “Still sure you want to fail me?”
As expected, my professor scoffed. Then, seconds later, he withdrew so that he could slam into me again with what I’d probably poorly perceived to be his full force.
“Not a chance in hell you’re passing now, sweetheart,” he groaned before pulling me forward to the edge. He used the new angle to ensure he could bottom out inside of me with each ruthless thrust. “Not if it means I can bend you over my desk for another semester.”
“Selfish prick,” I muttered back. I’d wanted him to hear it but was still surprised when he answered.
“Awww, are you not enjoying yourself? Am I not being mean enough?”
I’d almost answered yes, but his hand was too fast. It had rooted into my hair and tugged me backwards before my tongue could form a single word.
“Because I can be cruel if you want me to,” he said like a promise. That assurance was paired with his hips hitting mine with bruising force, and his other hand pulling my legs further apart to accommodate him.
He was so enraptured by the sight of him disappearing inside of me that it made honest to god butterflies swarm in my stomach. I could feel his gaze all over me, his mind working at its maximum capacity to ensure that he captured every single detail about how we existed in that moment.
I couldn’t be blamed for getting caught up in the moment. With our skin slapping together and the smell of sex filling the antiquated office. My breath was practically nonexistent, but I still managed a loud, desperate moan.
If I’d thought Spencer’s hands were quick before, I didn’t know what to call his speed then. He clamped his hand over my mouth so fast that it might as well have been a slap with the sting it caused.
His words were similarly intense.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled.
There was no reason for that phrase to affect me the way it had. With any other man, I would’ve taken it as a challenge. But with Spencer, all I could do was let out staccato whimpers as my legs tried to close around him. He didn’t let them.
He fought the tension and increased his pace and force. While I fell into that sea foam space again, Spencer’s confidence soared.
“Fuck, yes,” he panted when my orgasm finally washed over the both of us.
I kept my eyes open for as long as I could, hoping my imperfect memory would capture even just half as much as his had. The jealousy and spite kept me from letting go of that feeling until Spencer’s staggered thrusts came to a stop at my deepest point.
Until he pulled on my hair hard enough to elicit a yelp, and he answered it with one final order.
“Take it, you fucking brat,” he said with an eerie sense of calm. “You were made for this.”
But I swore I heard, You were made for me.
When it was over, though, he was quick to pull away. He’d removed, tied, and tossed the evidence into the bin before I had so much as fixed my underwear, much less tried to stand.
Spencer offered me his hand, and I suddenly found myself in that same position as before — ready to climb into his car to prove to him how badly he’d wanted me, too.
But there was no challenge in the way he helped me to my feet, the same as there was none when he’d kissed me goodbye. And when I stumbled forward on shaky legs, he caught me with arms that seemed to fit perfectly around me.
“For fuck’s sake, Professor,” I laughed, trying to still that pesky pitter-patting of a lovesick heart, “You actually caught me?”
“Would you rather I let you fall?” he asked.
“Kind of.”
“Well, I’m not going to.”
I wanted to fight him. I should have fought him. But he saw the hearts in my eyes and felt the way my muscles gave in to him in an entirely different way.
“Ugh,” I whined when he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
Not gonna let me fall, huh?
“Too late.”