Double Dirty Mountain Men(31)

I nod, then duck out of his office. I don’t see anyone else in the building, thank God.





Chapter 18





Professor Sharpe




I’m making chicken marsala, my specialty, and I’m not even sure why. We’re just fucking, after all.

No: we’re just fucking, and it’s ill-advised as hell, and as soon as I get tired of her I’ll end it. Hell, I should have ended it already.

I should have never started this.

But then I think of this afternoon, of the way she put her head on my shoulder when she nearly got overwhelmed. The way her sweet pussy gripped my cock, practically pulling me into her. Her tight ass around my fingers, the way a tremor ran through her body every time I pushed them a little further.

I’m not sure how soon I’ll get tired of Melody. I’ve tired of everyone, so far — the undergraduate I slept with once when I was a grad student, the girls I dated in grad school. The other professors I’ve tried to have relationships with.

I’m a little worried that I won’t get tired of Melody, and I wish I would. I can’t be with a college sophomore.

There’s a soft, almost hesitant knock on my door. I dry my hands on a kitchen towel and my dick gets hard, just hearing it.

Better not be carolers, or this’ll be awkward.

It’s her. Standing there, on my doorstep, bundled up because it’s snowing outside, but she’s wearing a skirt and tights and the moment I see her, I know she’s not wearing panties.

“Hi,” she says, and holds up a loaf of bread. “I’d have brought a bottle of wine, but...”

I fill it in myself: she can’t even legally buy alcohol.

Jesus, what am I doing?

“The bread is perfect,” I say, looking down at her and then out at the snowy, dark street. I should have told her to come to the back door, but I can’t bear the idea of Melody, going in the other entrance like she’s a prostitute or something.

This is my mistake. I can let her have dignity.

She steps inside. I take the bread, put it on a side table, then take her coat, her scarf, and her hat and before I know it, she’s pressed against me, pulling my head down to her, my still-clothed cock between the globes of her ass as she grinds against me, moaning.

Holy fuck.

“You’re an insatiable monster,” I growl, but I kiss her deeply and grab her perky, full breasts in both hands.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“I don’t mind, as long as you’re my monster,” I growl into her ear, and she writhes against me.

Then she’s topless, looking up at me, her perfect pouty lips full and tempting, her hands on the buckle of my pants. We’re still in the entry way of my house, and I move us into my living room where I’ve started a fire.

For a split second, she looks around, even though she’s seen it before, and even though her hand is on my belt buckle, she pauses for a moment.

“This is nice,” she says.

I pinch one nipple, and she looks back at me, a devilish smile on her face.

Then my pants are down and I’m standing next to the fireplace as she kneels in front of me, the warm brick to my back as she inhales my cock in one gulp, sliding it into her throat with no preamble whatsoever.

I grab her hair in one hand, but she’s doing the work on her own and I just watch as she takes my enormous length in and out, again and again. It feels incredible, beyond incredible, watching this perfect, innocent girl devour my cock so eagerly.

Before long, the tightness is building in my lower belly and my balls clench. I tighten my hand in her hair and she looks up at me, understanding.

“Melody,” I growl as she pulls back, slurping the length of my cock until it’s out of her mouth, just her lips around the head. “Your mouth is mine.”

She doesn’t answer, just swallows me again, the best answer of all. I hold her there with my hand on her hair, her nose pressed up against my abdomen.

“I want you to swallow every last drop,” I say roughly, moving her back and forth slightly. I’m incredibly close, teetering on the edge, but I love talking to her like this. “Swallow every drop and lick me clean, Melody.”

She pushes down again on her own and I finally fucking lose it. I hold her there, as far into her mouth as I can go, pumping load after load down her throat as she swallows and swallows, obeying me perfectly.

At last, spent, I let her pull her head back and she does, slowly, sucking and licking at my softening cock until it’s practically sparkling.

Then she sits back and wipes her mouth off with one hand as I tuck myself back into my pants, her eyes wide.

I nearly lose control, I need so badly to taste her. I pick her up and toss her on the couch, shoving her skirt up to her hips, sucking her clit into my mouth while I push three, then four fingers into her sweet, dripping cunt. It’s probably still my semen in there, since I came inside her a few hours ago, but knowing that somehow turns me on more.

Melody moans, clutching the couch behind her, and I work my tongue over her clit again and again, my fingers in her pussy. It’s almost too easy, and before long her muscles are fluttering and clenching and she’s about to come.

I hear her gasp.

“Profess—”

I suck her clit hard and the word turns into a shout.

“Oh, God!” Melody cries out. “I’m coming, Professor!”

I know, I think.

Her body jerks, but I don’t stop. I pull my fingers out and stroke her lips a few times, back and forth, my tongue still circling.

Then I move my fingers to her back hole. She’s so wet that her honey is dripping down onto her tight ass, and I massage it gently as I lap at her clit, willing her to relax.

She whimpers again and I press my fingers against her softly, waiting for her to take me in. Even though right now, more than anything, I want to flip her over and invade her tight hole with my cock, stretch her wide and make her beg me to let her come, I don’t want to hurt her.

Melody moans and then my fingers slip inside, to the first knuckle, then the second, her tight ring gripping me hard. I lap harder at her clit, sucking it into my mouth and teasing at it as I push my fingers further into her ass.

Before I know it, she’s coming again, her empty pussy clenching so hard I can feel it with my mouth, and before she’s done coming I add a third finger to her back hole, stretching her even more. I’m hard again, cock aching, and I think fuck her there, just fuck her, she wants it, but I’m going to wait.

“Professor,” she whimpers. “It feels so good when your fingers are in my ass.”

I push them as deep as I can, licking her hard, and she comes again, her whole body jolting and jerking like she’s being electrocuted. She’s moaning God, yes, please, over and over again, and when she’s finally done and I come up for air she’s in total disarray, lying on my couch topless, skirt around her waist.

And it’s fucking beautiful.





Chapter 19





Melody




Dinner is amazing. Professor Sharpe’s an incredible chef, and as we’re sitting in his dining room, drinking wine and eating by candlelight, I realize something.

This is a date. I am on a date. With my professor.

I don’t know why that surprises me more than fucking him does, but there it is.

As we finish eating, laughing about something one of the other faculty said in a meeting, he looks over at me, his face lit up.

“I have to tell you something,” he says.

I raise my eyebrows and lift my wine glass to my lips. I’ve been careful not to drink more than a single glass, but I’m still a little tipsy since I don’t drink much.

“What?” I ask.

“I didn’t even think of dessert,” he says. “Not until right this minute, anyway.”

I laugh.

“Then I’m leaving right now,” I tease him gently. “And you can call me when you’ve got cheesecake.”

He grins.

“I think I’ve got chocolate gelato in the freezer,” he says. “Think that’ll do?”

He clears the plates and I follow him into the kitchen, where he grabs two bowls and the quart container from the freezer. We eat the fancy ice cream standing at his kitchen counter, not even bothering to sit back down.

“You’re leaving campus tomorrow,” he says slowly, dragging his spoon around the bowl.

I nod. My last final was today, so now I’m going home for winter break.

“Yeah, my dad is picking me up at one,” I say. “I should be packing right now, probably.”

He laughs softly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever packed for a trip more than four hours in advance,” he admits. “Even when the trip was a four-month archaeological dig.”

“How’d that go?” I ask, smiling.

He eats a spoonful of ice cream, savoring it for a moment before answering me.

“The dig was excellent,” he says. “But only having two pairs of socks got old pretty fast.”

I laugh, glancing over at him. He’s laughing too, and as strange as this feels it’s also good. All this time that I wanted him like I did, that was all — I didn’t realize that he was also sweet, funny, and a really good chef.

“I have a list on my computer,” I admit. “And every time I go somewhere I print it out, check everything off, and if there’s something I want on the trip that’s not on the list, I add it when I get home.”