“Pink…” He laughed quietly. “Pink is definitely my favorite color.”
I inhaled sharply as his palm connected with my ass cheek. The light sting that had radiated over my skin in a tingle settled between my legs.
“Mine too,” I said.
He laughed again as he massaged the spot he’d just hit. My eyes darted over his shoulder, toward the door, and he took my jaw in his hand. He softly turned my face toward his, and I licked my lips as my eyes fell to his mouth. Despite the fact that he was standing to my side, the feeling of his body against mine was strong. With a glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his lips, he looked down my body.
“Step back. Ah, ah,” he added. “Keep your hands where they are.”
I did as he’d said. My back arched naturally with the movement, and I shuddered when he grabbed the skirt of my dress.
Unapologetically, he yanked it up.
The air was cold on my bare cheeks, but it didn’t last long as he ran his hand over the curve of my butt. His eyes were focused on his movements there, and he toyed with the string of my thong with his thumb.
“You’re a tease, Darcy.” The words were said right against my ear in a low voice that had my stomach coiling in desire. “That video last night. Your e-mail. Sitting for half the lesson with your legs open. Anyone could have looked back and seen your pussy creeping out of your thong.”
“I hope they enjoyed the view,” I whispered.
He wound his hand around the back of my neck and teased a fingertip across my pussy. “I did.”
Then he crushed his lips to mine.
It was driven by lust—a lust that went straight down between my legs and made my clit throb with its intensity. I didn’t know what this man was doing to me, but I knew something.
He was making me feel things I hadn’t for a long time. With every kiss and touch he both pleasured and punished me with, I felt desire and desperation I’d thought were long gone.
The door opened, and he jumped away from me. My heart jumped into my throat. I turned with a jolt to face him and tugged my dress down to cover myself at the same time. It was a group of students coming in for his next class, and with the tiniest glance toward them, he grabbed an empty folder from the tray at the corner of his desk and shoved some plain paper inside.
“This should hold everything you need. Return the material tomorrow,” he said with extra volume in his voice.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, taking the folder from him and stepping back. “See you then.”
“See you then,” he responded, his eyes following me as I walked past him and toward the door.
I walked faster than normal and made it out of the room within seconds. The hall was half full as people hurried to their next classes, and I had to push my way through more than a group or two to find the nearest exit.
I fell out of the door, my bag hanging over my shoulder and the folder full of blank paper clutched to my chest. The second the air touched my face, I took a deep breath. It was the first real one I’d taken since class had ended, and it felt like heaven.#p#分页标题#e#
Heaven was a welcome counter to the hell that accompanied Jordan Keaton’s presence in my life… Not to mention the way he was making me feel.
It had to stop. I’d worked too hard on my body’s reactions for too long. I’d curbed my base desires so I didn’t get attached to anyone, whether or not I liked them for real or had to sleep with them. Basic human sensations were almost foreign to me because I was always afraid that, if I liked the way a guy I had to sleep with handled me and he asked me for my number, I’d hand him the real one instead of the fake one.
Then I’d have to stop working. I’d have to get a job that paid minimum wage and ran me ragged six nights a week. I didn’t want that, but more importantly, I didn’t want to give up being on camera. I liked it. Loved it. It was a part of Darcy Hamilton.
I got into my car and slammed the door, intent on Starbucks. Maybe that’s why I was struggling so much with this situation.
I was no longer Darcy Hamilton, Dalton Cam Girl.
I was Darcy Hamilton, Professor Jordan Keaton’s Personal Whore.
Fuck.
I had no idea what to do next. The realization had been striking. He’d managed to take me out of a situation where I had been incredibly comfortable and put me somewhere I was…strangely comfortable.
The more I thought about it, the less I could deny it. I wasn’t uncomfortable in his company. I almost hoped he’d call me after every class and e-mail me with a demand.
I’d gotten addicted to the rush of performing on camera. It wasn’t just the orgasm—although that was nice—or the money and the subsequent independence. It was the power I held over the people on the other side of the show. Male, female, trans—I didn’t know. But I did know that I was the inspiration for many an orgasm, and I was okay with that.