Double Dirty Mountain Men(25)

“I could watch that for ages,” a low, growling voice says.

I nearly jump out of the chair, yanking my foot off the desk and slamming my knees together, face bright red.

Professor Sharpe steps from between two dark bookshelves. I relax, but only a little.

“You participate in more X-rated activities than any other good girl I know,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “Tell me, Melody, do you make a habit of getting yourself off in the library?”

I hold my breath. This isn’t the first time I’ve done it, but it’s not a habit.

“Of course not,” I say.

He grins wolfishly, and it makes my knees into jelly.

“You should,” he says. “It’s a beautiful fucking show.”

“What are you doing here?” I whisper. “I thought you had to grade papers.”

“I graded yours,” he says, leaning against my desk, right next to me. “And I think we both deserve a break.”

His crotch is nearly at eye level for me, and I can’t stop staring at his bulge, my pussy already throbbing again.

“What kind of break?” I whisper, suddenly shy again.

Professor Sharpe laughs, then cups my cheek in his hand, leaning over so he’s close.

“Not long ago you were practically begging to suck my cock, and now you’re asking what kind of break?” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

His hand slides around the back of my head, and he takes my hair in his fist, just hard enough to pull my head back slightly.

Fuck, it’s hot. I like it when he takes control like this, when I give everything up and become his. I’m panting for breath, my chest heaving, and with my hair in one hand, Professor Sharpe traces his thumb down over my breast to flick at my nipple; it’s so hard he finds it even through my sweater.

I close my eyes and swallow, intensely aware that we’re in a library. Where people are quiet, even though it’s Friday night and the place is practically empty.

I reach toward the zipper on his pants, but he catches my wrist in his hand, hard, and I gasp. He tilts my head up, grinning.

“I don’t think so,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re a bad girl who nearly made me bend you over my desk before I’d even read your final paper.”

Hearing him say it — I nearly bent you over my desk — makes my pussy pulse and practically turn into a waterfall.

“That means, Melody, that everything you do, you do with permission,” he says, grinning down at me, a light in his eyes I don’t quite understand. “So, use your words and ask.”

Oh God. That means I have to ask him if I can touch him, stroke his cock, put it in my mouth. Whether I can touch myself while I suck him off.

I don’t really know how to talk dirty. I mean, I can handle “this feels good” and “I like that” but the other stuff?

I’m bright red already, no matter how eager I am. I clear my throat, but the teasing grin on Professor Sharpe’s face doesn’t go away.

“Can I...” I swallow. “Can I touch you through your pants?”

“What part do you want to touch?” he asks, clearly enjoying this.

I take a deep breath.

“Your...”

Don’t say ‘penis,’ that’s not a sexy word.

“...cock?” I say.

“Yes,” he growls, and I run my hand over it instantly, feeling it fill my palm and harden under my touch even through his pants. I can see the ridge where his thick head starts, and I bite my lip, my pussy throbbing with need for him.

He pushes my head forward and I move off the chair, onto my knees on the concrete floor until I’m kneeling in front of him, still rubbing him through his pants.

“Can I unzip your pants?” I whisper.

“Yes, you may,” he murmurs back.

I lower the zipper slowly, savoring the thickness below, nearly vibrating with anticipation, and when his zipper is down I grab his cock again, my fingers looking for the hole in his boxers.

“Melody,” he says, his voice warning me.

I stop.

“Can I take your cock out of your pants?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he says.

I grab it and it springs free, massive and thick, so wide my hand barely fits around it. I stroke it once anyway and he tilts my head back, the head of his cock almost perfectly at my lips. My wetness is sliding down the inside of my thighs as I look at him.

“Can I lick it?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, his voice deep and guttural.

I slide my lips over his head, careful not to touch him with my teeth, and lick the underside hard, swirling my tongue around the head as he groans softly above me. Even though he’s big, it’s not uncomfortable, and in moments the tip of his cock is bumping against the back of my mouth as I suck and slurp on him, every inch in my mouth making me a little wetter.

Then I put him at the back of my throat and look up at him. Even though he’s big, really big, I’m pretty sure I can do this.

I’ve never had a gag reflex, but I didn’t realize it was a big deal until freshman year. I drunkenly hooked up with a frat guy — not my greatest decision, but not my worst — who apparently told his entire frat about my lack of gag reflex.

Two dozen calls, about a million requests for dates, and one drunk marriage proposal later, I figured out what the deal was.

I also never went to another frat party there.

“You didn’t ask,” Professor Sharpe says, and pulls my head away by my hair.

Damn, he’s got some self-control. I stroke his cock in my fist, saliva lubricating his thick shaft.

“Can I swallow your cock?” I say, my voice low.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, just watching me.

“Please?” I whisper.

He give me that wolfish smile and pushes my head forward again, the head of his cock already in my mouth as he says, “Yes.”

When his cock hits the back of my mouth he doesn’t stop pushing, so I take a deep breath, relax my throat, and swallow. Professor Sharpe groans as he slides into my throat, and I swallow again, taking him deeper.

His hand on my head is firm and powerful but he doesn’t push me faster than I can handle. Beyond one short-term boyfriend and a questionable hookup or two, it’s not like I’m very experienced — especially with a monster like this.

Before I know it, my nose is pressed against the soft fur on his lower abdomen, my lips right up against the boxers he’s still wearing. Professor Sharpe growls.

Holy shit, I think, as his hand holds me there a moment longer. I didn’t actually think I could do this.

My eyes are watering a little as he pulls my head back and he slides out of my throat until just the tip of his cock is in my mouth and I suck at it furiously, my hand stroking him as I do.

The Professor doesn’t hesitate. The second I catch my breath he pushes my head back down and this time it’s faster and easier to push him down my throat, my nose against him, and this time I bob back and forth before he pulls me back.

I look up at him, just the tip of his cock in my mouth. His face is a mask of pure lust, so obvious it’s almost animalistic. Before he pushes my head down again he leans against the desk I was using to study and exhales hard, like he has to force himself to stay in control.

“I didn’t quite believe you when you said you didn’t have a gag reflex,” he says, pushing me down again, inhaling sharply when I take him down my throat. “But you’re obviously not a liar, Melody. Just a fucking tease.”

His hand keeps me there, bobbing up and down, his thick cock hard as steel. He pulls me back, pushes me down, over and over again and I let him do it.

It feels good to abandon all control, to let everything be his decision: when I swallow him, where I suck him off, even what we’ll do if we get caught.

“And because you’re a fucking tease, I’m going to come right down your pretty little throat,” he says, his voice still low and growly. “You’re going to drink every last drop, Melody.”

I swallow him again and this time I can feel his cock pulsing. My pussy is quivering with need, and I’m a little dismayed at his words — I was hoping he’d fuck me right here, in the library, but obviously that’s ridiculous.

But I’m wet as hell, wetter than I’ve ever been, just from the way he talks to me. He’s filthy, and no one’s ever talked to me like that before, not ever.

Up above, his breathing is ragged and hard, and I curl my tongue against the underside of his shaft, swallowing one more time so the muscles of my throat stroke him.

“You filthy fucking girl,” he whispers, and then his cock jerks in my mouth. It’s all I can do to swallow again and again as the thick ropes of cum stream down my throat over and over again. He’s gripping my hair so tight there are tears in my eyes, but I don’t try to pull back or stop because he’s right.

I’m filthy, and I want this. I want to swallow him, pleasure him every way I know how.

I want to be his.





Chapter 10





Professor Sharpe




I come harder than I ever have into sweet, innocent Melody’s mouth. I lose control completely, holding her tight against me, the muscles of her throat practically pulling jolt after jolt out of me until I swear I’ve pumped myself dry and I’m going soft.

Finally, I pull her back and she gasps for air. There are tears in her eyes, but she smiles up at me, rubbing the back of one hand over her mouth.