Office Hours Chapter 4

I didn’t wait for the next scheduled office hours.

Friday afternoon the literature building was almost empty. Most classes had already let out. I walked the third-floor hallway like I belonged there, short skirt swaying, no bra, no panties, the same thin white top that left nothing to the imagination if anyone looked close enough.

His door was closed this time.

I knocked once. Soft.

“Come in.”

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. Locked it.

Kane was at his desk, papers spread out, pen still in his hand. He looked up. No surprise. Just that same controlled manner

“Miss Hale.”

“Ava,” I corrected, and walked straight to him.

This time I didn’t sit on the edge of the desk. I walked around it, stopped beside his chair, and dropped to my knees on the floor between his legs.

His breath changed. Just once.

I looked up at him while my hands went to his belt.

“You kissed me yesterday,” I said. “You put your hand on my thigh hard enough to leave marks. You felt how wet I was. And then you sent that kid away and told me to leave like none of it happened.”

I pulled the belt open. Unbuttoned. Unzipped.

He didn’t stop me.

“I’m done waiting for you to decide,” I whispered.

I freed his cock. He was already hard. Thick. Heavy in my hand. I stroked him once, slow, feeling the heat of him, the way he twitched against my palm.

Then I leaned in and took him into my mouth.

No teasing. No build-up. Just the wet heat of my throat closing around him in one long slide. I took him as deep as I could on the first try, eyes watering, spit already running down my chin. My heavy tits pressed against his thighs. I moaned around him on purpose, the vibration low and filthy.

His hand landed in my hair. Not pushing. Not pulling away. Just holding.

I sucked him like I’d been thinking about it for days. Because I had. I used my tongue the way I knew men liked, hollowed my cheeks, took him deeper until my nose pressed against his stomach. Spit made everything slick and loud. I kept one hand wrapped around the base and the other between my own legs, fingers working my clit in the same rhythm.

He stayed quiet at first. Controlled. But his breathing gave him away. Rougher. Heavier. The hand in my hair tightened.

I pulled off just long enough to look up at him, lips shiny, spit connecting my mouth to the head of his cock.

“Still going to tell me to leave?” I asked.

Something in his eyes finally broke.

He stood up so fast the chair rolled back. One hand still in my hair, the other gripping my upper arm, he pulled me to my feet and turned me around. My hands hit the desk. Papers scattered. He shoved the short skirt up over my hips, baring my ass and the soaked, shaved cunt he’d only felt once before.

I heard the sound of him stroking himself once, twice, coating his cock with my spit.

Then he pushed inside me in one hard thrust.

I cried out. Not from pain. From the sudden, perfect stretch. He was thicker than I expected. Deeper. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me like he’d been holding it back for weeks—rough, controlled only in the way he kept his hands locked on my hips, pulling me back onto every stroke.

The desk creaked. My tits swung heavy under me. Every thrust dragged over the spot that made my vision blur. I was so wet the sound was obscene. Filthy. Exact.

“Fuck—” I gasped. “Harder.”

He gave it to me harder.

One hand left my hip, slid around, and found my clit. He rubbed in tight, mean circles while he kept pounding into me. I came fast, thighs shaking, cunt clenching around him, a broken moan torn out of my throat. He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, through the aftershocks, until I was dripping down my own thighs and onto the floor.

He pulled out suddenly.

I felt the loss like a physical thing.

Then his hand was on the back of my neck, pressing my cheek to the desk, and the blunt head of his cock pushed against my ass instead.

I froze for half a second. Then I pushed back.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Do it.”

He spat once. Used his fingers to work me open just enough. Then he pushed in slow, letting me feel every inch as my body stretched around him. The burn was sharp and perfect. I moaned into the wood of the desk, loud and shameless.

When he was fully inside he stayed still for a moment, breathing hard, one hand stroking down my spine.

Then he started to move.

Anal was different. Deeper. More intense. Every thrust forced broken sounds out of me. I reached back and spread myself open for him, giving him everything. He fucked my ass the same way he’d fucked my cunt…controlled at first, then rougher, like something had finally snapped.

I came again with him buried deep, vision white, thighs trembling so hard I almost collapsed. He followed a few strokes later, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside me with a low, rough sound that was almost a growl.

For a long moment the only sound in the office was our breathing.

He pulled out slowly. I felt the warm slide of his cum leaking out of me.

I stayed bent over the desk, skirt around my waist, used and dripping, heart still slamming.

Kane stepped back. I heard him fixing his clothes.

When I finally stood and turned, he was watching me with an expression I hadn’t seen before. Not calm. Not controlled. Something rawer.

I pulled my skirt down. Smoothed my top. My legs still felt weak.

“That’s once,” I said, voice rough. “You’re going to want it again.”

He didn’t answer.

I walked to the door, unlocked it, and looked back one last time.

He was still standing there, staring at the place on the desk where I’d just been.

I smiled.

Then I left, his cum still leaking down my thighs with every step.