Private Lessons: Part 2

Elena’s pen moved across the page, but the numbers refused to stay still. Every time she shifted in the chair the wet seam of her jeans rubbed her clit. Her nipples still throbbed under the sweater. Across the desk Dr. Hale watched her with the same unhurried attention he gave a difficult proof, gray eyes tracking the flush on her throat, the way her thighs pressed together.

She finished the first line of question twelve and paused.

“Continue,” he said.

She did. The second line. The third. Her handwriting grew less steady. When she reached the point where the chain rule branched, her mind blanked the same way it always did under pressure. The pen hovered.

Dr. Hale stood. He walked around the desk and stopped beside her chair. One large hand settled on the back of her neck, not rough, simply present, thumb resting against the hinge of her jaw.

“You’re freezing again.”

“I know.”

“Then we correct it the way we corrected the last problem.” His voice stayed low, almost conversational. “On your knees.”

Elena’s breath left her in a short rush. She slid off the chair and onto the hardwood floor. The position put her eye-level with the thick ridge still straining his trousers. He didn’t move. He simply waited while she looked up at him, lips parted, cunt already aching again.

“Unzip me.”

Her fingers found the metal tab. The sound of the zipper was loud in the quiet office. She freed his cock—heavy, fully hard, the head already slick. The scent of him hit her: clean skin, faint musk, heat. She wrapped both hands around the shaft and stroked once, feeling the pulse under the skin.

“Mouth,” he said.

Elena leaned in and took the head between her lips. Salt and heat filled her tongue. She sank lower, taking more of him, until the blunt head pressed the back of her throat. He made a low sound—approval, not surprise—and rested his hand on the crown of her head, guiding without forcing. She worked him with slow, deliberate pulls, tongue flat against the underside, cheeks hollowed. Spit gathered at the corners of her mouth and dripped onto her sweater. Her cunt clenched with every bob of her head.

He let her suck him for several long minutes, the only sounds the wet slide of her mouth and the occasional creak of the floorboards. Then his fingers tightened in her hair and drew her off.

“Stand up. Clothes off. All of them.”

Elena rose on unsteady legs. She stripped the sweater, the bra, the jeans, the soaked underwear. The office air cooled her skin. She stood naked in front of him while he remained fully dressed except for the open fly and the glistening cock jutting toward her.

Dr. Hale pointed to the desk. “Hands on the edge. Bend over.”

She obeyed. The polished wood was cool under her palms. He stepped behind her, the head of his cock brushing the cleft of her ass. One hand spread her open; the other guided himself to her entrance. He pushed in with a single, steady thrust that stretched her cunt wide and forced a broken moan from her throat.

“Fuck—”

“Quiet.” His palm settled between her shoulder blades, holding her down. “You take what I give you. You don’t make noise unless I ask for it.”

He fucked her in long, measured strokes, each one seating him to the root. The desk creaked. Her tits swayed with every impact. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. Elena’s arms trembled; her cunt gripped him greedily, the stretch burning in the best way. He reached around and found her clit, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts until her legs threatened to give out.

“You’re going to come again,” he said against her ear. “And this time you ask permission.”

She nodded frantically, forehead pressed to the wood. The pressure built fast—too fast. Her cunt fluttered around his cock.

“Please—” The word tore out of her. “Please, I need to—”

“Come.”

The orgasm ripped through her. Her cunt clamped down hard, milking him in rhythmic pulses while she shook and gasped against the desk. He fucked her through it without slowing, dragging the climax out until she was limp and dripping.

He pulled out while she was still trembling. Elena heard the soft sound of him stroking himself, then felt the hot spill of his come across the small of her back and the curve of her ass. He painted her in thick ropes, marking her, the heat of it sliding down between her cheeks.

For a moment neither of them moved. Then he stepped away, tucked himself back into his trousers, and zipped up as if the last twenty minutes had been a routine consultation.

“There’s a box of tissues in the bottom drawer,” he said. “Clean yourself. Get dressed. We still have three more problems to finish tonight.”

Elena pushed herself upright. Come cooled on her skin. Her cunt felt open and used, the residual throb of him still pulsing inside her. She found the tissues, wiped the mess from her back and thighs, and pulled her clothes back on with hands that refused to steady. When she sat again the chair was cold against her oversensitive flesh.

Dr. Hale returned to his seat, opened the practice set to the next page, and slid it across the desk.

“Question thirteen. Out loud. Every step.”

She picked up the pen. Her voice was rough when she began, but the numbers stayed clear this time. The freeze that usually seized her under pressure had loosened. She worked the problem slowly, carefully, aware of his eyes on her the entire time—aware of the come still drying on her skin under the sweater, of the ache between her legs that promised more private lessons to come.

When she finished the final line he nodded once.

“Better. Next week. Same time. Bring the new problem set.” He paused, gray eyes unreadable. “And leave the underwear at home.”

Elena gathered her things, stood, and walked to the door on legs that still felt unsteady. Behind her the lock clicked into place as she stepped into the empty hallway, the taste of him still on her tongue, the shape of his cock still burned into the walls of her cunt.

She would be back.