Alle Kapitel von Stepbrother's Filthy Toy (An Erotica Collection): Kapitel 191 – Kapitel 200

LARA By Wednesday we had a system. Daniel stayed denied. Completely. I let him touch me, taste me, fuck me — always under strict instructions, always with the same rule. He could get as hard as he wanted. He could beg (and he did). He could call me Mommy in that wrecked, quiet voice that made my stomach flip. But he did not come. Marcus, on the other hand, got to finish. Often. Sometimes in my mouth while Daniel watched, hands gripping the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles went white. Sometimes inside me while Daniel knelt and held my thighs open like a very well-trained assistant. I made Daniel thank Marcus afterward. Every single time. It was mean.
It was effective.
It was the most fun I’d had at work in years. Wednesday night I kept them both late again. Most of the floor had emptied. The cleaning crew wouldn’t reach our side until after eight. Perfect window. I sat on Daniel’s desk in another soft blouse and tight skirt, one heel planted on his shoulder while he ate me out

“I’m not going to catch up on the essays.”The words left my mouth before I could sand them down into something prettier. Dr. Elias Thorne looked up from the disaster of red ink that used to be my paper, one eyebrow already climbing. The late-afternoon light through the office blinds cut across his face in sharp gold lines. Everyone else had left office hours twenty minutes ago. The hallway outside was quiet enough that I could hear my own pulse.I stayed in the chair across from his desk, legs crossed, skirt riding higher than it had any academic reason to. My heart was doing something stupid and hungry against my ribs.“We both know it,” I continued, voice steadier than I felt. “The final is in three weeks. I’m sitting at a spectacular F. So I’m proposing an alternative grading method.”Elias leaned back. The leather of his chair creaked. He took his glasses off slowly, folding them with the kind of precision that made my stomach tighten, and set them on the desk beside a half-empty

“You’re late.”I wasn’t. I was three minutes early. But Dr. Elias Thorne looked up from his desk like I’d committed a personal offense by existing in his doorway at 5:02 instead of 5:00 on the dot. The office smelled the same as Thursday — coffee, old paper, and the faint trace of whatever cologne he wore that made my mouth water. The hallway behind me was already emptying. Office hours were almost over.I stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it without being asked. The click sounded louder than it should have.“I’m early,” I said.“You’re wearing a coat.” His eyes dropped to the belted trench I’d kept on over everything. “Take it off.”My fingers weren’t steady when I untied the belt. I let the coat slide off my shoulders and catch in the crook of my elbows for a second before I hung it on the back of the chair. Underneath: a soft black sweater that clung a little too much, and the same short plaid skirt I’d worn last time. Nothing else. The cool air of the office kissed the b

“You’re distracted.”Elias’s voice cut through the quiet of his office like a blade. I was bent over the desk again, skirt around my waist, his fingers buried inside me to the second knuckle, but my mind had been somewhere else for the last five minutes. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere that had nothing to do with extra credit.I forced a breath out. “I’m failing a midterm in real time. Forgive me if my performance is off.”He curled his fingers harder, finding that spot with unerring accuracy. My hips jerked. A soft, broken sound slipped out before I could stop it.“That’s not distraction,” he said, almost mild. “That’s you thinking too loud. Talk.”I laughed once, sharp and humorless against the wood. “You want a thesis statement while you’re finger-fucking me? Fine. I’m starting to want things that aren’t on the syllabus. Happy?”His hand stilled.The silence that followed was thicker than usual. I felt him pull his fingers free, then the soft sound of him stepping back. When I looke

I turned in the essay on time.
I sat in the back row.
I kept my eyes on my notes.Avery stopped watching me like she was collecting evidence. The midterm grades posted. Mine came back a clean, respectable B-minus — high enough to pull my average out of the danger zone, low enough that no one asked questions. Elias returned the papers in class without looking at me longer than anyone else. Professional. Distant. Safe.The arrangement was over.
Or it should have been.Three days after the grades went up I stayed behind when the lecture hall emptied. He was erasing the board with the same precise strokes he used on everything else. I walked down the steps until I was close enough that he had to acknowledge me.“Office hours are over,” he said without turning.“I’m not here for office hours.”He set the eraser down and faced me. The classroom was empty. Late light cut across the rows of desks. Somewhere far away a door slammed.“I did what you asked,” I said. “I played the good student. T