Double Down (29 page)

She was gambling on
heavenly
, but wanted to know for sure.

Playfully, she dropped the hem of the skirt. “I’ve shown you mine, Professor. Now you show me yours.”

“Undo my fly. Slowly.”

Cass knelt between his legs. The trembling tension in his muscles was even stronger now, spiking her excitement. She slid her hands up along the insides of his thighs. Her thumbs cupped the underside of his balls through the soft fabric of his slacks. He sucked in a quick breath. Her every movement was slow, just like he’d ordered, until his fly hung open.

That gorgeous cock pointed due north, its head poking out from the waistband of his boxer briefs. Cass hooked her fingers under the elastic and tugged. The scent of his salty arousal made her lick her lips.

“Touch it,” he said roughly.

Cass wanted nothing more, but she fell back on her role. “I don’t know if I should.”

“You’ve done it before, haven’t you? That boy in the mall?”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

He cupped the back of her neck. The pressure he applied there was not gentle. Cass resisted, their muscles fighting, but he was so much stronger. “I don’t see how. A slut like you—what does it matter whose cock you suck?”

“He’s not…”

“What?”

“He’s not so big.”

Ryan growled. He moved in for a fierce kiss. Their teeth banged together, their tongues tangling. He sucked her bottom lip, licking off her flavored lip gloss. One big hand slipped up her body. He cupped her breast, squeezing until she shivered.

“Now goddamn it, you snotty little bitch. Suck me off or I call your parents.”

“Okay,” she gasped. “Anything you say, Professor. Just…don’t tell, okay?”

He edged forward on the cushion, back straight, with the perfect vantage to watch her work. His expression was feverish. Cass rubbed her stinging lower lip where he’d bit. She pushed her braids back and lowered her head. The first touch of lip to cock pulled a heavy grunt from his chest. She pushed deeper, taking in that wide head. Already she tasted his salt, how ready he was to explode in her mouth.

She couldn’t let that happen. If Ryan came now, he’d be right back where they started. It could take all night to get it through his thick skull that this was good sexy fun.

He stroked her face with his thumbs. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful.”

Cass cupped his balls, gently fondling as she sucked and swirled her tongue. His hips pulsed with jerky movements. His breathing picked up.

She slipped free, pulling back.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he said.

“But…I…I’m curious.”

Ryan reached out and deftly untied the shirt where it was knotted at her cleavage. She was almost impressed that he could manage it with such unsteady hands. “About what, Miss Whitman?”

“I’m curious what you’d feel like.” She rose up on her knees and licked along his jaw. Rough evening stubble scored her tongue. “Inside me. I’ve never been with a man so big before. Just punks with pencil dicks and no rhythm. It wouldn’t be like that with you, would it? I want a real fuck by a real man.”

With a tug, Ryan yanked her shirt down off her shoulders. Soon she was kneeling before him in the plaid skirt, the bobby socks and her white lace bra.

“If we do this, you’ll have to listen to everything I say. You’ll have to do everything I tell you to do.” His voice was so different, so controlled, that her thighs loosened. Just wanting him. “Do you think you can do that?”

“Of course I can, sir.”

He pinched her nipple through the fabric of her bra. “I mean it. If you disobey me, there will be consequences.”

“If I
do
obey, Professor? You’ll make it good for me?”

Gradually running his hand down her torso, he slid two fingers between the lips of her smooth pussy. He gave her clit a flick, then smiled a nasty, sexy smile.

“Yes, Miss Whitman. I’ll make it
very
good.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ryan was fucked in the head. Really, truly fucked.

And savoring every second.

Cassandra was on her knees between his legs, her beautiful tits mounded by the sheer lace bra. The tiny lick of a skirt barely covered her pussy.

Her
bare
pussy.

She’d lifted the skirt, and he’d thought his cock would rise up to meet her. Nothing but bare skin, gleaming with her juices. The only thought in his head had been
yes, please
. Cupping her hot, warm center in his hand had been awesome.

Even now she waited. Patiently. Her lower lip pouting out in petulance. She play-acted at defiance, but she was giving him everything. Her sexy self laid out on a platter.

It was so wrong and so right at the same time.

He circled over her clit one more time, then withdrew. He stuck his fingers in his mouth to lick her wetness. Sweet flavor rolled over his tongue.

“Oh, Professor,” she said, eyes wide. “Are you a bad man?”

“You’re about to find out, aren’t you?”

Something angry and violent was running him down. Chasing him out of his head. No way could he think about anything from the outside world. Not right then. There was only him and her and their twisted game.

He stood abruptly. Fierce lust roared when she stayed kneeling, her face at cock level. “Go to my bedroom. Now. Bend over the end of my bed and wait for me.”

“Wait?” Her words were still infused with petulance, which both grated at his spine and made his dick throb. “I thought you were going to make love to me.”

He snatched her braid again. Pulled too tight. Tight enough that a whisper of real pain flickered across her face. He wanted to back off at that moment—but then she licked her bottom lip. He watched her body roll up into the sting, soaking it in. Her smile was more than wicked. It reveled in the hot lust between them.

“I didn’t tell you to give me any backtalk, did I?”

“No, Professor.”

“Did I or did I not say you’d have to obey me? In everything?”

She curled her hands around the insides of her thighs. The plaid skirt brushed her wrists. “You did, sir.”

As if prying off his fingers one at a time, he released her pigtail. Already he missed the rough silk of her hair wrapped around his fingers. He intentionally echoed every word. “Go to my bedroom. Now. Bend over the end of my bed and wait for me.”

“Yes, Professor.”

She hopped up immediately and almost ran toward the doorway to his bedroom. At the threshold, she paused and flipped up the back of her skirt. Then she continued on as if she’d never stopped.

Ryan needed a second. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. It wasn’t too late to quit this shit. Call a halt. But when he dragged his hands down his face, he smelled her arousal on his fingers.

He stripped his clothes before he could think twice, stalking toward the bedroom on legs he barely felt. His entire world centered in his cock.

Cassandra had obeyed to the letter. Her palms were flat on the mattress, her ass high. The skirt only covered the top curves of her perfect backside.

He stepped up behind her. “Miss Whitman, I’m tired of your impertinence.”

She still kept it up, wiggling her ass at him. “I’m so sorry, Professor,” she said, but in tones that taunted she didn’t mean a bloody word of it.

“Did I tell you to stop on the way in here? Or to flash your smutty skirt at me?”

“No, sir.”

He stroked up her back in one long pet, then fisted his hand around both pigtails. He pulled up mercilessly, until she had to stand and lean against his chest to avoid the pain. “You smelled like beer when I kissed you. How old are you, Miss Whitman?”

She pushed up on her toes, her ass sliding over his cock. “I’m nineteen, Professor.”

He couldn’t tell if the tremor in her voice was real. He wasn’t exactly sure if he cared. He wanted to push her and keep pushing her, just to see how far she’d go. “That’s not old enough to drink. Did I even give you permission to drink my beer?”

“No, Professor.”

He shoved her down. She slapped her hands flat on the comforter. “Do you know what happens to naughty girls?”

Her entire body shuddered. “They’re punished?”

“Yes.” He drew the word into a hiss. Anticipation ate at him. His whole body was locked and loaded. He throbbed with wanting her.

“I deserve to be punished, Professor. Punish me. Spank me. Anything.” She tossed her braids over one shoulder and looked at him. Lust sparked in her eyes, which had gone a darker blue than he’d ever seen. “Just please don’t tell on me.”

He cupped her ass, then under to her bare, wet lips. The touch he traced across skin was feather soft. With his other he worked at gathering up the wisp of her skirt and holding it out of the way. Baring her.

He yanked his hand back and smacked the flesh of her ass cheek.

She yelped once. Her hands fisted in the bed covers, but she pushed up on her toes. “Yes,” she breathed. “
Yes
.”

His mind dimmed. Only Cassandra remained—and teaching her a lesson.

He’d started off relatively gently. A bare crack with his fingertips. He kept on, each smack harder and harder, until the reverberation ran all the way up to his shoulder. Until there was nothing but her ass, turning red under his tingling palm, and her body arching to meet every hit.

She kept up the stream of filthy talk. Calling him professor. Begging him. Telling him how wet she was. How much she wanted to be fucked by a real man.

Every word went straight to his head—pushed more and more shit away until there was just them. Just what they were making. Together.

His hand lifted in the air, he froze. “Miss Whitman, this is your last stroke,” he warned. “But if you can’t take it, I’ll be forced to start over.”

Cassandra pushed her face into the comforter. Her skin was flushed, her eyes glassy. “Yes, Professor. I’ll be good. Just please don’t stop.”

He used his left hand to pet over her back. Sweat had gathered in the dip at the base of her spine. “You’ve been a very good girl so far, but for this one I want something different.”

“Yes, sir.”

He bent low over her. The skin behind her ear was unbelievably soft as he brushed his lips there. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “Don’t say a word.”

He brought his hand down sharply over her wet pussy, fingertips aimed directly at her clit. Her body jerked. Her toes curled into the carpet in their bobby socks. Low and deep in her chest, a moan built, but she kept her lips sealed against it. He could let her get away with that much.

Ryan pushed two fingers into her sheathe, then dropped to his knees. He closed his mouth over her slick cunt. Licking along her wet length, he dipped his tongue between her lips. Juicy as a summer ripe orange. So goddamn smooth he thought he’d lose his mind. He fanned his hands wide over her tight ass, holding her apart. Taut muscles trembled under fever-hot skin.

He spread her folds with his thumbs. Her arousal soaked his fingers until he licked it away, her clit pulsing beneath his tongue as he circled. Around. Back the other way. Varying the rhythm so she couldn’t get complacent. So she’d be as mind-sprung as he felt. He curled his fingers inside her, stroking against the front of her sheathe—finding that small spot that made her thighs jerk and her hips thrust.

“Please, sir.” She pushed her pussy against his face. “Please, can I come?”

He rocked back on his heels, stroked in and out. “Now. Come now, my dirty girl.”

Her smooth lips clenched him and she screamed. Flat-out screamed, pressing her face into the bed, coming in violent pulses around his fingers.

That was it. Ryan lost all semblance of control. He grabbed a condom and rolled it on in a blink. He thrust into her with no finesse. No slow testing. His hands wrapped around her pelvis, under the tiny plaid skirt, fingertips brushing where her newly bare skin began. He slammed his hips against her red ass.

“Yes, sir,” she gasped. “Fuck, right there. Fuck me. Own me. Use that prick in me.”

Again and again. He pounded her. Unrelenting. Fierce. His cock ached. She bore down on him so strong he thought his brains would blow out through his dick.

Wet smacking noises filled the room. His harsh breathing. Her begging and panting.

Abruptly, he pushed her down and nearly threw her onto the bed. She landed with a bounce on hands and knees, but he didn’t give her a second to flip over. He couldn’t look at her. Not when it would mean looking at himself.

Ryan didn’t even know himself at that moment. He only knew where his cock belonged. Inside this snotty little schoolgirl.

He slammed into her again.

With her braid in his hand, he pulled until she jerked up onto her knees. Her arms latched back around his neck. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “Right there. You feel so good right there.”

He slid one hand around her throat. Keeping his touch gentle was damn difficult when his limbs were shaking. He forced himself down to her breasts, cupping one soft mound. Squeezing, he kept driving into her from behind. He lined up her nipple between two fingers and pinched. She squealed. Her cunt clamped down as she came again. Juices poured over him.

His orgasm was a crashing jet, smashing into him with no control. He jerked once, twice. He was lost. A red haze covered him. Overwhelmed him. Tore him down to the foundation.

They stayed locked together in that position. The sweat started to cool over Ryan’s body.

Cassandra melted first, her arms drooping from around his neck. She folded to the bed. Even as she slipped into a puddle, her mouth curved into a contented smile.

He collapsed next to her and smashed his face into a pillow. He couldn’t look at her.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed. Any trace of the petulant teenager was gone. There was only Cassandra. And Ryan. And his fantastic lack of control.

He rolled to his back. His chest still jerked with his rough breathing, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. As the blood left his dick, he started to get a few brain cells back.

Her shiver shook into his side. “That was fierce.
You
were fierce.” She laughed. “Freaking fabulous.”