“On your knees, slut.”
Eliza shivered, the deep voice of her master shooting straight to her sex. She’d been so good lately, not touching herself unless they were together. She’d known they were meeting up today. Knowing that he would finally give her sweet release. All day she’d been distracted, unable to focus on her assignments, on her lectures, on her father’s nagging voice at the back of her head.
“Close the door behind you,” Nash ordered, and she did as she was told. Just as she reached for the lock, however, he tsked at her, making her stop and turn back to him, wide-eyed. “Don’t lock it.”
“But…” She swallowed her protests, not wanting to displease him, but an unlocked classroom was risky—especially when the dean’s daughter had come to play with her master; her underwear were already wet with anticipation. The way he looked at her alone was enough to get her going, his eyes dark with lust yet his expression aloof, as if this didn’t have some effect on him at all. What she liked most about him in that moment was that she knew he was a storm inside, a hurricane of emotion, of want, but he kept it all hidden beneath an icy demeanor. Cold. Distant. His features like ice. Towering over her, Nash was an impressive man in every sense of the word—just thinking about him, him as a person, was enough to send Eliza into a tizzy.
“On your knees,” he said sternly, ignoring her momentary disobedience. She hesitated, only a few seconds, before dropping to her knees. She’d worn tights just for this, so that she could feel the ache in her knees on the tile floor of the college classroom. Nash had taught her how to feel. Pain. Pleasure. He encouraged her to revel in both, just as he did, and she loved him for it.
“Yes, Master,” she offered, her voice soft and sweet, her gaze fixed to him. He studied her for a long moment, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed, and then he snapped and pointed to the floor in front of him. Crawl to me. Licking her lips, Eliza moved forward slowly because she knew he liked to watch. He liked to see the sway in her hip, the wince when her hands connected with the hard ground. He was a watcher, a man of study—and she was his favorite subject.
“Take my cock out and worship it, slut,” he instructed once she was kneeling at his feet. Slut. The word said by anyone else was offensive, dirty, but he used it ironically with her. She’d been a virgin when they met, and he started calling her his slut, his whore, once this aspect of their sexual nature began. It was, to Eliza, as endearing as any other pet name, but she refused to ever let anyone else use it against her.
Eyes alight with joy, she surged up and unbuckled his belt, then dug his hard cock out from beneath his black jeans. All in black today. Stern. Dominant. Authoritative. She loved when he wore all black—he was her shadow then, always with her.
He must have been as excited for the moment as she was, because the tip of his cock glistened with arousal, and she licked the bead off, savoring the salty taste briefly before taking him in her mouth. Once she had him, she placed her hands behind her back, knowing he preferred the feel of her mouth over the feel of her palms. And she did, too. This way was better. It made her wetter, taking him deep, her hands trapped by the invisible bonds of his gaze.
“You’ve been such a good girl this last week,” he purred, his fingers threading through her hair, as he started to pump in and out of her mouth. “Maybe today I’ll even let you come…”
She moaned at the thought, the vibrations of her voice undoubtedly making his thighs quiver. It seemed she was entirely in his power, given her current position, but Eliza had more control in the situation than anyone would expect. She knew how to work him now, her gorgeous mystery man, and she thrilled in giving him pleasure almost as much as she enjoyed receiving it in turn.
His hand tightened in her hair, hard, and she gagged when he pushed in deeper than usual, his pace fast and merciless. When they’d first started, she might have pushed him away, frightened by his strength, but now she concentrated on breathing, on watching him with watery eyes as he had his way with her.
“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, pulling out of her mouth suddenly so fast that she gasped, her teeth clattering together. “You’re too good today, slut. I had so many plans to torment you here. My paddle is in my bag. The gag. The ropes. But I think I’ll just fuck you.”
“Thank you, Master,” she all but cried, trying to keep herself in check, as he hoisted her up and bent her over a nearby desk. Facing the door, she gripped the desk’s edge and bit her lip in an effort to stay quiet while he ripped her tights and yanked her underwear down. Sometimes he teased her, rubbing the head of his engorged cock along her wet slit, making her beg for him to fuck her. But not this time. No, he pushed into her with a grunt, filling her as she gave a heady cry.
“Not too loud, my petulant slut,” he said with a chuckle, finding a harsh and fast rhythm as he took her, “or someone will come in and find the dean’s daughter bent over a desk being fucked by a dirty biker.”
“Master!” she whimpered, arching up to take him in. Sweet release—it was all she craved. She’d been so good. So patient. “Please, please, please…”
“What do you…?” He trailed off, stilling inside her when the doorknob across the room rattled. No one ought to be scheduled in the classroom, or so he hoped, especially if he’d initially planned to do a more elaborate scene with her. They both waited with bated breath, the silence suffocating, until whoever was about to enter thought better of it.
Nash wrapped a hand over her mouth and resumed his previous pace, slamming into her and bringing her closer and closer to the release she craved.
“Maybe I should have gagged you,” he whispered in her ear. Although she couldn’t see it, she could picture the sinful curve of his lips, the devilish look in his eye. She whimpered again, and Nash laughed as he continued to fuck her, tossing her over the edge of bliss and using her until they were both spent…