I want to f**k you, Professor (2)
Ella’s fingers had found her skin above the stockings, her well-manicured nails casually tracing slow, teasing circles along the soft flesh of her upper thighs. She knew Mr. Jones could see it. The noble, composed professor who wore his decency like armor was now staring at her like a man two seconds from surrender. His eyes flicked from her face to her legs, his mouth slack with want.
She felt drunk with power.
Her gaze dropped to the front of his slacks. The fabric had shifted. There was a slight bulge now where there had been none just moments before. It twitched again. Barely visible, but unmistakable.
He was getting hard.
Oh fúck, she thought. Her cúnt ached with fresh need and her panties stuck to her folds.
It had happened. She had made her pr
