Christine Vs. Professor Page 5

  “Well,” Natalie says contemplatively, “are you actually doing that? What does Anders say?”

  “That he can separate our relationships in his head, and judge my application on its merits,” I say miserably, staring down into my drink.

  “I know I wouldn’t be able to keep my desire to wrap my lips around his cock and the fact that he was my professor separate in my mind,” Kim puts in. I glare at her, really not wanting to hear that answer. She ignores that look. “Okay, tell the truth now – you guys are fucking now, right?”

  I nod, a giant grin spreading across my face. “Ohhhhh yeahhhh,” I sigh happily. At least that part isn’t complicated. Anders Trask’s dick? Yes please.

  “Is it as big as we thought it’d be?” Kim asks, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling with lust. I have to quell a momentary feeling of jealousy. Of course Kim would be drooling over Anders. Any woman with a pulse would be. It didn’t mean Anders was drooling over her.

  I let a grin spread across my face as answer and Kim squeals. “I knew it! I knew it!” she crowed. “How big? C’mon, show us.”

  I hesitated for just a second, but c’mon, who was I fooling? I couldn’t keep that kind of shit from my besties. I spread my hands apart, indicating the length of his delicious cock and Kim’s eyes widened. “How does that fit in you?” she breathed in shock.

  “Oh, it fits,” Natalie says with a naughty grin.

  “Oh my god, you too??” Kim says, laughing, and Natalie’s grin only widened. We grinned at each other and clinked glasses together in celebration.

  “I want my own foot-long-dick-wielding fuckmaster,” Kim says, looking back and forth between us, pouting.

  “Someday,” Natalie says, throwing her arm around Kim’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “And when you do, you too will have a hard time walking some mornings.”

  I snort, remembering yesterday morning. Yeah, that’s about right.

  “So, back to the important shit,” Natalie says, shifting her focus back to me. “I know that Anders thinks that he can keep things separate in his head, but do you really think that’s possible if he’s getting into your purple silky thong every night?”

  I stick my tongue out at her. I actually don’t have a purple silky thong, only a lace one. Hmmm…Victoria Secret time. I bet Anders would love to pull that off with his teeth and then kiss his way up my…

  Snap.

  I jerk my head and look at Natalie, who’s just snapped her fingers in front of my face.

  “Earth to Christine,” she says in a sing-song voice.

  I stick my tongue out at her again. She ignores it again.

  What are best friends for, after all?

  “I really don’t know about this,” she says thoughtfully. “It does seem like using your body to get into a program all based on ethics is a bit…questionable.”

  “But I’m not using my body! He’s told me so.” But inside, I’m dying a little. Because Natalie is saying everything that I’ve been worried about.

  Everything that has been bothering me, even if it doesn’t seem to be bothering Anders.

  “I’m just going to have to bring it up with him. Again,” I mumble into my gin and tonic.

  No matter how much I didn’t want to.

  13

  Christine

  “Home sweet home,” Anders says, opening up the door with a grand gesture in front of me.

  Like Cinderella first walking into her prince’s castle, I enter slowly, my mouth agape. It was…gorgeous.

  Fucking gorgeous.

  Who lives like this?

  Anders Trask does, apparently.

  Dark woods and giant pastoral paintings and heavy curtains – it has an old-world charm to it that I hadn’t expected. And the entryway is larger than my living room.

  “I had it remodeled using an old castle in France as the inspiration,” he says, coming up to me with yet another drink in hand, handing it to me as I wandered around, oohing and ahhing. I know that most people my age would probably like stainless steel and retro furnishings, but I’d always love the regal European decor.

  “Come, check out my favorite feature,” he says, as excited as a little boy. He grabs my free hand and pulls me down a hallway and into a dark room. Flipping a switch, a few strategically placed lights turn on to a low glow, pointing straight at…

  “Oh my god, Anders, really?” I squeal, heading straight towards the suit of armor.

  “Early 1430s Italian armor,” he says proudly. “One of the oldest full sets of armor in existence.” Its dull silver glow in the dim lighting almost made it seem ethereal. I reached out and stroked the metal joints reverently.

  “I love it,” I say softly. He stood behind me and pulled me tight up against him, wrapping his arms around me as I leaned into him. We stared at the suit for a long minute in silence. It just seemed to deserve that.

  “Anders,” I finally say, breaking the peaceful silence between us. As much as I hate to, I have to. I just can’t live with myself if I don’t. “You’re going to be able to make a decision about the UN program even with…this,” I gesture to the air around us, “happening, right?”

  He pulls me against him even tighter and begins to nuzzle my neck. “Even though,” he breathes down my neck, sending shivers down my spine, “I want to fuck you senseless,” he nips at my neck and down my shoulder, “every moment of every day,” he nips back across to the nape of my neck and down my other shoulder, “I can separate that from the UN program.

  “Although,” he says in a teasing voice, pulling away from my skin and standing up straight, “I should use my power for evil.” He turns me in his arms and stares down at me with a devilish glint in his eye. “Tell you that the only way that you can get into this program is to fuck me like the little whore that you are.”

  “Ohhhhh…” I breathe, staring up at him, biting my lower lip as I do. “I…well…I…” I stutter, unable to put a complete thought into words. “I would hate to lose the chance to be in the program, so if that’s what it takes…”

  I know he’s teasing. I know he would never tell me something like that and mean it. But that didn’t mean it isn’t hot as fuck to hear.

  “I think it’s time to put my little whore to work making me happy, don’t you?” he says, the teasing tone of voice disappearing as his commanding voice takes its place.

  “Yeah, probably,” I say, staring up at him, my voice little more than a whisper.

  “‘Yeah’?” he repeats. “Don’t you mean ‘Yes sir’?”

  “Yes sir,” I repeat, and my thong is so wet, I’m afraid I might be creating a puddle on his floor.

  He pulls back and take my drink from me, placing it on a nearby end table.

  “I think it’s about time to see what kind of fucktoy you really are,” he says, and takes my hand.

  14

  Christine

  Fucktoy, he called me, and that word is echoing inside my head like a maddening scream of pleasure. Fucktoy. I want him, I want him really bad - and I’m lucky enough for him to want me that badly as well.

  Stepping toward me, there’s that wicked grin on his lips, delight and desire painting his face. He rests his big hands on my waist and, the moment he leans into me and kisses me, I close my eyes and let go.

  From the way he’s kissing, I can already tell that this is going to be good. For a man as imposing as him, he’s actually more than a good kisser. I tilt my head to the side, pulling him closer and pressing my mouth harder against his. I part my lips and slip my tongue inside his mouth, a whirlwind of lust dancing inside my head.

  I exhale sharply as, still grabbing me by the waist, he pushes me back and pins me against the wall. I gasp as I feel the hard surface against my back, my body pinned between the wall and him. His fingers dart to my wrists and he lifts my arms up over my head.

  “I’m going use you like the little slut that you are,” he tells me, his eyes brimming with desire. I have no doubts about what he just said - he’
s a man of his word. And each word that tumbles out of his mouth makes me want him more, boiling blood travelling through my veins and raising hell between my thighs. My thong is drenched, my juices soaking it in a way that hasn’t happened since… Well, since the last time we were together.… I can’t even start to explain how I’m feeling: to put it simply, this is raw desire in its purest and most violent form.

  “Use me, sir,” I whisper, a smile pregnant with anticipation dawning on my lips. My heart feels tight inside my chest and, as I stare into his eyes, I realize that he’s going to ruin me completely. No other man will ever be able to make me feel like he does.

  I throw my head back, baring my neck to him, and he savors my skin with hard kisses. I pant each time his lips touch me, a gentle fog of pleasure blanketing my mind. I get out of his hold with cat like movements, freeing my hands and taking them to his shirt, my frantic fingers popping button after button. I untuck his shirt then and, almost with a growl, I press the open palm of my hands on his pectorals, feeling the iron and steel of a rare breed of men under my fingertips. How the hell does a professor have a body like this? I don’t remember any barbells hiding under his desk.

  Anders presses his body against mine, the warmness of his skin sending a shiver down my spine, and then grabs a handful of hair on the nape of my neck. Holding my head, he presses his mouth against mine; fireworks go off behind my eyelids as we kiss savagely, our tongues dancing and fighting against each other with abandonment.

  Still kissing me, he takes his hand and lets it slide down my side, then makes it climb up my inner thigh. I shudder as I feel his long fingers on my skin, my hips unconsciously bucking against him. He brushes one finger over my thong, long flames of pleasure darting through my body as he does it; I rock my hips against him, trying to have him press his hand against my pussy. He doesn’t relent, though, taking his time and slowly brushing his finger over the fabric of my thong and my aching pussy.

  He’s the one in control, and he’s not letting go of that control.

  Taking a step back, he grabs the hem of my skirt and hikes it up to my waist. “Is this what you want?” He tells me in a half-growl, half-whisper, pressing his hand against my pussy. I let out one weak moan, submitting to the pressure of his hand. With a sudden growl, he takes his fingers to my thighs and pushes on my thong, sending it down my legs. I bite my lower lip as I feel it sliding down, and I step out of it eagerly, kicking it with my heels to a faraway corner.

  I exhale sharply, his fingertips caressing my folds with a maddening gentleness. I grab his wrist and try to make him go harder, but he keeps to his own rhythm and slowly drives me to the edge with his touch. This is pure torture, and I’m loving every second of it.

  He traces the contour of my pussy with one single finger, carefully avoiding my clit. I sway my hips, but he takes his other hand and holds me in place by the hips. Slowly parting my folds, he takes his finger all the way up my crevice, and only then does he brush his fingertip against my clitoris. And, God, the moment he does it… It’s almost too perfect. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, surrendering to the sparks of electricity that fly inside my body as he gently rubs my clit.

  “Oh, God,” I moan, and he opens his hand and presses it hard between my thighs. I snap my legs shut by instinct, trapping his hand there as he flicks one finger against my folds. I open my mouth and sigh in frenzied delight as I feel his finger sliding inside of me; he takes it all the way, curling it upwards and pressing his fingertip against my G-spot. He rubs me there, drowning my brain in a ocean pleasure. When he slides one more finger inside of me, I can’t stop myself from moaning - I open my mouth and let a high-pitched cry of pleasure fall from my lips, my skin prickling as I do it.

  “Come, Christine. I want you to come, and you will obey,” he tells me in a commanding tone, and my pussy seems to cramp around his fingers, my body bowing down to his command. With two fingers pressed deep inside of me, softly rubbing against that sweet spot, he presses his thumb right above my clit. I don’t know how he does it, but his touch simply takes hold of my mind and sends all my thoughts spiraling down into an avalanche of pleasure. I moan between my gritted teeth, my pussy tightening around his fingers as I come.

  I’m still shaking from the orgasm when he takes his fingers out of my pussy and, with both hands, grabs my blouse and pulls it over my head. I lift my arms up as he undresses me, the fabric caressing my skin on the way out. Grabbing me by the waist, he forces me turn around and then pins me against the wall again, his chest pressed against my back. He starts unclasping my bra, his fingers pulling the straps down my shoulders and, in an instant, I’m grabbing it and throwing it to the floor.

  I jut my ass back at him, pressing it against his body, and I have to close my eyes as I feel the hardness he hides inside his pants. I shudder as I remember how massive his cock was, his long inches pushing their inside of me... Swaying my hips from side to side, I grab my skirt, keeping it up on my waist, and grind against his cock as hard as I can. He pulls back suddenly, though, his hand darting to my skirt and tugging on it with hurried movements; I press my legs together as he pulls it down my body. His fingers slide down my calfs and go over to the straps in my heels. I think that he’s going to take them off, but his fingers go right over.

  “You look good in heels,” he whispers into my ear. “So you’ll keep them on. And I’m going to fuck you like that,” he tells me, my insides boiling as his words caress my eardrums. Looking over my shoulder at him, I see him get up, a grin in his face.

  “I just… I just want to please you, sir,” I mutter, desire making my voice sound mellow and submissive.

  With his chest on my back, the outline of his perfectly carved muscles pressed against my skin, I start rocking my ass against him once again. I dart my hands back and, even though I can’t see what I’m doing, I let desire be my guide: I unbuckle his belt and pull it out, my fingers unbuttoning his pants with an eagerness I hadn’t felt in a long time. Zipping down his fly, I let the bulging inside his boxer briefs push against my ass, its thickness resting against my crack in a way that makes me grow even wetter.

  I allow my unconscious mind to take charge and I turn to Anders then, his eyes falling on my breasts. He grabs them eagerly, his fingers cupping the softness of my flesh as he leans into me, his parted lips engulfing one hard tip as his tongue softly flicks against it.

  My hands fall down the side of his body and I push on his pants, sending them down his legs; immediately after, he kicks off his shoes and removes his trousers as I pull his open shirt down his arms. I put both my hands on his chest and then he takes a step back, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of my naked body. I almost melt as I feel his gaze upon me - seriously, every woman should be fucked by a man that looks at her like this… As if she’s the most beautiful woman on Earth.

  To be fair, I do the same - my eyes wander down from his face to his chest, the ridges between his abdominals almost making me salivate, and then settle into the long shape that tents his underwear. I take my hand there, curling my fingers around it as my heart keeps racing faster. With his pulsing cock on my hand, I’m hit by the sudden desire to please him, to show him that I can make him like no other woman can.

  “On your knees,” he whispers, and I don’t even have to think twice about it. I’m on my knees before my brain even has the time to second guess itself..

  I look up at Anders, a devious grin of anticipation on his lips. Just the way I like it. I lean forwards, tilting my head to the side and laying my lips over the fabric of his boxer briefs. I feel his thick shape becoming even harder, straining against the fabric that holds it, and I start sucking on it over the boxers. I close my eyes then, Anders’s hands resting on the top of my head. Cupping his balls with one hand, I start sucking harder as I hook my fingers on the hem of his boxers, slightly pulling them down, just enough for a faint tan line to reveal itself.

  I know he can barely wait - he wants me to pull his boxers down, for me
to take his cock in my mouth with eagerness and anxiety of an inexperienced virgin. But I keep a posture of defiance, teasing him hard, wanting to prolong his razor thin edge of anticipation. Inch by slow inch, I pull his boxers down, Anders grabbing my hair harder with each teasing movement of my fingers.

  I keep teasing him to no end, my fingers softly brushing against his shape. Then, when he least expects it, I push his boxers down with a jerking motion, his cock springing free with a brutish eagerness.

  It’s simply massive. I’ve already seen it before, but I can’t help but marvel at his size once more… And it’s so dangerously close to my lips… A shiver goes up and down my spine as I imagine me guiding his menacingly thick cock between my thighs, his fat head pushing my folds aside as he rams it inside me.

  “Go on, Christine,” he tells me, and hearing his name on my lips almost makes me go mad..

  Grabbing his cock harshly, I lean into him and wrap my lips around his glans, sucking and savoring the saltiness of his member. He tastes like a man should: raw and brimming with testosterone. I open my mouth wide, allowing his cock to slide deep inside of my mouth as I lean forwards. I go as deep as I can, this time pushing myself to the limit - I only stop when I feel my lips brushing against the skin at the base of his cock, his glans pressing against the back of my throat.

  Hitting my breaking point, I pull back out. Then, firmly grabbing his cock by the base, I start bobbing my head, his length going in and out of my mouth at a steady pace. Tangling his fingers on my hair, he starts to guide me with his hands, dictating the rhythm - but he eases up the pressure soon enough, realizing that I need no guidance, the rhythm of my mouth on his shaft growing into an unstoppable crescendo of lustful fury.