Then he said it again, “No.”

He said no like it actually meant something, I was not going to take no for an answer, like he hadn’t seen what I was wearing when I walked in or that I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, i would have taken no for an answer if he hadn’t spent the entire test fighting not to look up while I sat in the front row with my legs open just enough.

I stood up slow, not so fast just teasingly, , I didn’t need to explain why I was moving at all. My skirt shifted higher with the motion, and I knew he saw it. He didn’t say anything, i saw his eyes flicked more than once then locked back on mine like he hadn’t looked at all. I stepped closer to his desk hands at my sides, not fidgeting. I Just stood there, letting him see that the shape of the conversation was changing whether he liked it or not.

“I’m sure there’s something I can do,” I said again, softer this time, closer, standing just on the other side of his desk, my fingers tracing the edge of the wood, letting my voice drop low, smoky registering like sin.

“I said no, Miss Hale,” he repeated, voice sharp but strained now, not quite steady, not quite sure anymore, and that was all I needed.

I moved around the desk, slow and steady, just confident, deliberate, daring, until I was behind him, beside him, then right in front of him, between his chair and the wall, blocking his exit with nothing but my tits on his face and boldness, and he didn’t move, didn’t try stopping me nor did he raise his voice or call for help, just sat there, jaw tight, his breath coming in shallow, pretending he didn’t see it coming.

I leaned down, slowly, deliberately, until my hands were on the arms of his chair, until my face was inches from his, until he could smell the cherry gloss on my lips and my vanilla perfume when I spoke, I did whisper.

“I don’t think you understand,” I breathed, lips brushing close to his ear, “I’m not asking you for a favor.”

His eyes snapped to mine, eye sharp as if he was warning me , but I didn’t flinch, I went ahead to straddle him, right away, my skirt sliding up.

My bare, wet pussy pressed directly onto the front of his slacks, heat meeting heat, and I heard it the soft, broken grunt in his throat, like his body had betrayed him before his brain could catch up, and he tried God, he tried to stay still, to stay firm, to pretend like this wasn’t happening, but I could feel him, already becoming hard. He was clearly losing the fight.

“This is me,” I said, grinding slow, lazy circles over him, letting my ass settle over him. pressing myself right where I knew it would make him ache, “showing initiative.”

“Miss Hale” he started, breathless and useless.

“I like the way that sounds,” I interrupted, hips rolling again, my hand sliding up his chest, feeling the heat of him through the crisp shirt, “but I think you should call me something else now.”

He caught my wrist finally, some kind of resistance but his grip wasn’t angry or firm, just tight and trembling like he didn’t know whether to push me away or pull me closer, and I looked him dead in the eye, lips parted, breath warm, pussy wet and throbbing against his clothed cock like the only thing that mattered was what he did next.

“Say it,” I whispered, he didn’t.

So I reached between us, slid my hand down his stomach, and unbuckled his belt one-handed smooth, practiced, and confident, the sound of it snapping loose made him flinch like I’d slapped him.

“Still a no?” I asked, fingers brushing the edge of his zipper.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop me either.

And when I freed him ,he was thick, hard, straining already and pressed the head of his cock right against my dripping entrance, just the barest tease, just enough to make us both suck in a breath, I knew the answer wasn’t no anymore, not even close.

I could feel him twitch under me, thick and ready and desperate to be inside, his cock pressing against the slick heat between my legs as if it belonged there, because the way his breath hitched when I dragged my folds over the head of him, slow and soaked and deliberate, made something in me clench tight with wicked satisfaction, and God, I wasn’t even inside yet, but I was already dripping all over him, slicking up his lap like my body had skipped the teasing stage and gone straight to fuck-me-now.

I pulled back just long enough to reach under my tee, reached for my my bra, hooked two fingers under the front clasp and undid it slow, letting the straps fall loose on my arms until the fabric slid down and my tits were bare between us, warm and heavy and flushed from the heat of everything.His eyes dropped to my breast and he could not help but stare.

I grabbed his tie yanked it and pulled him into my chest full, soft, hot and smothered his face in my tits, letting them press around his mouth like they were meant to drown him in lust. He did fight it at first but after some seconds his mouth opened like he couldn’t breathe without me, like the taste of my skin had rewired his brain, and when he sucked one nipple into his mouth, hard, greedy, desperate, I moaned deep and filthy, grinding down on his lap until his cock was twitching from the contact alone.

He sucked harder on my breast like a baby latching at her mother’s.

Both hands flew to my waist, then to my breasts, grabbing at me like a starving man, tongue swirling around my nipple, lips closing over it again and again, suckling like he’d never tasted anything better, and I laughed low, breathless because he was completely lost now.

“You like that?” I purred, pinching the other nipple and rubbing it across his cheek. “Can’t stop yourself, can you?”

He groaned into my chest, bit gently, sucked harder, switching sides, worshipping me with lips and tongue and heat. My tits were soaked with his spit and tingling with the rawness of how much he wanted me, and I loved it. I rode his thigh while he fed on me, my wet pussy grinding down, humping his pants, soaking them. He hadn’t even been inside me yet, and he was already mine.

I tugged my tit from his mouth with a wet pop, watching his lips chase after it like a drunk denied one last sip, and I smiled slow, knowing, wicked — as I grabbed his jaw and made him look up at me.

“Are you gonna pass me or not?” I asked, voice low, thick with sin, like I already knew the answer but wanted to hear it drip off his tongue.

His pupils were blown, lips swollen, breath wrecked.

“Yes,” he panted, with no hesitation.

“Then do it,” I whispered, dragging my nipple back over his mouth. “Now.”

He groaned, nodded, mouth opening for me again like he couldn’t help it, and I fed it to him like a reward.

I felt him reach blindly for his keyboard, still sucking like I was feeding him life, and I smiled when I heard the soft click-click-click of his fingers tapping my name opening the gradebook changing the grade from F to A, he did it while I was feeding him my tits and making him eat from my hands.

Finally I rose up, aligned him, and sank down, slow and steady, while his mouth was still on my breast. He gasped against me as I took him all the way in, the thick head of his cock stretching me, filling me, owning me even as I rode him like my toy for my pleasure.

But his lips never did leave my nipple for once.

He was moaning into it, licking and sucking like it grounded him while I fucked him deep, hard, wet. My tits bounced with every thrust, and he chased the motion with his mouth, unable to stop himself, worshipping me with a kind of desperate, silent devotion that made me even wetter.

I was the one in control. But God, it felt so good knowing he wanted every inch of me especially there.

He couldn’t stop that was good because it will be a shame to see him stop.

And when I finally came, tits in his face, pussy clenching around him, I swear he came too, shaking and breathless and wrecked still nursing my nipple like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

His cum was still dripping out of me when I climbed off his lap, thighs sticky, pussy sore, tits heavy with spit, his hands still twitching like they didn’t know how to stop grabbing me, and I didn’t look at him, not really, just reached for my tee and pulled it back down over my hips and adjusted my skirt like I hadn’t just ridden my professor’s cock in his office while making him suck my tits like a starving man with nothing else left to live for.

I was wet between my legs from him, and from me the kind of wet that soaked into my thighs and made the insides of my skirt cling to my skin, and I didn’t bother cleaning it up, didn’t even check if it was visible, because what the fuck were they gonna do, give me another F?

He was still breathing hard, slumped in his chair, his shirt wrinkled, his tie crooked, a smear of cherry gloss on his collar and the faint mark of my teeth on his neck where i had marked without even knowing, and the screen behind him was still open my grade updated, name corrected, just like I said.

He still hadn’t sayed a word or moved, he just watched me, wrecked and quiet and maybe a little scared, like he didn’t know what I’d do next.

I fixed my hair in the little mirror above the bookshelf, fingers running through, the tangles he hadn’t even had the balls to grab, and I liked the way I looked flushed, eyes bright like I’d done something dangerous and gotten away with it.

I licked my lips, reapplied my lip gloss which i got from my back pack pocket, i grabbed my phone and took a sweet mirror selfie.

I walked to the door, heels clicking loud and slow, the sound of power and sweat and everything he couldn’t unsee it, and just before I left, I glanced over my shoulder and winked at him.

“You can close your mouth now,” I said “We’re done here.”I walked out without no shame.

Just wet thighs and an A in his class.