Her back bows over the kitchen island, our empty plates rattling with the thrust of my hand. Two orgasms later, she stumbles into the living room to work on her homework, argument forgotten.
She blinks up at me, eyes unfocused, and grooves crease her forehead. “Where did you go, gorgeous girl?
Get out of your head.” He rotates his thumb and trails his tongue across my pliable lips. “Let it all go.
I want you naked, sitting at my piano and rolling your hips like you’re fucking the notes.
It’s universally known that the more forbidden something is, the more desirable it becomes. I feel this truth like a fist around my balls as I enter my classroom after lunch and find the forbidden obj...
Sex doesn’t have to conform to society’s standards to be sane. It doesn’t have to be slow and tender to be safe. And it doesn’t have to be free of leather cuffs to be consensual.
I will gladly go to exhaustion waiting for him. Waiting for his discipline. Waiting for his affection. Waiting for the unknown.
She’s exactly the kind of woman I’m drawn to. A woman who flees when hunted and comes alive when she’s caught.
His pleasure is my pleasure.
His tongue fucks my mouth the way his cock fills my pussy. Deeply, urgently, and completely unrestrained.
Henri held herself as if only her arms could keep her pieced together, and I saw that behind all her fake control—throwing herself at a teacher, carving our dad out of her heart—was something fragile....
Yes, Mel. That's exactly why I left without explaining. Because I think about you before I think about myself. Always remember that, Little Ballerina. Always.
You feel pretty ,manly to me," I breathed out, all jelly-legged with half-mast eyes."And you feel like a woman worthy of a fight, Ms.Greene.
I think I like you," I muttered, pressing my face to his muscled torso in a hug. I felt his heartbeat under my ear."I think I like you back.
Why the anchor?""Because sometimes, it's nice to feel like there's someone who can save you.
Because that was the problem with society. It cared too much about who you fell in love with but never about why. The why matters.
The teacher should be like the conductor in the orchestra, not the trainer in the circus.
