Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
He rolls his eyes, mocking. “Right, right. ’Cause you’re four whole years older than eighteen.”
I shove him in the chest, which naturally doesn’t move him an inch. Even more infuriating. “Please. You barely have the maturity level of some of my students. And I’m light-years more emotionally intelligent than you.”
He bends down to get right in my face. “Oh, is that right, Professor?”
Steam from the running shower wafts around us.
I get right back in his face. “Yes. It is. You pompous, overgrown—”
My words are cut off by him grabbing my face and kissing me.
Oh, thank god. I hurl my arms back around his neck and walk him backward toward the glass shower door. He opens it, and then we’re inside the large, steam-filled enclosure.
“Fuck, couldn’t wait to get my hands on this goddamned sexy body of yours, Professor,” he mutters, his mouth working down my neck in a way that has my fingernails digging into his hair.
Then his hands are on my tits, and I feel his cock hard between my legs. He squirts some soap on his hands and reaches down. I look between our bodies and watch him fist his big cock as he washes it and his balls. In his hands, it still looks big, but not as big as when I reach down my hand to take over for him.
“Jesus, woman.”
I like it when he calls me woman. I don’t care if it means I’m not living by some proper ideals of being a feminist. What’s more feminist than getting what I want as a woman? And this feels so good. It means he’s not seeing me as some kid that’s too young for him. Because that’s not how we are together when we’re sparring with words and the sexual tension between us rises to these incredible heights.
I mean, yeah, he’s bigger and older, and I know that he has more experience. But thank god for that because all the boys I’ve fucked in the past were just that: boys who didn’t know how to even pronounce clitoris right, much less know where it was located.
So yes, Isaak’s experience means he knows how to fuck. It’s more than just that, though.
Maybe he’s right and I am young in ways I still don’t even know, yet. And maybe that’s even part of the attraction. But my gut knows he’s better for me than everything else in my fucked up life.
Better for me than Drew, who’s been breaking my heart since I was twelve and started to know what a crush was.
I lick Isaak’s nipple and reach with my sudsy hand below his shaft to his big balls, rolling them in my hands, then rub lower until I’m washing his taint.
“Jesus fuck, woman,” Isaak hisses. “You want me to lose my load right here?”
“Yes, actually,” I say, fascinated. “I’d love that.”
“Too bad,” he growls, “I’ve got other plans.”
He tugs me away from him so he can finish washing, and I love watching the rough way he handles himself.
“Can I watch you masturbate sometime?” I ask with bated breath. “I really like to watch.”
He looks up at me and shakes his head. “So you are a voyeuristic little dirty bird, after all.”
I bite my bottom lip. It feels so freeing to talk openly about it to someone. I know Moira and Quinn wouldn’t judge me, but it felt too awkward to tell my new friends what I liked when they were participating in some of the scenes I was watching.
“I seriously only went to the club to observe for my dissertation.”
Moving his back under the shower spray, Isaak looks at me skeptically, and I amend my statement. “At first. But after my first visit, I knew I was far enough down the self-actualization path to acknowledge that I’ve got a voyeurism kink. Kind of hard to ignore after I went home and masturbated all night thinking about everything I’d seen.”
Isaak finishes washing himself and squirts more soap into his hands, one eyebrow raised as he tugs me to him, my back to his front. His soapy hands come to my breasts, and I suck in a quick breath as my nipples immediately peak.
“Well this I do want to hear about. What turned you on the most?” he asks as he begins to meticulously wash me under my breasts first. Then he cups them and tweaks my soapy nipples in between his thumb and forefinger.
My breathing is so short I’m panting now. Between his body and the warm, soothing steam, I swear I’m in fucking heaven. “I don’t know. All of it. Watching everyone give in to their basest desires. Watching subs crawl around and seem so fulfilled at their dominant’s feet. Seeing the scenes where people would really push each other in physical, sexual, and painful ways. And like, with the good doms, there’s this perfect balance of trust. Watching a sub go into subspace, holy shit, that’s powerful. It seems like such a release. I’ve always wondered what that would feel like.”