Page 109 of Almost Ravaged

Smile widening, she slips one strap over a shoulder, then the other, and rolls the tank top and bra down her body.

Precum leaks out of me like a faucet.

“What about these, Professor?” Her fingers delicately caress the swells of her enormous breasts before stopping to rest on her nipples.

Jesus H.

She’s pierced.

Each peak is adorned with a gold barbell with emeralds on the ends.

“Do you like these as well?” She pinches the dark pink flesh there before tugging on the piercings themselves.

“You’re just full of surprises, Ms. Davvies.” Licking my lips, I lean forward and take one of her breasts in my mouth.

“Wait.”

Immediately, I pull back, hands held up.

She blows out a shaky breath and searches my face. Then, with a sheepish smile, she says, “My safe word is harmonica. And I use banjo to slow down.”

I sit back as the information registers.

“You have a safe word?”

She really is full of surprises.

With a knowing smile, she tugs on her piercings.

“Safe, sane, and consensual, Professor Eden.” She whimpers, still working herself up. “I like it rough, but just in case we need to pump the brakes—”

I hold up my hand. “Understood. In fact, I have a healthy respect for the bluegrass theme,” I quip. Then, more seriously, I tell her, “My safe word is avocado, which I happen to be allergic to. No hard limits.”

“I have a few. No permanent alterations or damage to my body or mind, and no pet play,” she states. “Oh. And no anal without lube.”

I scoff. “I wouldnever.”

Fuck. We’re really doing this.

Correction: we’ve been doing it. But now that my graduate assistant is topless before me and has disclosed her safe words and hard limits, the reality is suddenly, starkly real.

I don’t give myself time to overthink. We’re consenting adults, and I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted someone more than I want this woman right now.

“Push those perfect tits together for me, Ms. Davvies.”

She obeys, lifting her chest and holding her breasts together.

I cup her with both hands and tease her piercings back and forth to gauge her sensitivity.

When I tug, she gasps. Her eyes fly open, hazy and zealous.

“Do you like it that rough, Ms. Davvies?”

“Yes, Professor. Just like that,” she pants.

Though I’m reluctant to stop toying with her piercings, I let them go so I can grip myself and align my length with the tight channel she’s creating between her tits.

“Spit on it,” I grunt.