Page 113 of Almost Ravaged

When he slips one finger inside me, I buck up and cry out in relief.

“Quiet,” he scolds. Eyes sharp and focused on my face, he sucks my clit into his mouth and adds another digit.

“Fuck. Right there.” I dig my heels into his desk, bracing myself as he delivers the delicious fullness I so desperately crave.

He crooks his fingers, rubbing my inner walls with a precision I sincerely appreciate. As he presses against my sweet spot, he continues to devour that bundle of nerves, satisfying the deepest, most carnal edges of my desire.

A dual orgasm blossoms inside me. Intense pressure builds deep in my core as electricity zaps through my clit and ignites my every nerve ending.

He drives me higher, twists me tighter, until I can no longer stave off my release.

Inevitability washes over me. I give in to it completely, dropping my head back and letting go of all lucid thoughts. I’m nothing but floaty, effervescent sensation, along for the ride as the man between my legs drives me to impossible heights.

“Mercer,” I whimper. It’s the only warning I’m capable of giving.

With his fingers right where I need them, he seals his mouth around my clit to create the most perfect black hole of suction.

As the first spasm racks through me, tears spring to my eyes. I feel it from my scalp to my toes. My core erupts, fast, frantic pulses blending with deep, sweeping waves.

I cry out, my words incoherent, the overwhelming sensations sending the tears in my eyes cresting over my lashes.

In this moment, all I can do isbe. All I can focus on is this.

If time passes, I’m not aware of it. If words are spoken, I don’t hear them.

Before I’ve even started to recover, Mercer scoops me into his arms and sits in his desk chair, cradling me against his chest.

I burrow my face into his shoulder, savoring the scent of salt water and citrus.

He holds me tighter, rubbing small circles on my back, keeping his arms firmly in place in a way that reaches a deeper part of my consciousness, soothing and sating my spirit.

His embrace brings with it a safety, a tranquility, I would never have expected.

The ferocity with which he’s holding me goes above and beyond any sort of casual post-coital cuddle. It smooths the broken edges I try so hard to hide from the world. It eases some of the pain I always carry and makes me feel like, in this moment, I can just be.

After several minutes have passed, he leans back and cradles my face, encouraging me to look at him.

When I oblige, he kisses the tip of my nose, my forehead, and then my lips.

“You are remarkable.” He smooths a warm palm down my bare back. “As much as I’d like to stay here all day and hold you, we have to get to class.”

The reminder sends reality rushing back.

Class.

Class, which starts in eleven minutes, according to the clock on the wall.

Class, wherein I’m the GA, and he’s the professor.

I scurry off his lap, my heart clawing up my esophagus and embarrassment washing over me.

I have no shame whatsoever regarding the sexual relations we just shared. I am, however, slightly mortified that I allowed myself to get lost in the post-coital bliss of cuddling in his lap.

Turning away, I clasp my bra and adjust my camisole, then fetch my cardigan off the floor. I spin in a circle, looking for a mirror so I can assess myself but come up empty-handed. I’ll need to stop at the restroom to check my makeup and hair before heading down.

“Sawyer.”

The use of my first name shocks me out of my thoughts and sends me spinning around.