Page 10 of Teach Me (Deviant Players #1)

I did. Lewis had wandered up to the window, eager to watch me moan and pant as I was being fucked by my dissertation supervisor. I didn’t care if it was unethical, depraved, deviant … All I cared about was the maddening thrusts and the building orgasm, licking up my thighs in a ferocious heat.

My forehead bumped against the cool frame as he slammed into me again and again. My core tightened. When my moans spiked, he slowed his thrusts and toyed with my body, making me whine and press back against him.

‘Not yet.’ He wrapped his fingers around my hair and tugged. ‘Wait for me, and I’ll make you come harder than you ever have.’

‘I can’t.’

He twisted his hand. ‘You will.’

But I was defenceless. Lost in his game. My hot breath misted the window as he pounded into me until my body couldn’t hold back anymore.

‘I’m going to?—’

‘Wait!’

But it was too much. Too good. I came with a wordless, breathless cry, my cheek pressed against the glass, my eyes rolling back into my head.

‘Fuck,’ he groaned as he followed my ascent into blinding pleasure, emptying himself inside me in hot spurts.

My panting breaths stained the glass as we stilled. Across the street, Lewis tipped his head before leaving the study hall. When the door slid shut behind him, reality came crashing in.

‘He saw us.’

Dr Braithwaite kissed my neck. ‘Don’t worry about him. I have a long-standing understanding with the Carters.’ He withdrew and quickly tucked himself away.

‘What does that mean?’ I pulled my dress down. ‘I need a tissue,’ I whispered. What had I done? Anyone could’ve seen us.

‘No, I want you to go home like that.’ He retrieved a paper from his desk. ‘I also want you to watch these videos before our next meeting.’

I shrank into myself. He wanted me to walk home with his come trickling down my thigh? Goosebumps rushed down my arms. I was a slut, wasn’t I? This was because of the damn boots. I should never have given him the impression that I was promiscuous. It had made him see me as Joshua did.

‘What’s wrong, Ophelia?’

‘You see me as a slut,’ I whispered, staring at the floor.

‘You’re not a slut. You’re my slut. Do you understand the difference?’

I honestly didn’t. Tears filled my eyes. ‘This isn’t about my dissertation. You just want – you think I’m—’ My voice broke.

‘Come.’ He took a seat in an armchair and patted his thigh. ‘Sit.’

I sat on his lap and buried my face against his chest. ‘I’m so stupid.’

‘You’re not stupid.’ He wrapped his arms around me, his lips pressed against my temple.

‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ I whispered.

‘You didn’t want me to fuck you?’

‘I did! But I let you think I’m – I don’t have a lot of experience.

I’ve only slept with two guys before you and…

and…’ Broken words about fuck-me boots, hypotheses, and boxes in my wardrobe crammed with past regrets tumbled out as disjointed sentences that made little sense.

‘I wanted you to – but the boots weren’t because – and now you think I’m?—’

‘Shh.’ He held me tighter. ‘It’s okay, baby girl.’ The unexpected endearment stunned me enough to stop my rambling explanation. ‘I don’t think you’re promiscuous just because of your boots. And I’ve had far more sexual partners than you, but would you call me a slut?’

‘Of course not.’ I snuggled closer, sniffling. ‘You’re experienced. Men are celebrated for their conquests.’

‘Indeed. When I call you a slut, my slut, I want you to see it as a reward. It means I’m pleased with your willingness to embrace your desires.

’ He met my frown with a smile. ‘When I’m with a woman, I want to hear her enjoying herself.

I want to see her pleasure. I have no interest in a passive lover who’s satisfied with a five-minute fuck once a week. ’

‘Is that why you’re not married?’

‘Perhaps,’ he mused. ‘If I were to commit, I imagine myself with a partner willing to explore her limits and mine. Someone who isn’t afraid to role-play or try new positions and toys.’ He smirked. ‘Someone proud to be my slut.’

I looked down. ‘It’s a derogatory term.’

‘Not to me.’ He wiped away my tears. ‘When you’re with me, I want you to feel free to explore your sexuality. Don’t bring shame to our time together. I won’t allow it. Do you understand?’

I nodded. I wanted the freedom he spoke of more than anything. To have someone like him be proud of me. To see myself as he claimed to see me.

His gaze searched my face. Then he smiled, a warm smile that made me determined to find a way to keep him forever.

Forbidden or not, this was where I belonged – in his arms, a place where my chaotic thoughts finally calmed.

Where everything was quiet and comfortable. I never wanted to leave his side.

‘When I get home tonight, I plan to jerk off in the shower as I remember you crying out as you creamed all over my cock.’

Cheeks burning again, I bit my lip.

He chuckled. ‘You’re adorable when you flush. How does it make you feel knowing I get off on your pleasure?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Be honest, Ophelia.’

Dr Braithwaite’s lips tipped up at the corners, his trademark secretive smile daring me to admit the truth. The thought of earning more rewards from him ignited the blood in my veins, turning my voice low and breathy.

‘It makes me proud.’

‘Why?’ He stroked my cheek, staring at my lips. I wanted to kiss him more than anything, but he was waiting for a response, and I racked my brain for a reason for the joy coursing through me.

‘You’ve been with so many women, yet you’re thinking about me.’

‘Hearing you come is one of the most erotic things I’ve heard in a long time.

I plan to hear it again soon.’ His smile grew, crinkling his eyes.

It was radiant, just like the rest of him.

‘You have three more weeks left of this challenge, Ophelia. Reflect on your views of female sexuality before our next meeting.’

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. ‘Okay.’

‘And limit your alcohol intake next time. I don’t want you to regret anything you’ve done under the influence.’

‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I picked up Lewis at the bar.’

‘I don’t want you to regret anything you do with me, either. Your safety is important to me. I hadn’t planned on fucking you tonight, but you really are irresistible in these stockings.’ He ran a hand down my thigh. ‘How does it make you feel when I call you my slut?’

‘I don’t know.’

It was a lie, and he knew it. My body betrayed me every time he whispered dirty words in my ear, every time his palm delivered another smack, every time his fingers found my weaknesses. I succumbed to his game like a puppet, eager to have my strings pulled.

‘Hmm.’ He patted my thigh. ‘Think about it until our next meeting. Come. I’ll drive you home.’

‘I can take the bus. It’s not far.’

He put me on my feet and grabbed his coat, wrapping it around me. ‘I’m driving you home. Let’s go.’