The restaurant was almost empty. The lights were dim and low, and chairs were stacked in corners as if the place was about to close. Isabella had come only to grab a quick lunch. She didn't expect to see him there.
Professor Blackwell.
He stood near the counter, looking devilishly handsome in his blue suit making him look like he didn't belong in such an ordinary place. His eyes flicked to her once-just once-but it was enough to turn her on.
She walked faster, clutching her bag, pretending not to care. But she could feel his gaze trailing her every step. Isabella slipped into the restroom, heart racing. She pressed her palms against the sink, breathing hard.
"What is wrong with me?" What the f**k is he doing here....Ughh!!" she thought.
As the door creaked open, her head snapped up.
Professor Blackwell stepped inside, closing it behind him. His broad shoulders filled the space. The lock clicked.
"Professor, what are you doing here?" she whispered.
Surprisingly, the question fell on deaf ears as he moved closer, slow, controlled, but his eyes; his eyes were not controlled at all. They were filled with something lustful. Something carnal.
"You shouldn't be here," Isabella said, though her back was already against the cold restroom wall. His hand stroked her hair ever so slightly, as he unknowingly caged her in. His voice was low, rough, "And yet... here I am."
Then he interlocked her fingers from the inside and pinned her hands to the restroom wall. His mouth started devouring her luscious lips with an intention that screamed-just shut up and kiss me.
The kiss was long, urgent, tempting. Isabella moaned deeply, and he swallowed the sound, his tongue sliding against hers, taking, demanding. Her knees shivered with every squeeze of her ass.
For a brief moment, he would pause and look at her and she would return the gesture with a soft bite of her lower lip, giving away the pleasure she now seemed to crave. It didn't take too long for her pupils to be lost in her sockets.
His other hand found her waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of her hips, pulling her closer until she could feel the thick, hard protruding bulge of him pressing against her stomach. Her hands shook, but she couldn't stop them.
She gripped his suit jacket, pulling him tighter and tighter. His mouth left hers only to trail hot, biting kisses down her neck, making her shiver.
"Mmm..." she moaned, barely recognizing her own voice.
He groaned, deep and hungry, his hand sliding lower, cupping her ass, squeezing it hard. She gasped again, and the sound only pushed him further. Her skirt rode up as his hand slid under it, rough palm gripping the bare curve of her thigh.
She was pinned now, his body heavy against hers, his fingers rubbing forward between her inner thighs in slow, dangerous circles.
"Do you know what you do to me, Isabella?" he murmured against her ear, his breath hot, ragged.
"Ahhh, hmm..." she whimpered, unable to answer.
Her perky breasts were pressed against his chest. His hand moved up, fondling her breasts delicately, thumb flicking over her nipple through the thin fabric. He was teasing her for real.
She arched into him, desperate, shame forgotten. Her hands trembled as her precum slid down between her legs, drenching his zipper.
She froze, realizing what she'd done, but he hissed in pleasure, hips jerking forward into her touch. The sound made her dizzy.
He caught her hand, pressed it firmly against his cock.
"Feel what you've done," he growled.
Her breath broke in a shudder. She could feel how hard he was. Hot. Alive. Straining against the fabric. Her thighs squeezed together, heat pooling between them. She wanted more. Gosh, she wanted more. He grabbed her waist, flipping her over so her eyes met the mirror. His voice dropped low against her ear, rough and taunting as his hand slid over her curves.
"Look at yourself, Isabella... Do you see how wet you are for me? Tell me....how long have you been craving this? "Tell me what you want," he demanded, teeth grazing her jaw. Her lips parted.
"Your hands inside of me..." she moaned, her body trembling. Pressed tight against the mirror, she gasped as she felt the hard length of his cock sliding between the curve of her ass.
"Please...Ohhh...I..c..aa..n't..." Isabella moaned.
The heat of his erection against her made her thighs clench, and her breath shuddered as a desperate ache spread low in her belly.
He gently pushed her harder into the mirror, as he dominantly groped her neck from behind, mouth devouring her neck again, hips thrusting deeper until her head spun. Every nerve screamed with need.
Her body tensed, aching for release. It built fast, too fast. His hand slid between her thighs from behind, pressing where she throbbed most, even through her panties.
She cried out softly, clutching at his shoulders.
"Please..." she whispered, not even knowing what she was begging for.
His fingers pummelled harder on her wet cunt, his mouth hot and hungry on hers. Her body arched, hips jerking uncontrollably against his pulsating cock in her, with each stroke on her thighs, it was only a matter of time before she exploded.
And then it broke.
Pleasure ripped through her, wave after wave, her body quivering as she buried her face against his chest to muffle the cry.
It was too much. Too real. Too raw.
And then-
She woke up.
Isabella gasped, sitting up in her bed. Her room was dark, silent, and only the sound of her harsh breathing filled it. Her sheets were twisted around her legs, damp with sweat and cum.
Her hand was still between her thighs. Her panties were soaked.
"Oh Shit!..." she whispered, heat rushing to her cheeks.
She had actually... she had cum in her sleep. From a dream. From him. Her heart thundered, she was suddenly ashamed of the throbbing afterglow in her body.
She pressed her face into her pillow, trying to steady her breathing. But the dream replayed in her head, vivid, cruel, and delicious. His mouth, his hands, his voice. The way he made her beg.
This was too real.
She bit her lip, squeezing her thighs together, shuddering.
"What is wrong with me?" she asked herself, sounding unsure if it was just a dream. She shouldn't crave him. But her body... her body wanted more.
******
The morning was a blur. She had a quick bath, dressed quickly, restless, still sore from the night's release. Every move she made that morning reminded her of that dream. Her chest felt tight, her skin hypersensitive, and that wet feeling still on her mind.
"This can't be real", she told herself again and again.
It was just a dream. Just a dream. But it felt real. Too real.
She grabbed her books and stepped outside, trying to shake it off. The cool morning air hit her flushed skin, but it didn't calm the storm inside her.
She walked down the street toward campus, head low, biting her lip. And then she froze. Just a few feet ahead, leaning against his car, tapping the rear end of his cigarette.
Tall. Dark. Impossibly composed. His eyes lifted, catching hers instantly. Her heart stopped. It felt like he knew. Like he had been there in her dream, touching her, claiming her. Like he could see every shameful thing she had just done in bed. Her body went weak, trembling.
"Good morning," he said, his deep voice smooth, unreadable. "Are you okay?" he asked.
But she couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Her mind screamed at her to look away, but her eyes stayed locked on his.
"I'm fine" she answered as she hurried off.
She swallowed hard, clutching her books to her chest as if they could shield her.
And still, his gaze didn't move.
Did he know? Or was it only her guilty, desperate heart imagining it?