His body climbing over mine.
My teeth biting his neck.
His scent on my skin.
My nails carving a path down his back.
His commands whispered in my ear.
All of my senses filled with him.
I knew it was bad. But I craved more.
It had begun innocently enough, bumping into one another in a crowded Boston bar. What followed that night had been anything but innocent.
Because I'd known, even as he'd slid inside of me, that he was my professor. I'd pursued him, a predator stalking its prey.
And he didn't know I was his student.
But he would.