“Sweeter than apple pie,” he praised.
I moaned for him.
“Don’t got all day though, babe. You’re gonna come for me, fast and hard, then I’m going to clean you up with tongue.”
I panted as his words sent electric shocks through my system. “What about you?”
“Holdin’ out for tonight,” he muttered, staring fixedly on my fingers as they churned in and out of my sloppy cunt.
I gasped as his rough hand slid up my silky thigh before he sunk two thick fingers inside me. His fingers stroked my own as he began to pump in and out of me. It was a tight fight, four fingers stretching me wide, his and mine. Together we fucked my pussy until I was so wet, it leaked down my crack and soaked the desk beneath me.
“Feel good?” he asked.
“So full,” I panted.
His head descended and two seconds later, my clit was clasped tightly between his lips. He sucked, flicked his tongue like a whip strike against the tender flesh.
I came apart at the seams. My fingers stopped moving inside my clenching sex but King kept coaxing my orgasm higher and higher, pressing his palm hard against my pubis so the pressure was nearly unbearable.
“King,” I groaned over and over, my breathing coming out in sobbing burst.
My legs flailed over his shoulders. He bit down hard on my thigh and I screamed. It was too much; I was drowning beneath the onslaught, my breath stuttering in my lungs.
But King wasn’t done.
He slipped a finger down the slippery line of my ass and rubbed at my asshole.
“Gonna take this,” he growled, sliding the digit smoothly inside me. “Soon.”
“Please,” I sobbed as sensation pounded into me.
I was caught in the riptide, floundering over and over again. The last of my control broke loose and I gave into the descending darkness with a stammering last gasp.
When I opened my eyes again, some minutes later, King was gently easing our fingers out of my body and gathering my limp body into his lap. I was sprawled over the desk and his chair like a used rag, wrung out and used up.
I felt wonderful.
“Wow,” I breathed as I snuggled into his arms.
He chuckled and rubbed his cheek over my hair.
“What’s tonight?” I asked because I could feel his erection like titanium steel against my ass.
He pulled back to look down at me imperviously. “Tonight, you’re the student and I’m the teacher.”
I tried to swallow my gasp and choked a little.
“Pigtails, knee socks, and those sexy white cotton panties you like to wear under a little skirt.”
“Let me guess, a plaid skirt?”
“Doesn’t matter, babe. It’ll be flipped up when I get you bent over the desk about two seconds after I get my hands on you.”
“Ohmigawd,” I murmured.
Even though I’d had the orgasm to end all orgasms just a few minutes before, I felt my swollen sex tingle at the thought of his fantasy.
“You’re going to kill me,” I groaned.
He shrugged, jostling my entire body. “Die a happy woman.”
“That’s for sure,” I agreed. “I should update my will, just in case.”
His body jostled me again as he laughed.
I was so consumed by the sound that at first, I didn’t process the horrible cry and subsequent crash as something fell heavily against the locker outside the classroom.
King was on his feet immediately, his pants already done up. I stood dumbly as he took my face in his hands, bruised my mouth with a kiss and said in a no-nonsense badass biker going to work kind of tone, “Stay in here and locked the door behind me.”
Then he was opening the door and darting into the hallway.
It took me about thirty seconds to follow him.
When I rounded the corner, it was to see King with his forearm against Carson Eriksson’s throat. The jock was a big guy, stockier than my blond king from his football and soccer playing, yet King had him dangling off the ground and he was currently snarling into his face.
That occupied me for all of two seconds before I noticed the boy on the ground writhing in the midst of a seizure. Another second more and I realized it was my beloved Benny.
I was on my knees beside him the second after that. All the staff at Entrance Bay Academy were required to take first aid training every year but panic was overloading my system, the adrenaline obliterating everything I’d been taught, so I just kneeled, helplessly stroking his sweaty hair back while he convulsed. Visions of my bachelorette party swam through my head; Marcus Whitman bleeding out in my arms while Lysander tried to get rid of his gun and the police sirens began to call from down the street.
“Queenie,” King barked over his shoulder at me. “Cradle his head, pull his belt off and put the strap in his mouth so he doesn’t bite off his tongue, then call 911.”