22. Femme Fatale

22

FEMME FATALE

LESTER

I stop dead in my tracks as I spot something large on my office desk. The school day has ended, and all my students have gone home. Locking the door behind me, I slowly move closer, quickly finding out that it's a gift, covered in bright-colored wrapping paper with little hearts on it. I absentmindedly let my briefcase fall out of my hand, the thing landing on the floor with a thunk.

Instantly knowing who it's from, my heart starts pounding inside my chest like a jackhammer. Swallowing, I tear the giftwrapping off, revealing a painting. I immediately recognize the technique, and when the full picture is on display, I'm faced with Daisy's naked body.

I audibly gulp before I trail my fingers over the canvas.

She lays on her side, similar to the way she posed for me all those weeks ago. Only this time, she is not covered by my shirt and boxers.

This time she's naked from head to toe.

Milky white skin, with a seductive curve to her hips, and breasts that are perky enough to stand up, despite the relaxed manner she poses in. I notice that she has painted the scar she showed me that day, on her side. I still want to find out how it got there.

Her right leg is planted on top of the other, and I can see a peek of her pussy. My cock instantly begins to grow inside my pants and I groan out loud. I feel like I'm back in my twenties. I've barely had a moment of rest these last few weeks. Because each time Daisy pops into my head, I have the urge to touch myself in the hopes of getting rid of her.

I never seem to succeed, though.

Her perfect body aside, it's her face that draws me in completely. The sinful spark in her eyes that she has captured with skillful precision, the freckles on her nose and every other detail that makes her so maddeningly her .

I can't see her lips, only the way her cheeks hollow as she blows on the barrel of a gun, her green-colored fingernails wrapped around its base.

She's deranged.

Is she making jokes about the fact that she had a gun to my fucking head yesterday? Or is this just her demented way of flirting? A cute gift?

I don't understand her in the slightest. But I am so goddamn intrigued. With every single thing she does.

This is turning into a daunting game. She has no clue who she's dealing with.

Despite me not being able to tear my eyes from the painting, I force myself to put it away. Right when I bend over to hide the canvas underneath my desk, I spot handwriting on the back.

Thinking of you. Come find me in the library.

I read it over and over, though the message stays the same.

The smart thing to do is go home. Leave the school, tuck myself into bed where it's safe and there's not a crazy, obsessive girl around to ruin my life.

I consider myself smart. I'm educated―a self-made man.

But I might need to reconsider that notion.

Because I'm about to do yet another stupid thing.

I place the canvas underneath my desk, grab my keys and lock my office on the way out. Then I make my way upstairs to the library, passing a few students in the hallways.

The university library is large, one that's praised often in the state of North Carolina. It's famous. The bookcases line up in symmetrical order, reaching the tall ceiling, which seems endless, and there are ladders in front of every row, which you can slide to the side to reach every book you need.

It's every bookworm's dream, including mine.

Students are scattered all over, their noses buried in their studies. You could hear a pin drop in this place. Everyone respects the rules and appreciates the quiet.

I walk through the long path in the middle, looking from side to side, not missing a row. It takes me a while before I find Daisy all the way in the back, sitting on the ground in a corner, completely hidden from the rest of the people.

I don't say a word when I walk up to her, because when I'm close enough to see what she's doing, I've lost my knowledge of the English language entirely.

I can't do this again.

I cannot just watch her without touching her. Without getting a taste.

Her hand is buried underneath her skirt, and the back of her head leans against a row of books while her eyebrows furrow. Her big eyes find mine, and she reminds me of a doe when she stares up through her eyelashes.

Part of me wants to scold her for being so reckless. For doing this in public, where anyone can catch her. But the only thing I seem to be able to do is sink to my knees beside her.

"I hurt all the time, Professor. It aches. Not being touched fucking aches ." The sentence leaves her mouth on a strangled cry, and I watch a tear slip out of her eye, rolling down her cheek.

My own aching need curls through my stomach as if there's a sharp sculpting tool stuck inside me that's being twisted around. I curse myself as I'm doing it, but that doesn't stop me. Reaching for her ankles, I spread her legs apart with delicate use of my hands. Then, torturously slow, I trace my fingertips over her bare legs, until I reach my destination. Her chest rises with anticipation, and she bites her lip to stifle her heavy breathing.

"I'll take the pain away," I whisper, taking hold of her wrist and taking her fingers out of her pussy. Her underwear is pulled to the side, the fabric completely soaked through. I'm on my knees between her legs, and I place one hand against the bookcase above her head, hovering over her. As soon as I move a finger over her wet pussy, she lets out a moan. " Shhh . You have to be quiet. Can you do that, angel?"

My stare is intense when I say it, and her pupils widen as if that nickname just shot through her veins like a drug. I imagine a nice batch of heroin flows through both our bodies in this moment.

Swallowing, she nods her head in desperation, but as soon as I do it again, another cry comes out.

I tsk. "That's unacceptable. But I know you have trouble shutting your foul mouth." A grin spreads across my face. "I think I need to do something about that."

Reaching further underneath her skirt, I take hold of her hips and slide her panties all the way down her beautiful legs. I ball the fabric up in my fist, swallowing down a groan when I feel how wet they really are. I could wring them out above a damn glass and drink it.

Suddenly, that's something I desperately want to do. Maybe another time.

I watch her throat gulp down more saliva with desperation, then whisper, "Open your mouth."

She doesn't waste any time. Smiling at her with satisfaction, I put the panties inside of her mouth. I give her chin a nudge and she closes her lips around it. "Good girl."

An angelic blush stains her cheeks, and there's a desperate need inside of me that just wants to cover them with kisses. I'm falling deeper into the abyss of confusion by the second.

I've never wanted to kiss anyone .

Reaching back underneath her skirt, I slip one finger inside at once, up to the knuckle. She moans with her mouth full, the sound muffled enough so the other people in the library can't hear. She picked the right spot, because Politics is the least popular topic in this school. The chances of someone coming here are slight.

My cock feels painful as it begs to be touched, but I'm able to ignore it when the feel of Daisy's tight little cunt envelops me completely. So wet, so tight…

She clenches around my finger, and that's when I add another one, stretching her.

Despite me wanting to lift her skirt up all the way to take a peek at where my fingers disappear, I'm not able to tear my eyes away from hers. Having to look away from the desperation on her face is something not even I, as a dangerous predator, am capable of.

Maybe I'm not as powerful as I've always believed. Or maybe it's only that way when it comes to her.

I'm on my way to worship the ground she walks on. She will turn me into her slave if I'm not careful.

Saliva drips out of the corners of her mouth as she soaks her underwear even further, and her muffled moans play in perfect harmony with the sounds of my fingers as they move in and out of her tight cunt.

Pushing deeper, I curl them inside to touch the spot that makes her eyes roll even further into her head and I move my palm against her clit. "That's it, angel," I coax, going faster. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You just needed me to make you feel good."

She nods desperately, more tears sliding down her cheeks as she struggles with keeping quiet.

"You're going to come all over my hand. And once you've done that, I'm not going to stop. You have been driving me insane for weeks now, Miss Burton. You've been haunting my every fucking thought," I growl, still stifling the volume of my voice. "You're going to give me three. I don't care if you cry. I don't care if you want me to stop. It's time for payback, little nymph."

When I curl my fingers at the same time those last few words leave my lips, she loses it. Her cunt tightens, her legs shaking as liquid soaks my hand, dripping all over my lower arm.

I grip the bookcase above her head so tightly I might break my damn fingers. I need to keep myself in check when all I really want to do is push her to the floor and take her right here and now.

She's a goddamn squirter.

Now I've well and truly lost it. There's no going back now.

" Fuck ," I grit out. "What a filthy girl you are, making such a big mess."

I let her ride out her orgasm until the muffled moans fade away and I take out my fingers, bringing them to my mouth. Her cum coats my hand, beads dripping down my forearm, staining my rolled-up sleeve. Eye contact never wavering, I put the fingers between my lips and suck them off, wallowing in her sweet taste.

A growl rips from my throat as she watches me in awe. "You taste like sin, and it is maddening. I need more." I brush a strand of hair from her face, then wrap my hand around her throat. "Get up. I want to drink straight from the source this time."

More saliva drips out of the corners of her mouth, her whole body responding to me with frenzied need. Grabbing her by the waist, I help her stand up. Her legs nearly buckle, and that makes me smile wickedly. She leans against the bookcase, and both hands wrap around a wooden plank on either side to keep herself up.

The notion that someone might catch us is a threatening consequence in the back of my head, but when I lift Daisy's skirt and see her dripping pussy from up close for the first time, it fades away completely.

I'm playing with fire. But I no longer care if I get burned.

"Goddamn it," I curse, my voice still lowered as I gaze at her with excruciating want. I'm nearly foaming at the mouth with how wild it makes me. I'm a rabid animal, and Daisy is the one who infected me. "You have the most perfect little cunt I've ever seen."

A sweet, stifled cry comes out of her full mouth as her hand slides into my hair, gripping the strands of my scalp tightly.

She knows what she wants. And she's not afraid to claim it.

I bury my face underneath her leather A-line skirt, pushing my lips against her pussy as I lick up every single drop she has already given me. I take hold of her thigh and place it on my shoulder, my nails digging into her flesh.

My tongue trails a long path all the way down, nearly reaching her asshole, then back up. I lose myself completely in how good she feels, humming against her clit before I stick my tongue inside, fucking her with it as she soaks my face. Her grip tightens on my hair, that being her only way of letting go.

"Your taste is driving me feral, Daisy. Are you going to come for me?" My groan vibrates against her clit, and I slip three fingers inside of her at once.

That's when she loses it again.

Liquid cum squirts out of her, flooding past my hand and lips, but I do my best to drink it all up so we don't make a bigger mess than we already did all over the floor. This muffled cry is louder than the last, and she trembles so badly that it seems as if she's full-on sobbing.

Good. I promised her payback.

"Squeeze it out, angel," I order, my mouth still sucking everything up like I'm a man dying of thirst. "Come on. I want it all."

Fingers still inside of her, I feel the exact moment her pussy contracts again, pushing out every drop she has to offer me.

What do you know―she can listen. I didn't think that was possible.

"Good girl," I praise, grunting the words. I feel like I'm going to burst. " Fuck . That's it."

Once she's given me everything, she tries to push my head away. I don't let her, though. I'm stronger than even her hardest tries.

"Three, Miss Burton. I told you I wanted three. I also told you that I won't care if you cry." I look up at her, and she yanks out a few strands of my hair. If it had been any other woman, I would have torn her hand away and maybe even left.

I suppose my rules don't apply to Daisy Burton.

"Are you crying for me?" She shakes her head, but the evidence is clear all over her face. Pretty bloodshot eyes and wet tears trailing beautifully down her cheeks, mixed with black mascara and some of her orange eyeshadow. "I think you are a liar. And a bad one at that." I smirk. "You cry so pretty for me, little nymph."

Her head tips back in defeat and I force her to have another orgasm as I drink from her eagerly. This one seems to be even more intense than the first two, and by the time I'm done with her, she damn near collapses to the floor.

Once I've cleaned her up with my tongue, I get out from underneath her skirt and stand up, towering over her as I lean my arm against the bookcase. I tilt her chin up, taking in her defeated, cum-drunk expression.

She's the most remarkable thing I've ever laid eyes on. Her eyebrows bend in that way she does when she's mad, but I know it's just pretend. She liked each and every single second of the way I forced her to come for me.

"Who knew. All I needed to shut that pretty mouth of yours was a pair of panties. I'll remember that. Might need to shut you up in the future." I lock my thumb inside the corner of her mouth, fishing out the pair of underwear before putting it inside my pocket. "I'll be keeping this."

She has been the dominant one in this strange and sinful dance we've been doing for the past few weeks.

But no longer. I am not holding back anymore.

You want to dance with the Devil? Then let's dance, little nymph.