Page 34 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
A short breath. And then a quick nod, her still-damp hair brushing against my jaw.
“Are you spreading your legs for me?”
Another nod, fast, urgent.
“Is it your pussy? Is it needy? Have you been neglecting it?”
Her head falls back a little as she whimpers out ayes, Bram.
“That’s such a bad girl,” I breathe as my hand moves between her legs. “If I can’t trust you to take care of it”—my fingers reach silky curls—“then I’ll have to do it myself.”
The moment I part her cunt, she is all slippery lushness, like ripe fruit. I groan at the slick arousal, I groan again as I penetrate her with a finger and feel how hot she is inside. Blistering and tight andfuck, so perfect, fuck, fuck—
She’s squirming now, her thighs as wide as she can get them, and both the blanket and the towel have slid down, showing me her tits, her bunched-up nipples, the flush creeping up her chest.
“Maddie,” I say, “I am going to give you an orgasm now. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Bram” is her whined-out answer, and she’s wriggling so much in my lap that I give her cunt a light slap. She whines again, her head falling back, her throat working.
“Hold still.” It’s half instruction, half threat, and it’s only when she promises with a delirious sort of nod that I find her clit and begin.
I work the small bud carefully, with all of my attention. Like a doctor treating a patient, like a gardener tending to a rare plant. That night above The Dry Bean was frantic, panting, and angry, mostly dark and mostly clothed. But now, I take my time. I pay attention.
Ilook—watching the suntanned breadth of my hand wedged between soft, pale thighs, cataloging every glimpse I get of glossy pink Maddie. I commit to memory the feeling of her plump clit, her tight hole, the way her tits move with each quivering breath.
I study how she arches and gasps. I learn that she likes little breaks from her clit—short detours into her body, explorations up to her nipples and down to the pink eyelet below her pussy—and she hate-love-hates being strung along the edge, pawing uselessly at my forearm whenever I leave her teetering, her eyes flying wide to glare at me.
“Careful, Ms. Kowalczk,” I warn, my chest lifting and falling with a deep breath. “A look like that is going to earn you another swat, and I don’t care how wet that cunt is, it’s not too wet to get spanked if I say so.”
Maddie’s wide, pouty mouth falls open. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “Oh my god.” She’s trying to get her legs wider, trying to arch harder, and I can barely breathe, I’m so fucking ravenous for this, for Maddie,my good girl, splayed open and trying to fuck my hand, vacillating between bratty and pleading.
“Please, Bram,” she’s moaning, and I’m breathing harshly, heavily, my cock thumping with need underneath her writhing body, and I can’t deny us both what we want next. This pussy, wet and clenching; my name on her lips; her eyes green and glazed and locked with mine.
I move back to her clitoris and stroke it with the strokes I now know she likes best—tight and hard—and it takes no time at all, mere seconds. She sucks in a breath, finding my face, something like panic all over hers, and then orgasms with a cry, her stomach and thighs quaking and her knees slamming closed and trapping my hand.
I don’t stop, though, still rubbing andrubbingand watching her like I’m going to write a dissertation on Satisfied Maddie, and it’s only an eternity later, when her body finally goes still and then loosens, that I stop. I don’t pull my hand free right away, though; I savor all the soft, wet heat. I savor the sight of us, all of us, even though it’s so fucking depraved that I feel like a bad, bad man, with the blanket half tumbled to the floor, her tearstained face, my slippery fingers.
My shirt is still buttoned. My shoes are still on.
“Bram,” she whispers, and then she’s twisting, rearranging, straddling me in the chair. The blanket and towel fall all the way down now; her hair has dried enough to make damp waves that trail down to her breasts and brush her nipples. She finds my belt, my zipper, and I don’t help her; I silently watch as she spreads the placket of my trousers and pulls me out.
“Well?” I ask once she’s got my dick into the cool air of the room. The skin of my organ is stretched so tight that it nearly shines. “What are you going to do with it, Ms. Kowalczk?”
A curl pulls at her pretty lips, and my heart flips over in my chest. She’s almost smiling, and after seeing her cry that hard, an almost smile is a marvel.
“I think I need to make sure that you’re not neglectingyourneeds, Professor Loe,” she purrs, and then she moves so that her wet core is over my erection.
And sits on it.
I drop my head back against the chair as she starts rocking against me, my cock trapped between my stomach and her, all slick, soft pressure, and it’s almost like being inside her, almost,almost.
She reaches down, like maybe she’s thinking the same thing, and I catch her wrist.
“I haven’t been bare inside someone for years,” I grind out. “I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
“Then you’re a very bad girl. I thought you wanted to be good for me?”
