In one fluid movement, Professor Caputo was there in front of me and urging me up with his hands clenching my forearms. Muscular, strong, and compelling, I was powerless to do anything but go to him.
There he looked at me, those once clear eyes clouding over. Even standing I felt so small in these tiny heels, so young, and then Professor Caputo was cupping a broad hand beneath my hair, pressed to my neck, and pulling me up to him.
His mouth was electric. Lips soft and so, so hot it was like coming inside after a day in the snow. He thawed me, warmed me, and immediately I was addicted. Opening my mouth against him as his tongue licked the seam of my lips.
He groaned against me and the sound was an immediate pulse from my heart all the way down. I could feel him against my leg. Large. Hard. Throbbing. Growing with every second of kissing as our mouths found each other over and over again. Stubble brushing against the corners of my mouth, his fingers clenching into my hair in a rhythm like the want from deep inside me.
Eventually, it was he who broke away from my mouth and I was left gasping, wanting. It was as though breathing was now beyond me if it wasn’t filtered through the air coming from Professor Caputo’s own lungs. Never before had I felt this way about a man but now the sensation was here and it was all I could think about in my swimming, whirling head.
But he didn’t stop his touches. Mouth trailing down my neck instead, sucking in tiny marks all the way. I hoped for redness. For bruises. For proof this man had claimed my body as his own that I would wear proudly each and every day.
With his hands, he found the three small buttons of my blouse. Ones that annoyed my fingers to do up this morning yet to him they seemed a minor nuisance. Pop, pop, pop. Gone. Hand thrust into the opening and shoving aside my bra. His mouth was still on my neck but that hand. Oh, that hand.
He was an older man, a more experienced man, so of course, he knew what he was doing. All those fumblings with college boys barely into their adulthood were laughable in comparison to this. He was an expert in all his fields and this was no different. Fingers brushed my breasts before settling on my hard and sensitive nipples. Tweaking them and I cried out. Loud. Reverberating across his wooden desk, his books, the plush seating around us.
“You like that, do you?” he said. The first time his mouth had left my skin since he took me and I was aching. Lost. Cold wetness where he had struck his tongue reminded me of him, him, him.
Angelo Caputo. Touching me. Claiming me.
I was dizzy with the knowledge.
Then he stopped.
You can read the entire story free for a limited time [here on Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BN476K15/) and find the sequel.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/zhb02l/ill_see_you_in_my_office_professorstudent_4018