Whirlwind

by Kayla Grosse

Ingredients: 6 oz cola (or cherry cola for extra flavor) 1/2 oz grenadine 1.5-2 oz of dark rum (you could also use whiskey or bourbon) Ice cubes Maraschino cherry (for garnish) Instructions: Fill a tall glass with ice and pour in the cola or cherry cola (you can also use diet or zero sugar). Add the grenadine, letting it sink to the bottom for a layered effect, followed by the rum. Stir lightly, if desired. Garnish with a maraschino cherry on top. You can also leave the alcohol out to make a mocktail. If you want to get really crazy, you can add a splash of lime. Enjoy!

Romantic, sexual, or other intimate relationships between faculty and students are prohibited… Yes, Ryker, remember that. Prohibited.

We’ve got a twister to tame —who the fuck even says that out loud? Me, apparently. I’m that asshole.

“Ryker.” His name leaves me in a whisper. He blinks but doesn’t stop staring, his hold on me only tightening as our heads dip closer together. “Tell me not to kiss you, Finley.”

“Then tell me what I feel for you is wrong. That I need to get up and walk away.”

“How many times did you imagine fucking your professor, Ms. Buckley?” Her nails dig deeper. I continue with the circles, not giving in to the wiggling hips urging me to move. “Please,” she begs. I reward her with a small shallow thrust and bite her earlobe. “Be a good girl, and tell me.” “Too many to count.”

my body slowly coming down from the adrenaline of the tornado and the best sex of my life.

Even if everything inside me wants to put her on her hands and knees and shove it back inside her then fill her with more until she’s so full of me it will drip out of her for days.

Finley is a woman who wants the truth—a truth I can’t give her—so I lie.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Tornado Daddy in the flesh!”

“It’s never too early to call someone Daddy. Especially when said Daddy has got such great biceps.”

“Step up here, and hold the shaft,” he says to me. I attempt to stop my cheeks from turning pink at his comment and get up on the edge of the door where there’s a lip, gripping the rocket shaft. Our fingers brush as wind swirls around us, and that zap of electricity passes between us again. I’d growl at that sensation if I could. My body needs to understand that Ryker and I are no longer involved. He’s my platonic professor.

“Do you, A, want me to lick your pussy until you’re begging for me to fill you with my cock”—a small whimper escapes her lips—“B, want to grip the headboard and ride my face until you suffocate me with your sweet cunt—” “Ryker,” she moans, her hips rubbing against my jean-clad thigh. “Or, C, want to get on your hands and knees and let me fuck you so hard our wall neighbor, who happens to be Ezra, will call the front desk to give them a noise complaint.”

“Come on, Ms. Buckley,” he taunts. “I’ll give you extra credit if you soak my beard.”

Joey frowns then looks at Ryker. “Will you give us a minute? I need to talk to Mommy.” A surprise laugh explodes from my lips despite myself, and Ryker groans. “Yes, but only if you never call her that again.” Joey shrugs, mouth lifting up at the corner. “Maybe.”

There’d be a lot of storm chasing, of that I’m sure. Joey has already prematurely named a TT group chat with him and I in it, something Hawk, Ezra, and Ryker didn’t have any qualms about. I also knew from Joey’s rambling voice texts that I was valued by the team of men and that they were all rooting for T-Daddy and T-Mama to get together. Which, ew—I’m not being called that. But it was sweet nonetheless and made me feel welcome in a way that warmed my insides.

His eyes light up, and he radiates a happiness that thunders through my entire being. “You have your eyes on a cell?” “A squall line an hour from here.” “Then I’d say…” He sits up, extending his hand toward me. “What are we waiting for, Ms. Buckley?”

T-Mama is a snack, and I’d be obsessed with her, too, if she were my girlfriend.

“Have I told you how much I love you, Tornado Daddy?”