Whirlwind

by Kayla Grosse

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

LMAOOOOOO

“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.”

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

LOL

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