“Is there one thing mistaken with me? Do I scent bizarre or one thing?”

An aggravated look in my path. “What? No. No, after all not. I’m simply pondering that that is going to hang-out me for the remainder of my life.” Two fingers path up my thighs as my tutor speaks, earlier than deciding on both facet of my slit. Inhaling sharply, Ambrose attracts his fingers aside barely, till my slickest, pinkest components seem.

I quiver.

“Fuck,” he says, eyebrows spearing down. However now that I do know his crankiness is agoodthing, that it’s a bizarre sort of praise, my cheeks ache from smiling. I shift my hips, wriggling to tease him, and Ambrose provides me alookbefore ducking his head. The waft of heat breath is my solely warning. Then—

Thick, darkish hair tickles my internal thighs.

His sharp jaw flexes, his eyes falling closed.

And—thatmouth.

The new, maddening stroke of his tongue. The scrape of his tooth; the suction of his lips. It’s a lot sensation, a sudden overload with out warning, and I solely discover I’m wailing when thunder rumbles once more, drowning out the sound. My hips shift restlessly, and Ambrose pins me down then licks me deeper.

Ho-ly. Shit.

Ambrose Brent takes zero prisoners. My stern, uptight tutor is consuming me alive, unleashing all his frustrations on essentially the most delicate components of my physique, and I can’t even blame him for the shortage of preamble. In spite of everything, I’ve tortured us each for weeks now, teasing and flirting. I’ve constructed us as much as this, lit the fuse with my very own match, and now Ambrose is punishing me for it, his jaw cracking as his mouth works between my thighs.

The warmth.

The tingles.

The throbbing pulse in my clit.

I can’t—can’tbreathe.

“Oh!”

Ambrose doesn’t carry his head, however Ifeelhis evil smile curve towards me. And I’m squirming, thrashing, however he holds my hips in a cruel grip, chasing me larger and better together with his tongue.

“Please!”

Ambrose slides one palm up my abdomen then grips my breast arduous, kneading and testing it so possessively that I cry out and arch into his hand.

Iwanthim to the touch me like that. Like I’m his plaything. His doll.

Shoot, had been my mother and father proper about me? Am I nothing greater than an empty-headed bundle of hormones? Earlier than that thought can take maintain, Ambrose licks inside me, and my mind quietens down once more.

“Come for me.” His phrases are determined, ragged, however he doesn’t have to boss me about. Not about this. I’m already hovering on the precipice, my physique flooded with warmth; already teetering previous the purpose of no return. So when Ambrose sucks arduous on my clit, I buck towards his mouth with a wild cry, and shuddering waves course by means of my entire physique.

It lasts ceaselessly. A lot longer than after I deliver myself off with my fingers—so lengthy that I ponder distantly whether or not he’s damaged me and I’ll be caught coming for eternity.

Then I flop again towards the mattress, respiration arduous, and Ambrose sits up, his chin slick. He snags my towel off the again of the chair and wipes his mouth, then turns to me.

“There. That’s lesson two.”

I smile, however my giddy coronary heart sinks.

Eight

Ambrose

Iam the instigator of my very own torture.Iam the explanation I do know the style of Lane Rhodes’ most intimate, salty-sweet tang; I’m why her breathless cries and whimpers have echoed round my head since Sunday. I’m the explanation I haven’t slept in days, and I’m the explanation my sanity has unraveled.

Nobody else did this to me. Nobody compelled me to put my pupil again on that mattress, or pushed my head between her heat, delicate thighs.

Now I’m haunted. Ruined. Going slowly insane.

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