Private Practice
Ellie slipped one hand into the front of his jeans, nails scraping lightly under the waistband on her quest to find him. He surged up to meet those roving fingers and suddenly, circulation became a critical thing. Groaning, he tugged at his fly. Like a homing pigeon, her free hand followed, and their fingers tangled in a frantic race to pop buttons. Finally, they had his jeans open and her hand banded around his brutally sensitive cock.
He watched, amused and agonized, as she looked down and sucked in a breath.
“I’d forgotten all about your nickname until now.”
He managed a smile, even though her busy hands were fast eliminating his ability to think straight. “What nickname?”
“Footlong Longfoot.”
“And here I thought people were talking about my feet.”
She laughed, as he’d hoped, and ran her fingers slowly, tentatively up his shaft. Figuring a teacher’s job was to teach, he covered her hand with his and showed her how he liked to be touched. His attentive student followed his lead. After a minute of sheer heaven, she spoke up.
“Tyler, I think my experts might have assumed, ah, smaller dimensions when they wrote chapter 3. I’m not sure I can do this exactly as they instructed.”
“What you’re doing right now works fine—”
Before he realized her intent, she ducked her head and… “Well, okay, then…that works too…”
Parting her lips just enough to take him in, keeping the seal tight, she inched lower…and lower.
His eyelids drooped and his vision went blurry. “More,” he begged, even though she was probably approaching the most she could take. He swept his thumb lightly along her jaw and, God bless her, she took more. When she hummed deep in her throat and retraced her path, he felt the vibrations all the way to the soles of his feet. It took considerable effort not to whimper.
Maybe he did whimper because she lifted her head and looked at him. “Was that okay?”
Somehow, he found his voice. “Ellie, you do that to any man, he’s going to be promising you diamond earrings. A weekend in Paris. Whatever you want.”
She smiled and lowered her head again, and it was just as amazing the second time, but now, thanks to his comment, he had the thought of her doing the very same thing to some other guy stuck in his head. Not just stuck in his head, but messing with it. Suddenly, he hated the idea of being her tutor, her guinea pig, her stepping-stone to something bigger and better. With a vague, restless determination to show her he was the biggest and best, he pulled her up and tossed her onto the bed.
She landed on her back and immediately sat up. “Hey! I wasn’t done yet—”
“You’ve got the gist of chapter 3,” he ground out as he kicked off his jeans. “Consider this a two-fer.”