Hard Study After Hours Pt. 02

Did he really say what I think he said? Anya blinks to herself. Turning her head slightly, she sees Dean slowly making his way towards her.

"That depends." She says as she straightens up, "Is it big enough to hide my mortification?"

She searches herself for the confidence to act like she didn't just cum in front of this new acquaintance. Her tutor.

Dean continues his slow pace, watching her like a hawk, lust evident in every hard line of his body.

Gods, he's big. In every sense of the word. His height... he could easily lift me up and .... Fuck...

Shoulders shaking, Anya leans against the shelf next to her, anxious laughter trying to bubble its way up. Not wanting to ruin the moment, she brings her still wet fingers to her mouth and licks her cum off her fingers with slow, deliberate strokes. She looks up through her lashes giving him a heated look, hoping that's answer enough for him.

His bold question met with an equal response, Dean resolves to breach the last thin membrane between them. He reaches out, grabbing Anya by her neck, glowering into her eyes. Lust has taken away all humour, and now all he can think about is inflicting bodily action on this woman, this object of pleasure. He pushes her against the shelf and feels her rabbit pulse under his palm. She's surprised by the grab, gives a strangled yelp, but then he sees her lip curl in a sneer of desire. Dean runs a thumb over her bottom lip and decides to look her up and down slowly. Fuck. Easily the sexiest woman he's been this close to.

In a low voice, he says, "Big enough to keep your mouth occupied, stop you from calling any more attention our way. But if you're not sure, see for yourself."

He nods at the floor.

Fuck, his hand feels even better around my throat than I thought it would. The heat coming off his stare alone, has Anya weak. Giving him a breathy gasp, she descends to her knees. Her hands come up to unclasp his belt, pausing to wonder if see for yourself was permission to touch him.

Fuck it, if I'm wrong, then he'll correct me.

Unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper, she reaches in to free his hard cock.

Damn, he's fucking perfect. Long, thick, and hard as stone. A perfect bead of pre-cum coats the tip of his dick.

Flicking her eyes upwards, she meets his sultry stare. With his cock free, she grips the base firmly in one hand, leaving the underside open enough for her to slowly drag her tongue from the base all the way up to that pearl of cum that waits for her like a cherry on a sundae.

Anya watches Dean through her lashes, his head dropping back and hand reaching to support himself against the stack behind her. With a mischievous grin, she opens her mouth and slides the head of his cock along her tongue and into her mouth. Slowly, she bobs her head along the top half of his dick, getting him as wet as possible before taking him fully down her throat. Slowly, she starts stroking his dick, spreading the moisture down his shaft. Backing off just enough to wet her own lips, leaving her tongue out she relaxes her throat and takes him down her throat. Pausing at the bottom to allow her throat time to get used to his large size.

Good thing it's the weekend and I don't have anywhere to be in the morning. Gonna have one hell of a sore throat, she thinks to herself.

Ho

Ly

Fuck

Dean's sense of control holds out as he watches her sink so willingly to her knees. Her hands working his belt and pants only fills him with more fire, and then the unmistakable look of raw hunger on her face when his cock springs free makes him feel like a god. Her reverent gaze along his shaft makes him feel like he could march her naked down the street at his command. She meets his eye and for a moment that bluster wavers. Then she grabs him, opens that warm, hot mouth and runs her tongue, finally, along his shaft, and it's everything not to fall to his own knees. Hot, soft and wet, then flicking over his precum, sending a shiver down his spine. Thunder growls and he moans as she handles his cock. Then she smiles up at him, and in that smile he sees a flash of the two of them, fucking like animals in a hundred places, coating each other in fluid, spitting, choking, biting, cumming.

Then her mouth takes him in and that power rushes back. He glares down at her, gripping the shelf for extra balance, as she lets the first half get nice and shiny with her spit, before she sticks her tongue out and takes the whole fucking thing down her throat. Bottoming out in that tight throat, balls pressed against her tongue, all he can think is oh you fucking slut.

He lets her go at her own pace at first, working his shaft and lathering it with streaks of spit. It's messy and perfect, and when she looks into his eyes, mouth filled to the brim with a throbbing cock, he almost falls in love. Finally, it's time for him to take more control. He reaches down and grabs a fistful of hair, wrenching her head back. His cock pulls free, and she lets her tongue and mouth hang out, growling with frustration, a line of spit dangling between her shining chin and his cock.

"You wanna play Anya?" He runs a hand across her face, smearing spit across it, and she bites playfully at his hand, wiggling her ass. "Show me what you've got, slut."

He positions himself directly in front of her, puts both hands on her head and pulls her mouth back onto his cock. He pulls her back, then shoves her back down. He starts fucking her mouth hard, watching her gag and choke, streams of drool falling down between her glistening tits. He can see that she's started rubbing her clit again while he fucks her face.

"Good girl, play with that little pussy. Cum all you want while I've got you gagged like the uncontrollable whore you are."

Lightning flashes out the window, rain lets down harder, and Dean pumps Anya's open throat in between the shelves of the library like she belongs to him. His cock is surrounded by an insane amount of velvet heat as she sucks, swallows and gags, and every time he pushes harder, she meets him with even more hungry, lustful ferocity.

Fuck, there is nothing hotter than watching a man lose control. Except maybe when he asserts his dominance.

Feeling those strong hands bracing her head, he slides perfecting in and out of her throat. No longer in control, her spit spills out the sides of her mouth and down her chin dripping onto her chest. Her fingers find their way back to her aching pussy, overwhelmed with the need to cum again and again. Dean's voice cuts through the growling skies outside, "Good girl, play with that little pussy. Cum all you want while I've got you gagged like the uncontrollable whore you are."

Holy fuck... it's like he knows I thrive off praise and degradation. No one ever expects me to be as feral as I am. They think I'm prudish until they get me in bed.

Anya works her clit with intention, craving release. Wanting him to feel her choke on his cock when she cums. She loves being a good little slut, loves the feeling of being used.

I can't wait till he gets a look at the piercings I have, she smiles inwardly.

Working her clit, she tumbles over the cliff's edge, trying to scream out around his girth. Her throat squeezes tightly on the head of his shaft, hearing him groan deep in his chest.

Slathering her fingers in her own cum, she brings her hand up to his, wiping just a taste on his fingers.

Her hand moves to his shaft, coating it in her own juices.

Dean takes the bait and smiles darkly down at Anya, bringing his wet fingers to his mouth to finally get a taste of this sweet creature he has found. His eyes flutter shut as his head tips back and fingers slide free of his lips.

She takes this moment to give her mouth a break to catch her breath. Anya starts working his shaft with vigour. Lightning flashes, causing her long black nails to glint in the dark. She looks up at him, lust burning every part of her. She wants, no, needs to be closer to him. Needs to feel every part of him pressed against her. Needs to feel his tongue on her; her mouth, her neck, her tits, her pussy...

Black hair, now tousled from his fists. Lipstick smeared from sucking cock. Black nails glinting in the light, fingers wrapped around his cock rubbing her own juices along his shaft. Legs spread, fingering her pussy. Anya might have the impression that Dean's done this sort of thing, but for him this is the wildest moment of his life. He's face fucking his fantasy woman in a library during a storm, and something of himself he's never seen before has been unleashed. And he never wants to go back.

He gets so close to cumming in that moment, as he tastes her on his fingers and looks down at the dutiful slut stroking his cock and looking up at him, covered in her own spit. A little thrust, a moment more down her throat and it would be over. And it's so tempting. But there's a stronger motivation at play. He wants to destroy her, to destroy both of them. He has a raging need to burn both their bodies out in tandem.

So, after licking his fingers clean, he looks down at her and sneers, "You think you're a bad bitch?"

Anya sticks her tongue out in response and runs his cock along it, holding eye contact the whole time and jacking him off.

In response, he slaps her across the face. The sharp crack is echoed by a flash of lightning, and he watches the arrogance momentarily drop from her face, replaced by something darker and hungrier.

"Come here." He grabs her by the back of the head and pulls her, still on her hands and knees, over to the windowsill, kicking off his pants, underwear and boots in a trail. At the window he guides her up by the throat, then grabs her hips and hoists her onto the windowsill. Her eyeline is above his now, so to remind her of her place he gives her a gentle stroke of her cheek, then another sharp slap.

"Spread your legs Slut, I want to see that pussy properly."

Cheek stinging, Anya bites her lip as she slowly slides her skirt up her thighs and spreads her legs so that he can see just how wet he's gotten her.

Looking down at him coyly, she awaits his reaction to her piercing. Slowly reaching her fingers back down to her sensitive bud, she starts playing with her vertical hood piercing.

"Fuck..." she moans, leaning her head against the window. Lightning flashing so bright, it looks like daylight for a moment. She was hoping he would let her take his cum down her throat, but he may take longer to recover. If his precum told her anything, it's that he's addictive. The perfect blend of salty and sweet. Fuck, I want more.

The way he watches her touching herself has her ready to cum again. Tension laces every part of his body, his hands on her hips, firm but gentle, makes her want to misbehave so that he continues to be rough with her.

Anya reaches her hands to grasp behind his head to pull him to her for a kiss.

His lips crash into hers, absolutely taking her breath away. There's more than just greed behind his kiss. Something primal. Urgency to be closer has her wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. A carnal desire burning her from the inside out. She's never felt passion like this before.

Gasping, she breaks their kiss for a moment. She can hear his voice in her mind,

"Only you" she breathes. "No one has given me the chance to show what's hiding beneath the surface."

She watches his face for the telltale signs of repulsion. Her darker desires scare off the strongest of men. Hoping this one is different, arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers combing through his hair, she pulls him back to her, her inner fire wanting to burn with him.

Emotions run rampant, and her thoughts become wild. The feel of his stubble brushing up against her inner thighs; the way his tongue lapped at her flesh; she wants to know how that tongue feels on her pussy.

With his cock pressed against his stomach, she rocks her hips against him, needing the friction against her pulsing clit. Her blood, pounding through her veins. She's so close to cumming again. At this point, by the time we're done, someone's going to have to carry me back to my flat.

Dean's growling has her growing wetter by the second. His tongue growing more urgent, the more she grinds against his cock. Stars blind her vision as another orgasm takes her. Surely that was lightning, I've only ever read about seeing stars in the smutty books I read, she thinks to herself. She continues rocking against him as his hands drop down around her waist to force her to finish.

Looking down between them, she sees her juices glistening along the hard planes of his abdomen and along his cock.

"No one has given me the chance to show what's hiding beneath the surface."

"Good," Dean growls. He pulls her head back by the hair and runs his tongue up her throat, not unlike the way she licked his cock. The leather of her boots pulls at his ribs as she clings to him like an animal in heat, and the hard soles dig into the small of his back. The ferocity of it, the naked need of it, drives everything else forward. His shaft rubs between her labia, the head pushing over her clit and piercing. The sensation is a combination of deep, meaty friction along his length, and then electric sparks around the head. He can hear her pussy slobbering along him, but he's not ready to fuck her yet. Not quite. He leans forward, a feral growl in his throat, and sinks his teeth into the muscle of her neck, harder than he meant to, but exactly as hard as he needs to. Then he runs his tongue along the quickly forming welt, soothing the reddened flesh. Finally, he returns to her ear, and forces the growl out of his voice, smoothing it down to speak as evenly as he can, despite his body and lungs demanding more air right now.

"I'm going to fuck that shy thing right out of you Anya," he murmurs. "And if we never touch again, and you break a thousand hearts, conquer a thousand cocks and strike lustful terror into a thousand lesser men as you fuck them with all your depraved, hungry strength, I want you to always remember..."

His hand slips down. Two fingers hook deep into her pussy, and he presses his thumb to her clit, while the other hand pulls hard on her black, increasingly matted hair.

"I set you free."

His words echo in her head. Gods, hearing him say if we never touch again, I don't want to imagine another man's hands on me after this. It's like he was made for me. The nature of his dominance pairs perfectly with my soft submission. This man is going to ruin me for anyone else.

The ache his bite leaves behind in combination with his words and the feel of his fingers inside her, are unlike anything Anya has felt before.

Lightning crackles across the sky. Thunder growling in its wake like a starved animal, the windows vibrating from the sound. Watching Dean, he looks like a starved animal himself. He's holding something back. His fingers are firm and purposeful, stroking her g-spot like a trained professional. Unable to contain her thoughts she asks, "How many other women have you done this with?" jealousy staining her voice.

Dean's eyes narrow in challenge, he keeps working her deep, feeling her walls squeeze on his fingers the closer she gets to her climax.

"Fuck, Daddy, I'm about to cu..."

With one last stroke of his fingertips, Dean sends her careening into oblivion. Anya goes to scream out, and Dean's free hand swiftly covers her mouth. The sky lights up with the electricity she feels inside, like the sky itself is channelling her. Rain pounds harder against the window as she rides out the aftershocks.

Sweat drips down her skin. Panting, her body collapses against his chest.

"What if I don't want to conquer a thousand cocks?" She looks up into his brilliant hazel eyes.

Dean holds her tight, gripping her pussy as she rides out her orgasm, her head smacking against the window and her nails clawing at his clothes. At one point she rakes the side of his neck, and he thinks he can feel pinpricks of blood rising from the abrasion. He holds his hand over her mouth, savouring the vibration of her screams and watching her face contort and twist as her nervous system tries to make sense of the onslaught. Finally, the earthquake gives way to tremors. He pulls his hand away, coaxing a line of fresh spittle from her trembling bottom lip.

He doesn't flinch from her needful gaze as he answers how many women, "The motions, the techniques... A few. But the hunger? The low, animal fury? Only you."

He pulls his soaked hand free of her tight pussy, and sucks them clean, savouring every second her taste lingers, still watching her.

"And as far as I'm concerned you can conquer as many or as few as you desire."

His hand flows down, wrapping around his cock, smeared in juices and a fresh bead of precum at the tip.

"And if you only desire one..." He leans forward, kissing her deeply. Then leaning past her cheek and growling into her ear as he teases her labia with the tip of his cock. "... then it's yours."

His words hang in the air. The thunder seems to have recessed, leaving only the eager rain to watch them, waiting for Anya's answer.

Fuck, I never thought hearing a man growl would ever sound as good as it sounds in books. It's intoxicating. He could command me to do anything if he used that voice, she mused.

His voice permeates her cells. Everything about this man makes her feel so alive. She searches his face for any sign of falsities, but she comes up empty.

She could explore unmapped territory with him. Anya's eyes slowly scan over his body. She stops at his throat where her nails scratched a little too deep, she tightens her legs around him, edging him ever closer, feeling his tip pressing at her entrance.

Her hands find the edge of his shirt and slowly works it up and off of him, tossing it with the rest of his clothes.