The Professor's Mate Clause novel Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

FREYA’S POV

His mouth is everywhere at once.

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My neck. My jaw, the sensitive spot near my ear. His hands move slowly up my sides, lifting my dress along the way. The dress folding at my waist, moving higher up my legs and honestly, I couldn’t care less.

“Adrian.” His name comes out breathless and needy. I sound desperate. I am desperate.

“Say it again.” His teeth graze my collarbone. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to make me arch into him. “I love hearing you say my name like that.”

“Like what?” I can barely form words. My brain stopped working the second his lips touched my skin.

“Like you need me.” His hand cups my breast through the dress. “Like you are mine.”

I am his. God I am so completely his it terrifies me.

He kissed me again, this time it was not like the sweet ones from before, this one was hungry. Claiming. His tongue slides against mine and I taste the wine we drank at dinner.

I fist my hands in his hair, pulling him closer even though there is no space left between us. His weight presses me deeper into the couch cushions. I can feel every hard plane of his body against mine. Including the very obvious hardness pressing against my hip.

“We should slow down.” He says it but his hands are doing the opposite. Sliding higher under my dress. Fingers tracing the edge of my underwear. “Tell me to stop.”

“I do not want you to stop.” I roll my hips up against him. His breath hitches. “I want more.”

“More.” He repeats the word like it is a prayer. “You are going to be the death of me.”

His hand slides between my legs. Over my underwear first. Just pressing. Teasing. I am already so wet I

know he can feel it through the thin lace.

“Jesus Freya.” His voice is wrecked. Rough. “You are soaked.”

I should be embarrassed. Should feel shy about how much I want this. Want him. But I cannot bring myself to care.

“Your fault.” I manage to gasp out. “You did this.”

“Good.” His fingers push the pants aside.

His hands begins to move inside my cunt.

“I want you like this. Desperate for me. Needing me.”

He hands moves faster

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“Uhhhhh.. ad …fuck”

He keeps circling, stroking. Finding every spot that makes me see stars. My back arches off the couch completely. My hands grip his shoulders so hard I am probably leaving marks.

“Look at me.” His command cuts through the haze. “I want to see your face when you come.”

I force my eyes open. His face is right there. So close. His eyes are glowing that electric blue. The wolf is right at the surface. Barely contained.

“That is it.” His thumb finds my clit. Circles it with just the right amount of pressure. “Let me see you fall apart.”

His finger slides inside me. Just one. Slow. Stretching. My whole body goes taut.

“More.” I do not recognize my own voice. “Please Adrian. More.”

He adds another finger, fuck this was too much and not enough at the same time. He starts moving. In and out. Curling his fingers to hit my g-spot.

“You feel incredible.” His mouth is at my ear. His breath hot against my skin. “So tight. So perfect. I cannot wait to feel you around me properly.”

The image that puts in my head almost does me in right there. Adrian inside me. Filling me completely. Claiming me in every way.

“I am close.” The words come out as a whimper. “Adrian I am so close.”

“I know baby. I can feel you clenching around my fingers.” His thumb speeds up on my clit. “Let go. Come for me.”

The orgasm slams into me. My whole body shakes. I cry out his name so loud the neighbors probably hear if we had one. Pleasure rolls through me in waves that seem to go on forever.

He works me through it. His fingers gentling but not stopping. Whispering things against my neck that I cannot quite hear over the ringing in my ears.

When I finally come back to myself I am trembling. My legs feel like jelly. My heart is pounding so hard I think it might explode.

Adrian is just watching me. His hand still between my legs. His expression is so intense it makes my breath catch all over again.

“Beautiful.” He pulls his hand away slowly. Brings his fingers to his mouth. Sucks them clean while maintaining eye contact. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Oh god. That should not be as hot as it is. But watching him taste me makes heat pool low in my belly all over again.

“Your turn,” I rasp, still dripping between my legs from him. My fingers fumble at his belt, metal clinking too loud in the quiet. It takes a second to yank it free, leather slapping against his thigh.

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“Freya.” His hand clamps mine. “You don’t have to.”

“Shut up. I want your dick in my hand.” I shove his jeans open, zipper grinding down. He’s already leaking through his boxers, the wet patch spreading. I dig in, wrap my fist around him, slick with his own mess.

He groans, hips jerking. “Fuck, slow..”

“No.” I pump him rough, spit pooling in my mouth. I spit on the head, let it drip down the shaft, mix with the precum already smeared everywhere. My hand slips, loud and wet, squelching with every stroke.

“Harder, baby,” he grits, thighs spreading wider. “Make it nasty.”

I do. Grip tight, twist on the upstroke, thumb smearing the mess over the tip. His stomach jumps, abs clenching. Sweat beads on his chest, trickles down. The couch is creaking, my wrist aching, but I don’t

stop.

“Look at you,” I pant, leaning in, lips brushing his ear. “Big bad Alpha leaking like a faucet. Gonna make a mess all over me?”

He snarls, hand fisting my hair. “Keep talking and I’ll paint your fucking face.”

“Do it.” I spit again, right on him, stroke faster. The sound’s obscene-wet slaps, his ragged breathing, my own pulse in my ears. His cock throbs, veins bulging under my fingers.

“Freya….fuck….fuck…gonna..”

“Come on my hand,” I hiss. “Show me how dirty you get.”

He does. With a guttural curse, he bucks hard, ropes of cum shooting over my knuckles, splattering my wrist, dripping onto his stomach. I milk him through it, squeezing every drop, until he’s twitching and spent, chest heaving, cum cooling sticky between us.

I drag my messy fingers across his thigh, leaving streaks. “Look at that,” I murmur, voice hoarse. “All mine.”

He pulls me against his chest. Both of us are still breathing hard. Still coming down from the high.

“We should probably clean up.” I say after a few minutes. “This couch is probably ruined.”

He laughs. The sound rumbles through his chest into mine. “I do not care about the couch. I will buy a hundred couches.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“I am happy.” He kisses the top of my head. “Happier than I have been in years. Decades maybe.”

The confession makes my chest feel tight. Full. “Me too.”

We sit there for a while longer. Just holding each other. Neither of us wanting to move. To break the

moment.

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