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I turned around quickly, my heart pounding so loudly that it was all I could hear. His hand had touched me. In the last couple months of being in his class, I could not remember a time in which he had touched me. Even when handing back papers, our bodies never once came in contact with one another. “Yes?” I asked him once we were face to face. “Never mind,” he sighed, hanging his head down low and heading for his desk. “What is it?” I asked him concerned. He sat down on his desk and turned his legs so that they were beneath it. “Is something the matter?” “You should probably go.” He looked down at his desk, not making eye contact with me. “I don’t want to go,” I held my ground, resisting the urge to slam my foot against the ground. “I want to be here with you.” “I can’t” he shook his head at me before breaking eye contact once again. “You can’t what?” I asked him, making my way over to his side of the desk. “Tell me.” “I can’t touch you,” he informed me with a sad look. My need took over as my hands grabbed at his hair and pulled him down to the floor to straddle him. My legs held him close to me as I started unbuttoning his dress shirt, letting my hands explore his chest once again. It had been almost a year since I had even touched him intimately without the fear of being caught. The pile of clothes on the floor spoke of his need for me as well, as our bodies intertwined and joined hastily, primal urges outranking romance for the time being. His fingertips dug into my hips as he slammed into me, as if claiming me as his own, and my nails left red marks all down his muscular back. His thrusts picked up as he got close to coming and my hips were lifting to match his until my entire body shook with the built up orgasm. We collapsed in a pile of sweaty exhaustion in front of the fire, holding each other close. It was close to midnight before we left our cozy spot on the floor, neither one of us willing to let go long enough. ‘You don’t know how badly.
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