The Exposure

Chapter Twenty-Two

          As soon as you cross the threshold of his office, he casts a muffliato, slams the door shut with a flick of his wand, tossing it on his desk. He pulls you into him, his hands holding you by your ribcage. "This dress..." he says, his eyes drifting hungrily over your body. "Why are you still in it?" he asks dubiously. "I...wanted to wear it for you," you smile sheepishly, gazing up at him, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. His eyes dart down to your mouth, catching the subtle movement and his lips part, making your eyes rest on his perfect cupid's bow.

          He gazes into your eyes deeply and in a moment you show him what you crave, drawing up a picture for him in your mind. His nostrils flare and his gaze intensifies as his hands grip your waist, pulling your lips into his. His deep kiss explores your mouth, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers in your hair. He pulls your middle to his, leaving no space between your bodies. The intimacy of the moment fills you from head to toe as you both gasp for air but are unwilling to pull away long enough to do so. He gasps against your cheek, his lips sloppily kissing it, roaming over to your ear and down your neck, his tongue jutting out to occasionally taste you. "I love wearing your marks on my skin, Professor," you moan breathlessly.

          In an abrupt movement, he marches over to his desk. In a long sweep of his arm, he knocks everything off it––books, parchment and vials all crashing to the floor, and he whirls around to face you. His hooded eyes gaze lustfully at you and he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you over to the desk and standing behind you. He places his large hands on either shoulder, pushing you into the desk, your thighs pressing against the front of it. He strongly bends you over, his hand on your back, hiking up your dress. He reaches up to remove your panties but finds you bare. He purrs lowly in your ear, "You dirty little slut...showing up without your knickers again?" You feel a surge of wetness rushing to your core at his words. He wedges his knees between your legs and spreads them. He kneels behind you and grips your ass, kissing up the soft flesh of your inner thighs, his tongue licking the insides luxuriously.

          You feel a sudden prick of pain as Severus sucks the skin between his teeth and gives you a new mark between your thighs. You moan at the sensation and at his tongue that begins licking at the nectar running down them. "You taste exquisite, Pet..." he says in a low rumble, your core vibrating with his voice. He stands and removes his suit jacket, tossing it aside and unbuttons the top two buttons of his white shirt. Rolling up his sleeves he says seductively, "Such a naughty girl, teasing me like that at the ball..." Your mind flashes to your hand rubbing his clothed shaft. "While it was to our mutual enjoyment, I'm afraid I cannot let your behavior go..." he leans down to your ear, "...unpunished." He whips off his belt, grabs your wrists one at a time and binds them behind your back with it. "Those mischievous hands..."

          He bends forward and leans his weight on the desk, his hands on either side of you, his scent surrounding you. Your head turned to the side, you see his bare forearms, his sleeve rolled up exposing his dark mark. You feel his warm mouth taking your fingers in it, licking, sucking them. You shudder. He stands and pulls up your dress, the scuffle of his feet sounding heavy on the floor as he shifts his weight. He slowly reveals your bare sex, glistening and dripping wet, opening with your arousal.

          "My...aren't we greedy?" He drawls at the sight, stepping between your spread legs and softly flits his finger back and forth along your slit, working you up into a heady feeling, collecting your arousal. You moan softly at the sensation. He brings his finger to your mouth and hisses, "Open up," and you do, tasting yourself and sucking his finger obediently. "Good girl..." he praises.

          He brings the wet finger down and finds your clit. He takes it between his index finger and thumb, lightly squeezing and you cry out at the jolt. His finger continues the journey from your tiny, aching bud back over your slit, never entering your openness. He repeats the journey over and over, your wetness forming a tiny puddle on the edge of his desk. The pulsing between your legs quickens along with your breathing as he draws his finger along the outside, back and forth, back and forth. Your frustration grows and you shrug your arms, struggling aggressively. As his torturous movements continue, "Professor, please! Please I need–! Come inside!" is all you manage to eek out.