Night after night

Berinice slides into the room like she owns every inch of it. Tiny blond, tight body, eyes that don’t wait for permission. She starts off pretending she’s there for grammar drills, but the way her knees brush his tells another story fast. Zack tries to keep his cool, tries to focus on the book. Then the room gets smaller. Her fingers find the hard line in his slacks and stay there. He’s done pretending. Her mouth wraps around him like she’s been planning this all term—slow, wet, no mercy—until his hips twitch and he has to grip the desk. He flips her over it, pushes her skirt up, and fucks her like the lesson ended the second she spread her legs. She takes every thrust with greedy little sounds, the kind that make him forget he’s supposed to be in charge. When she comes she doesn’t hold back, shaking on his cock, nails digging into the wood. Breathless, she turns, drops to her knees again, and gives him the choice without saying a word. He paints her face, thick ropes across those flushed cheeks and parted lips, and she smiles like she’s earned every drop.