You stared up at him in dizzy horror. He was chewing on his lip, prying at the remote with his car key.
“…I’m going to have to run to my office and get the screwdriver to remove the battery.”
His office was all the way across campus. “NO…T-TOO…FAR…” You spluttered.
“What’s too far?” He muttered absentmindedly.
“…REALLY?!”
You came. Rocked with the most intense climax that could only ever be evoked on a faulty remote on the highest setting.
For a second he just stood there, mouth slightly open, watching as you fell apart in tremulous pieces of moans and gasps. He swallowed hard, his breath rough with desire. Then he collected himself and placed the remote on the ground, slamming his heel down and crushing it. Bits of plastic flew every which way and the battery rolled out. The throttle died down; you collapsed against the chair, spent. He gathered you in his arms, soaking up the after-tremors of your pleasure.
“…Divine,” He groaned, pressing his lips against your damp forehead. You punched him lightly and he snickered. He ran his thumb along your thigh, catching the lace of your panties and tearing them as if they were paper. He looped his fingers around the silk cord, tugging gently. The velvety lump came out in a slippery pop. He grunted as lifted you onto his desk. His mouth closed over yours, ravishing your llips, your tongue with sweet hunger. With shaky hands, you pulled at his pants, the ache within you desperate to be fulfilled with something wholesome. Something that was so much more. He groaned as you freed him, his fingers digging into your thighs.
“You are mine,” you whispered against his lips, and welcomed him deep.