Mafia in College 8

As I walked through the corridor, a spring in my step, I was considering what to do next, though it was an easy question. Megan was left behind in the classroom, gasping, trying to process the shock of my fingers sinking into her beautiful breasts. And I had nothing arranged with Camilla until tomorrow. Arranging something would take only a message, but she needed some space to gather her balance, otherwise, she would just collapse into pieces. She obviously lacked the mental fortitude to handle those issues. 

And just like that, I was left with only one viable target. My dear professor, Amelia. 

 I didn’t bother checking her office. She didn’t have any lessons or office hours today, and after our latest encounter, I had a feeling that she would feel disinclined to linger around. An encounter which saw her bent over her desk, her own place of power, her clothing restricted to a pair of panties around her ankles. 

From a rational perspective, the best thing would be to leave her alone. But, after the last encounter with Megan, where she flashed me for the whole lesson, I was feeling rather raunchy, and Amelia was the perfect cure for my ailment. There was a certain irony in teacher finishing what the student had started. 

The decision was taken, but the issue of approach was still on the table. The easiest option would be just to drive straight to her home, knock the door, and walk inside using exam papers as an excuse. I doubted that she would reject me, or at least strongly enough to keep me away. 

But that would be boring, so I came up with an alternative mention. Not to mention, I did owe her for making her kick out her boy-toy, depriving her of a hobby she enjoyed as a result. I had a certain responsibility for creating entertainment for her.  

So, I had stopped in a mechanic shop where I could rent a bike for a few days. It wasn’t exactly cheap, especially considering I was looking something more exciting than a cookie-cutter, but it was worth it. I was planning to drive directly to her house, but the last minute decision tickled my brain, and I stopped by a shopping center to pick a few pieces of very interesting clothing. Arranging everything took a while, so I was parked in front of her house in about two hours later. 

At her driveway, I briefly considered just honking to call her to the door, but then decided against it. I didn’t want her to look from the window, which would prematurely reveal the surprise. I wanted to meet her at the door, experiencing her surprised glare firsthand. Not to mention, it would allow me to push forward without giving her any time to process her shock and daze. 

I rang the doorbell, and a few seconds later, the door opened. “How can I-” she started, then our eyes met, hers growing wide as she registered the identity of her visitor. “James,” she gasped in shock, her fingers tightening on the door like she wanted nothing more than to slam the door shut, but she had enough presence of mind to realize it might not be the best choice. 

As she watched me with surprise, I had the opportunity to examine her state of dress. Alone in her home, she was wearing just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, both loose enough to hide her excellent curves, which was a pity. There was an upside to her dress though, the collar of the shirt only half-covered a bite mark that I distinctly remember leaving yesterday on her collarbone, adding a dash of sexiness to her otherwise plain clothing. “Hello, my dear professor,” I murmured throatily. She said nothing for a second, so I continued. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?” 

From her expression, I could see that it was one thing she didn’t want, but I kept my gaze on her beautiful green eyes, her determination wilted rather quickly. But even then, she took a step back silently rather than inviting me inside verbally. Maybe she was hoping that I was a vampire that can’t walk through the threshold without invitation. But if it was the case, I disappointed her by walking in, and she closed the door behind, then we walked to her living room in silence. 

In her living room, I was surprised once again. It was a lively house, mostly blues and oranges, softened by occasional white and gray, modern-style furniture, except one antique looking hardwood bookshelf that completely covered one of the walls of the living room, well-cared despite its apparent age, piled with an impressive number of hardcover books, most looking even older than the shelf itself. But apart from that bookshelf, the decoration fit neither Amelia the professor, nor the Amy the danger slut that had appeared in occasional glimpses. Even more curious, I thought, wondering what was her deal. 

She took a seat on a chair that stood apart from the others a small trick to make sure I didn’t sit close to her. I smirked as I ignored her silent expectation for me to sit away. I had no intention of giving her that victory, however small. And since the chair she chose was close to the bookshelf, I had the perfect excuse to do so. I stepped in front of the bookshelf, making sure to stay close to Amelia, my body angled in a way that I could see Amelie while browsing the books, and waited for her to talk. 

Her frustration was delicious as the seconds ticked in silence. “How can I help you, James?” she asked almost a minute later, realizing that I had no intention of initiating it. “Maybe something is wrong with the lesson plan?” 

“Nothing school related. I just wanted to talk to you about yesterday,” I said as I waved my hand dismissively, enjoying the blush that was slowly spreading on her face. 

She coughed, trying to hide her discomfort, but it only highlighted it more. “Maybe we should just forget about it,” she said as her eyes slid on the floor, her redness intensifying. 

“Not about ‘that’ part,” I said casually as I pulled a random book from the shelf, acting like I was reading it while watching her from the corner of my eye. “I know how much you like bikes, and I couldn’t feel a bit guilty about how your relationship with Henry ended. So, I decided to give you a small tour as an apology.” It was a lie of course, not only I didn’t have anything to do with her breakup, but also I wouldn’t have cared the slightest if I did. 

With her confusion, she chose the safest discussion. “I didn’t know that you have a bike.” 

“I recently acquired one,” I said as I slid the book back into its place. I turned to her, trying to catch her gaze, but she kept it firmly on the floor. I started walking closer to her, enjoying the way she flinched with every step I took. “Why don’t you go upstairs and change, so that I can introduce you to my ride,” I said. 

“I still don’t know-” she tried to say, but I interrupted her by pressing my finger on her lips.

“No argument,” I said, hovering above her, her hot breath caressing my finger. I smirked, trying to bring things to the next level, but that didn’t work as good as I could have hoped,  “Go and change, professor. We shouldn’t waste too much time.” She just nodded before leaving the room, dashing to upstairs. 

Amusement was the foremost emotion I felt as I watched her dash upstairs. It was interesting how quickly she changed from the stern adviser that was trying too hard to skittering cutie that trembled at the thought of pushing back. It was likely about what happened in her office, I reasoned. After all, it was the center of her power, the culmination of the years of extraordinary effort which ended up with her earning an incredible position. 

I had to wait a bit before Amelia arrived. I was considering the merits of going upstairs -to help her change- when she appeared at the end of the stairs, wearing jeans and a leather jacket, with a loose white t-shirt underneath. Far from the amazing ensemble she was wearing that fateful night at the bar, no tiny skirts, no tight tank tops. 

The temptation to order her back upstairs for better clothing was high, but the look on her eyes dissuaded me from that path. Apparently, the alone time was enough for her to gather herself, at least enough to put a varnish of confidence on the shine of her eyes. I didn’t expect it to be a deep one, but also there wasn’t a pressing need to test it. “Shall we go,” I asked, and walked outside without waiting for an answer. 

I walked to my rental bike, her footsteps distinct as she stomped closer, her boots making an impression on the ground. I had started the bike then passed the spare helmet to her. “Hop on,” I said. 

She turned the helmet in her hands a couple of times, making a show of examining it, hoping to find a flaw that would give her an excuse to get away. But the helmet was in a good condition, depriving her of the last excuse she could have used to run away. With a sigh, she put the helmet on, and sat on my back, distant enough that our bodies weren’t touching, her hands mimicking ghosts around my waist. 

“Hold tight,” I ordered her before starting to drive. I didn’t drive particularly fast. Partially because we were in the suburbs and it wasn’t exactly advisable. But more importantly, I wanted her to underestimate me, so that I can twist her expectations later on. I picked the shortest road I could to get out of the town. Thankfully, in a university town, it wasn’t exactly difficult to achieve. We drove in silence for about ten minutes, then I pulled at a convenience store. 

I took a deep breath, enjoying the warm weather and the smell of the trees. Once again, she was silent as I walked into the shop to buy some water. I passed one onto her when I returned, and she removed her helmet to get a sip. “How was it?” I asked, despite knowing the answer I was going to receive. A supremely bored expression was on her face thanks to the listless way I was driving. 

“It’s okay,” she said, the same tone that a girl informing her quick-fire boyfriend that it was nothing to worry about, that it happened to everyone.  

“We can go faster if you want,” I offered dismissively, deliberately bragging in an overcompensating way that most men would hide their insecurities. “I was driving slow not to scare you.” 

“Don’t worry yourself on that,” Amelia answered. I smirked, happy that she was feeling lively enough to be sassy. “I don’t see that being a problem with your hands on the handlebar.” 

“Whatever you wish, professor,” I answered as I winked, and pulled back my helmet. To her credit, she had realized that she had been set up, aware of her mistake, but her pride, already bruised with all that happened, didn’t allow her to correct her statement. She needed a victory, and she was willing to walk into a trap to get that, confident that she could walk out in her power. Too bad it was one that she wouldn’t be able to resist. “Hold tight,” I said as the engine roared with enthusiasm. 

This time, she scuttled closer, her chest resting on my back, her arms tighter than the first time. Not tight enough, though, something she fixed when the bike jumped on the road with great speed, and cut loose on the open road. 

She yelled in shock as her arms tightened around my stomach even further, smashing her chest against my back. I cursed the leather jackets we were wearing, breaking what otherwise would have been a great sensation. Still, her panic was good enough, so I shifted the gear up even further, the landscape turning into a blur. 

It was a great sensation, cutting through the winds with great speed, with a beautiful girl behind me. Even better, Amelia’s cries were slowly changing from panic to excitement. Her arms lost their death grip. They were still tight around my body, but not in a way conveyed the fear of an imminent disaster. I wondered whether her nipples were hard with excitement, but the way she dressed prevented me from learning it even with her chest pressing against my back. I shrugged, as it was a fun mystery I could unravel during our next break.

After another fifteen minutes of driving, I slowed down, which earned a disappointed exclamation from her, though words were too difficult to pick with the sound of the wind blocking. But then I took a sharp turn to a small, forgotten backroad, both sides covered with tall grass, lacking anything else. But there was a more important feature of the road I had just picked. It was unpaved, constructed from flattened dirt, which turned into a bumpy hell though lack of maintenance. 

Bumps that made the bike tremble violently with each step of the way, subjecting Amelia to constant, violent tremors. 

And it was working the way I was intended. If the way her grip tightened around my body wasn’t clue enough, there were a rapid succession of moans that left her mouth that solidified the message. She was under my control, all without a touch. I sped up several times, only to slow down when her moans were intensifying, giving her an unasked time to cool down, with each repeat, frustration intensifying in her tone. 

Soon, even slowing down wasn’t enough to keep her arousal from building up, but I didn’t want her climax yet. So, I pulled to the side with another sharp turn, and stopped the engine. Amelia said nothing, just breathing deeply as I removed my helmet. I would have stepped off the bike, but her arms were still around my waist, so I turned to her, and raised the visor of her helmet. 

The expression in her eyes, begging for release, was delicious, especially with the way she was struggling to hide it, only to fail miserably. “Your arms, professor,” I said, and she realized just how close we were standing together. She jerked back like she was escaping from icy cold water on a chilly winter day. I didn’t say anything else, just stepped off the bike.  

 She removed her helmet in a crawling pace, trying to give herself a moment to gather her thoughts. But I couldn’t help but lick my lips in hunger as she threw her head back, her hair flowing with the motion, revealing her beautiful face, her lips parted with arousal, and her eyes sparkling. 

“Why did we stop,” Amelia said, trying to sound cold, but it was impossible to do so with her quickened breath.

“Isn’t it obvious,” I said with a suggestive tone as a leaned forward, and her breath hitched. I waited a moment for her to process the insinuation, then pulled back the moment she parted her lips in passive acceptance. “It’s to get a bit of rest, of course,” I said casually, turned my back, and started walking towards a large rock that looked smooth enough to sit. Her face still carried an amusing mixture of shock and relief, which made it difficult not to snort, but I somehow managed it. “Are you going to just stand there,” I said. “You should stretch your legs a bit, we have a long drive in front of us.” 

“Sure,” she murmured as she dismounted the bike, and started walking around, deliberately away from me. A few minutes passed in silence as she tried to gather herself. “Maybe we should return?” she murmured. “I have a few papers I need to grade.” 

“If you wish so,” I answered. “I would have assumed that you would prefer to drive a bit, but-” I said only to be cut by her excitedly.

 “You would allow me to drive?” she exclaimed. 

“Why not? Assuming that you know the basics, of course,” I said magnanimously. 

“I don’t have a license, but I definitely know how to drive,” she answered. “But Henry never allowed me to use his bike…” 

“Just another evidence of his fragile ego,” I said dismissively. “He probably didn’t want any competition for his likely poor driving skills, assuming his driving skills were as poor as his appetite to fight as I saw the bar that night.” Reminding the cowardice her boyfriend displayed definitely helped her as to I threw the keys to her, which she grabbed excitedly. “Nice catch.” 

She mumbled a few incomprehensible words as she dashed towards the bike, far from her usual articulate manner as a childish excitement dominated her steps. She jumped on the bike carelessly, leaving me to wish that she had been wearing a skirt, her careless reveal under the clear sunlight would have been a scene to remember. 

But not like it was a big loss, I added with a shrug, starting to walk towards the bike in lazy steps. “Hurry up,” she said as she turned towards me, the engine already rumbling like a warhorse excited to taste the wind. 

I might have deliberately ignored her order, however casual, if I was in an earlier stage of seduction, but after the encounters in front of her door and in her office, a passive-aggressive display of authority was just unnecessary. Instead, I silently climbed at the backseat, my arms softly wrapped around her waist. 

She didn’t wait for me to declare my readiness before launching the bike forward, speedier than it was safe. Unintentional, I assumed, based on her yelp, half excited, half panicked. She reduced the acceleration, and suddenly we found ourselves slowing down. She couldn’t help but glance backward with a downcast look on her face, or that was what I assumed with the helmet hiding her face. It seemed that she was expecting me to take back her toy, but mellowed out when she only found an encouraging nod. 

Elated by the unexpected encouragement, her body perked up as once again she faced the horizon, and started to pick up speed in the bumpy earthen road we were in, driving us deeper towards the wilderness rather than going back to the highway, her hands tight on the grips. Her driving was a bit wobbly at first, but that quickly disappeared as she got used to the weight and the power of the bike, and the road started to disappear under her wheels. 

I let her drive unmolested -literally- for several minutes, making sure that she had enough experience handling the device to prevent her from swerving dangerously in the smallest surprise. Surprises that I was about to deliver her. 

A nasty bump on the road gave me the excuse I needed to tighten my grip around her waist, a move its significance she missed in the chaos of the moment, distracted by the effects of the bump on her body. She realized the consequences of her mistake a moment later, when she tried to shuffle reflexively, only to find out she was prevented from doing so by my rock-hard erection, lodged between her cheeks. 

I was expecting her to lean forward awkwardly as much as she could without endangering the drive. Which was why I was surprised when she slid back instead. Impressive, I thought. I hadn’t been expecting her to lean in on the situation like that. But apparently, once again, I had miscalculated the impact of adrenaline on her mood, and more importantly, her arousal. 

It was not a bad surprise, I thought as I modified my grip a bit, enough that my hands slid under her shirt, allowing me to gently caress her stomach. I could feel her shivering underneath my touch, her excitement spiking with the change of the situation. I took it as an invite when she slowed down the bike, letting my hands slide up until my thumbs were tracing against the underside of her bra.

But I stopped there rather than advancing towards her breasts, extending the tease she was suffering under. The simplest thing to do would be ordering her to stop, and start getting handsy safely on the side of the road. But not only that wasn’t very appealing for me, but also I was willing to bet Amelia wouldn’t enjoy it very much as well compared to alternatives, especially with the speed she got in the mood once she started driving. 

So, I let things escalate. I wished it was possible to press my lips against her neck to tease her sensitive spots there, but unfortunately, our helmets prevented that. Not that it was a big concern, as I had discovered several other sensitive spots over her body that was easy to reach with my fingers even while she continued to drive. And I started teasing those, her excitement rising with every time my fingerprints caressed her bumps. 

The easiest thing would be to pop open her jeans, carrying the action to the next step. But I felt that it wouldn’t give the situation the full excitement it deserved. I pulled one of my hands underneath her shirt instead, ignoring her body language, shouting disappointment. I could understand why she thought that I was pulling back, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth. I reached to my ankle, where I kept a small sheath hidden in my sock for emergencies, a habit I carried from the earlier days of being a street thug. I hadn’t had to rely on that after I had promoted to a leadership position, but before that, it saved my life a few times, and I simply hadn’t stopped carrying that, and kept it sharp by oiling and sharpening it once a month. 

I waited until she slowed down to drive through a particularly bumpy section of the dirt road, and put my knife at the hem of her shirt, using the hand that was inside it to push it away from her skin. Then, I dragged it upwards sharply, years of experience handling a knife preventing me from harming her skin despite the relatively difficult position, her panicked yelp music to my ears. But more importantly, she kept driving, only slowing down a bit, suggesting that she was on board with what was about to happen more than her panicked cry indicated. 

The fun was about to start…