Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

53 - Lube

Alison
***

At eight thirty I was out the door, waiting for the bus that would take me to Chris's apartment. Thank God he had cancelled his lecture, not just because I was dreading going back to the rhythm of University, but also because we hadn't been together in five days, ever since our day alone in Paris.

After our little phone call last night, I did indeed finally manage to fall asleep. God, I don't understand what came over me to ask for that... He was making me test my own limits, and it was intoxicating. Did he realize how easy he made it for me to feel comfortable no matter what?

I wore the necklace he gave me all the time and today was no exception. I wanted him to see me wear it.

When I arrived at his apartment, my stomach was already twisting into knots before I even knocked on the door. When he opened it for me, I was taken by surprise at what my senses decided to focus on.

Instead of taking in the face and body of the man in front of me, my attention went directly to his kitchen.

"You cooked?!" I asked, moving past him to inspect what he had done, or tried to do at least.

"Hey! No good morning kiss?" He called. As I made my way towards the kitchen island, he wrapped his arms around my waist and swung me, lifting my feet off the ground and turning me to face him.

My laughter filled the room. I tried to push him back, but honestly I didn't want him to let me go.

"I said, where's my morning kiss from my favorite dirty girl?"

I giggled and kissed him, my hands gripping his beard.

"It's good to see you." I said as he kissed my cheek, his lips lingering on my skin. "I loved last night."

He chuckled, his lips vibrating against my cheek. "Of course you did. You're always horny, all the fucking time..."

His words made me stutter and blush.

"That's a good thing, Miss Bardot, no need to feel embarrassed." He added when he sensed my unease. "And even though I can tell you're horny right now because of your sharp punctuality, there's a lot we need to talk about first."

He motioned me to sit at the table while he made the final touches to the breakfast plates on the counter. I watched him giddily, noticing the small subtleties that made Chris the ungifted cook he was. I found his clumsiness quite funny, even when he did things slowly to not mess up. Not being talented in this department yet making the effort to impress me made him seem so much younger, like he was trying to impress a girl out of his league.

Yeah, not the case.

"Alright, done!" He said, happy with his work. He brought both plates to the table and placed it in front of me.

"Madame," he started, trying to make a french accent. "Made specially for you, an omelette."

The golden brown semi-circle was crispy on the outside, steam coming off it. I shot him an approving glance to show I was impressed.

"And," he turned around and grabbed a glass jar. "Freshly pressed orange juice for the lady."

I giggled, my heart warming at his playfulness.

"You spoil me, Mr Damon."

He took a seat in front of me. "Hm, now that's an honorific I never head you use."

"Apologies for reducing you to a common man." I chuckled, cutting into the omelette. "It suits you though. Now, let's see if this is cooked all the way through. I don't want to get salmonella."