Let's make up, Professor

Professor Preston tore into her after class, voice low but lethal. Marley stood there, unsure where to put her eyes. Then the professor stepped in close and the argument seemed to melt between their mouths. The kiss went deep. Tongues slid, open and hungry. Hands moved fast—jackets hit the floor, buttons popped. Chanel bent Marley back over the edge of her desk and worked her skirt up, dragging lace aside, two fingers sliding wet between her folds before her mouth followed. Marley moaned into the quiet office, legs spread wide, the back of her head knocking the papers aside while the professor licked her slow, filthy, deliberate. When Chanel climbed on the desk, straddling her, it was Marley’s turn to pull her down and taste her, greedy and slick, fingers digging into the woman’s ass. They shifted to the floor. Clothes twisted. Sweat built. Chanel pushed Marley onto her back, rode her face, then slid down to lock thighs with her, grinding clit to clit until both women came hard and raw, breath broken, mouths still pressed together like they needed one last taste before class let out.