He didn't leave.
That single fact looped in Delilah's mind like a lifeline as she knelt between his spread thighs, lips still swollen and tingling from sucking his fingers. He'd said we had to go back. Said class was ending. Said people would notice.
But he stayed seated—immovable, thighs parted wide, the thick, obvious ridge of his hard cock straining against his uniform pants right in front of her face.
And she stayed on her knees.
"Phei…" His name broke from her throat—raw, pleading, wrecked. "Please?"
"Please what, princess?"
She didn't know how to say it. The need was too huge, too consuming—a burning ache between her legs, her pussy clenching on nothing, panties soaked through and clinging to her swollen lips, clit throbbing so hard it hurt.
"I don't know," she whimpered, hands gripping his calves tighter, nails digging through fabric. "I just—I need—"
"Use your words, Delilah."
