Chapter 2 Fight For It

• "The... the consumer behavior model," I gasped, my fingers digging into Peter's shirt. "Chapter One focuses on..."
• Peter wiggled his thumb against the wet tip of my length.
• "Ah!" A loud, unbidden cry tore from my throat as my hips jerked forward.
• Pleasure crashed over me like a tidal wave. White heat burst behind my eyes as I came hard, spilling hot friction across his hand and onto his trousers. I shook violently, my breath coming in ragged, embarrassing hitches while the room spun around me. I had never felt anything so intense in my life.
• I stared at Peter up close, chest heaving. "Did... did I pass?"
• Peter picked up his red pen and drew a massive, thick F at the top of my paper. "You failed to explain a single concept."
• My blood ran cold. The sheer weight of that red letter hit me like a physical blow. "Wait! No! Professor, please!"
• "Silence," Peter commanded softly.
• He grabbed my hips, spun me around, and bent me face-down over his cool wood desk. My chest pressed against my scattered papers, my bare stomach slick with sweat against the surface.
• "Are you ready to answer the rest of my questions, Luca?" Peter asked, his palm coming down with a warm, firm slap against my buttock.
• "Yes!" I shouted into the desk. "Ask me anything! Just give me another chance!"
• He did not wait for me to get comfortable. I felt the slick tip of his fingers slicking my entrance, rubbing slow, deliberate circles until my body yielded to his touch.
• "Explain the core premise of your thesis," Peter ordered, his voice echoing right above me.
• "It is... ah! It is about the exploitation of human bodies!" I yelled out, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned white. "Companies do not see people as consumers anymore! They see them as marketing tools!"
• Peter stretched me with two fingers, pushing deep into my tight warmth. I moaned loudly, saliva dripping from my open lips onto my own handwriting.
• "Keep talking," Peter whispered, pressing his broad chest against my bare back. "Why does that matter in modern sports?"
• "Because!" I cried out, my voice cracking as he replaced his fingers with the smooth, thick head of his shaft. "Because athletes are treated like products! We are sold, packaged, and discarded!"
• He pushed slowly inside me, filling me completely in one long, agonizing drag. The sensation was overwhelming.
• Tears pricked my eyes from the sheer fullness, but my pride flared up like a wildfire. He thought I was just a brainless jock who bought his papers online. I was going to prove him wrong if it killed me.
• "What is the mathematical model you used for chapter two?" Peter asked, beginning a slow, punishing rhythm. His hips drove into mine, making the entire desk shake.
• "The... the regression analysis!" I sobbed out, groaning as his touch hit that sensitive spot inside me. "Ah! God! It measures brand loyalty against... against human objectification!"
• "Is that your idea, or did you hire a ghostwriter?" Peter grunted, his pace quickening, striking deep into my core over and over.
• "It is mine!" I screamed, hiding my face in my arms as a second wave of intense heat built rapidly inside my lower belly. "I wrote every single word! I spent nights on it!"
• "Good," Peter murmured, his hand sliding down to wrap around my aching, sensitive shaft once more. "Then prove it."
• He stroked me in time with his deep thrusts. The combination of his cock filling me and his tight grip on my length destroyed what little control I had left.
• I babbled through my tears, rattling off citation numbers, methodology, and theoretical frameworks between high-pitched whimpers and desperate groans.
• "I know my work!" I gasped, my body trembling on the verge of another explosive finish. "I am smart! I am a good student!"
• "You are a brilliant student," Peter agreed, his voice husky in my ear. "And you are going to give me everything."
• He hammered into me three more times, fast and deep, driving me straight over the edge. I screamed his name as my body convulsed around him, spurting wildly across his desk.
• Right as my climax peaked, Peter shuddered behind me, his hands gripping my hips tight as he poured his own warm seed deep inside me.
• We lay there for a long moment, chest to back, both of us panting in the dim light of the office.
• Slowly, Peter pulled out of me. I collapsed onto the desk, completely spent, my muscles feeling like jelly.
• "Good," Peter praised softly, his voice finally losing its cold edge. "Very good, Luca."
• "Does that mean... I got an A?" I asked softly, my voice barely a whisper.
• Peter grabbed my waist and lifted me off the desk, turning me around to face him.
• "That depends," Peter said, holding my jaw. "Are you ready for more after hours lessons?"