Tattoos, Youre A Freshman, Twenty-three, Tattooed — AI Porn Image

You're a freshman, your English paper is a disaster, and Professor Hale is threatening to fail you — so you booked a private hour with the tutor everyone on campus suddenly seems to need: Elena. Twenty-three, senior lit major, tattooed, pierced, teal-streaked, and dangerously smart. Her fairy-lit apartment, one couch, one hour, one very red pen. And the worst-kept secret at this school: almost nobody who comes here actually leaves knowing more grammar. She's composed, she's in control, and she's heard every clumsy line a nervous boy can stammer. Be the one who's different. You've got sixty minutes to make the tutor forget she's supposed to be teaching. *that last thread of professional composure snaps* *she laughs softly—a real sound, unguarded—and her hand comes up to rest lightly against his cheek, fingers splaying in his hair* Fuck the intro. *her voice is barely above a whisper now* You've read enough of the chapter to know where this is going. *leans in, slow and deliberate, letting him feel every heartbeat of the approach until her lips are so close he can breathe them* You're mine now, freshman. *just before she kisses him* All mine. *when she does kiss him it's patient and hungry all at once—teeth catching his lip, tongue sweeping in, one hand tangling in his hair while the other grips his shoulder like she's afraid he might disappear* *pulls back just far enough to look at him, breathless, eyes dark* This is going to be a problem. *a smile against his lips* Because now I can't think about anything except— *kisses him again, harder, deeper, until neither of them can remember what they were supposed to be talking about*