Making Exceptions (swanqueen)

Chapter 11: Shut Up

Smudging her lips against the intruding hand, Emma mumbled, "What's this?"

"This, my dear," Regina moved the hand and smiled back at the blonde, "Is your punishment. You're almost forty-five minutes late."

Emma pulled the brunette tight against her body and groaned into the brunette's shoulder, "And what a cruel punishment it is."

The blonde looked down at the stack of papers in front of her. She sighed- loudly- and looked over at the brunette sitting behind her huge mahogany desk. It was unfair how quickly Regina's pile was diminishing, while Emma's pile seemed to get bigger- or stay the same size at least.

The blonde sighed again, hoping to grab the brunette's attention. When brown eyes didn't look up to meet very bored hazel, the blonde stood and trekked her way across the room. She snuck up behind the brunette's chair and leaned down close, letting her breath wash over the professor's neck.

"What's your secret?" Emma questioned in a whisper.

"What secret, dear?" Regina let her body sink into the chair, squeezing her thighs together, and trying to not whimper at the warm air caressing her neck, and the voice whispering in her ear. Her mind briefly flashed to the shower she had taken that morning.

Checking the temperature one last time, the woman stepped into the shower and let the water cascade down onto her. The heat surrounding her body reminded her of the warm body that held her the night before as she and Emma spoke. It made her think of the strong arms that carried her to her bed.

Those arms...That strength... Emma.

She remembered how it felt to be surrounded by that muscular, yet feminine and sexy physique the blonde woman had. It was like heaven.

The brunette slipped her hands down the front of her body, missing all the spots she wanted so badly to touch. The woman had always been a tease in intimate moments, even to herself.

When she reached the apex of her thighs, the woman moved her arms upwards. Again, skipping all sensitive spots, until her soft hands had made it back up to her neck. During the next journey of warm hands over smooth, wet, olive skin, the brunette allowed herself to gently squeeze and massage her breasts. A small moan escaped her plump lips as she started to tease her own nipples, flicking and pinching the nubs.

After minutes of torture, the brunette's hands went opposite directions, one traveling upwards, the other south towards her awaiting heat.

She slipped one manicured hand into her hair, grabbing a fistfull and giving it a light tug, holding securely to the brunette locks, as the other parted her folds. Her fingers slid carefully through, and the brunette wasted no time before shoving two digits into herself.

"Emma..." she moaned lightly, not able to stop herself.

In the back of her mind, a small voice was shouting how wrong this was. She should stop, she barely knew the blonde that was causing her this much want and need. But how could it be so wrong when thinking of Emma touching her felt so right?

"Emma,' She moaned again, moving her fingers at a faster rate, tugging harder on her fistfull of hair, "take me."

"Regiiiiiinnaaaa,"the blonde was still whispering in her ear, this time dragging out the brunette's name, trying to regain her attention. "I asked you a question, professor."

The professor snapped back into reality with a small jump. She pressed her thighs together even tighter, the flashback paired with Emma's use of her job title doing nothing to help her current situation. Damn that idiotic blonde for being so....idiotic...ly sexy.