She Couldn't Hide Her Reaction. After Hours, #16

Jude fights it. Clenches his jaw. Tries to concentrate on equations. But Nora has him pinned, heat gripping him like a vise, glasses slipping down her nose, hair plastered to her forehead, moaning deep and guttural. "You feel it too, " she whispers, eyes wet behind smudged lenses. "Maybe I like the burn, " she purrs. Parlors, bars, stairwells, campus corridors. She meets his stare without a flicker from a worn leather stool, skirt riding high enough to offer tantalizing glimpses of spread thighs.
Then he's chasing her through gloom, boots hammering cracked asphalt, his hardness pulsing hard in his boxers, slick with need. In a stairwell, his hardness strains against his jeans while tears streak his face and his chest heaves. She pins him against the wall, his tie a loose hangman's noose, his jeans slouching, hardness exposed and glistening. The air is thick with release, tears, and her sharp perfume.
The reaction is involuntary. The burn is the point.