by Skye Warren
“I’m sure I can think of some extra credit work for you to do.” His hand pressed gently behind her neck, urging her forward, closer, until she could smell the faint salty musk.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” she said breathlessly, wanting him to use those dirty words she so enjoyed.
He brought his thumb to her lips, rubbing across them in a way that heightened every nerve in her body. “A good student must apply herself,” he said, his voice gravelly and thick with need. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Won’t you give me instructions?” she whispered.
“Lick it. Here.” Guiding himself with one hand, he placed the soft, slippery skin at the tip against her lips. Tentatively, she licked. Outwardly she played the innocent, but inside she reveled in the salty-sex flavor of his passion.
Obliging him and taking it farther, she licked the tender slit again and again. His breath hitched sweetly at each slide of her tongue, but soon he moved on, directing her to lick and suck all over the broad head of his cock, down the underside.
He tapped her bottom lip. “Open.”
She dutifully opened her mouth. He angled his cock inside, thrusting gently as she grew accustomed to his girth. He was too large to move in her mouth quickly. She would inevitably gag, and he didn’t like that. It didn’t matter to her, but he minded any hint of her discomfort.
In steady pulses, he rocked against her face, climbing closer to orgasm. She could tell by the heavy breaths, the tightening of his fist in her hair. When she thought he would explode in her mouth, he pushed her back. In seconds she was up against the wall where he had been, her jeans yanked down and his mouth pressed to her core.
Gasping, he pulled away only long enough to say, “Couldn’t wait anymore.”
Then his mouth was back at her folds, licking and sucking. Pleasure coursed through her, sharp and sweet. Her hips bucked just like his, only more eager now that she was primed. She couldn’t help it; she rocked against the lovely pressure, humping his face, though the low groans told her he didn’t mind much.
Sensation raced over her skin, heightened by her eagerness all day, her anger at those girls, her love for this man. She climbed a peak, propelled by clever fingers and a wicked tongue. Frantic sounds escaped her, unwilling to be held back even at the expense of discovery. She rocked and shuddered, and with the smooth, slick curl of his tongue against her clit, found completion in a soft rush and sated sigh.
He turned her around, bending her over the file cabinet. She grasped the sides, the metal cool and slick beneath her sweaty palms. She heard the condom wrapper tear, felt him nudge her from behind, felt her slick, swollen flesh part for the broad head of his cock. He didn’t waste time; as if his restraint had eroded, he pushed inside, smooth and fast. She gasped at the feeling of being full—too full, a pleasurable hum stretching into an ache deep inside. That small pain was the sweetest, a signal of his loss of control, a sign of his lust. She clenched her muscles, reveling in the low groan pulled from him. He set up a hard, swift rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before plunging to the hilt. She could only hold on, only cling to the hard metal surface with her mouth open in a silent cry until he froze and dug into her hips and throbbed inside her as he came.
For a moment, he curved his strong body over hers in repose and possession. His breath was harsh against the back of her neck, mingling with hers in the cool, dusty air. All too soon, he pulled out—more gently now, gingerly even.
She started to stand, but he pressed her lower back to keep her still.
“Let me clean you.” His voice was rough, an audible remnant of the passion they’d just shared. He tore a paper towel from the roll on a bookcase.
She squirmed at the rasp of paper on her tender flesh. She reached back to take it from him, but he stayed her hand.
“Let me,” he repeated.
Biting her lip, she remained still for his touch.
“It’s too bright in here,” she whispered. He could see every part of her this way. Bent over, she was exposed. Her cunt, her asshole—all of it on display. The corner of the cabinet was cutting into her belly now, more noticeable without the haze of arousal.
He trailed a finger through her inner lips up through the crease in her ass, wringing a shudder from her. “You’re beautiful here. Everywhere.”
It pained her that he meant it as a contrast to him, but she didn’t know how to comfort him without raising the issue herself. A kind word could turn the knife already inside him if she wasn’t careful. In the end, he solved the problem by bringing it up himself.
“You didn’t have to do it,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Have sex in my office because those girls insulted me.”
He spoke so flatly, without emotion, such a contrast to the warm joy that had filled his voice just seconds before that she felt the loss reverberate in her heart. So he’d heard them. And he’d known all along what had driven her—but he would interpret that as pity, not…well, what was it? Kindness? Love? She wanted him to be happy, not to worry, but the world would always judge him, would always mock and belittle him for the scars he’d earned protecting it.
She understood then why he kept her bent over for his admission. It was the veil of confession, distance and darkness allowing the words to come out. The fact that he’d admitted it at all cut her to the quick. He’d been willing to accept the sex he didn’t believe he deserved, but he would release her of any further obligation.
She turned, ignoring his damned divide, and framed his face in her hands. Both sides, one chiseled jaw gently bristled with hair, the other wavy and lacking in hair. Surprise flickered in his deep brown eyes.
“Damn you,” she said. “I had sex with you because I wanted to. Because I wanted you, and unless you want an argument on your hands, you damn well better not forget it.”
He blinked, taken aback. Well, she was too. A little shell-shocked, a little desperate. In some ways, they were close, intimate. Certainly the sex was amazing. But in other ways, she couldn’t break through. His scars were just the surface. He still suffered nightmares for what had happened there. He would always be chained by a past she couldn’t unlock.
“Just let me in,” she whispered, a breath away from his lips.
His eyes searched hers. “All of me, Erin. You already have all of me.”
Even while the sweet words sent joy through her heart, sadness weighed her down. This was all he could give her, he meant. And it would have to be enough, for now.
The sound of a friendly shout from down the hall pulled her attention to the present, the physical. She quickly arranged her clothes back into place. A rueful smile curved Blake’s lips as he did the same and tossed the paper towel into the trash.
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always keep that handy for sex?”
He grinned, which looked charmingly crooked. In reality, it was the scars that tugged one side of his mouth, but that lopsided smile never failed to tighten her chest.
“Just cleaning up,” he said, resting on the edge of his desk. “It’s dusty in these offices.”
“I think it’s all that intellect,” she teased. “Can’t help but get a little full of yourselves.”
“Ah, but you’re the ones with the fresh ideas. We had our chance to change the world. Now it’s your turn.”
“You talk like you’re so old.”
“I am so old.”
He had fifteen years on her, but she was positive he could run five miles—and a lot faster than she could. His body was in ridiculous shape. “You keep up pretty well.”
His huff of laughter placated her. One day he would believe in them as much as she did. Until then…well, until then she would enjoy every second they spent together.
She plucked the roll of paper towels from beside him and replaced it on the bookshelf. While there, she scanned the older texts that she imagined had been here before. One shelf was noticeably brighter than the others—recent
ly cleaned, no doubt—and contained a few books she recognized from his house.
The other half had the composition notebooks he was always scribbling his ideas in, new and stacked up. He would write something brilliant, an offhand thought that she would consider from every angle before confirming it was correct.
His mind was a treasure trove, and his body, she was finding, was the map. She could follow the sleek lines, traverse the hard-packed muscles and salty earth and learn him inch by inch, but she’d be no closer to her goal. Great sex would never be enough for her. She wanted him.
Chapter Six
Erin
Footsteps came from outside the door, rapidly approaching. Another student to see Blake? She wasn’t sure, but she had taken up enough of his time.
“I’ll get going,” she said with a small smile.
He groaned. “It’s going to kill me being so close to you, knowing you’re on the same campus, maybe even in the same building, but not able to touch you.”
She grinned. “Maybe I can visit you in office hours. Not too often, mind you, but I’m sure you have a few more lessons to teach me.”
He laughed, and she would have laughed with him, except she was too stunned by the sight of him happy with abandon. So distracted that she only barely registered the turning of the office doorknob.
The door slammed open, rattling the bookshelf and sending dust into the air. She coughed, taking in the woman who stood in the doorway. Even if another student had come, Erin would have expected her to wait outside, as she had done, or at least to knock. But now she saw this was no student. The woman was older, dressed in a sleek suit jacket and pencil skirt. Her hair was a coppery red, pale enough to border on strawberry blonde. Her skin had the translucence of a natural redhead peppered with freckles.
And Erin knew her.
“Professor Jenkins,” she said in surprise.
Professor Jenkins turned to her. “Ms. Rodriguez. What are you doing here?”
God, what was she doing here? Her fingers flipping through Blake’s personal notebook stash. Her clothes—thankfully back in place but still rumpled.
“Cleaning,” she said.
Professor Jenkins blinked once, then twice. She spoke to Blake. “You have a maid for your office?”
Admittedly it was a bit strange, considering the room was smaller than the average bedroom. But Blake was smart—he caught on quickly. Benefit of sleeping with a Rhodes scholar, she supposed.
“Erin cleans my house,” he answered. “I asked her to come by today. The office was a mess when I got here.”
Hah! And he didn’t even technically lie.
Professor Jenkins’s cool green eyes gave Erin a quick appraisal. Disheveled hair from their lovemaking, plain jeans, and a T-shirt—standard fare for a student, but there were no designer labels here. Just as fast, the woman lost interest in her, her expression making Erin’s lack of appeal clear.
The maid. The hired help. Nobody at all.
Once again, she was dismissed for what she did to pay the bills. Erin was used to it among the other students at the private university. No one was gauche enough to say anything about it. She couldn’t afford the thirty-dollar shots of sake or bottles of champagne they liked to order. Eventually she’d found different friends. Other scholarship kids or ones who had the money but didn’t flaunt it. But Erin never forgot how out of place she’d felt, how little.
Maybe she’d been naïve, but she’d expected more from a professor. Erin was a hard worker, someone who paid her bills on time, in full. But in this private university, where her tuition was covered half on scholarship and half on loans, she was just a charity case.
Professor Jenkins turned to Blake. “Well, then,” she said brightly. “I’m glad you’re taking your new position here seriously.”
Before Erin could process the sweet, almost personal tone, the woman stepped closer to Blake. The office was small, so perhaps the close quarters could be explained that way. But it didn’t feel like it. As if dismissing Erin from sight and from mind, as if Erin were as deaf and dumb as the file cabinet, the woman spoke intimately.
“Lord knows I tried to get you to come back here after the accident.”
“It had been a week,” he said dryly.
“Well, the important thing is that you’re here now, and things can go back to the way they were. I have to admit, I’ve missed you, Blake.”
Erin stared, giving up any pretense that she was cleaning, that she wasn’t watching. She finally put her finger on what she sensed from Professor Jenkins: possession. It was the same way Erin looked at Blake, like she knew him so well, like she owned some part of him.
If she’d had her doubts, the dark expression on Blake’s face sealed the deal. He and Professor Jenkins had definitely been lovers, she just knew it.
Maybe more, maybe committed.
Which shouldn’t matter but somehow did. Erin trusted Blake, and they were together now. He wasn’t about to cheat on her the second her back was turned…or when she was right there in the room. Then again they hadn’t made any commitments.
And they weren’t allowed to tell anyone they were together. Though she tried so hard not to think about it…it made her feel like a dirty little secret.
“That was a long time ago, Melinda,” he said softly.
She hesitated, as if she wasn’t expecting that, then laughed. “We were both young and stupid then. Things have changed.”
He shook his head. His smile was more of a grimace. “Not that much.”
A small sound escaped Erin.
Professor Jenkins looked over, as if just noticing she was still here. “Maybe you can finish up here another time,” she told Erin, her voice hard. “I need to have a private talk with Dr. Morris.”
“No, Melinda,” he said, sliding past her to open the door. “We don’t need to have a private talk, and she doesn’t have to go.”
He was going to tell her, Erin realized. Whether he said the words or not, he’d give it away. And somehow she knew that Melinda Jenkins was vindictive enough to use it against him…and her. He needed this job to return to the world, to become part of it again. She needed to complete her final research paper and get it approved by the board.
“No, that’s okay,” she said quickly. “I have a class soon anyway. I’ll just go.”
Blake frowned, clearly ready to countermand her, so she grabbed her backpack and stumbled out the door before he could stop her. Melinda’s shrill laugh followed her down the hallway. More words about making up for lost time.
Erin sped up, the tiles blurring under her feet and tears glazing her eyes.
Damn it.
She just felt so small and unimportant, even though she didn’t have a reason to be, not really. Blake hadn’t done anything wrong, and neither had Professor Jenkins. Erin was the third wheel, the young, poor college student who had seduced him.
When was the last time he’d seen another woman before he and Erin had hooked up? And she had paraded around his house twice a week, fawning over him with a ridiculous crush. No wonder he’d had sex with her. Any man would have.
That didn’t mean he’d want to continue. It didn’t mean he should.
Maybe he was better off with someone like Melinda. She could help establish him in the real world better with his colleagues at the university. She had the financial means to match him, the right image to stand beside him. He wouldn’t have to hide his relationship with her. Would they also have noontime sex in his office?
It made Erin want to throw something.
Her phone vibrated from the front pocket of her backpack.
She pulled it out to see her mother’s smiling face on the small, dim screen. Her stomach dropped. With a lingering glance at Blake’s office door, she pushed through the doors leading outside, blinking as the sun blinded her.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Are you okay?” The worry in her mother’s voice made guilt pool in her belly. She usually called once a week, sometim
es more. But ever since she’d started seeing Blake, it had gotten harder to talk to her mother and still keep her secret.
“Of course I’m fine.”
“I know you’re busy, honey. I just worry.”
She knew exactly the moment when her mother had lost all faith in Erin’s ability to judge people or make it on her own. Erin knew because she doubted herself too.
A change of subject was in order. “School’s starting next week. One more semester.”
She heard the smile in her mother’s voice. “I’m thrilled for you, sweetie. You deserve this. What are you doing now, working?”
“No, I’m on campus.” Where I just got done having sex with a professor. That would not ease her mother’s worries. Pointing out that it was a relationship would only make things worse, not better. And now that Erin had time to reflect, she realized how impulsive she had been to do so. A very bad idea with a thankfully happy ending.
It was just…she’d never had much opportunity to be spontaneous and silly. She worked, she went to school. She wasn’t complaining about it. Her mom had it harder than anyone, after all. But for the first time in her years at the university, Erin had felt young.
“I met with my advisor this morning.” At least that much was true. Her visit to campus hadn’t been solely a booty call. “We went over some of the requirements for my research paper. I’m going to work on my outline tonight.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great, sweetie.”
Erin winced. Such faith, and here she was trying to have fun. This wasn’t a game. “How are you, Mom? Work going okay?”
“Oh, you know. Work’s work.”
She sensed the hesitation. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
Her mother laughed. “I never could hide much from you. Just my knees acting up.”
“You need to go to the—”
“To the doctor. I went. He wants me to have surgery.”