The Learning Curve

by Collins, Kelly

  The mayor offered me his hand. “Delighted.” He turned to Dean Hollings. “Where can I sign up to be a mentor?”

  The man held on to my hand longer than needed, forcing the dean to pry me loose. “You have to donate a lot more money to mentor someone like her.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” The man ate me up with his eyes. The truth became clear: Dean Hollings hadn’t invited me for my stellar assistant skills. He was using me as bait, but I didn’t mind.

  I stood by while they talked about contributions. Every so often, I scanned the room for notables. Every notable person in New York was there, from the richest of the rich to the head of the Securities and Exchange Commission.

  “Shall we move on?” My so-called mentor wrapped his arm around my waist and shuffled me from group to group. We sipped champagne for hours. Every time a donor took note of me, he pulled me closer. His fingers skimmed my shoulders. His lips brushed my hair. His eyes never left me.

  Each time we stopped and talked to a group, he got closer and more possessive.

  We must have walked miles working the room. I smiled and looked pretty while Dean Hollings collected promises of big checks. My mind reeled at the amount of money that would exchange hands.

  By the end of the evening, my feet were numb and my cheeks ached.

  “You look exhausted.” He took his jacket off and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  I leaned into him, hoping he’d take some of the weight from my feet. Instead, he bent over and slipped off my shoes. My toes grabbed the soft fibers of the carpet. I was ready for bed, but a booth in a quiet corner of the hotel steakhouse would do.

  We ordered one chicken breast, one steak, and a bottle of Duckhorn Cabernet, but it would take more than a fine bottle of wine and a fancy dinner to ease the aches in my body.

  “How do you do it, Dean Hollings? You work a room like a politician.”

  He reached under the table and pulled my feet into his lap. “Call me Mark.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Mark? I thought you were concerned about propriety.” He went to work rubbing the knots from my toes. Magic fingers massaged my feet and made me feel a warm sensation between my legs.

  “I don’t see anyone around. Besides, I’m off the clock, and so are you.”

  “Is that how it works?” I swirled the wine and watched it coat the glass and run down the inside. I’d always wanted to do that, but it never seemed appropriate with the five-dollar bottles of wine I bought from the corner liquor store.

  “It works however we want it to work.”

  The work he was doing on my feet relaxed my entire body. “Is this where we exchange sexual innuendo? Or maybe it’s where we talk about oral dictation, with emphasis on oral and dick. How about we discuss my pink panties?” We’d been dancing around each other for weeks, and I was ready to cut to the chase: He wanted me; I wanted him.

  “Is that the color you’re wearing?” He topped off our glasses and pressed my feet into his erection.

  Liquid heat settled between my thighs. “I’m not wearing any. No girl wants panty lines.” I curled my toes and ran the length of his hardness.

  His head fell back, and he released a groan that sent fire racing through my veins.

  He moved my feet from his lap and scooted in closer. “Are you teasing me?”

  “No. I’m stating facts.”

  “What are the facts, Ms. Tierney?” Mark found the slit of my dress and ran his hand up my thigh until he reached my pubic hair. One of his fingers slid between my slick folds, and my heart skipped a beat. Was this what I wanted? Sex was always just sex, but this seemed like more. Did I want more? Once I let this man into my body, everything would change.

  I pressed against his palm and stopped his progression. “You asked for facts? Here they are. I’m not wearing panties. You’re harder than a steel rod. Your finger isn’t deep enough inside me to satisfy any need I’m feeling for you. You’re not on the clock. Neither am I. I want you hard, deep, and right now.” That settled that indecision. I wanted him. What straight woman wouldn’t?

  Mark raised his unoccupied hand and flagged down our waiter. “Box up our order and send it to room nine twenty-six.” He talked to the waiter like nothing was going on under the table, but his finger was deep inside me, rubbing the one place that made my insides quiver. I lifted the wine bottle with shaky hands. “Another of these, too,” I panted out.

  When the waiter turned to leave, Mark pulled his finger from me and brought it to his lips. I’d never seen a man lick my essence from his fingers before. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

  “Delicious.” He leaned in and ran his tongue along my neck until he reached the shell of my ear. “I’m going to devour you, Sandra.” The words sat out there, and I wasn’t sure whether they were a promise or a threat, but I didn’t care.

  His lips touched mine, and I opened my mouth for him. He tasted like fine wine and sex. My hands slipped through his hair to bring him closer to me. His tongue probed my mouth while his hands roamed my body. “Let’s go.” We raced toward the elevator. I carried my purse and shoes, and he carried me. We kissed all the way to the ninth floor where we stumbled out of the door and down to his room. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a room?”

  He shifted me in his arms and pulled the key from his pocket. “I had no intention of using it for this.”

  “What changed your mind?” He fidgeted with the key and finally got it in the hole. I hoped he had more skill in bed.

  “You did. Tonight was the biggest financial boon for the college in years. Those men promised thousands just to stand there and talk to you. You’re a damn gold mine. Tonight, I decided I wanted what you’ve been offering. I want you.”

  “Are you seducing me?”

  “Baby, who’s seducing who?” The door swung open, and we entered. “You’ve done nothing but tease me since that first day you sat on my couch,” he said as he carried me to the bed and sat me on the edge. “Get naked. I’ve waited long enough.”

  I reached behind me to unzip the dress, but his hand beat me there. His fingers tangled with the tag until he pulled it free.

  “Give that to me. I need it to return this dress.”

  He looked at the tag. “Three hundred dollars, and worth every damn penny. We collected a thousand times that in promises tonight.”

  Tonight was the first time I’d heard him swear, and I liked it. Dirty talk always made me wet. “This dress is going back tomorrow.” I swiped at the tag in his hand.

  “I’ll give you the money for this dress. You’re going to want to keep it as a reminder of our first night together. It’s going to be unforgettable.”

  Seconds later, I was naked on his bed with his face buried between my legs. I was nearing my second climax when a knock sounded at the door.

  Mark wiped his glistening mouth. “The food.” He pulled the end of the comforter over me.

  “Pay for the food, and then come back to me.”

  He let out a primal growl and marched to the door. I rose up on my elbows and watched him toss money to the room service guy and drag the rolling table through the door only far enough to close it. He shoved it to the side and dove back in where he left off.

  The man had a tongue as long as the average penis and could suck me like a Hoover. My toes curled, and my legs shook. I gripped handfuls of the bedspread and screamed his name as I tumbled over the edge. He licked at me until I came down from my high. The velvet of his tongue soothed the burn from his whiskers.

  When he finished, he rose to his feet and grabbed the new bottle of wine. Once the cork was out, he didn’t bother pouring it into glasses. He drank straight from the bottle and handed it to me. Gone was the dean who sat in an office that could rival a royal's, and in his place was a man who wanted to screw into next week.

  “Classy.” I tipped it back and took a long drink.

  “Only the best for my girl.”
r />   “Is that what I am? Am I your girl?”

  I’d never been anyone’s girl. I had very specific thoughts on monogamy, but maybe I was wrong. After enjoying his power—and his tongue—I suspected that I could get used to being this man’s girl. He was everything I’d fantasized about and more.

  He dropped his pants. One look at its length and girth, and I took another drink. I was going to need to be anesthetized to survive him.

  Chapter 5

  Mark stalked across the room and climbed between my legs. His length hung like a pendulum and rocked between his thighs.

  “Let’s define the rules.” He dipped down and let the velvet tip run between my slick lips.

  “Yes, let’s.” I rose up on my elbows and pulled my knees together. “Rule number one: You will always use a condom.”

  “You’re going to make me wear a glove?” He leaned back, and his erection pointed directly at me like a glistening sword.

  “If you want this—” I let my legs fall open and pointed to my sex, “—you’ll wear one.”

  He reached for his pants and pulled a condom from his wallet. “Hey, I thought I was defining the rules tonight?”

  I pulled the condom from his fingers and rolled it on his length, then yanked his hips down until he was buried balls deep inside me. There was no more talk of rules.

  Mark pulled out to the tip and shoved back inside me hard. His head fell forward, and a satisfied moan broke the air. My legs wrapped around him while I tightened my muscles and tried to strangle his shaft. I wanted to hear that sound—pain mixed with pleasure—all night.

  “You like that?” He held my hips and pounded my flesh. The heat built between my legs until my body shook. “Tell me you like it.”

  “I like it,” I growled back at him. I gripped his ass and pulled him deep. He stayed there for a minute with a look of ecstasy on his face. Then he pulled completely out of me.

  “What are you doing?” I clawed at his ass cheeks and tried to pull him back in.

  He circled my wrists and held my arms above my head. “I’m taking control.”

  “You don’t get to have control.” I struggled against him, trying to break his hold.

  “Wrong. Tonight, you belong to me. I decide what to take and give, not you.”

  I didn’t like losing control, but I already had. I’d let him control my body with his fingers, his tongue, and his dick. He owned my orgasms. “I need you, Mark. Please make me come.”

  “You’ve been teasing me since the day you showed up. Leaning over my desk and pressing those magnificent tits in my face. You don’t think I understood what you were getting at when you brought me half and half for my coffee and asked me if I wanted to taste your cream?”

  I laughed because he was right. I’d been teasing him for weeks. But he’d been sending mixed messages since our interview, and I needed clarity.

  “It worked.” I tried to put on a coquettish smile. “You’re here in my bed.” I lifted my hips, trying to reach the man.

  “Wrong. You’re in my bed, and you’ll abide by my rules.”

  He thrust forward, filling me with every inch of his magnificent length. “Rule one … I own you tonight.” He pulled out and probed at my opening, teasing me one millimeter at a time. “Rule two … work and play must remain separate.” He slammed into me again, causing my body to tingle and my breath to catch.

  I gasped out the next words. “Does that mean no sex on your desk?” My lips puckered into a pout. “I’ve had several fantasies about that desk.”

  He glided in and out with a rhythm that brought me to the edge. “No desk. No leather chair. No tied to the back of my door.”

  I’d never thought about the back of his door, but the idea of hanging from the hook had merit. “I wanted to have sex on Greta’s desk.” The old bitch had kept me on my knees reorganizing the cabinets for over a week—I’d never been so happy to see someone go on vacation.

  “No.” Without warning, he pulled out of me and turned me over so I was on all fours. He grabbed my hips and dragged me to the end of the bed. He was back inside me in seconds. This position used to be my favorite because looking into the other person’s eyes wasn’t required, there was no feigned intimacy, and I never felt obligated to make those faces that men loved. But with Mark, I didn’t like it as much.

  He was a young dean at thirty-six, and his good looks made him easy to be with, but I wanted to look into his eyes during sex, too. I wanted to see him respond to my body. I wanted to watch his eyes roll back when he came.

  He thrust into me time and time again until my legs shook and my arms could no longer hold me up. He reached around to rub my nub, and I lay my face on the mattress and let him take me hard and rough, the way I liked it.

  Under his body, my muscles tensed and my mind exploded into tiny shards of ecstasy. He stiffened, and I waited to hear my name slip from his lips, but it never came. Only a deep groan of satisfaction escaped. That would do for now, but someday I’d have him making love to me on his desk screaming my name. Maybe it wasn’t wrong to want more than sexual release if it was with the right person. Was Mark the right person?

  He collapsed on top of me, pressing me between the mattress and his body. “Amazing.” His breath swept over my skin like a soft whisper. “You’re amazing.”

  I shimmied out from under him and curled into his body. He rolled to his side and folded me into his arms. “I’m amazing, or that was amazing?” I’d say both, but who was I to grade our lovemaking?

  He rolled me over and ran his fingers up the inside of my thigh until they reached my swollen lips. “I want more of this,” he said while running his fingers around my slick heat. My thighs fell open for him, and he took what I offered freely. He took and gave all night. I was alternately cherished with kisses and screwed with abandon. Each time he entered me, I wanted more, and I gave him everything.

  This feeling of attachment was new to me. It wasn’t something I had ever looked for, but somehow this man had unleashed something warm inside of me, and I liked the way it felt. I drifted off to sleep in his arms.

  When I woke the next morning, I was alone. I wrapped the sheet around my sore body and walked to the bathroom in hopes that maybe I’d catch him in the shower, but when I opened the door, he wasn’t there. The only proof of his existence was the tender tissue between my legs and the note on the nightstand with a single word: Amazing.

  Next to it were five crisp hundred-dollar bills. I collapsed on the bed and stared at the money. A tear ran down my cheek. I’d bartered my body for a few things in my life. It’s how I left the commune with a plane ticket to New York, my first semester of college paid for and money in the bank. Just because a man wore nothing didn’t mean he had nothing.

  Jason had been the first man to trade money for my favors. He was a weekend commuter, or communer, as I called him. I never knew what he did or where he went Monday through Friday, but every weekend he was in my hammock. He taught me free love didn’t have to be free. We were two people using what we had to get what we wanted. He had money. I had dreams. He waited until I reached the age of consent before he took me.

  Back then it had never seemed dirty or cheap, but staring at the cash on the table right now made me feel like a whore. Mark had taken what I gave him and turned it into a business deal. He left under the shroud of darkness, like what we did was seedy and embarrassing—like he was ashamed.

  I stomped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, intent on washing him from my body, but the minute the hot water hit me, all I could think about was how wonderful it had felt to be in his arms. I might be able to wash him from my skin, but there was no way I’d be able to wash him from my mind. All night long, he’d told me all the things he loved about me. My hair. My hands. My mouth. My sex. And I let those words soak into my heart.

  They weren’t declarations of his love for me, but it was a start. While someone once said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, they were wrong—t
he way to a man’s anything was through his dick. Own his dick, and you can have anything. Including his love.

  Once showered, I dressed in my formal gown and tucked the tag in my purse. I was definitely going to return the dress. What girl wanted to remember the night she became someone’s whore?

  I walked through the lobby with my shoulders pulled back and a look of confidence I didn’t feel plastered to my face. I’d never had to take a walk of shame. Wearing an evening gown at ten in the morning while walking across the lobby of one of New York’s finest hotels was more than humbling. Women looked down their noses at me, and men eyed me with interest.

  There were two things I knew for sure. I had five hundred dollars in my purse, and there was a chip the size of an island on my shoulder.

  Come Monday, Dean Hollings would pay for what he’d done to me, and it would cost him a lot more than five hundred dollars. He’d taught me a great deal in our nocturnal mentoring session, and I would teach him how much that little mentoring lesson would cost him. By the time I was finished with him, he’d wish he’d kept that fabulous rod to himself.

  I stepped outside and asked for a car. There was no way I was climbing inside a taxi. This girl had learned her worth. Last night it was half a grand; next time it would be more.

  Chapter 6

  Monday morning, I made the coffee and placed Dean Hollings’s schedule on his desk. I organized the incoming mail and answered the phone. It was well after ten when he walked in, and I didn’t give him a second glance.

  He wanted work and pleasure to be separate? I’d give him separate. I was ready to separate him from his testicles. After I returned the dress Saturday afternoon, I went home and let the situation fester in my mind until I cried a thousand tears.

  Then I remembered something he’d told me that night. He said, “Tonight you belong to me. I decide what to take and give, not you.” And by staying, I had agreed.

  He didn’t promise me anything other than what I got. The entire tug on my heart was my doing. I let it happen. I never realized that I wanted the dream of a white picket fence, two-point-five children, and a station wagon. At least I never let myself admit it, but all the feelings stirred up by Mark made it undeniable, and now I knew better than to dream.