by Sasha Gold
Chapter Twelve
Ryker
The sun sets across the campus of Grenville College. The pavilion below is almost empty. A few kids play frisbee on the quad, probably planning this weekend’s parties while running around and laughing. I’m about to call it a day now that Jeremy has finished loading all the grades and has gone home. Finally. It seemed like he wanted to stay and chat about jobs after grad school. I told him I’d be in touch.
I call Lilly and she answers immediately but sounds sleepy. She doesn’t bother with a greeting. Instead she just grumbles. Her voice is muffled, probably because she’s just waking up from a nap.
“I just got a text from Gemma,” she murmurs. “Someone changed my voice message.”
My chair squeaks as I lean back. The wooden chair is a relic from the seventies, but I kind of like the retro vibe. If I were programming, I’d demand something better. “That’s terrible. Some dirty hacker?”
“Gemma says his voice is liquid sin, but he’s stern and over-the-top bossy, claiming I can’t come to the phone because I’m studying.”
“Sounds like a helpful hacker.”
“How long ago did the helpful hacker change my message?”
“Five days ago.”
She laughs softly. The sound travels straight to my cock. I’m already aroused by her voice. The extra surge of lust makes my hard-on almost painful. I close my eyes to imagine her lying in bed, her hair undone, cast across her pillow, inviting my touch.
“I still don’t have a grade for my class,” she says, her tone more sober now. “I don’t mean to complain, but all my other grades are in and it says my math grade is pending review.”
I don’t answer her implied question. I need a little time. I grimace and pull my tie off, tossing it aside. I should keep the damned thing on, but fuck that. “You going to be home later?”
“Is that an illicit offer?”
“Yes. Very.”
“Really?” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore.”
“Maybe I need to show you.”
My voice is rough from need. She doesn’t respond for a long moment. Maybe she’s realizing that everything’s different now. Or everything will be different in a few minutes.
“I’m glad,” she says solemnly but adds a slightly playful, “Dr. Stone.”
“Stay right where you are.”
“In my bed?” she asks her voice edged with alarm. “I’m not really dressed for company.”
“Perfect.”
I end the call and take a few moments to get my thoughts on something other than Lilly lying in bed, the soft rays of dusk playing over her pretty face. I’d planned a nice evening for the two of us. I have important things to discuss with her and I want to kiss her and touch her and a thousand other things, but the events of this afternoon took my attention away from any ideas of romance.
Getting up from my desk, I grimace with discomfort. Just talking to her gave me a raging hard-on. I need to be with my girl, not still at the fucking office. I manage to compose myself, switch off my monitor, leave my office and make my way down the empty corridors to the dean of students’ office. His secretary is gone. The waiting room is empty. I see him in his office, standing in front of the window.
He turns and regards me with a pained expression.
“So you’re the hotshot they hired. I heard you’ve lectured at Annapolis. What is it you do exactly?”
“As little as possible.”
He grimaces. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten a call from a pissed-off parent, but it is the first time I’ve gotten a call from a parent who claimed her kid shouldn’t graduate because she’s sleeping with a professor. If you’ve got something to confess, I’d appreciate you getting right to it. I’d like to go home so I can pack for my vacation tomorrow. I need to try and print boarding passes too. My fucking computer’s on the fritz.”
“I’m not sleeping with Lilly.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t care if you fool around with a student, but if she ends up pregnant, we could get sued.”
“She’s not pregnant.”
He eyes me warily. “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
“I am.”
The dean rakes his fingers through his hair and looks sheepish. “They can’t prove a blowjob. Know what I’m saying? Unless someone was dumb enough to take pictures.”
It takes me a second or two to really understand what he’s saying. I’m about to lay into him when the sight of a bottle catches my eye. A half-empty handle of scotch sits on his desk. It’s then that I notice the glazed look in his eyes. He’s even more rumpled than I am, his tie crooked and his shirt only half tucked in. I wonder if he’s got a confession for me.
“There aren’t any pictures,” I tell him.
His lips quirk.
“I’ve never gone after a student,” I tell him. “Anyone who says different is lying and is bluffing.” I might have messed around with Lilly but that was before either of us knew about the other. “So, I’d appreciate it if you’d finalize her grade. So I can go home.”
He presses his mouth to form a thin line and shuffles to his desk. He groans as he sits and puts on a pair of glasses. He presses a few keys and waits. “Let me read what Ms. Wilhelmina Thorne wrote to me.”
I could put on an act and ask who she is, but I won’t bother. I know who she is and what she said.
“Something about you taking advantage of a girl’s innocence for your own sordid pleasure.”
I resist the urge to scoff. I never did anything like that, but damn, if I’m not thinking about it now. My blood simmers in my veins. I move to the window and keep my gaze fixed on some distant point.
“Well, shit,” the dean mutters.
“Something wrong?”
“All my emails seem to be in…” He types a little more. He slams his fist on his desk, pours himself another drink. “Just a moment.”
The clock in the corner ticks. His keys clack and he curses under his breath. He slurps his drink. “It’s like all my email has been translated to Spanish or something.”
“Sounds like a bug.” I try my best expression of mild concern. “I might be able to restore your emails. Even the private emails you sent your secretary.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lilly
After my nap, I shower and put on a sundress. I want to wear something nice for Ryker, but not anything that announces any romantic ideas I might have floating around my head. I’m not sure when he’s coming or what he expects. Will he stop by just to say hello or for something else? He’s said an awful lot of sweet things to me, but ever since he found out I was his student and he started tutoring me, he’s kept his hands off me. He’s been a perfect gentleman, even though I’ve caught him watching me with a hungry look in his eye. In my imagination, he was just biding his time, waiting till I was done with the class so he could have his wicked way with me.
He sent a text, saying he’ll pick up dinner for us. I imagine things I shouldn’t. He won’t be here for a couple of hours. I have time to fret and obsess over what-ifs.
My phone pings with a message from my mother. I scroll through, reading in disbelief how she explains that she discussed my tutoring situation with my professor. I forwarded your message. The one describing how hot he is. I hope you know I did that out of concern.
My hands start to shake.
Another message quickly follows. Raul has a rich friend in Switz. Egan wants a mistress. Virgin, etc. Forget school.
I let out a bewildered cry. “Virgin, etc.?” I say aloud to nobody.
I’m not sure if I should take her message seriously. She often texts crazy things. Insane messages. The next day she acts like nothing happened. I’m sure she’d be a different person if she weren’t married to a liquor distributor. He knows her weakness for champagne and brings it onboard by the caseful.
With a surge of dis
gust, I toss the phone aside and fight the nausea swirling in my stomach. I’m more worried about what she might have told the school than her comment about pawning me off to some rich, gross friend of Raul’s.
Part of me feels like I might break down and just melt into a puddle of tears. Another part of me feels totally calm and rational. My mother might very well have ruined my chances of graduating. She waited until the last moment to pull the rug out from under my feet. She’s doing this so I’ll have no choice but to join her on her little party boat, to be her attendant, her flunky, the person who takes care of her when she’s too drunk to see straight.
I’m not hysterical. I’m trembling yet strangely calm. I’m sure she’s sitting by the phone, waiting for my panicked response. Instead, I go to my kitchen, turn the oven to 350 degrees and take out flour, sugar, eggs and various other ingredients.
This sort of emergency calls for baking a cake that’s bold but comforting too. A statement cake. Something confident but not showy. Normally, when I’m upset, I go for a simple cheesecake. It’s a recipe that doesn’t call for many ingredients, and once I figured out how to bake it in a water bath, not too much technique.
Today I’ll whip up the same cake I make for Gemma whenever she ends things with a guy. I’ve made carrot cake enough times for her that she calls it break-up cake. The name fits, I suppose. It makes sense after all. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t pass my math class. And I really don’t know what I’m going to do if my mother has managed to get Ryker in trouble on top of messing up my life.
Too many questions. I push them away and focus on the cake.
An hour later, three round layers sit on the counter cooling while I stir up a batch of cream cheese icing.
Ryker arrives with a knock at the door, shows himself in and sets a bag of take-out on the table. He eyes me with a sultry look as he moves toward me, stalking across the room like some sort of feral predator. He’s definitely shifted out of professor mode and into sexy, powerful alpha beast. I’m transfixed, helpless to get away. His lips curve into a sexy smile. If I had any question of where today might end up, my doubts fly right out the window.
“My mother sent an incriminating text to the dean.” I blurt out the words, trying to stop his advance. “I might not graduate.”
“You made a B,” he says without even batting an eye. “You’re graduating.”
He stops a few paces away. I shake my head in disbelief. He nods slowly, keeping his intense gaze fixed on mine.
“Really?” I ask, my voice a bare whisper.
“Really. I had to blackmail the dean.”
“No!”
“Just a little. Not on the test itself. Your score was all your doing. I just had to convince him to give you the credit you earned.”
I draw a sharp breath, one that turns into a shriek when he scoops me into his arms. An instant later, I’m sitting on the counter between the mixer and the uniced cake. His lips crash to mine. His hand slips around the back of my neck. He holds me in place as he ravishes my mouth, long, slow indecent kisses that chase every worry from my frantic mind. I melt beneath his touch. The man smells like sinful temptation, spice and masculine arrogance.
He begins kissing my neck just beneath my ear, working his way slowly down. I can barely speak, but I have to say something now or not at all. My heart is racing, breasts aching. I whisper a few words, partly hoping he slows down, partly hoping he keeps moving his head lower.
“My mother wants me to hook up with one of her rich friends.”
Ryker pulls back and scowls. “She must not like him much. I will seriously beat the crap out of anyone who even thinks about you in the wrong way.”
I love the possessive gleam in his eye. He lowers for another kiss. I set my finger on his lips.
“She’s trying to barter me off.”
He growls and swats my hand away. “Too late.”
“She thinks she can work out a deal because I’m a virgin.”
“A virgin? Not for long.”
He lowers to kiss me. A possessive rumble vibrates across his chest. He pulls me closer, parting my knees and pressing against me. Running his hands down my back, he stops at my ass, cups me and pushes me against his hard cock. I almost faint. He feels huge. I’ve imagined his body a million times, just not how big he is. I’m a curvy girl but he makes me feel tiny.
“You’re mine now.” His voice is low, threatening. “She’ll need to find another virgin to barter. This one is spoken for.”
I sink into his embrace and shudder.
“I told you, Lilly.” He cups the back of my neck, giving me a gentle squeeze. “I’d do anything for you. I won’t let anyone jerk you around or threaten you. That stops now.”
He kisses my jaw and lower. His short beard burns against my neck. He growls softly and bites the curve of my shoulder. I’ve wondered what his kiss would feel like and if I’d ever feel his lips on mine again. Now I feel like I’m being devoured, and I like it. He returns to kiss my lips, this time pausing briefly. He pulls back a fraction of an inch, his lips a whisper’s breath away from mine.
“You taste sweet,” he says. “Like icing.”
“I made a cake. And icing.”
I turn away, rub my finger along the edge of the bowl to get a little icing and then I offer my finger to him. He laughs, a low rumble from deep inside his chest. His eyes glint with desire. He sucks my finger between his lips and strokes me with his tongue. I feel a rush of wetness between my legs and make a soft humming sound I don’t think I’ve ever made before. With a soft moan, he closes his eyes and sucks my finger harder. A snarl tears from his lips. He grabs me off the counter, wrapping me in an iron embrace and stalks down the hall, carrying me to my room.
He lays me on the bed and prowls over me like some sort of wild, jungle animal, his eyes glittering with primitive hunger. He unbuttons my sundress and strips me down to nothing more than a thong. He eyes the scrap of material thoughtfully and with a careless shrug, tears it free with a single, effortless tug. The thong rips. He tosses it aside.
The sun’s faded, but in the light of dusk, I can see him looking at my body, his eyes roaming from my breasts to my stomach and legs, then my eyes. He looks crazed, maybe a bit mad, a hunger and passion that I’ve never seen before. I feel utterly exposed. I lift my hands to try to cover my breasts. I’m hardly aware of the movement, but he notices for sure. He frowns and swats my hands away.
“Roses are red,” he murmurs. “Violets are blue.”
I can’t help the smile that comes over me. “Yes.”
“I have something. Especially for you.”
“Mm… that rhymes.”
His eyes burn with a light that wasn’t there a moment before, an intensity that’s entirely new. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet pouch. My breath stills. I stare at the tiny drawstring bag in disbelief and then return my gaze to his. He pulls out a ring, a big diamond engagement ring.
“I should ask you to marry me,” he says quietly.
I swallow hard, waiting for him to say more.
He presses his lips together and gives a wistful sigh. “But instead, I’m just going to tell you. You’re mine. We’re getting married.”
A soft laugh escapes my lips. I haven’t ever thought much about the perfect proposal, and I don’t know what that would look like, but I know this proposal is perfect for us. A smile plays upon his lips as he slips the ring on my finger.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
He lowers to kiss me, a sweet tender kiss, one that quickly turns solar-flare hot. He kisses a line to my breast where he pauses to chuckle. He grins at me, both of us recalling what happened the last time he kissed my breast.
“You’re still dressed,” I say with a playful pout.
He grunts, pulls his shirt over his head and sheds his boots and jeans. Instead of returning to the bed, he grabs me by the ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed. With a low, primitive sound, he drop
s to his knees beside the bed and trails small, biting kisses along the length of my thighs.
“I’m starving for you,” he whispers.
My only answer is a long, shuddering breath. I can’t move. Can’t speak. All I can do is lie helplessly beneath him, needing his mouth on me more than I need to breathe.
He nudges my legs further apart with his broad shoulders and kisses me between my legs. With a slow, wicked stroke of his tongue, he licks me. A rush of pleasure surges through me. I arch and cry out. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pins me to the bed. With each stroke of his tongue, I’m gasping and writhing, begging mindlessly.
Alternating between soft and hard strokes of his tongue, he takes control of me, body and mind. My thoughts are not my own. My body and my will submit to his masterful touch. There’s so much pleasure building inside me, it overwhelms my senses.
The first time I felt his mouth on my skin, I lost my mind. I shattered into a million pieces.
This time, his tongue on my clit is even more potent. Arousal storms inside me. My muscles clench. I can hardly breathe. And then a surge of pleasure tears through me, gripping my body with an astonishing flow of ecstasy. Stars explode. I arch my back and cry out his name. As I sink back to the blankets, I tremble as he moves up over me and gathers me in his arms. He holds me, whispers soft words. I sink against his broad chest as my orgasm slowly recedes, jolts of pleasure continuing for what seemed like minutes, but maybe only seconds, I don’t know. He took me to a place I’d never been before, somewhere in the Milky Way it seemed, destroying my sense of time along the way.
Chapter Fourteen
Ryker
Moonlight streams through the window, casting a silvery light across the bed and over Lilly’s back. She lies beside me. Dozing, on her stomach. The sun set. The sky grew dark and after a while the moon came out. The whole time I’ve watched her with a mix of satisfaction and protectiveness. I love to see her like this, sleeping and sated, but can’t deny the hunger I have for her. The gentle glow of moonlight puts her sexy curves on display and, unable to resist any longer, I skim my fingers along her silken skin.