by Leslie North
But at least her bra and panties matched today. Inspired by the way he’d made her feel in the lab, she’d gone on a special shopping trip to one of those embarrassing, sexy stores, and had found it much less embarrassing and more empowering than she’d ever thought it could be. Beneath her no-nonsense charcoal pencil shirt and blouse, she was wearing a silky black thong and a lacy bra that barely covered the important bits. It made her feel like she had a secret, and she wanted nothing more than to share it with Eric.
Eric. Who was staring at her in amusement by this point, one eyebrow raised as she looked around his home without speaking.
She cleared her throat, casting her mind back to why she’d come here. Rugby. She needed to learn about rugby. Well, and show him her latest research results too, but that suddenly felt much less relevant. “I was talking with a man at the gate, and I feel like my small talk skills have improved, but he got onto the topic of rugby and I barely even know what that is, much less how to talk about it,” she explained.
His eyes lit up. “Really? You really want me to teach you about sports?” He looked like a little boy eager to show off something he loved, and she couldn’t help but smile back. She didn’t think she’d smiled as much in her entire life as she had these last few weeks with Eric.
“Yes,” she affirmed.
Half an hour later, Eric was in front of her, both of them crouched forward with their heads touching. “Then they throw the ball into the tunnel in the middle of the scrum,” Eric was saying animatedly, motioning at the space on the floor between them, “and then it engages, and everyone tries to compete for the ball, tries to hook it backwards with their feet.”
“That sounds violent,” she commented.
“Oh yeah, it gets really physical.” He splayed his hands out. “I’ve broken every single finger at least once, back when I was playing seriously. Now I just play in a league with some friends, so it’s not as rough. Unless I owe one of them money or stole someone’s date.”
She narrowed her eyes against a stab of jealousy she shouldn’t be feeling. “So what usually happens then, during the scrum? Do both teams have an equal shot at getting the ball?” she asked, trying to stay focused.
“Depends on whether you’re playing union or league,” he answered, motioning animatedly. His eyes were so bright—she could watch him talk all day when he was excited like this. She had to admit, though, that by this point she wanted to do quite a lot more than talk. She squirmed a little at his nearness—he smelled so good up close, and it kept reminding her of all the amazing things that had happened at the lab the last time she’d smelled that peppermint and musk—as he continued. “In league, the forwards usually don’t push, and most of the time the ball is fed directly under the legs of their own front row so the team with the put-in keeps the ball basically every time. But in union, both sets of forwards try to push each other back to get the ball.” He demonstrated, shoving gently with the shoulder that was locked against hers. She hadn’t balanced her weight properly and toppled over sideways into the pool table. He laughed, caught off-balance himself by how easily she’d fallen, and ended up pressed against her.
She went still. His body, the way it was so firm and hard against hers, the way it fit just right as he leaned over her…this was exactly where she’d wanted to be since the second she’d walked into the room. The pressure of it was delicious. Before she could think about it, she lifted one of her legs and moved it over just slightly, so that both his knees were between hers. His eyes went dark and smoldering and he leaned down, his nose nearly touching hers, his lips barely a breath away.
“When the players get knocked down,” he murmured, “it’s best to check for injuries.”
Her breath quickened as he raised one hand, lightly brushing a thumb over her lips. They parted under his touch. His other hand ran down her side, to her breast, to the spot that had ached for him ever since that night in the lab. This time, though, he undid a button. She bit her lip against a noise as he slipped his hand inside her shirt and found her lacy new bra. He made a noise of approval, running his fingertips across it in delightful torture, then tugged it down and freed her breast. His hands were on her, skin to skin, caressing, teasing, amazing. She arched into him and he undid two more buttons, tugging her shirt to the side, baring half her chest to him. His gaze was smoky as he admired her, and it made her feel like the most beautiful woman in existence.
Then he lowered his mouth to her nipple. She tipped her head back, mouth open in a gasp.
“Good?” Eric murmured, pulling away a moment to blow a cool breath over her pebbled nipple.
“Very good,” she managed, her breath starting to come in pants.
He kissed her breast again, teased it lightly with his lips and tongue, then made his way up to her neck. One of his hands slipped across her waist, to the hem of her tight-fitting skirt. He lifted her knee, shifting her slightly so that she was partially sitting on the edge of the pool table, and slid a thumb under her hem. She couldn’t help a whimper as his fingertips swept across her knee and then ventured upward. Instinctively, she tried to spread her legs wider, but the tight skirt stopped her. Eric, sensing her need, hooked his hand under the skirt and tugged it up. She overbalanced at the motion and fell backwards and he went with her, his weight bearing her down to the pool table’s surface. The pressure of him was delicious—and then his fingers found her thong, and he touched her right there at the center of her need, and she was feeling a completely new kind of pressure.
“There,” she whispered, squirming against him. “Oh, right there.”
He touched her lightly through the thong, stroking up and down, teasing her a moment through the silky fabric before he pushed it aside. Then those strong, gentle fingers were on her, and she’d never felt anything so amazing. Her head dropped onto the table with a thump she barely noticed as she reveled in the feel of him.
“Have you ever touched yourself?” Eric asked, his voice low with wanting. He found her clit and rubbed it between his fingers, and her heart galloped, her hips helplessly pushing forward.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s…it’s good for…stress relief.” She could barely think straight.
A laugh rumbled deep in his throat. “Ever the efficient scientist,” he said, and kissed her.
“It’s never been like this though,” she gasped when they came up for air. His fingers were increasing their pressure, rolling, caressing, building her up to a pleasure she’d never thought possible.
“Good,” he said, a possessive note in his voice. He moved his other hand down and, without easing the delicious rhythm on her clit, slipped a finger inside her.
She moaned loudly and bucked against him as he pushed it deeper. “Yes,” she said, squirming hard. “More. I need more, Eric, please, more.”
With his knee, he nudged her legs a little wider and slipped another finger into her. The pressure built, spiraling toward her center, and she threw her head back and arched against the table. The pools balls rattled in their triangle at the far end of the table. “Yes,” she gasped. “Oh—yes—right there—don’t…don’t stop.”
“Never,” he promised, and increased his tempo just a little, just enough to…to…
She clenched and bucked, losing herself, heat arrowing to her core as her muscles tightened hard around his fingers. She made a helpless noise, arching into him as he buried his fingers deep in her, so deep, and it felt so impossibly good. She wanted more of him. All of him. She wanted this, again and again, forever.
A knock sounded at the door. “Eric?” called a male voice. “You’re late! We’re headed out to play, you coming?”
Anna and Eric froze, staring at each other, his hands still on the center of her need. She throbbed, the echoes of her climax fading. She licked her lips and tried to think straight. “You…” she cleared her throat. “Go…go ahead. You should go.”
He leaned forward to kiss her. “It’s my cousin, Simon. I swore I would be there today or e
lse I would happily stay here with you all day long,” he said, the intensity in his eyes pinning her to the table. Then he leaned back, and she straightened her skirt and re-buttoned her shirt with shaking fingers while he took a few deep breaths, his desire for her evident in the bulge in his pants. She stared at it hungrily. She wanted to feel that weight in her hands. She wanted to see it, wanted it inside her, wanted Eric inside her.
“Go on ahead,” Eric shouted. “Be there in five.”
She smoothed a hand over the front of her skirt, remembering his hand tracing the same path. “More lessons later?” she asked breathily.
He smiled, her hunger echoed in his gaze. “Absolutely,” he said. “I have some things I can’t wait to teach you.”
9
A week later, Eric headed for Anna’s office the second his plane touched down back in Danovar. He’d had to jet off the day after that amazing rugby lesson, headed to France to do some support work for an art charity his family had funded, and now that he was finally back he couldn’t wait another moment to drop by the lab. Strictly to check in for updates since he’d been gone, of course—and never mind that the memos she’d emailed him had covered all the new test results, or that he was conveniently “forgetting” a meeting with three senior Parliament members in order to see her today.
The truth was, he couldn’t get her out of his head. Those noises she’d made when his fingers were buried in her, the way she’d thrown her head back and let herself go, even the way her memos had slowly become more informal as she let down her guard for him; they all felt like victories. It was exhilarating in a way he’d never experienced before. He’d been with plenty of women in his life, but with Anna, everything felt new.
He knocked lightly and opened the door to her lab, then paused and quietly closed it behind him when he saw she was finishing up a video call. The white-haired man was her doctoral advisor, judging from her deference and the familiarity with which they addressed each other. She was knitting while she updated him, a beautifully complex blanket made of cabled squares. Eric shook his head, marveling at her skill. She might’ve thought she was all science, all the time, but she constantly surprised him with her diversity.
She finished the call. “Welcome back,” she said to him over her shoulder.
He put his hands in his pockets and didn’t miss the lingering appreciative look she shot him as he leaned against the door. “Thanks,” he answered. “I’m actually here to get an update too, if you don’t mind repeating yourself.”
“I don’t mind at all. I was hoping you’d stop by. The lab isn’t the same without you.”
He puffed up a little, happy to hear she’d missed him. She finished binding off the last few stitches of her blanket and stuck it in her bag, then pulled a new skein of yarn out and held it up.
“Come sit down while I talk,” she invited. “I was about to start a new blanket, and I could use some help winding this into a ball first.”
He sat as directed. “My ball-winding skills are at your disposal, though I have to warn you I don’t have any.”
“Just hold out your hands for me to loop this skein around,” she instructed.
She updated him on the project as her fingers darted around his hands, deftly rolling the bright blue yarn into a ball. They chatted easily when she ran out of research data to impart, and she told him about Anderson’s newest antics—apparently he’d met Mister Right and had proposed on the third date, and now he was planning for the wedding party to dance a reel up the aisle to some hipster pop song while clothed in period-accurate Victorian dress. Anna had staunchly refused, but then he’d asked her to be one of his attendants, which meant she’d been forced to acquiesce to his demands. Eric laughed long and loud at that one, picturing her trying to dance in the hideous ocean of brown tulle she described.
After a while, the skein started tightening around his hands as the ball in her fingers got bigger. “Who are you making the blankets for?” he asked.
“The babies at the neonatal care unit. I make all of them blankets,” she answered, focused on the yarn.
He blinked. “All of them?”
“Yep. It helps me too, though. Knitting keeps my hands busy so my mind can relax.”
“There are more fun ways to relax,” he said, giving her a suggestive smile.
She blushed faintly but smiled back. “This is fun too,” she argued.
“You have much to learn yet, my dear pupil.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of that,” she said casually, “I’ve decided I’d like to give you head.”
He nearly choked on his inhale. “What?”
“Head. A blow job,” she clarified. “I want to test a theory.”
He shifted in his seat. “A theory?” he managed. The idea of her mouth on him was hot as hell, but he was used to giving, not receiving. Letting her give him head felt more intimate than anything else they’d done together, somehow.
“Yes. I’ve been doing research,” she said. The yarn tightened more around his hands. “And I think it might be a good way to ease me in before we…go further with my lessons.”
“Well,” Eric said, “when you put it like that, how could I refuse?” Internally, though, he was as nervous as he was turned on. He’d never had a woman give him head without giving her pleasure in return. It made him feel strangely vulnerable.
She didn’t waste any time. Leaving the yarn tight around his hands, she put the bag full of blankets on the floor and knelt atop it. She peered at the bulge of his swiftly hardening cock, that intense look on her face that she always had when she was concentrating or turned on—or, in this case, both. Her focus made his heart beat faster in anticipation, and when she lifted her hands to touch him through his pants, he had to stifle a groan. She stroked up, teasing him lightly as she unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his fly. She reached into his boxers, her soft touch the perfect counterpoint to his aching hardness, and pulled him out. Then she leaned back and drank in the sight of him.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” she said, and the reverence in her voice made him feel like a god.
She took him in her hand, wrapped her fingers around his length, and squeezed lightly. He groaned. Seeing her like this, so willing to try something new for him, it felt like a gift. She licked her lips as she played with him, watching his face to judge when he liked something, moving from his cock to gently run her fingernails along his balls. Then she smiled at him, bent her head, and licked him from shaft to tip.
He dropped his head against the back of the chair, forcing himself to hold still instead of thrusting the way he wanted to. This was her first time doing anything like this, but apparently she was a fast learner, because the way she was swirling her tongue around him and then pulling back to blow cool air on his tip was nearly driving him to the brink already. And then, her eyes on his, she took him in her mouth.
His hands curled into fists as tightness coiled at the base of his spine. He yanked his hands out of the yarn, swiftly pulled her hair tie out, and tugged her braid loose. He wrapped her hair around his hands and it was as silky and erotic as he’d imagined, and he used it to guide her as she moved up and down his length, her mouth covering him and her hands working at his base. She pulled out, ran his tip along her lips, made a satisfied noise. The vibration of it felt amazing. Her hair fell forward the next time she dipped to take him as far in her mouth as he would go, and the tight wetness of her mouth and the silky softness of her hair brushing against his balls nearly did him in. Unable to help himself, he moved with her, thrusting as gently as he could manage.
She moved one hand off him and slid it between her legs, touching herself beneath her skirt, and the realization that she was enjoying what she was doing as much as he was pushed him further. She looked up at him as she did it, those intense brown eyes smoky with pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he said, entirely at her mercy as she licked and blew and kissed and stroked. She moaned low in her throat
as she touched herself, and it sent him over the edge. “Anna,” he growled, everything within him tensing, spiraling upward, “I’m going to…”
She took him into her mouth again.
He shouted and arched, pouring into her, fisting his hands in her hair as he spent himself. Then he dropped back into his chair, dazed and boneless, as she quickly went to clean up. She returned a moment later, looking sex-mussed and gorgeous, her hair wild over her shoulders.
“That was amazing,” he said weakly. “You’re amazing.”
She smiled. “I’m a quick study,” she said smugly, the look in her eyes showing how turned on she was by what they’d done.
His hands were shaky as he cleaned himself up, trying to figure out what exactly had changed between them—because something had, he’d felt it. Her mouth on him, her gaze locked on his while she touched herself… it meant something. He just wasn’t sure what. But one thing he did know was that she’d given him something precious, a gift he never could’ve imagined.
He had to find a way to pay her back.
10
Anna leaned back in the front seat of Eric’s fancy convertible, looking up at the stars. They were dazzling tonight, stretching far into the black, no longer hidden by the light pollution of Danovar’s capital city. Eric was taking her on a “nerd date” to the rural area of the country—he’d installed an app on his GPS that gave them an audio tour of the constellations that were spangled above them, and had driven her out to this beautiful overlook to enjoy the night sky.