by Avery Kaye
And he’s kissing me!
Lower he moves, kissing, nipping and licking a tingly path down my neck. I shiver. Goose bumps prickle all over. Deep in my center I throb and burn.
Maybe some people would think this is wrong. Maybe a lot of people would. Maybe I think it’s wrong.
No, I know it is.
Maybe that’s part of the reason why I’m so freaking aroused. I don’t know. All I know is that if he touches me down there, I might not have the strength to stop him from going further.
He tugs my dress aside and kisses my collarbone. A hand slides up my ribcage, his thumb so close to my breast I can’t help shuddering. My spine tightens. My whole body tightens.
Touch me. Touch me everywhere.
He shifts positions, repositioning me so he can have more room. He is partway on the floor and partway on the seat. I’m reclined against a door, my body turned toward him. His weight is resting between my spread thighs, and my dress has rolled up around my waist, but I don’t’ care. This feels so good and right.
I need something pressed against my center right now. It’s throbbing. My panties are wet. I’m burning all over.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs as he slides his hands under my dress.
My insides clench. But I don’t say a word.
Stop? Not a chance! He can’t stop. I won’t let him.
Our gazes lock. Neither of us blinks as his hands move up my stomach, higher. Over my bra.
He palms my breasts.
I’m dying.
My nipples get hard instantly. Hard and super sensitive. Sharp blades of heat pierce through my body, ripping along nerves that are firing and zapping and sizzling. My spine arches even more, and I push my breasts into his hands.
“Oh, fuck,” he rumbles.
Fuck. That is the word of the night. I agree. My whole body agrees.
The part that may be fucked quivers.
I’m a virgin. I have never have had sex before. To have Dr. Conners—Jordan—be my first…ohmygod! I can’t believe this is happening.
Thanks to that storm.
I don’t hate storms anymore.
I catch the scrunched up dress, now gathered above my tits and pull it over my head. Then I slide my hands down his arms to his hands. I press them against my chest.
If he has any notion of moving them, I’m going to put an end to it.
He groans. The sound literally vibrates through me. Outside of the throb of the bass at a concert, I didn’t know sound could do that.
“This is wrong,” he whispers.
My heart skips a beat. Hearing him say those words. Gosh, it makes me feel so…naughty. Dirty. But not in a shameful way. I am in this car, grinding against my professor. Which is probably against a lot of rules. And it could probably get both of us in trouble.
And yet I don’t want to stop.
Should I? Maybe. But I can’t.
He scoops a breast out of my bra cup and I practically melt. Dr.—Jordan—is holding my breast. And rolling my nipple between his finger and thumb. And it feels soooooo gooooood.
I’m dying.
My eyelids drop over my eyes. Behind them I see stars. His warm breath fans over my chest, and I know his mouth is moving closer to my breast. Closer.
Lips pull on my hard nipple, and pleasure pulses through my body, traveling straight to my pussy.
I’ve fantasized about something like this happening. Lots of times. But never, ever had I imagined those fantasies could come true.
I lift my hands, tangling my fingers in his wavy hair. It’s smooth like satin. So soft. The strands wrap around my fingers.
He bites my nipple and my back arches, thrusting my chest into the air. My legs spread wider. My body wants more, more, more. Even if it is wrong.
“So sweet,” he murmurs against my breast.
I can’t speak. I can barely think. All I can do is hold on and try to keep from dying. That’s hard enough.
Outside the storm still rages. Thunder booming. Lightning flashing. Wind lashing and howling. But that is nothing compared to the tempest churning inside my body. It’s stripped me raw. All I can do is surrender.
“Please,” I whisper, hoping he’ll hear. “Please.”
Wrong or not, this thing is too powerful to fight. It’s as potent as a hurricane. A tornado.
A beautiful, awesome force of nature.
And I can’t stop it.
He moves to the other breast, grazing the sensitive nipple with his teeth and I come unraveled. I find his hand, grab it and place it on my burning pussy, and he growls.
“I want you,” he tells me. “I want you so badly.”
“Take me,” I plead, my hips tilting up so I can grind my wet center against his hand. The friction feels so good. But it isn’t enough. I need him inside me, filling me.
“Kelsey.” He hooks a finger in the soggy crotch of my panties. “So wet.”
“Yes.”
He pulls and the material gives way, and I shudder. His fingertip grazes my labia and my spine tightens.
Touch me, my body demands. Touch me. Stroke me. Take me. I open my legs like a total whore and beg him for more. His finger dips deeper, sliding between the puffy, swollen outer lips. I hold my breath and wait.
Instead of tunneling into my channel it slides up higher, finds my clit, dragging slick heat with it.
I whimper as he gently caresses my clit. Up and down. Up and down. Heat throbs and spirals in my belly.
Up and down. My muscles pull into hard knots.
Up and down. My thighs tremble.
Up and down. The air thins.
Up and down. Pleasure swirls.
Up and down.
Almost…
Up and down.
I’m going to…
Up and down.
My phone chimes.
Jordan snatches his hand away.
My phone chimes again.
No! I blink open my eyes to catch Jordan staring at me, looking intense and frustrated.
My phone rings.
“Does Madi know you came out here?” I ask Jordan.
He nods and sits upright. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t…we shouldn’t…Dammit, I’m sorry. Very sorry.” He visibly swallows and reaches up, toward my head. But instead of touching me, he lowers his hand.
He’s holding something. My dress. He sets it on my chest, spreading it to cover my breasts. “Nobody can know about this, Kelsey.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
He leans down, as if he wants to kiss me again, and I loop my arms around his neck. But instead of kissing me, he whispers, against my cheek, “This can’t happen again. Not while you’re still a student.” Then he opens the car door and slips out. “The storm is over. Put your dress on. I think I’d better drive you and your friends back to the dormitory.”
4
Jordan
Six years ago my life was over. I didn’t die. But I sure as hell wanted to.
My wife? Gone.
My bank account? Gone.
My home? Gone.
I hadn’t seen it coming. In hindsight, I should have.
The signs were all there. The distance. The coldness. The lack of affection and intimacy. The general disinterest in our marriage.
I’d thought (stupidly) that those things were normal. I mean, we’d been married for almost twenty years. Marriage changes over time.
But, no. It wasn’t normal.
Now, here I am.
Alone. Lonely.
And this close to flushing my career down the toilet. For a girl who was in a crib when I was in high school.
No, I’m not old enough to be her father. Actually, technically, I could be if I’d fathered a kid in high school. But she’s still too young for me.
She’s completely off limits.
Not because of her age. But because she is in my class. And she is the department’s student intern.
I can’t have these feelings for her. Not until she gradua
tes. How do I make them go away? How? At least until the end of the year.
Then she won’t be off limits.
Then she can be mine.
I check the time on my laptop. She’ll be here in a few minutes. I have office hours for the next two hours. I have to stay here, in case a student needs to meet with me. I can’t leave.
I’m fucked.
Stay busy. That’s what I need to do.
And keep her at arm’s length. Or more.
I have to do better than Friday night. I have to. For both our sakes.
I have plenty of work to do. I can stay busy. But can I stay focused?
I have to.
I hear the department’s outer door swing open. Old building. Old door. Noisy hinges.
I left a note on her desk, telling her what to do. Her desk is out in the department’s lobby area. I’m in here, in my office. I’m hoping she won’t have any questions. I don’t want to see her right now. If I do, I may crack. I may drag her into my office, lock us in, and do something that we would both regret.
Shit, when I hired her, I didn’t think things through.
Trying hard to concentrate, I listen to her chair rolling over the tile floor. I hear the tap of her computer keyboard.
Good. She’s working. Maybe she won’t try to talk to me.
I double down my effort to concentrate and actually get some work done. Those two hours drag by. But eventually, the clock strikes five and I’m free. I shut down my laptop and stuff it into my bag.
I did it.
One day down.
Too many to count left to go.
I stand up, turn toward the door. And…
There she is. In the doorway, her hand raised, as if she was about to knock on the doorframe.
“Professor Conners? May I speak to you, please?”
Oh no.
I jerk a nod, and she turns to pull the door shut. “No. Leave it open, please.” I return to my chair. A wall would be the best barrier between us. But failing that, the desk will have to do.
I know I’m being an ass. My behavior is probably confusing her. But I have to keep my distance. Have to.
She sits daintily in the chair across from me, hands folded on top of her textbook. “I…need some help with today’s assignment.”
I pull out a notebook and scrawl a couple of names on it. “Here are some students I regularly recommend for tutoring. Both will be in the library study room until eight o’clock tonight."
“Thank you.” She accepts the paper, placing it on top of her book. She curls one corner of the paper with a forefinger. I’m suddenly overcome with the impulse to pull that delicate digit into my mouth. Of course, I tamp down that impulse the second it rears its wicked head.
“If that’s all…” I stand, hoping I can make a quick escape before another, more overwhelming impulse creeps up. I hate that I have to do this—be so abrupt with her. I want to watch over her, to protect her, to make her happy. I ache to see her smile.
She is not smiling. And I can’t blame her.
“Actually, no.” Her gaze slides to the open door. “Um…” She blinks once, twice. Her eyes turn pink.
Shit, she’s going to cry.
I’m a fucking bastard.
I need to fix it.
I close the door. “Kelsey, we need to talk about what happened Friday—“
“No.” She sniffles and blinks. “I’m sorry. I should go.” She stands. “I don’t want to miss the tutoring session.”
“Kelsey, I’m sorry.” I stand in front of my desk, putting far too little space between us. I can’t hide behind that fucking desk right now. Not when she’s about to cry. Especially when it’s my fault.
She drops her gaze, staring at the book in her lap. “I’m okay. Really.” She lifts her eyes to me. The sight of her looking so unhappy is like a sucker punch in the gut.
This isn’t what I want for her. I want her to be happy. Always happy.
I grab the arms of her chair and drop to a squat, putting myself at eye height to her. “Please, forgive me. I shouldn’t have let things get so out of control. I promise I won’t let that happen again. Maybe you don’t believe this right now, but I’m thinking of you. I care about you. I really do.”
She shakes her head. “It’s fine. I’m just... I’m sorry. I’m being a baby.” She pulls out her phone and swipes the screen. “I’d better go. Or I’ll miss dinner again.” She shifts her weight forward.
I don’t move out of her way. Instead I take her hand in mine. It’s so soft. And small. A million dirty thoughts fly through my head, but I shove them aside. I can’t think about what it would feel like to have that precious hand wrapped around my dick. Or tangled in my hair again as I eat her pussy. Or anywhere else.
I need to think about her feelings. Her needs.
Her little tongue swipes across her lips and I stare, my dick turning to stone. So much for that. “You’re not being a baby. I understand. I hurt you. Again, I apologize for Friday,” I whisper. “It was wrong. There are rules against that kind of thing, and I know it. I…lost control. But it won’t happen again.”
She searches my eyes. “What if I want it to happen again?”
My dick practically drills through my pants.
My blood starts boiling instantly.
My gaze locks on that mouth, and memories of our first kiss play through my head.
I want to kiss her again.
I want to kiss her so badly I ache all over.
Don’t do it.
Not trusting myself, I let go of her hand, stand and take a couple steps back. I need to keep as far from her as possible. “No, Kelsey.”
She nods. “Well, thank you for coming out to the garage Friday. I was afraid.”
“The storm was bad. As soon as your friend told me you were out there alone, I had to check on you. I had to make sure you were safe.”
“You’re a good man.”
Good man? Me? After what I’ve done? I shake my head. “No, really. I’m not.”
She lifts her chin. “I disagree.”
“You wouldn’t if you knew what kind of wicked thoughts I’m trying like hell not to think right now,” I confess.
She visibly swallows. “Tell me.”
“No, I won’t. I can’t.” I circle my desk and return to my chair. “You’re my student and my employee. I respect you. I care about you. But I won’t…take advantage of you.”
She stands. Her hands tremble slightly as she clasps her book to her chest. “You aren’t taking advantage of anybody.” She walks to the door, glances over her shoulder. “Thank you, Dr. Conners. For the names of the tutors.”
Dr. Conners.
She’s calling me Dr. Conners again. Not Jordan.
That’s probably for the better.
Though it bothers me.
It shouldn’t. But it does.
“I’ll see you Wednesday,” I tell her.
“Yes. Wednesday.” She leaves without looking back.
My office is empty now.
Empty of light. Of life. Of everything that makes living worthwhile.
I am falling for that girl.
Friday night. In my car. It made everything so much worse.
Somehow I have to hold it together. But how will I wait until May to touch her again? Or kiss her?
I shut down my laptop and lock up my office. Instead of going straight to the parking lot, I stroll down the sidewalk, toward her dormitory. I’m in no hurry to go home. To my empty house. Occasionally, I lift my hand to my face and inhale. I smell her skin on mine. It’s that sweet, fresh and citrusy scent she was wearing on Friday. I’m addicted.
I look up at the windows. She’s inside this building, somewhere. I have no right to know where.
Nor should I be standing here, I tell myself, like a lovesick Prince Charming, looking for my Rapunzel. If I was her father, I’d kill any man who thought the kinds of dirty things I do about her. I’d make sure he suffered for what he’d done.
<
br /> I turn toward the parking lot.
This obsession with Kelsey Steele has to end. Now. It can’t go on another minute.
I plod ahead, past brick buildings built before the turn of the century. In front of the student union I turn the corner.
And see her.
She’s walking with some friends. Laughing. Even from a distance I can see her eyes glittering.
Holy hell, she’s gorgeous.
My fingers curl into fists as her words play through my head.
What if I want it to happen again?
I do too. I want that so badly.
Maybe what I need is a leave of absence? Until the end of the year?
Not possible.
Not practical.
I try not to watch her as I hurry toward my car.
I fail.
Her laughter is sweet and light, like an angel’s song. Or a siren’s. My feet plant into the ground. They become too heavy to move.
Then she looks at me, and the whole world tilts.
Her lips curl. She smiles and waves.
My heartbeat thunders.
I wave back and try not to look like a smitten boy-man. I’m sure I fail.
She turns her attention back to her friend, and my muscles unlock. I charge to the car, toss my bag onto the passenger seat, and let my head fall forward until my forehead smacks the steering wheel. My cock is so big and hard my jaw is locked. There’s no blood getting to my head. I can’t think straight. I can’t see straight either.
I want her. I need her. Like I’ve never needed anyone in my life.
For the first time I want to be reckless. To be stupid. To say to hell with everything and take every pleasure life has to offer.
Since I turned eighteen I’ve been careful. Cautious. Disciplined. For what? Where has that gotten me?
I’m alone now. I’ve lost it all.
What’s left?
I drive home, steer into my driveway, and unlock the gate.
What’s left?
My job. My reputation. Oh, and I can’t forget, the Oldsmobile I keep locked in the garage. Which isn’t worth shit. But it’s the only thing I kept after the divorce.
Those are all I have left in this world. I cling to them. Like a lifeline.
I let myself into the house and Euclid, the pit bull I adopted last summer, greets me at the door, tail swinging. I pat his head.