He plunges past the last of my maidenhead and with a sharp scream I am claimed. His cock is like a match head on my enflamed clit. The Dark Stranger is the key to my secret door, and I want to lock him inside me forever. A custom design from heaven, his body is the pestle grinding against my mortar. Low, animal groans escape him, and he bears down harder on me, faster and deeper now, without mercy. Possessed by a wild and furious passion, he bucks against me, sheathing and withdrawing until he shudders uncontrollably against me. Gripping the headboard, I utter one word, the most important word. The most beloved of all words. His name. The claiming is complete, and the wicked delight radiating from my every pore is nothing short of exquisite.
I am his.
Gertrude Tompkins hit “Save” on her laptop and looked up. Much to her surprise, the large auditorium was empty and the rest of the class was already gone, having completed their exams while she’d disappeared in a world inside her mind. Slightly embarrassed, she ejected the disc provided at the beginning of the exam, slipped it into the case and put her laptop away.
Tucking her chin to her chest, she averted her eyes from the gorgeous man at the bottom of the steps. She didn’t trust herself to look at him for fear of falling, which was ironic, Gertrude realized. Having fallen for her professor the moment she’d laid eyes on him, falling down a flight of steps would do nothing but make it official. Safely on the stage, she worked overtime to keep her breathing even as she approached her teacher’s desk. Torn between stomping on it and running out with it, she pushed the exam disc through the slot, watching it disappear into the dark, non-descript wooden lock box in the middle of the desk.
As usual, Dr. András Almássy, seducer extraordinaire, barely looked up. Arrogant bastard. Oh well, what did she care? It was just one more essay she’d written for one more grade in one more class for one more credit toward her master’s degree. She’d had plenty of gorgeous professors. So what if he could put them all to shame on the ugliest day of his life? He didn’t need to know that.
“All finished?” Dr. Almássy’s Hungarian accent was subtle but perceptible even with a mere two words.
“Yes, sir.”
Still, he didn’t bother to stop what he was doing and look her in the eye, leaving her to interpret his lack of interaction one of three ways. One, by some cruel twist of fate he’d caught a twenty-four hour shy bug, which was highly unlikely since he strutted his fine ass back and forth in front of an auditorium full of eligible young women three days a week without a hint of shame. Two, the book he was reading had rendered him literally speechless and he couldn’t have responded even if he wanted to because it was so engrossing. Gertrude doubted this since she prided herself as exceptionally well-read and doubted any book on campus could possess that kind of all-entrancing power. Last but not least, there was always a third possibility, the most likely of all theories. Dr. Almássy was simply too conceited to give frumpy, dumpy, plain Jane Gertrude Tompkins, top back row, the respect of a little eye contact. Gambling wasn’t in her blood, but if held at gunpoint she would have put her money on door number three.
“Have a safe and happy holiday, Ms. Tompkins.”
A soft, unladylike snort escaped her. Saying a quick prayer, she bit her bottom lip and hoped he hadn’t heard her. She was beyond tired and the extra late-night studying she’d done for the past three days had her manners spread thin and her reserves even thinner. Like most people, she got a little silly when she lost sleep. Just like that, she was struck with an overwhelming urge to jump on his desk, strip down to her underwear and twirl her bra over her head. But Gertrude was a good girl, a terminally good girl, so she battened down her bad girl hatches and gave him the predictable, well-behaved answer. “You, too, Professor.”
Gertrude hoisted her backpack securely onto her shoulder and shook her head as she made her way up the stairs toward the auditorium’s exit. The man was simply too gorgeous for human female consumption but worse than that, he knew it. Tall and statuesque with a muscled physique straight out of a Greek goddess’ wettest dream, with shaggy wheat blond hair and dark brown eyes, the last thing she wanted to do was feed what had to be a ferocious ego one more bite.
Thank God he’d never know she secretly lusted after him every spare moment of the day and night. Lucky for her, Dr. Almássy hadn’t required his students to put their names on their exams discs. Instead, they drew numbers out of a box, which became their class identification. That way, they were free to write what they wanted without fear of reprisal, their inhibitions safely exiled, hers included. At least on paper.
Pushing the heavy metal door open, she hoped Dr. Almássy got a good look at her ass as she walked out. Now that the semester was over, it would be the last look he got of her and that suited her just fine.
Chapter Two
Dr. András Almássy watched the door of the empty auditorium swing shut with a thud. There she goes, he thought. Oblivious to my suffering. Frowning, he shut the book he’d pretended to be reading and tossed it on the desk. At long last, he could discreetly rub the dull ache in his cock. Even as far from the stage as the little temptress always sat, he hadn’t dared to touch himself while Gertrude Tompkins was still in the room. He hadn’t trusted himself to stop.
So far, his master plan was working beautifully. This was only the beginning however. But if there was a problem, he preferred it happen now while he still had an opportunity to make changes, adjust things and adapt.
Slipping his book into his satchel, he got to his feet and gathered the rest of his things. He glanced at the wooden box that held his students’ final exams. Per his instructions, they had typed their essays on a disc labeled with their randomly chosen class identification number. Had they written them by hand, the class of thirty-two women and eight men in his Sexuality in Literature Monday-Wednesday-Friday class would have censored themselves, worried over what their instructor thought of them and for all his efforts, the end result would have been a pile of self-conscious drivel fit for nothing but the shredder under his desk.
For the final exam essay he wanted pure, unadulterated thoughts. That wasn’t just his rule in class. It was his rule in life. Words without chains. It was something of a mantra for him. He’d decided long ago that it was better to be hated for standing for something honest and real than loved perpetuating a lie. Besides, no man in his right mind put chains on words when they were so much more fetching on a beautiful nude woman spread eagle.
That x-rated thought brought him full circle back to pretty little professional virgin spinster Gertrude Tompkins. What did it say about him that he had designed an entire course around the prospect of seducing an introverted woman out of her shell? Furthermore, what man in his right mind hoped his favorite student secretly pined for him like he did for her? Typical men would have pursued a traditional route of romance and just asked the young woman out. But not him. He was a modern-day Prince Charming, obsessed with the idea of a virgin both bound in chains and unbound in words, at his fingertips and his cock.
András hadn’t needed to go to such lengths of course. He’d eased his students’ apprehensions with the idea of a typed final exam in order to assuage their anxieties. But that wasn’t really why he’d suggested it. No, he’d done it for himself. He’d done it for Gertrude, to make her feel better and to discover as much as he could about her.
As luck would have it, Gertrude was the last student to turn in her disk. All he needed to do was open the lid of the box, taking heed not to shake it, and hers should have been on the top. Not that he needed luck. His background in linguistics ensured that he would be able to pick her essay out of all the others with little trouble. For the last three months, he’d studied her writing style, word usage, and phraseology. It wasn’t boasting, but he didn’t even need to rely on his academic skills or training to know which essay was hers. By pure intuition, he would have known which essay was hers had it been in a thousand pieces and buried under a million others. Through her uninhibited writing, he�
��d come to recognize her voice.
For the next hour in a private study room in the library, he examined the essay he knew to be Gertrude’s like a treasure hunter might scour a secret map. Fortunately for him, she was consistent in her fantasies but far from lacking in imagination. In her dreams, she’d created an elaborate, intricate world of danger and passion. She wanted to be abducted by a masked man, taken somewhere private and thoroughly seduced. And come hell or high water, he was going to make her dreams come true.
He twisted and turned each word in his head, tossing it backwards and forward on his tongue like something spicy, memorizing each line of text and interpreting the subtext of everything in between, everything she dared to say and everything she didn’t. He was greatly pleased with the candor of her writing and the courage it must have taken to write it. But then, he’d asked his students to bare their souls, for Gertrude to bare hers, and as a reward, he was going to bare her flesh.
Armed with a strategy and the will to execute it, András walked toward the library exit. His stride was sure and purposeful, Gertrude Tompkins’ secret confession securely in his breast pocket. Against his heart. At long last, his virgin unbound was about to awaken.
****
Gertrude was surprised to find herself standing at the vending machines yet again, having taken a private oath over Thanksgiving break to stop eating out of a box. Once absorbed in her studies, she rarely had the self-discipline to pack up her books and find a decent place to eat. Ordinarily, by the time she looked up at the clock on the wall, most restaurants on campus were closed. Surely, she wasn’t about to nourish herself with such pitiful sustenance as dehydrated egg salad, chips and soda. Oh well, she shrugged internally. It beat going back to her dorm and eating another bowl of Ramen noodles in hot water.
So why the hesitation? Why was she standing there, change in hand, debating whether or not to ask the soulless machine out to dinner? Because writing for an hour and a half under the watchful eye of Dr. Almássy had her jumpy and unable to focus. The library was about to close. She needed to make a decision. But how could she when all she could think about was what she’d written, admitted to a man she was head over heels in lust for? He assured everyone’s exam essays would be private and confidential, but this was the most sacred and secret of thoughts. Could she trust them to Dr. Almássy?
With a shake of her head, Gertrude tried to clear her mind. She inserted a handful of coins into the big metal box, punched in her selection and retrieved a soda. Taking a sip, she focused on calming her frazzled nerves. Annoyed with herself for thinking so obsessively about the hunky teacher she was sure never gave her a second thought, she searched the various slots for something resembling the four food groups when a cluster of students walked by, letting in the cold as they opened the doors and exited the building.
“Ms. Tompkins.”
“Oh!” Gertrude nearly came out of her skin. With a mouthful of cola, she swallowed quickly and concentrated on trying not to choke on the strongly carbonated drink in her hand. The man standing not more than six feet away from her appeared somewhat amused, as he leaned his tall, muscular frame against the doorway of the darkened alcove and waited for her to notice him. And notice him she did.
“Professor Almássy.” Unlike some of her foreign instructors, his name was easy to pronounce. But he’d always smiled ever so slightly when she said it. A good and attentive student, she made it a point to say all her teachers’ names correctly, his included, and by the look of his predatory grin he approved.
Dr. Almássy unfolded his arms and extended his right hand to her. Lured by the notion of touching him, she accepted his handshake and hoped he didn’t detect the perspiration on her palm. The skin of his hand, warm and comforting, surrounded hers in an all too brief gentle squeeze as he brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He didn’t let go right away, holding her hand a little longer than was necessary.
Who did that anymore? She wasn’t sure how to feel about the attentions of a man who could have quicker passed as a rake than a gentleman. Not more than an hour ago, he’d been so cool toward her and now he was kinder than she’d ever known him to be. Needless to say, the juxtaposition was puzzling. “Old world customs die hard.”
A deliciously wicked smile spread across his handsome, slightly stubbled face. “It’s late. You are aware of the terrible things that can happen to a beautiful young woman at his hour, are you not?”
Gertrude was tempted to ask what he had in mind then kicked herself. Please. I wouldn’t be that lucky, the negative part of her thought. “Nah, it’s the unsuspecting townsfolk I feel for. You really gotta watch out for us library people. We rock a mean late-night study session.”
Dr. András Almássy flashed another one of his devastating smiles. Suddenly he was a lot closer to her. Not that she minded. “You know,” he took the lapel of her coat between his fingers. “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear someone had snatched you up and made off with you.”
If his voice had been sexy at full volume in an auditorium and gorgeous in one-on-one conversation, now at a low, breathy whisper, he was like a male siren. Despite the delicious timber of his voice, the specter of her cruddy self-esteem raised its ugly head and she chuckled cynically. “Doubt that. Anyhow, I’m on my way home. I’m just getting something to eat first.”
“My poor little Gertie. So dedicated. Promise me something.”
His little Gertie. The thought he laid claim to her birthed unexpected warmth between her thighs. Anything. A secret part of her offered. Anything at all.
“Promise me you won’t let your pursuit of academic enlightenment get in the way of other equally worthwhile pursuits.” He was touching her cheek. She couldn’t recall when he’d extended his arm toward her and wondered where she’d been that she hadn’t noticed.
“That includes spiritual…” Fingers tracing the outline of her jaw, he studied her facial features with male approval. Facial features that had to be as transparent as her feelings of fear and excitement, because she had no will to conceal them.
“Emotional…” Trembling, Gertrude thought of her essay, her fantasy, and prayed her professor wasn’t a mind reader as his dark gaze swept voraciously over her from head to toe, making her flush hotly, the same way a lion sized up a lioness before a mating. “Or otherwise.”
In a last ditch effort to galvanize her AWOL courage, Gertrude absentmindedly punched two buttons on the vending machine keypad and cleared her throat to speak. She wouldn’t have been surprised if a magician’s rabbit jumped out. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
A librarian’s voice squawked over the intercom. The library was closing. She used the interruption as a means to make her escape.
“Then you’d better run along.”
Gertrude grabbed the sandwich container and stuffed it in her backpack. “Good night, Dr. Almássy. Happy holidays.”
****
Gertrude leaned against the brick wall for support. She didn’t trust her legs to hold her up. If Dr. Almássy could render her a puddle of jangled nerves in five minutes, what could he do with an entire night like the one described in her exam essay? It was slightly scandalous. A teacher’s mild flirtation with a student. Obviously, such behavior was frowned upon, but Dr. Almássy wasn’t the sort of man who much cared what people thought of him.
As far as Gertrude knew, he was single. He didn’t wear a wedding ring or have a tan line on his finger. Nor had he ever mentioned a wife. More to the point, he wasn’t the big game hunter some of the married male professors on campus were.
For a magical timeless moment, he’d had only one creature in his crosshairs. Her. Strike her down for thinking it, but she could swear he’d almost kissed her. And she would have let him. She would have let him fuck her against the soda machines if he’d wanted to. But that was her inner slut talking. Not that she’d actually had sex with a man before. Time to get depressed. It was all Dr. Almássy’s fault. She was a college-age virgin, and her carnal feelings
for her professor underscored that embarrassing fact like a neon sign.
Sadly, she wouldn’t know what to do with Dr. Almássy if he presented himself to her on a platter. Gertrude almost giggled. She’d rather offer herself to him on a platter. After all, he was a gorgeous older man. Older men knew things, had experience, maturity and wisdom. He would know exactly what to do with her.
Safely around the corner of the science building, she watched him stroll down the sidewalk toward faculty parking, the wintry wind blowing his blond bangs off his forehead. Standing there, she couldn’t help but make one wish. If she couldn’t have him in real life, she hoped her anonymous fantasy burned his boxers right off his butt.
Chapter Three
“Shit.” Gertrude watched the tail lights of the campus shuttle disappear around the corner and groaned miserably. Served her right. Hell of a time for her inner slut to pick a fight with her inner nerd. Lingering at the library had cost her a warm, safe ride home. There was irony in that. Ever since she was a child she’d been spoon-fed the belief that good things only happened to good girls. Good things like a solid education, a faithful husband and well-mannered children.
Now for the truth. Good girls were punctual, never missed the bus and ate their vegetables with dinner. They certainly didn’t let gorgeous professors trap them in dimly lit corners of the library. Had she not been such a bookworm she might have made a beeline for the dorms immediately after her exams. Instead of kicking herself all alone on a street corner in the dark, she could be in the local pub having something warm and yummy to eat with fellow classmates or better yet, safe and sound, buried under the covers reliving her run-in with Dr. Almássy.
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