She was wet. Just from his words, she was wet. "I—" Every nerve screamed at her to say yes. "I can't."
She was afraid that would make him angry, but he just looked amused. "And why not?"
"Because…" She drew a deep, shaky breath. "Because you're my professor. And I'm still a student." The excuse sounded pathetic even to her. "I don't want to screw up graduation. I can't afford to screw it up. Not now, when I'm so close."
He cocked his head to the side in approval. "Wise as well as beautiful. You are a rare woman, Miss Ragsdale. But allow me to address your concerns." With care, he nudged her against the back wall between the bathroom doors, pinning her with an arm on either side of her body. The move didn't frighten her. Instead, it made her feel strangely safe and secure.
Wanted.
"First, I already graded your paper. Partially because I knew it would be the easiest of the class, and partially because I'd overheard you talking to your friends about coming here tonight. Your class grade has already been entered into the school's system and cannot be changed, which means we no longer have an academic relationship." He nuzzled her forehead, puffs of breath humid against her skin. "You received a well-deserved A, by the way. Secondly, one of the benefits of being seen as a curmudgeon is that everyone leaves me alone. I promise you utter discretion if you come to my home."
He'd shifted so that his body blocked her from view of the restaurant. If someone came in to use the bathroom, all he had to do was step back. In the dim hallway light, neither of their expressions would be obvious.
A fierce need built between her thighs, a sweet ache that made her want to rub against him. Seemingly reading her mind again, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. Something long and firm throbbed against her belly. His cock, she realized. His erect cock.
He smiled at her. "Yes, I'm hard. Is that really such a surprise?"
She licked her lips. "I — yes."
"Ah. So uncertain about your own charms." He moved his hips slightly, rolling that hot length against her stomach again. "You feel what you do to me. What I've been hiding behind my lectern every time I looked at you in class. The things I've dreamed of, you wouldn't believe." He let his forehead rest against hers, sighing. "Please, my sweet girl, grant me this one boon. Let me give you the pleasure you so richly deserve before you start your new life."
His words slammed into her, knocking her loose. No, knocking her free. He wanted her, and she wanted him, and all she had to do was say... "Yes."
"Good. Mm." He took a deep breath through his nose. "I can smell you, how wet you are. Your panties are soaked, aren't they?"
She nodded, unable to say anything.
He brushed his lips across her hair. "I'm going to put my hand between your legs, now. Don't move."
She froze, making a soft breathless noise as he moved his hand to the waistband of her jeans, undoing the button and pushing down the zipper before sliding his hand inside. His fingertips skated across the front of her panties, pressing against the plain cotton fabric that was now damp and slippery. "Oh, yes, absolutely drenched. I knew you would be like this."
Fingers slid between the edge of her panties and her pubic hair, stroking and exploring. Her clit ached so badly, and she was willing to beg if he would just touch it and make her come. But he avoided that spot, paddling his fingers in her wetness instead. Even through the denim she could hear the slick, sticky noise, almost a smacking sound.
And then he pulled his hand away and held it up, his fingers glistening. From her, what he did to her.
"My sweet girl, so ready for me." Dazed, she watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked each one clean, licking his lips when he was done. "Mm, delicious. I can't wait to open your thighs properly and fuck you with my tongue."
After a semester of propriety the crudity of his words surprised her, but her muscles also clenched once, not quite an orgasm but a greedy, eager spasm that craved something thick and hard to clamp onto. More wetness seeped into her panties, and she swallowed a moan.
He refastened her jeans, straightening her blouse as a final touch. "Go back to the table and give your friends enough money to cover your drink, then meet me outside. I'll be parked at the end of the block, waiting for you. You know what I drive?"
She did — an old Mini that had been lovingly restored. "All right. Just don't—"
He paused, waiting for her. "Don't do this, promise me this, then leave me standing there," she said thickly. Memories shot through her, ripping the scabs off old wounds. I was just joking. Jeez, can't you take a joke? "I won't ever forgive you if you do that."
"My God." He stared at her, thick brows furrowed. "What fool would — no, Ellen, I won't do that, I swear. Hell, you have no idea how close I am to throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you out to my car right now, reputation be damned. I'm that terrified you'll come to your senses and run in the other direction."
Those pale eyes had seemed so alien. They were human, now, filled with need. For her.
"I won't run, I promise," she said. "Go get your car."
****
When she got back to the table Amita and Dianne apologized again for teasing her and begged her to stay. She shook her head, her secret pulsing in her head. "I just want to go back to the dorm," she lied. "No biggie. I'll see you all later, okay?"
Keisha, however, walked her to the restaurant door, dark eyes lit with understanding. "I don't know what happened, but I saw Cord strollin' outta that hallway with a big ol' grin," the Texan said under her breath. "First time I ever saw that man smile. And then you came out after him, glowin' like the moon. You go ride that mustang, then call me tomorrow." She pressed a couple of condoms into Ellen's hand. "And if he fucks up, say the word. I'll turn his ass into BBQ."
With a wink, Keisha pushed Ellen out the door. As promised, the Mini was waiting down the block. She walked to it quickly and got in.
The ride was brief and mercifully quiet. Cord's hands worked the gearshift and steering wheel with calm expertise, old friends caressing a well-loved machine. She couldn't help wondering what those hands would feel like on her skin, her breasts, between her legs.
And God, she couldn't wait to find out. I'm doing this. I'm actually doing this.
Cord's house turned out to be a pretty red brick Victorian with a wraparound porch, built more for a family than a single man. He hit a button on his fob, and pulled into a garage at the end of the driveway. "It was built after the house and connects to the kitchen," he explained. "No one will see you come in."
She understood what he was saying, trying to reassure her. Considering that his neighbors were most likely other professors, getting in — and later, out — of his house with some modicum of privacy was a very good idea.
And on the heels of that thought: He's risking his job, you know. If anyone finds out he slept with a student, they could fire him, tenured or not.
She fumbled with her seat belt, slipping the condoms into an interior pocket of her purse as her car door opened unexpectedly. Cord stood there, one hand extended towards hers. She slipped her fingers into his grip, letting him help her out of the car.
"No one's ever done that for me before," she admitted.
"Outrageous. A gentleman should always help a lady in and out of an automobile," he said, taking her hand and tucking it in his arm. "I'm afraid I'm terribly old-fashioned in certain ways, as you may have guessed."
"Yes, I noticed." She let him guide her through a small, tidy mudroom into the kitchen, a huge room done in mellow oak and butter yellow. "I think it's nice."
"I'm glad you feel that way." He stopped, turning to her. "Right, then. Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?"
Wine sounded perfect. "Red or white?"
"I believe a nice red will do well, don't you?" When she nodded, he pulled a bottle of red wine from a rack built into the cabinets, opening it and pouring them both a glass.
She took a sip, enjoying the inten
se, almost fruity flavor. "My grandmother used to let me drink wine sometimes, with Sunday dinner or on holidays. I always liked it. Probably wasn't as good as this, though."
He leaned against the counters, gently swirling the red liquid in his glass. "Was your grandmother European?"
"Italian, very old school. She was my mom's mom — my dad was Irish and German, I think." She shrugged. "I don't know much about that side of my family."
Cord looked at her over the rim of his glass. "Are your parents coming to graduation?"
"No. They're dead." She took a deeper sip of the wine to ease the sudden thickness in her throat. "Sorry. That makes me sound pathetic, doesn't it?"
"Not at all." He gave her a surprisingly kind look. "You have my sympathies."
"It's no big deal. My parents were f—" She tried again. "They were screwed up. Both of them stole stuff, did drugs, everything you see on COPS. My mom died of an overdose when I was three, then I was raised by Gram. She got custody of me because my dad kept getting busted for theft. He was in and out of prison until I was thirteen, and then he got shot during a hold up at a gas station."
"Ah. I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "Don't be. Frankly, it was kind of a relief. He kept coming around bugging Gram for money when he was out. I didn't really like him." She'd heard stories from her grandmother about how her mom occasionally hooked for drug money. Before he died, she sometimes wondered if her dad saw her as Meal Ticket 2.0.
Cord was studying her. "So you were raised by your grandmother?"
"Yeah. But she died my senior year of high school. So nobody's coming to graduation." She forced a smile. "It's okay. My friends Keisha and Amita both have huge families, and they keep threatening to turn them loose on me. And they'll be cheering for me, so that's all good."
He nodded. "And I'll be watching, too, of course."
"Oh." It never occurred to her that the faculty would attend Convocation. "I don't think professors are allowed to cheer, are they?"
"No, but we can clap. And when you cross the stage, I'll make sure that I clap in a properly jubilant manner." His smile faded, and he looked thoughtful now. "My dear, you've already been so forthcoming that I truly hate to push, but ... may I ask you another question? A more personal one?"
She knew where this was leading. "I'm not on birth control, but I have condoms so it's okay," she said, taking another sip of the wine. "And as far as I know I'm completely clean."
His lips curved a bit at that. "Not what I had in mind, but good to know. No, I was just wondering about what you said earlier, at the restaurant. About me leaving you. What did you mean by that?"
She went still. She'd never told that story to anyone, not even Keisha. "It's kind of a long story."
He caught her hesitancy. "If you don't want to tell me—"
"No, I — it's okay." She fidgeted with the stem of her wineglass. "When I was a senior in high school, one of the guys in my homeroom started saying he wanted to go to prom with me. I'd known Eric since grammar school — we weren't really close or anything, but we'd always gotten along okay.
"Anyway, he kept running into me in the hallways and saying that we were going to prom, right? Asking me if I had a dress, saying he already had a corsage picked out. It was stupid but..." She paused, remembering the 18-year-old girl who'd been secretly thrilled that someone, anyone wanted to take her to prom. "It was nice. I liked the attention. And I never saw Eric with a girlfriend around school, so I thought maybe he always liked me and taking me to prom was his way of saying it.
"Anyway, Gram was great at sewing, and she spent a whole week making me this gorgeous dress out of some yellow silky stuff she got on sale, really simple but elegant. The day of the prom, I passed Eric a note with my address and phone number, saying to pick me up at 6. I remember he stuck it in his pocket and grinned at me.
"When I got home after school, Gram was sitting in her chair watching her stories, like she always did, but this time she looked kind of funny. I asked her if she was okay, and she said her chest hurt. I gave her some aspirin, but it didn't help. Then she had problems breathing. So I called an ambulance, stuck a note on the door for Eric telling him what happened, and went to the hospital with Gram. She kept telling me I should stay and get ready for the prom, that she'd be fine."
Ellen forced back the tears. "But she wasn't fine. She'd had a heart attack. They thought they had it under control, but then she had another one, a massive one, right in the ER. The doctor said they worked on her for a half hour before they had to give up." She could still see the short, red-faced man in a white coat coming out to the waiting room to tell her Gram was gone. "A cop drove me home. He was really nice, kept asking if there was someone who could come stay with me. I lied and told him I'd call one of Gram's friends, and he finally left."
She stared at her glass. Somehow, she'd emptied it during her story. "The note I left for Eric was still on the door. I thought ... I don't know, that he was mad or something, because I'd ditched him. I didn't see him until Thursday, after the funeral. Nobody knew what happened. I went up to him in homeroom and apologized. He just looked at me, and started laughing. He was just joking about the prom, he said. He actually said, 'Jeez, can't you take a joke?' Turned out he was dating this girl from another school — she went with him to the prom."
Cord let out a slow breath. "Christ. I'm so sorry, Ellen."
She swallowed hard. "I was eighteen already, so at least I didn't have to worry about being put in a foster home. Gram's friends from church helped me sell the house, and I used the money for my first year of college. The other three years I got scholarships and worked a lot of side jobs." She mimicked his stance, arms now tightly crossed over her chest. "You asked me earlier why I was still a virgin. Part of it is, I didn't have time for a boyfriend. And part of it is, after Eric I didn't really want one."
She sensed Cord moving closer, until she could feel his hands on her shoulders. "You do know that not all men are like your father or this Eric, yes?" he said quietly. "And trust me, I'm stretching the definition of 'man' to the snapping point in order to include them."
"I know. They were both jerks." She looked up at him. "Luckily I met someone better."
Something indecipherable flickered across his face, and he sighed. "Oh, how you flatter me." He cupped her cheek, running a gentle thumb over her cheekbone. "Unfortunately, your honesty is forcing me to be horribly noble. I know what I want, but you can always say no. I'll take you straight back to your dorm if you say the word."
There was still a thin thread of fear, wrapping around her desire like a black ribbon. "I'm a little scared," she admitted. "But I want to do this. With you."
"Ah." Now his thumb traced her lower lip. She never knew how sensual it could feel. "Don't be frightened of me, Ellen. My goal is to bring you pleasure, not pain."
Daringly, she lipped his thumb, licking the tip. He breathed in at that, his eyes going dark. "Not so scared, after all," he said. "Well, then."
He took her wineglass and placed it on the counter. Before she could ask why, he scooped her up. She yelped in shock, throwing her arms around his neck. "No, don't—"
"Stop," he ordered. "You weigh practically nothing. If anything, you need to eat more."
He carried her through the house and up a flight of stairs. With no other option, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His scent was more concentrated there, and she breathed deeply, wanting to taste it.
And then they were in his bedroom, plainly decorated with grey walls and dark wood furniture. The bed, a king, was the only real luxury in the room, covered with a thick maroon duvet that looked silky in the low light. Pillows in black and maroon cases were piled at the head of the bed. Cord eased her to her feet, keeping an arm tucked around her as he slid off his glasses, tossing them on the nightstand next to a framed picture. "So. Here we are."
She stared at the bed, wondering if he could hear her heart pound. "You're the teacher. Tell me what to do."
>
His hands slid around her face, cupping it and turning it towards him. "I think we should start out with a nice kiss."
The phrase bounced around in her head, then slotted into place. She couldn't stop her grin. "Not leaping for the clitoris like a bull at the gate, then?"
His eyes narrowed in appreciation. "Oho, a Monty Python fan. My admiration for you grows with each moment. But no, I think we'd be best with a nice, soft kiss."
He brought his mouth to hers, a brush of lips that caught and clung. She closed her eyes, reveling in the firmness of his lips, the slight rasp of stubble on his chin. He gently sucked her upper lip, then lower, before nudging her mouth open and slipping his tongue just inside, licking at the satiny inner flesh.
He tasted wonderful, like salt and wine and something that was uniquely him. Their tongues tangled, teasing slides that caused heat to pool between her thighs. Everything she'd read about French kissing made it sound disgusting. This was nothing like that.
Oh, God, this was so much better.
His arms came down, hands cupping her bottom and pulling her flush against his body. She could feel his hardness again, pressing into her belly as his tongue continued to work magic in her mouth.
Finally they had to pull apart, gasping for air. "Yes, definitely nice," he said, breathless. "You have hidden skills, sweet Ellen."
She licked her tingling lips, wanting him to kiss her again. Before she could throw her arms around his neck and dive in, he took a step back, smiling. "I'll kiss you again, I promise. But as delicious as your mouth is, I believe I wanted to taste you elsewhere, as well."
His hands began to move over her, undoing buttons, lifting fabric. Her blouse wound up on a chair near the bed. Humming, he reached around her and unhooked her bra, gently peeling the straps off her shoulders and slipping it down her arms. Her exposed nipples tightened, both from the cooler air and from nervous desire. She wanted to cross her arms over her breasts but his hands stopped her. "Don't. Let me look at you."
Grading the Curve Page 2