by Lexi Hunter
Abbi,
I have your things. Come to my office. Huddle Hall, Rm 305.
Prof D.
Oh great. Now there was no way around it. I had to see him and I had to come up with something good—fast. I put my hand over my stomach and leaned forward, trying to puff out my cheeks and make my eyes glassy. I hoped I looked sick.
"Come in Abbi," Maxwell called through the door when I knocked. I pushed it open and stepped into his office.
It was tiny but had just the right amount of personality to illustrate the man it belonged to. A collection of Shakespeare's works sat on the same shelf as a motorcycle manual and a pair of boxing gloves. I had an idea that if I ever saw him in those gloves, I might lose my mind and become what my mom would have called "sexually depraved."
"Here you go," Maxwell said, handing me my things. "I didn't want anyone taking them. I figured they'd be safer with me." He smiled as I gathered my things into my arms.
"Is that it?" I asked.
"What else would you like me to do?"
I thought there was a veiled connotation behind those words, but didn't dare express the thought. What if I was wrong?
"Nothing, I guess," and was bewildered to find myself feeling disappointed.
Maxwell laughed. It was a small laugh, filled with tension and doubt, but something else... something he was trying to hide... or control? He twitched his thumbs as he looked at me from behind his desk. "This isn't fifth grade Abbi. I don't give detentions for skipping class. And although there's a part of me that would very much like to give you a good spanking, we don't do that in college either."
My jaw dropped. Did he just say what I think he did?
"Technically, I'm still a senior," I responded, and he laughed again, this time, more freely. His whole body bounced. I couldn't stand being so close to him and not being able to touch him.
I should probably go," he said. "My office hours are done for the day, so..." He didn't move. "And you probably need to get home."
When I didn't say anything, he stood up and removed the sports coat with the elbow patches I was so captivated with. The shirt he wore under it was a soft brown that made his eyes luminous. His arm muscles showed easily through the shirt, and I longed to rip it off him just like in my dreams. He bent over to pick up his briefcase and a small hole in the back of his jeans revealed a pinpoint of skin so creamy and delicious the blood rushed to my head.
I charged at Maxwell.
CHAPTER 8
First Kiss
MAXWELL TURNED TO me, surprised. His surprise turned to my advantage. I was able to knock him back into his chair and climb on top of him. My hands wrapped around his head and I was finally able to run my fingers through his hair.
He didn't react at first, just kept his jaw tight and his hands at his sides. His mouth was warm but his lips were locked. Little by little, he began to move. First, his hands found their way to my lower back. Then they were sliding up it, caressing me, weaving their way through my hair. His lips parted and I felt his tongue slide into my mouth. It was slippery and I liked the way he brushed it over my lips.
"Abbi," he said, but it was more of a groan. "We can't..." His words hung in the air, we looked at each other. And then he was pulling me to him, pressing his lips hard against mine.
There was a knock on his door and it started to open. I jumped off his lap and fell against a bookcase, hitting my head on the floor. "Ow!"
"Are you okay?" Maxwell asked, helping me up.
I nodded. Another teacher stood in the doorway staring at us. "Sorry," he said, smiling an apology. He hadn't caught anything we'd been up to. "Didn't mean to startle you. Bump your head?"
Maxwell glared at him but the man didn't notice. "Yes, but it's okay. I was just, I uh—" I looked around for help.
"Abbi," Maxwell said, picking my things off the floor. "Remember your books next time, alright? Also, I regraded your last paper. It's in your folder."
"Thanks," I mumbled.
I hesitated at the door. "Max—ister Danvers? Um..." I wanted to tell him that his kisses were better than chocolate. That inside, my body was boiling like a tea kettle, and if he didn't finish what we'd started, I would soon explode. Instead, all I said was, "Thanks."
The rest of the night dragged on and on. I kept looking at the phone, as if Maxwell was going to call me any minute for a date. I remembered the essay I'd redone and pulled it from my folder. A giant "A" was stamped across it in red marker. Next to it were the words, Good job!
When I finally went to bed I lay there unable to sleep. What if I'd made a huge mistake today? What if he called my parents? What if, worse, he wasn't in class on Monday?
My head ached with all the what ifs and it wasn't until dawn approached that I finally closed my eyes.
"Outta bed, you lazy head," I heard a voice call outside my door. My eyes squinted against the sun coming in through the window. I looked at my phone: One o'clock. I blinked and looked at it again. One o'clock! Oh my God! I hadn't slept this late in I don't know how long.
I flung my door open and stared at my Grandpa's frowning, freckled face.
"Hi," I said, surprised.
"Up late partying?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Up late, just couldn't sleep."
He took another look at my face, no doubt looking for the tell-tale puffiness and red eyes of a hangover. When he found neither, he nodded his head and started back down the stairs.
"Hurry up," he called over his shoulder. "Max is here too. We're watching the game. Shake your tail feather."
I thought I'd misheard Grandpa as he walked away.
Maxwell can't be here.
I looked out the window and saw a bright, shiny Harley sitting in the driveway. I crept to the top of the stairs and peered down. I saw several figures in the living room: Mom, Dad, Grandpa... then a sultry voice boomed deep laughter and Maxwell's thick, luscious muscles moved into frame.
I retreated to my bedroom, looking in the mirror at my mousy brown hair tangled like a bunch of weeds, and my skin, blotchy and pale from sleeping too long. I couldn't let Maxwell see me like this.
I jumped into the shower, washing and repeating for every nook and cranny of my body. When I was out, I pulled a deep blue spaghetti strapped t-shirt over my head. Every woman has a shirt like this—the kind that looks totally casual yet is utterly amazing on you. This one picked up the blue in my eyes and made my hair gleam like sunshine on a piece of glass.
My breasts fit snugly together under the fabric of my shirt. Since it was summer and I could get away with it, I pulled on a pair of jean shorts that stopped just before getting to the point of showing my bare ass. My curvy hips and full torso were getting showcased today.
"Hello," I called, joining everyone in the living room. "Can't believe I slept so late."
My parents glanced at me but obviously thought I looked perfectly normal, not like I was trying to seduce anyone. I wondered if maybe I'd kept things a little too natural looking. Maybe I should have done up my makeup. Then I saw Maxwell's eyes linger on me, bulging slightly as I sat next to my Dad on the arm of the couch and crossed my legs.
"So how's she doing?" my Dad said, turning to Maxwell and catching him off guard.
"Excuse me?" Maxwell asked, looking flustered. His voice was husky.
"How's Abbi doing in class? Is she passing this time?"
"Oh," Maxwell said, "yeah. Flying colors."
My dad returned his attention to the baseball game. I didn't know who was playing who and I only sat there to be near Maxwell. I was hyper aware of him. I could feel it every time he shifted in his seat, every time he took a breath. I didn't know how no one else could feel the energy that came alive in the room whenever we looked at each other.
I moved to the other side of the couch, next to Maxwell, on the pretense of grabbing some food off a tray that my mom had set out.
"So who's winning?" I asked. My dad and Grandpa started to
explain something about who was playing, but my left leg was dangling extraordinarily close to Maxwell's hand as I sat on the edge of the couch next to him. Imperceptible to anyone but me, Maxwell reached out two fingers and stroked my leg. It was so fast and subtle if anyone else had seen it they would have thought it was an accident.
I shivered, wishing his hand could stay there. Wanting him to touch me more places than just my leg.
"How much longer is the game?" I asked.
My dad and Grandfather shrugged. "Depends. A couple of hours."
"Alright," my mom said, getting up. Apparently, she was done with baseball for the afternoon. "This is all very interesting, but I've got some shopping to do." She looked at me, "Abbi, why don't you come along? I could use some help." I returned my mom's smile, certain she thought she was doing me a favor getting me away from the men and their sports.
If it had just been my dad and Grandpa I would have jumped at the chance, but I didn't want to leave Maxwell. Sudden inspiration struck. "I can't," I said, hoping I sounded truly regretful, "I have tons of essays to work on. My new professor is a hard ass who insists I write a novel by the end of summer school."
Everyone laughed, including Maxwell. "Actually, Professor Danvers," I continued.
Maxwell gave me a look and said, "You can call me Maxwell when we're not in class."
I nodded. "Okay... Maxwell. I'm completely lost on some of this Shakespearean soliloquy stuff. Do you think you could go over some of it with me now since you’re already here?"
My father turned his head and gave me a weary expression. "Don't bother Maxwell on the weekend honey. We're watching the game. I'm sure he can help you in class Monday."
"But I can't even start the essay unless I understand Shakespeare's use of hyperbole versus chiasmus." I had no idea what I'd just said. I'd thrown out some literary terms off the top of my head and hoped it sounded confusing enough that no one would object further.
"It's alright," Maxwell said, rising from his seat. "A professor is sometimes called to action and must be willing to accept the assignment with grace and dignity. Besides," he winked at me, "we can't let her end up with another round of summer school, can we?"
"Well, that's very kind of you Max," my father said, then turned to me. "Don't make him stay in your room all day."
CHAPTER 9
Upstairs
MY ROOM?
Oh my God, my father thought I was taking Maxwell upstairs to study. I'd only planned on trying to get him alone in the kitchen. No one stopped us as we headed up to my bedroom. I couldn't believe my good luck! My ears burned with anticipation.
I closed the door and spun into Maxwell's outstretched arms. His lips were instantly on mine, warm and wet, and I let my hand slide over his body as we leaned against the closed door.
"Oh my God," he whispered. "I thought I might die if I didn't get to touch you."
"I thought it was just me," I whispered back, then threw myself into the next kiss. It was better than the one at his office. He didn't hold back this time. My head felt lighter each time our lips brushed against each other's. I was seeing things clearer. Seeing us clearer. It was like the fairy tale prince had awakened me after a long, cumbersome sleep. Everything in my body was on fire. From my toes to my head, my blood carried passion to every part of me.
"Abbi," he moaned as I pulled at his belt. "Your family is downstairs. Besides..."
Besides?
Besides what? Besides I'm too young? Too fat? Too ugly?
"What?" I suddenly shouted, louder than I should have. He raised a finger to his lips and pointed at the floor below us. I lowered my voice. "Tell me. Besides what?"
His cheeks turned red. "Besides, I'm your teacher. I don't want you to think you have to do anything you don't want to just for a grade."
"If I was doing this for a grade," I said, biting my lower lip, "I'm not sure how much it would help. I'm... I don't have much experience. I might not be very good."
Maxwell's eyes widened with understanding. "You're a virgin?" he whispered. I nodded my head, hoping my cheeks wouldn't burst into flames.
His own cheeks reddened too, but with passion rather than embarrassment. He kissed my neck and let his hands run over my shirt. Apparently, the time for talking was over. I reached out with tentative fingers and felt my way down his body. He was hard, and when I squeezed between his legs he moaned softly in my ear.
"Sssh," I giggled, pointing down through the floor towards the living room. "They're right under us."
"Oh, I can restrain myself if I need to, it's you I'm worried about." Then he leapt across the room and stood beside my bed with his hands folded behind him. "See? Total restraint."
"You're right," I said, "I'm not so sure restraint is my thing." I ran across the room and jumped on him hard enough to send him falling backwards onto my mattress.
He lay on his back while I climbed over him, tasting his lips... his neck... and finally pulling his shirt over his head to sample his chest. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he moved under me, and I slid my tongue over them, wanting to savor everything about this experience.
His own hands swam through my hair, caressing my neck. I was straddling him. He reached around my waist and pulled me closer he could reach my breasts with his tongue. He didn't take my shirt off, just folded it up so that my nipples were visible. I was glad I hadn't put on a bra after my shower. His tongue ran over me, licking and lapping in just the right spots. My nipples stood at attention for him, pink and round, and when he pinched one between his fingers I squealed with delight.
"Sssh," he said, pointing down through the floor. I covered my mouth with both hands, laughing. "You might want to keep your hands there for a minute," he said, flipping me around so that now I was the one lying with my back on the bed. He yanked my shorts off and his tongue slid over my legs, up thighs, stopping just short of my panties.
My breath was heavy and fast, my heart pounded. Even though I'd never had sex before, I was sure it wasn't like this for everyone. Not from what my friends had told me. They'd described sex as something exaggerated for films and television, that sex was never that good in real life. Yet right now, even with my panties still on, things were a thousand times better than I'd ever seen in any movie. I felt sorry for my friends.
Maxwell's tongue slid onto my panties. His breath was hot and I could feel his tongue poke through the cotton, searching. It tickled—in a good way. When he pushed the fabric aside and slid his tongue against my bare skin, multiple explosions went off inside my head. It was a wild rat-a-tat-tat, like machine gun fire, but louder and more aggressive. His tongue moved faster as my convulsions increased. He lapped at my body with precision, and I felt nothing but pity for Tara anymore. There was no way anything she'd done with Connor was as good as this.
Suddenly Maxwell's tongue licked me up and down instead of just circling me, and my back arched. I grabbed a pillow off my bed and buried my face in it. I couldn't see straight let alone have the presence of mind to keep my voice down.
"Oh my God," I screamed into the pillow, "I'm gonna..." but it happened before I could even get the words out. The ceiling exploded and the lights and sounds and smells of the Earth all went with it. I was floating in space.
"That was fun," Maxwell said, grinning at me after my body had relaxed.
"I don't want to play anymore," I murmured softly in his ear. "I want you inside me. Now."
"I haven't been with a woman since I caught my wife in bed with my captain."
"I don't want to hear about your wife," I purred. "I want you to ride me like that Harley out there."
Maxwell grinned seductively. "You'd do anything for an A."
CHAPTER 10
Virgin
I LET MY butt slide off my bed to the floor. My panties were halfway down my legs—Maxwell had never taken them completely off—and I pulled my legs through and pushed them aside. Without a word, I pulled Maxwell down from the bed too, so that his back was on the fl
oor. I tugged at his jeans until they were off. I was surprised for a moment that he wasn't wearing underwear. Everything stood at attention. He lay on the floor, patiently, waiting for me to explore his body in whatever way I chose. I licked my finger and stretched out my hand, easing it onto his mass as I circled his tip.
"Mmmm, he moaned.
I hesitated. "Does that feel good?"
"Mmmm," he said again. I began massaging him with my right hand while my left hand cradled the rest of him, exploring different aspects of his body. He liked what I was doing so much I didn't want to stop, but I grew selfish. I wanted to taste him. I leaned over his hips, pulling him into my mouth. "Oh God," he shouted, then mimicked my earlier behavior and clapped both hands over his mouth.
I moved my head up and down, stroking his thighs and anything else that caught my attention. He was sweet and sticky, like bubble gum. My tongue sped silently over his body as it convulsed with pleasure. I wasn't sure how long I should do this, I only knew that my own needs were urgent now. I felt pressure between my thighs that I knew could only be relieved with Maxwell's body becoming one with my own.
I let go of him and moved the rest of my body into a sitting position on his hips. I stretched one leg on either side of him, our respective regions resting against each other with a compelling passion. I wasn't quite sure how to take him inside of me, but Maxwell had no problems instructing me in anything. His experience paid off and I wondered how his wife could have ever wanted anyone other than this man under me.
His hands went to either side of my hips, lifting me an inch or two off his body. He reached down and adjusted things so that I felt the tip of him press against my opening.
"Gently now," he said and guided me down. I felt him move into me and I gasped. Instinct took over and my body began to rock against his, moving faster and faster the more comfortable I became with the rhythm.
Maxwell's hips rose up to meet mine, pounding together like a thunder clap. I heard someone laugh downstairs and wanted to join them. If they only knew what we were up to my parents would never make me go to summer school again. The presence of others in the house faded the faster we moved together.