by Blaire Drake
The lower he went, the faster my heart beat until all I could hear was the rushing of blood pounding in my ears. His fingers probed my thighs to keep them open, and he closed his mouth over my thong. Heat bolted through me as he kissed me through the fabric. I was close to begging him when he finally moved it to the side and ran his tongue along my wet pussy.
I fisted his hair as he worked me with his mouth. My hips desperately moved against his face as he brought me close to the edge then moved back and slipped two fingers inside me. The sounds of my pleasure filled the air until he finally circled his tongue around my clit. I came hard and quick, forcing myself to sit up. I touched myself then wrapped my fingers around his cock and stroked him, using my wetness as a lubricant.
He groaned, diving his fingers into my hair and knotting it around them. He kissed me hungrily, and I drank him in until he got up and kicked his sweatpants off. He pulled a condom from the pocket and rolled it on. The foil wrapper glinted in the light as it fell to the floor, but it was barely a fleeting glance as he sat down and pulled me on top of him.
My hair fell in a curtain around us as he grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed it against my clit. I gasped and dropped myself down onto him. I was hypersensitive to his every movement as I rode him, and his tight grip on my butt cheeks showed just how much he was holding back.
His restraint didn’t last long. He soon held me in place, making me grab the sofa cushions as he thrust upward into me. It was just as hard as last time, only this was better, more intense, especially as he slid one hand over my butt and spread my wetness up between my ass cheeks.
He kissed me as he pressed his finger against my ass. My mind was still occupied by the vigor he was fucking me with, but I sensed his whispered question without him needing to ask it.
I bit his lower lip in answer, and slowly, in total contradiction to the thrusting of his hips, he pushed his finger inside my ass. I gasped as the tight hole stretched to accommodate it, but it only felt good. My pleasure skyrocketed as he fucked me in both places, and within a few minutes, my body was convulsing around him as my orgasm shattered through my body.
The only thing that made it better was his strained groan as he came—the one that sounded a lot like my name.
Fuck.
That was the only word his mind could think of. It was the least eloquent word, but it made the most damn sense given how hard he’d just come.
He pulled his finger out of her ass—hiding his surprise that she’d let him do that—and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her forehead was resting on his shoulder, her panted breaths heating his sweat-slicked skin. He didn’t want to pull out of her—not yet. He wanted to stay there for just a moment, savoring the post-orgasmic haze they were both lost in.
He knew he had to ease her off him. That was the best thing to do. The smartest. The most logical. But fuck the best, fuck the smartest, and fuck the logical. He wanted the right. And holding her there, on top of him, his cock still inside her as her pussy spasmed halfheartedly around him, felt right.
His arms around her felt right. Her hand curved around his neck felt right.
She felt fucking right. Just like that.
His thoughts screamed danger. There was a line, and they were crossing it. He had to stop them immediately, but he couldn’t. It’d been but two weeks since the start of their relationship based on his carnal desires and blackmail… Anything else would have been out of place.
But shit. He had a burning desire to know about her—and not just the way she’d like to be fucked next.
No, he realized as Darcy’s fingers twitched against his neck, he wanted to know more. Why she was studying law. Why she’d gotten into the cam business. Her favorite book. Movie. Artist. Singer. Fairytale. All of it.
He had to distance himself, and he had to do it quickly. This was so inappropriate. The feelings were so wrong, even more wrong than what they’d just done.
He couldn’t feel again. He didn’t want to feel again. He wanted to fuck, not feel. He’d rather fuck a hundred women before he felt something for one of them. He liked having nothing to lose. He liked being alone except for those who warmed his bed.
It was inconceivable to think about having someone there who’d leave his bed cold only to warm his heart.
War raged inside him. Two sides: one wanting to hold her still, the other wanting to shove her away. One wanting to offer her his shower, the other wanting to throw her out on his doorstep with nothing but the clothes she had on.
“Oh my God,” Darcy whispered against his shoulder in her soft voice.
He couldn’t help it; he chuckled. He ran his hands over her gorgeous curves as she sat up and flicked her hair out of her face.
“If you can still talk, I didn’t fuck you thoroughly enough.” He pressed his lips against the hollow of her neck.
She shivered. “Can I eat before you try again? I’m exhausted. I also need to pee.”
He laughed again.
“Shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
He had to fight not to laugh harder. “I’d appreciate if you did pee before I fuck you again, yeah. I’m not into that.”
“Good to know,” she mumbled, pulling her lips up.
He inwardly winced as his cock slipped out of her and she stood up. Her knees trembled, but she steadied herself. He took that as a compliment.
“Do you have a bathroom downstairs, or do I have to do a stealthy ninja run upstairs?”
“Downstairs,” he answered, his lips twitching to the side. “Straight across the hall.”
“Thank God for that.” She turned and walked out of the room, not trying to hide at all.
Not that he was surprised. She didn’t have to hide anything, but she wasn’t even nervous after that like most other women were. Every time they were together, she got a little more comfortable around him.
He was finding himself liking that more and more. Every smile she gave him came a little easier, each laugh was a little brighter, and each meeting of their eyes lingered a little longer.
That was all wrong, too. He shouldn’t be feeling any of it. But he was… And he had no idea how to stop it. He was afraid a little part of him didn’t want to stop it.
He rolled the condom off and grabbed the wrapper before throwing both in the trash can beneath the side table. He rolled his shoulders as he retrieved his sweatpants from the floor and put them on, eying the whiskey on the bar.
“I should have taken this with me,” Darcy muttered to herself, coming back into the front room with her hand across her chest, holding her tits in place. “Damn it.”
Jordan smirked. Seeing her prancing around his house in nothing but her lower lingerie was hilarious. He didn’t think she’d appreciate if he expressed that amusement, however, so he buried it as she struggled to open her purse and keep her breasts steady at the same time.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Didn’t hide it too well, huh?” He reached over and undid the zip for her. “Here.” He held it open while she dug her hand in and pulled a few items out.
“Thank you.” She grabbed her bra and finally let her chest go.
He couldn’t help but focus on her light-pink nipples, which were hardened by the light chill hovering in his house. It was almost sad when she had to cover them.
“I bet the pizza is cold.”
He blinked and dragged his eyes from her chest. Fuck—what was he? A highly sexed teenage boy instead of a thirty-one-year-old man?
“It’s all right,” he said. “I like cold pizza.”
“Really?” She glanced up through her hair as she unclipped her stockings. “You like cold pizza?”
“What’s wrong with cold pizza?”
“Nothing. I’ve just never met anyone else who liked it cold when they weren’t horribly hungover.”
“You like cold pizza?” he asked, echoing her words back to her.
“Yeah. I mean, if I had to pick, I’d choose it hot, but I li
ke cold pizza just fine.” She straightened, tugging her leggings up her legs, and swept her hair around the side of her neck. “Of course, the plan was hot pizza…”
“So heat it up.”
“Yeah… I can’t really cook.”
“Heating things up isn’t cooking.”
“Okay.” She put her hands on her hips and fixed him with her indigo eyes, her garter belt hanging at her side. “I burned soup last month. I’ve been banned from the stove ever since.”
“Honestly?” He knew his lips were twitching, but he couldn’t help it.
All of this time, he’d wondered what her flaw was. And, somehow, it made total sense to him. Smart, beautiful, talented… But she couldn’t cook to save her life.
“Why is that so funny?” Her smile betrayed her words, and she stuffed the garter belt in her purse. “My mom tried to teach me when I was in high school. Then the twins came. By the time they were old enough to amuse themselves for long enough, I was here.”
“So, you can’t cook anything at all?”
Darcy pursed her lips. “I can do toast.”
“Toast isn’t cooking.”
“I can boil an egg. Most of the time.”
“That’s not really cooking, either, but I suppose you’d survive if you had to live off of boiled eggs and toast.”
She dropped next to him on the sofa. “Don’t tell me you can cook. Aren’t you too busy ripping apart students’ papers?”
A lesser man would have taken offense… But, then again, a bigger man wouldn’t have just slept with one of those students.
“I have to cook to keep my temper under control. Do you have any idea the amount of shit I sift through in those papers?”
“Yes,” she answered, grabbing the pizza box and setting it on her lap. “I’ve read the crap Jake Haas gives you.”
He shuddered. “Yes. He definitely needs to work on his execution.”
Darcy giggled as she took a slice of pizza and offered him the box. “He needs to work on everything in your class. Like listening.”
“He’s generally too busy staring at you.”
“Or my computer to copy what I’m writing,” she said dryly and bit into her pizza.
He shook his head, taking his own slice. “No, sweet thing. I’m pretty sure he’s looking at you.”
Darcy shook her head. “Please. That ship sank before it even took sail.”
Interesting. Jordan decided not to reply. Instead, he dug into his pizza. She’d almost finished one whole slice before he was halfway through his own. Apparently, she could eat better than she could cook.
The silence that lingered as they ate held a twinge of awkwardness that he knew came from her. He glanced at her several times, expecting her to say something, but each time, she either picked at a slice of pizza or sipped from her wine glass.
He wanted her to say something. He sure as hell had no idea what to say to her, even if he was relieved that Jake Haas was out of the picture.
Immediately, he reprimanded himself. What did it matter? For one, he knew that no other men were within a ten-mile radius of her because he’d demanded it so. For two, he had no business caring about her emotional relationships.
If he told himself that, he might just believe it.
Darcy licked the sauce off her fingers and put the box on the table. “I should probably go home.”
He stayed quiet as she swung her legs off the sofa and pushed her hair from her face. She did that so often that he couldn’t help but wonder why she never clipped it back.
“You don’t have to go.”
“What?” She froze, barely perched on the edge of the cushion. Slowly, she turned her face toward him, and her eyes glinted with violet as the light caught them.
Why the fuck had he said that?
He rubbed his hand across his jaw and sat forward. His elbows rested on his knees, and he clasped his hands together in front of him as he peered over at her. “You don’t have to go, Darcy. If you want to stay…you can stay. I’m just gonna be reading up to prepare for lesson plans tomorrow, but don’t think I’m throwing you out.”
She narrowed her eyes. A long moment passed between them before she relaxed the tension in her shoulders.
“Okay. I have a case to start putting together for law anyway.” She reached down for her purse and pulled a small laptop out.
When he raised his eyebrow in question, she smirked.
“How did I know how this night was going to go?”
He shook his head, laughed, then leaned into her. He took her chin between his finger and his thumb, and with a small smile playing on both of their lips, he touched his to hers. “I told you, sweet thing. Not happening. That was a one-off. The only person who gets to see you is me.”
“I know,” she whispered, her voice thick.
He didn’t want to dwell on that, so instead of kissing her again like he wanted to, he pulled back and cleared the table. He lifted her wine glass in an offer, and she contemplatively sucked on her lower lip before she nodded.
He poured her another and took it over to her. After he’d grabbed the things he needed and put his glasses on, they settled into a companionable silence, both doing the things they needed to do.
Jordan hated how comfortable it was.
He hated that he glanced up every few seconds to see her fingers flying across the keys while she chewed on her pen.
He hated that he felt her eyes on him for a brief second every few minutes.
He hated that he cared.
But, most of all, when she’d shut her laptop and fallen asleep with her textbook and her notepad on her knees, her pen on the floor, he hated that he didn’t wake her to go home.
He hated how his eyes traced her profile, from the dark locks of hair sweeping across her forehead to the thick eyelashes fanning across her pink-tinged cheeks. He hated how his gaze lingered on her lips, which were slightly pouted, and how he silently shut his own book so he didn’t wake her.
He hated how he was so careful to move her things onto the coffee table and pull her into his arms. He hated how he shushed her as she stirred in his grip while he carried her upstairs.
He hated how he paused on the landing before taking her into one of his spare rooms and tucking her into bed before going into his own room, leaving the lights on downstairs.
He hated how, as he stripped off, all he could think about was the soft, young woman sleeping in the room next to him and how she was fucking there… Even as he took one look at his own empty bed and waved his hand at it… Even as he retraced his steps back into the spare room and climbed into the bed next to her.
He hated how he closed his eyes the second his head hit the pillow and rested his arm over her waist…. Hated how, when she rolled over to face him, his only instinct was to move closer.
But, most of all, he hated how much he hated it, because this hate was the strongest thing he’d felt in as long as he could remember, and not an ounce of it was numbed by the whiskey.
It was real, tangible, and every single bit of it was directed inwardly at himself, except for that little bit deep down that Darcy owned. That teeny, tiny bit of hate with her name on it, because she’d done something no one else had managed to do in four years.
It didn’t matter if what he was feeling was hate. It didn’t matter if he suspected he only felt the hate so strongly because he was ignoring what it was masking.
What mattered was that he was felt it. He was feeling.
And it was all her fault.
Dear Professor, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? Xoxo, Darcy.
The heavy weight of something draped across my body mixed with brightness streaming in through a window broke through my consciousness. Drowsily, I yawned, neither asleep nor awake, but still somehow cognizant.
There was something warm and hard next to me, and it took me a moment to realize that the something was in fact a someone.
Oh shit!
I forced my eyes ope
n. It took me a moment to clear the sleepiness from my gaze, but when I focused, I froze. Strong eyebrows. Stubbly jaw. Soft, pink lips.
Holy crap.
I was in bed with Jordan.
Why that alarmed me far more than having sex with him did, I didn’t know. Maybe it was because my next thought was, Where the fuck am I? I didn’t know this room, so it wasn’t my room, which I guessed was a good thing…
My eyes came to rest on the dresser. Slowly, recognition fell over me and I remembered exactly where I was—his spare bedroom. But how the heck had I gotten up there? The last thing I could recall was being curled up in the corner of his sofa with my notes for my hypothetical prosecution case and then…
Oh no.
Fighting sleep.
I had fallen asleep. On his sofa. At his house.
How the hell had I gotten up…
Oh God. The thoughts were just coming in thick and fast. He must have brought me up there.
Oh sweet fuck. I was never going to live this down. How was I going to apologize for this? Would a blow job work? Maybe. That was pretty much all I had in my arsenal.
Jesus. Fuck. Shit. Crap. How could I have fallen asleep at his house? How could I have been so damn stupid?
More to the point… Why the hell was he in bed with me? Didn’t that go against everything we’d agreed? I didn’t realize we’d elevated to sleepovers from fucking.
I need a Mayday.
No, I needed an escape plan. Yes! That was it. I needed to sneak my way out of this bed and this house and…
A muffled sound like a half-assed snore escaped Jordan’s lips, and I froze once again. It seemed to have been a one-off thing, so I held my breath and scooted an inch toward the edge of the bed. He didn’t move, so I did it again, and again, and again, until I was right there on the edge and could just…
“What are you doing?”
My tongue darted out across my lips, and I looked over my shoulder. “I was trying to get out without disturbing you.”