Hot for Teacher
Page 10
“You okay?” He sounded worried, but his concern didn’t register with her. She was drowning in physical sensation, head trip, emotion. This man could be her master and yet her equal. Their joining opened her heart fully to him.
“Jonathan,” was all she said, and then all was heat and light and delicious friction and a climax with fireworks better than any Fourth of July show on Boston’s Esplanade. She heard him moan her name, over and over and over, until he stopped plunging in and out.
His hands sought her breasts as he helped her stand upright. His lips brushed her ear.
“Rosemary, I love you. God, how I love you.”
She exhaled quietly. “I love you, too, Jonathan. I think I have from the first day, when you terrified me in class.”
“I certainly wanted you from the first day.” She could hear the smile in his voice. Then he whispered in her ear. “I have only one demand to ask of you.”
Her heart thudded until she thought it might break her ribs. She was afraid to hear what his demand was, and that she might not be able to comply.
“Yes?” She heard the suspicion in her tone, so she hastened to add, “If it’s within my power, love, I’ll do it.”
“Promise me, no, guarantee me that you will never, ever take another course of mine. Unfortunately, it means I can’t be your thesis advisor. Can you do this, for us? I pray it’s not too much to ask of you. You’re entitled to your graduate school career.”
Relief so strong it caused tears to slip from her eyes washed through her. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do my thesis in your area of specialization, so, yes, I promise I will never, ever take another course from you. Besides, I don’t think I’d enjoy competing against you in the academic world.”
He bit her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. Her nipples turned pebbly as his fingers danced down the front of her torso to her groin.
“Exceptions, of course, will be granted for the lessons I teach you after hours, in private.”
“Yes, sir, oh, Jonathan,” she moaned as his fingers found their mark. “When’s my next lesson?”
“How’s now sound?”
She arched against him while his fingers played, her cries serving as her answer.
Epilogue
Five Semesters Later
“Smile!” Faith said. Doug put on a goofy expression while Rosemary giggled. She posed in her Masters gown and academic hood, her degree in her hand, her man by her side. Once the photo op ended, she and Jonathan embraced once more.
“Thank you for your support,” she murmured in his ear.
He pulled her closer, saying only, “I love you, Rosemary Lockhart-Kent.”
“Rosemary, congratulations.”
Dr. Furbish, the head of the English Department, had approached while they were clinched. She let go of Jonathan to accept a quick hug from the man, her thesis advisor.
“Thank you for helping me earn an honors degree,” she said.
“You deserve it more than anyone else. I’m quite happy you’ll be continuing with us for your Ph.D. Your analysis of the role of noir fiction in Forties America stunned us all. Jon,” he said, turning to her now-tenured husband, “I hope both of you will drop by our place for the annual English Department party?”
Jonathan clasped Furbish’s outstretched hand. “Of course we will. We wouldn’t miss it.”
After Furbish walked off, Jonathan said softly, “I swear, the man treats me like a favorite son since I married you. I still can’t believe he thought I was gay.”
“Furby’s so homophobic, he sees queers in his own closet,” Mark said, his arm around Brian. “It’s not exactly a secret, duh. I was standing right here, and he never said a frickin’ word to invite me and Brian. Me, one of his most talented doctoral candidates. Scratch that, the most talented.”
Rosemary snorted, but Mark continued. “Jonathan, he thought you and I were having an affair. As if.”
Jonathan laughed. “It must have been our weekly meetings in my office, with the door closed so we could concentrate on your thesis.”
“You coming to his party?” Rosemary said.
“Just to piss him off, Rosie. Just to piss him off.”
Mark and Brian waved to another graduate, heading off to see them. Faith and Doug were laughing at the photos in the digital camera. Rosemary and Jonathan were again alone.
“You were a bad girl last night,” he whispered.
“Don’t I know it. Sitting on those hard chairs for hours this morning wasn’t much fun,” she whispered back. “Did you have to use the cane?”
“Afraid so.” He patted her bottom. “Promise to wear your cap and gown for me, later? Educated women make me hot.”
Rosemary smiled. “Only if you correct my ways and use your big stick on me -- and in me -- Professor.”
“Done, Ms. Lockhart-Kent, you brainy wench, you.”
She licked his earlobe before whispering, “Me, I’ve always been hot for teacher.”
Barrie Abalard
Barrie Abalard has been writing and selling erotic romance for eleven years, mostly under the pseudonyms Miss Lee and Belle. As of 2006, she has sold over seventy short stories and five short novels. Loose Id, Amber Quill Press, and CF Publications carry her works.
She’s worked at many different kinds of jobs. Some of the more interesting ones are: ad copywriter, Boston taxi driver, clerical chartist for the Federal Reserve Bank, Boston radio personality, and tech writer/online help designer, also in Boston. She also earned an M.A. degree from a Boston area graduate school.
Because she’s an unrepentant English Lit major, she reads widely, loving a good story. Besides reading, Barrie enjoys creating new recipes, taking solitary road trips, singing, cats, horses, watching the New England Patriots play football, and poker. She also writes light romance with a chick lit voice under her real name.
She currently lives in the Middle Atlantic region with her mathematician husband, doctoral student daughter, and two neurotic cats. She believes that a woman should have a past that’s juicy enough to enjoy retelling in her old age. Not that she’s going to tell it here, mind you.
Be sure to check out Barrie's web site at www.barrieabalard.com and enjoy her blog, Everyday Erotic Moments, at www.barrieabalard.blogspot.com.