Plymouth Rock 2075

by Alayne Warren

  “What kind, umm,” Cal started, clearing his throat, “exactly what type of ulterior motives are we talking about?”

  It was Hope’s turn to smile, and she watched his eyes widen as she let her tongue escape to lick along his bottom lip. “The kind that have nothing to do with past history, and everything to do with making our own.”

  And then she kissed him. Hope Giovanni, Italian hell on wheels, daydreamer of libidinous thoughts during college history class, planted one full on her Professor.

  It was heavenly. In the dark haze of what should have been a noonday sun, Hope kissed Cal Riebochet with all the pent-up desire she’d been hoarding for months. And to her surprise, he kissed her back just as ardently.

  This was no gentle exploration, no hesitant taste of forbidden fruit. Oh, no. This was a full-out, fingers tangled in hair, wet and sloppy exchange of saliva. Hope had spent countless hours wondering what sort of passionate man lay beneath the exterior of her cool Professor. With one kiss she knew, exactly, just what getting it on with this man would be like.

  She pulled away, breathless, and realized Cal held handfuls of her hair. She didn’t go far, and when he moved to pull her back to him, she didn’t resist.

  “I’ve never, ever, kissed one of my students.” He sounded disbelieving, as if he couldn’t understand how he’d managed to get in this situation. If he asked her, Hope thought, she’d tell him it was the bodysuit.

  “I’ve never kissed a Professor, either,” Hope said, sucking Cal’s bottom lip into her mouth. The sounds they both made mingled together, and Hope inched closer, until she was practically on his lap.

  “This,” he started, stealing another kiss, “is probably totally against protocol.” He kissed her again, his tongue tangling with hers as she squirmed against the erection poking against a very sensitive part of her anatomy. “Actually,” he continued, pulling her head back to lick a path of fire down her throat, “this might very well get me fired.”

  “Hmm, no, I don’t think so,” Hope panted, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Two consenting adults, both of legal age, outside of the classroom? I don’t think,” she gasped on an intake of air as his right hand came around to her breast, “that they’d have any grounds to fire you.”

  Cal licked her nipple, right through the material of her suit, and her breath left her in a rush. She felt wetness rush to that spot between her legs, and wondered if he’d be able to tell how turned on she was. When he suckled the nipple into his mouth, her body jerked once, hard, against his lips, and an orgasm ripped through her.

  When the spasms subsided, she was half lying across him, her arms weakly wrapped around his waist, her head somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. Cal rubbed her back, small, warm circles with his hands that she could feel all the way to her belly. How embarrassing. The man had only to suck on her nipple and she came like a mare in heat.

  “I am so ungodly embarrassed.” The words were muffled against his suit, and Hope thought, if she was lucky, he wouldn’t be able to hear her, and thus could pretend that none of this had just happened.

  “Hope, there is absolutely nothing for you to be embarrassed about. Now get up here where I can see you.”

  “Don’t want to.” God, her cheeks were on fire, all the way to the roots of her hair. And she could feel against the breast that Cal had somehow just used to finagle her into a mind-blowing orgasm the growing erection he was doing nothing to hide.

  Cal laughed out loud. He raised her up gently, one hand on the back of her head and the other wrapped around her upper arm. He brought her up until their eyes were on an even level, and then he did something that surprised the shit out of her.

  Professor Calvin H. Riebochet III lowered his mouth to the opposite breast, and did it again.

  The spasms didn’t last as long this time, but they were just as powerful. When it was done, and she once again floated back down to reality, she wondered what the hell could possibly be wrong with her. She wasn’t a virgin. Sure, it had been a while since she’d had sex, and she’d been fantasizing about having it with Cal on a regular basis, but that didn’t explain why his touch, why the simple act that he had performed, would produce such physical results.

  Get a grip, Hope. Do you really care why it’s happening like this? I’d think, after all this time waiting, that you’d be jumping up and down with joy that the man you’ve been attracted to for so long can actually give you the orgasm from Heaven.

  Inner voice of reason was right. Who cared why, or even how?

  “Well, okay, we know that works. That,” she said, reaching up a hand to stroke his cheek, “was absolutely incredible.”

  “Yes, it was,” Cal answered, smoothing back a lock of her hair that had worked its way across the bridge of her nose. “And you, Miss Hope Giovanni, are pretty damn incredible yourself. Now, back to what we were discussing.”

  Discussing? They were discussing something?

  “Don’t be embarrassed. When, and if, we do anything together—sexual or not—I don’t want you feeling sorry or embarrassed.” He was stroking her hair, and her nipples still ached. Her lower extremities pulsed in time with the feel with his hand, and Hope was afraid that very soon she was going to do something else horrible—like start shaking from another Cal-induced climax.

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Good. Now,” he said, laying her back to rest on their lunch blanket, “I’d like to see what else I can do to get that response.”

  All Hope could think was, Oh, goodie.

  Part Two:

  Takeoff

  Professor Calvin H. Riebochet III was a man who lived and breathed the past. He constantly submerged himself in all things historical—history was already written, just waiting to be explored. Cal very rarely submersed himself in the future, as he knew that it was only what he made it. His hope was that someday, twenty, fifty, or a hundred years from now, someone would spend as much time digging into his present as he did that of others.

  The trip to Earth to see where Plymouth Rock had once stood was a life-long dream, and he hadn’t hesitated to bring Hope Giovanni along for the ride. His only plans for the day were to get as much information about the original landing spot of the Pilgrims as he could. Pictures, live video feed, notes—everything he needed to take back home and explore in further depth. He hadn’t, in any way, shape, or form, set out to seduce his research assistant.

  Hope was a beautiful woman. Cal had no doubts at all about the number of willing and able men who lined up outside the woman’s door. She was intelligent, funny, and very, very nice to look at. She was also, in Cal’s mind, off limits. Ever since he’d first met her, that day he’d walked into the University Affairs office looking for a customary budget form, he’d been attracted to her. But Professor Riebochet would never, ever fraternize with a student. Of course, when he’d first seen her, she had only been a University employee, not a student. But it had never even crossed his mind to ask her out at that time. After all, Cal had no time for anything except the past.

  But then Hope had enrolled in his class, and Cal had known from the start that the woman, although undeniably smart, had absolutely no interest in history. So why, he asked himself, would Ms. Giovanni take his class?

  The answer had to be that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

  But he hadn’t acted on it, not in all the long months that he’d agonized as she sat in his classroom, taking notes as he got caught up in his lectures, casting sly glances his way when he lowered the lights and fired up the videos for class presentations.

  He’d never acted on it, because it just wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. Sure, other teachers, many of them full Professors like himself, had engaged in relationships—mostly sexual—with their students over the years. But Cal Riebochet prided himself on having standards and morals above the average man. He could control his sexual desires, could reign in his desire for one pretty, young student.

  Until today.<
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  Today, Cal and Hope were far from home, alone in a place where humans hadn’t lived for years. And Hope Giovanni was wearing a skin-tight, electric blue bodysuit, and it was clear as day that it was all she was wearing.

  A man could only take so much.

  Was it rationalization? You betcha. But Cal was interested in more than just a quick bump and grind with Hope—he hoped that this encounter today, once he declared his interest, would turn into something that lasted beyond just today.

  The woman was fire. A few kisses, a few caresses, and she’d literally burned up in his arms. The knowledge that he’d brought her to orgasm, not once, but twice, with only his mouth upon her breasts was like kindling to his own fire.

  He wanted her, and he wanted her now. And later. And later after that. Cal Riebochet very well may have found the one woman who could make him do the one thing he’d never thought possible—quit living in the past, and start living for the moment.

  Cal lay beside Hope on the blanket, just watching her. She was embarrassed, he knew, for having such a lusty response—and so quickly—to his touch. But she shouldn’t have been embarrassed, not at all. It was unbelievably arousing to have such a responsive woman just an arm’s length away.

  “You are such a beautiful woman, Hope.”

  “I didn’t think you’d noticed.” Her voice was low, thready, her breaths coming shallow and fast.

  “Oh, I noticed all right. From that very first day in the Affairs office, I noticed.”

  A little frown formed between her eyes, and Cal had the urge to kiss it away. “If you noticed that long ago, you had to know, too, that I was interested in you. But you never did or said anything that made it seem like you were interested in return.”

  Cal smiled. “I know. I was attempting to be the upstanding Professor, the one who would never engage a student—or even a co-worker—in a relationship that could possibly damage his University standing.”

  “I think that if two people decide they’d like to embark upon a personal relationship away from University grounds, it wouldn’t be any concern of the Board at all.”

  “You’re probably right. But you have to understand, Hope, that I haven’t been involved with anyone since my wife died eight years ago.” It didn’t hurt as badly now, talking about her in the past tense. “And when I saw you, all the pent-up sexual tension that I’d been ignoring for a very long time came crashing down, and I ran away from it.”

  Cal stroked Hope’s cheek, his fingers light as they trailed down her neck, through the valley between her breasts, lightly drawing circles around her navel. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve been interested in anything except history, Hope. And I had no way of knowing, totally and completely, that you were even interested in me that way.”

  “You could have asked.”

  He laughed. “You’re right, I could have. But that would have taken nerve that I simply don’t have. Oh, it’s true,” he said, stopping her comments, “I’m a bruiser in the classroom, I know, when it comes to things I’m passionate about, like things that took place hundreds of years ago. But when it comes to women, Hope, I’m totally lost. I’ve been out of the game for a long, long time, and I don’t even know the protocols anymore. And I’m guessing that seducing your research assistant on an off-planet expedition really isn’t good protocol.”

  Hope leaned up on her elbows and placed a light kiss upon him, the barest brush of her lips against his own. “I think, Professor, that nothing about our relationship is the norm. It’s been a long time for me, too, as if you couldn’t tell. I’ve wanted you for what seems like forever. I listen to you speak in class, and my heart gets all fluttery. I sit next to you during after-hours, dictating your notes, and my palms get damp. I dream about you at night, and other parts of me get wet. Cal,” she said, lying back down and pulling him with her, “I say protocol be damned.”

  And it was as simple as that. She was right. They were legal, consenting adults, both caught up in emotions and desires that had nothing to do with history, nothing to do with classroom etiquette, and everything to do with the needs of a man and a woman.

  Protocol be damned.

  Hope’s long hair was spread out like a curtain of silk on the red blanket she’d brought along. Cal lowered his mouth, taking hers in a battle of tongues and teeth. He hadn’t felt this stirring of desire in so long that it was hard to keep control, hard to keep himself from stripping her naked and burying himself inside of her in one hard stroke.

  He forced himself to slow down, working his hand behind her neck to undo the clasp that held her suit on. Peeling it down her body was like unwrapping a present—smooth, bare skin, shining bright as moonlight in the darkness that enveloped this part of Earth.

  “You are so, so beautiful.”

  “Let me see you, too, Cal. Please.” Her breathing had sped up, and her breasts were rising and falling in the dim light. Her nipples were hard, again, and he wanted nothing more than to cause that explosion deep inside of her that he’d done before. This time, though, he wanted to bring about that reaction with his mouth on other parts of her body.

  Cal undid his own suit, roughly pulling it off until they were both naked. He knew what she would see—a body he kept in shape by his vigorous workout sessions in the virtual reality cage, the scar on his abdomen from a wreck that happened on an expedition over ten years ago, and an erection straining for release inside of her sweet warmth.

  “Now, Cal, now. I’ve waited so long for this.”

  But he wouldn’t rush it. Not this, their first time, simply because they had been waiting so long. He wanted to prolong it, to get every drop of pleasure from this very basic of acts. Humans had been coupling for millennia, and he had no desire to hurry through it this time.

  He brought his mouth back to her, to the hollow of her shoulder, to the side of her breast, down to her navel. If he could wring a climax from her by suckling her breasts, what would happen if he used his mouth on her silky womanhood, if he suckled her clit the same way he’d sucked on her nipple?

  Cal needed to know. His first taste of her was Heaven. All woman, hot silk, tangy sweetness that said she wanted him, desired him, needed him. He savored her the way he would a fine glass of cognac—slow licks, sharp inhales and exhales of breath upon that sensitive skin, long swipes of his tongue against her swollen flesh. Hope writhed beneath him and as she tried to close her legs, he clamped them open with his hands upon her hips, baring her for the unrelenting pleasure of his mouth upon her.

  “Cal, oh God, Cal. I’m going to come again.”

  He hummed against her flesh, knowing that she was close, lapping at her wetness as a cat would lap at cream. And when he felt her hands clamp against his head, pulling him closer, pushing him away, hips bucking like that of a wild stallion, he suckled her clit between his teeth as he had done with her breasts.

  This climax was nothing like the others. Hope’s screams echoed through the darkness, her hands moving to dig nails into his back, her legs spasming against his head as if she’d never be able to let go.

  It seemed to take hours before her shivering subsided, before she relaxed, limp and sated, onto the blanket.

  Cal smiled and smoothed the damp hair back from her face. “This makes me sorry that I waited so long.”

  Hope could barely move, but her hand raised to bring his lips back to her own. Cal could still taste her as their mouths mingled, that salty essence that said he’d had her in the most intimate of ways.

  “I want to be inside of you. I have protection, in my back, if we need it.”

  Her heart rate had slowed, but he could still feel it, slow and steady, underneath him. “We don’t. Modern medicine on Mars makes it absolutely impossible to become pregnant until you take measures to ensure that it does.”

  “Good. Because I want nothing more than to feel every inch of you wrapped around every inch of me.”

  There’d been a time when he’d been one smooth operator, a man who
could prolong his own needs for however long it took to satisfy the woman he was with. Cal knew that prolonging anything wouldn’t be necessary with Hope Giovanni—the woman was more responsive than any woman he’d ever known. They’d experience pleasure together, and he had a feeling that it would be the most intense feeling he could even imagine.

  His entry was sure, swift, and a bit rougher than he’d intended. When Hope cried out, he was alarmed he’d hurt her. But her hands came to grasp his rear, and she pulled him deeper inside, lifting her hips until he could feel the curve of her uterus.

  They were as completely, deeply joined as a man and woman could be.

  Cal’s thrusts were hard and fast. His moans of pleasure mingled with Hope’s as they strove for that ultimate of feelings. He took her mouth roughly, kiss after kiss, as he used the fingers of his left hand to tweak her nipples, pulling in time with the thrusts of his cock.

  “I’m going to come, Cal, now.”

  It was all he needed to hear. He thrust even harder, even faster, even deeper, and felt the beginnings of her orgasm wrap around him. As he spilled his seed inside of her, his cry of release was a guttural sound against her neck.

  He collapsed on top of her, trying and failing to support his weight, as her arms wrapped around him.

  When he could speak, the sweat had dried upon his back, and he realized that all two hundred pounds of him was undoubtedly crushing the woman beneath him. He raised up on his arms, planted a kiss upon her forehead, and rolled over to lie beside her.

  “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever had the joy of taking part in.”

  Hope’s laugh was muted as she rolled onto her side to face him. “You know, at the beginning of this trip, I didn’t understand why it was so important to actually see Plymouth Rock. Sure,” she said, running her hand absently up and down his arm, “the Pilgrims instituted Thanksgiving, but for me that’s always been a holiday to use as an excuse to take the day off work, visit with family, and stuff myself.”