by Kira Blakely
Well, that last part sucked. He had asked her to dinner though. Had he asked her to dinner just so they could talk about that program more and she could give him the data he needed to get started? Or had he asked her to dinner because he really wanted to see her?
She sighed and went to get her keys and bag, then set out walking across the campus.
The afternoon was leaning toward evening. The trees lining the sidewalks were in full bloom, and a light breeze had sprung up. It was still warm, but there was a cold front coming in later in the week, and she made a mental note to start wearing a jacket when she left the apartment even if she did not need it just then, because evenings tended to get cooler fast.
Students – post and undergrad – filled the sidewalks and the green spaces. A football game was being played in one long square of grass, and a group of young women from a nearby sorority were walking through the small, arched doorways that led to the tennis courts and the gymnasium.
The hum of activity and the solemn air of the students studying below the large trees always made her smile. Being able to live on campus while she worked had been a bonus, and not just because she got to live rent free, but because she could always remember why she did not want to sell out when she saw so many other people all striving to learn great things.
She was no fool, of course. A lot of them were not there to take up fields like hers or because they hoped to give something back to the world. Many were there in the hopes of getting the same life Clara had.
And Jackson.
That made uncertainty well up.
Jackson was rich – filthy stinking rich. The kind of rich that bought private planes and even more private islands.
Granted, he was not Dawson rich, but rich enough that she felt a sudden sense of fear. She was not sure why he had asked her out to dinner, but she was sure that she was not the kind of girl he would date for long. She had no money and no need to make it either. As far as she was concerned, she wanted to do research for the rest of her life, and if that meant living in what amounted to poverty and on campuses, college or otherwise, then so be it.
The last thing she wanted was a giant fancy house like the one she had grown up in. The memory of that house – and that quickly approaching monthly dinner – pressed down on her like a huge and suffocating weight.
She could tell anyone who asked exactly what that house looked like. It was ten thousand square feet of polished perfection. The glossy interiors were frequently refreshed by interior designers. The imposing façade that was a conglomeration of styles that Hope hated – and she and Clara secretly referred to the odd little turret-styled tower in the front as the potato chip can of shame – had been designed to make it clear that the people within were successful with a capital S.
She loved what she did, whether it came with trappings or not, and she was usually able to blow off her stepfather’s slings and arrows, but as she walked onward she began to wonder if Jackson would also see her as less than a success story.
He was self-made and he had worked his ass off to get where he was. That she knew. She did not know him well yet, but she could see that he was a hard worker and that he was given to a love of financial gain.
The last thing she needed in her life was a man just like her stepfather.
She had to break that dinner date.
7
JACKSON PACED THROUGH the large rooms of his house. Buying it had been a bad idea, if he was being honest. He had bought it because he had needed a safe investment, according to the people who handled his money, and a big house came with enough bills and tax credits to make buying one that size attractive.
To boot, there was the fact that he now lived in a place he had never imagined that he might.
Ashton had sold his house, and Jackson knew he had felt a lot of relief when he had done it, too. Like Jackson, the big fancy stuff did not suit him.
The rooms were mostly empty, the hardwood and marble floors glowing and so empty that his footsteps echoed loudly. Every step just reminded him that he was alone there, and that he did not want to be.
“That is sort of a lousy reason to try to date someone though.”
The words stopped him in his tracks, and he frowned. Was that why he was suddenly so taken by Hope? Had he somehow gotten too lonely, and was he just grabbing at her as a lifeline?
That was an unfair and probably useless endeavor. Hell, he knew all about what could and would go wrong when people were together just so they would not have to be alone.
His shoulders went rigid as he finally walked into the large den that he had been using as a living room. He took a seat in a comfortable recliner and stared blankly at the television screen.
His mom and dad had truly taught him a lot of things. They had taught him that a good education could give you a good job, and that drugs could keep you from ever being able to leave the neighborhood you hated.
They had taught him that it was easier to stay with someone they did not love or particularly want than it was to leave and start over.
His head bowed as he tried to press back the memories of all the angry words and the hours-long rants, often fueled by some kind of amphetamine. The hatred and the blame had always battered against his ears. He had learned to hide at night, to lock himself into his room and pray that that night would not be one haunted by hallucinations that would cause some crazy shit to happen.
He had had to huddle under a mattress while his parents, feeding off each other and a new report that stated there was a tornado warning, hid out with him, sure that at any minute they would all be whirled away into some insane version of Oz.
There’d been times one or both of them had hallucinated that they were on fire. There had been times when they had been suicidal. Talking them down from whatever it was they were on had always fallen to him, and they would eventually pop some pill that would let them come off that unnatural high and sleep so they could get up in the morning and do the respectable thing – go to work and act like a normal family.
They had been anything but normal.
His folks were clean now, and still together. Not because they loved each other, although they would never admit that, and maybe they did not even know that they had no love between them, but because it was easier than being alone.
They said they had been through too much together to divorce. Jackson thought that was a shitty reason to keep a thing going, but he never said so.
He didn’t talk about all the years they had been addicts either. It was like they had buried those memories forever and wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Jackson wished it was that easy for him, but he had those memories implanted in his brain, and he had that horror to thank for all the things he had now.
In a way, their addiction had given him something to escape from, and he had managed to do so. He had found video games and books. He had done well in school, and he had stayed far away from the drugs and the lure of easy money and everything else so readily available where he had grown up.
Even as a kid, he had known that if it all came tumbling down, neither of them would want him. They would both try to force him off on the other. So, he had prepared by being as self- reliant as possible. He had learned to cook, to wash his clothes, and to take care of himself. He had learned to earn money and keep it.
He had learned how to do everything but love.
8
HOPE LOOKED UP FROM A SLIDE to see that it was a quarter after six. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, and her mind raced through every possible excuse she could make not to go out with Jackson even as she admitted that calling it off now was a lousy thing to do.
She had been putting off that phone call all day, even though she knew she should not do that. She had buried herself in the work she could manage to get done, and now, at the end of the day, she was really considering just hiding out there in the lab.
“For what? Forever? Or just until he figures out you were a coward and ditched him at the la
st minute without a word, rather than make a phone call?’
The question was soft even though the part of the lab that she was in was unoccupied by everyone but her. It was a conundrum she did not want to be a part of. Jackson was hot, and he was nicer than she would have guessed. He had a well-deserved rep for being a player, but what if he had grown up and changed like he seemed to have?
There was still the sticky issue of him being a super-rich guy with a lot of ambition, and she was always going to be a struggling researcher trying her best to save humanity. It was a noble thing, and while there might be money at the end of it all, most of what money the cure she would, maybe, one day create would be eaten up by the grant boards and the pharmaceutical companies.
She sighed. There were two options: call it off or head across campus and make that date.
Torn between badly wanting to go and badly wanting to cancel, Hope finally finished up and headed for her apartment, running as was her habit.
The air was cold and crisp, and the trees were beginning to look brighter every day. Usually, she reveled in such things, but right then she did not even notice. Her feet kicked up a litany of reasons to go, and a litany of reasons not to go.
By the time she reached her apartment, it was six thirty, and she knew he would already be on his way. It was a long drive through heavy traffic, and he would have left his house a few minutes before to be on time.
That made her feel better. She could not cancel now. She dashed inside and showered fast. After she dried off, she rubbed a sweet-smelling lotion into her skin and then headed into her bedroom to dress.
Once in the bedroom, she waffled again. Should she go sexy and seductive? Wear something guaranteed to light up his senses on the chance he was interested in her? Go low-key so as to avoid being embarrassed if he was interested in nothing more than writing a program?
Frustrated, she dug into the back of the closet to pull out her one good little black dress. She had bought it for some party at her parents’ house, and it was suitable for either seduction or a fancy dinner.
It was a strapless thing with a sweetheart neckline that made the most of her slim shoulders and toned arms. It clung to the curves of her chest and hips, and it belled out slightly near her thighs, ending in a bubbled hem that made it float and skim over her legs.
She grabbed a set of black panties and a pretty, strapless bra. She shimmied into her undergarments, and then she misted perfume into the air before walking through it, letting the droplets collect on her hair and skin before putting on the dress.
She waffled again, and then she added a set of stockings – daring little things with lacy tops that were made of sturdy elastic neatly hidden in the lace. They slid onto her legs, and she stood in her bedroom feeling both naughty and sexy and eager for that bell to ring.
She had just slid her feet into shoes when the doorbell did ring. She hurried into the living room and opened the door,
Jackson looked crazy good. He wore a simple suit, all black and a light blue shirt below. He said, “You look great.”
“So do you.”
Her breath came out in a soft squeak. Jackson said, “I started to bring flowers, but then I remembered that you said to a guest at the party that you were not a fan of the flowers in the room.”
She gawked at him. “You heard that?”
“I was not that far from where you were standing. It was not like I was eavesdropping or something,” he said in a defensive tone.
“No I mean you heard me. Never mind. Thank you for not bringing flowers.”
She moved toward him and ended up in his arms. It felt good, so she moved closer. She lifted her head, and he smiled down at her.
Then he kissed her, hard.
She kissed him back. Her body squirmed closer as passion surged from a low ebbing tide to an overpowering crest. His fingers went to her hair, fisting it. Her hips pressed against his, and she felt the press of his dick against her body.
He groaned out. “We have reservations.”
“To hell with them,” she muttered between kisses.
His hands found her clothes and then dropped them onto the floor. Naked and panting, she climbed up his body, her toes digging into his calves and her arms winding around his neck as he carried her to the bed.
They landed on the bed, fingers working to get his clothes off. She finally found the button and zipper on his slacks and tugged them down.
His mouth went down her body, finding the throbbing ridge of her clit and teasing it. His fingers pressed into her body. Her ass shook as he licked and suckled and thrust his fingers in and out of her body.
He groaned out, “God damn, you taste so good.”
She kicked and writhed as he took her ever closer to the edge of an orgasm.
He finally sent her into release. Her walls clenched and opened, sensation created by friction and heat soared even higher, stiffening her nipples yet again and making her toes curl. Heated oils slid from her inner walls, spilling over his silken and rigid flesh as he kept moving within her, taking her higher and higher still.
He came up and she flipped him over, eager to touch and please him as much as he had teased and pleased her. Her mouth circled his nipples, her tongue licking and sucking, and then she moved downward again.
She took the hard length of his shaft into her hand and she fisted it loosely. His meat was thick and pulsing, wrapped with blue veins. Her tongue found the silky head of his dick, and she licked it gently. Then, she took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the flesh where the shaft met the head. She bobbed her head, taking him down her throat. He groaned and writhed, his hips arching upward until he was impaling her throat.
She kept sucking and bobbing and using her hand. Jackson’s fingernails left tingling trails in her scalp, and she whimpered, opening her mouth more widely so she could take him down even further.
He said, “Damn it, Hope. You are going to make me come if you do not stop and soon.”
“Maybe I want to make you come.”
She did want to make him come, but more than that, she wanted to feel him inside her body. She wanted to feel him all the way in her, and she wanted him then.
She came up and poised herself over his body. Her legs straddled his thighs and she glided her hips downward until he was inside her, pulsing and penetrating her with his powerful organ.
His hands found her hips, and she whimpered as she moved upward, releasing him from her clenching folds. Her oils dripped and ran, and she grit her teeth before moving downward again. Her hands flattened on his chest, and her ass humped up and down.
His ass tilted, and he held her hips even more tightly. He pushed upward with his heels, and she whimpered as her walls began to spasm and a smaller but powerful orgasm began to roll through her body.
Jackson grunted and then he came – a thick spurt of come burst into her body.
She fell flat. His hands ran up and down her body, his fingers caressing her ass and back.
She got off him and flipped over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. It was official.
The man was turning her into a nymphomaniac.
9
HOPE SPOKE IN A LOW MURMUR. “Well, that was amazing.”
He chuckled and buried his face into the hollow between her shoulder and neck. “Thanks. I was just about to say the very same thing.”
Her fingers ran through his hair. “Well, if I had known what was going to happen, I would most certainly have foregone panties.”
“I owe you a pair of panties,” he lifted his head and gave her an unrepentant grin. “Tell me where to buy them, and I will get you a dozen pairs.”
She laughed at that, but her laughter was interrupted by a loud gurgle from the direction of her belly. She slapped a hand down and went a little red. Her smile turned sheepish.
“We should get you fed.”
He sat up slowly and stared down at her. Sprawled out across her narrow bed, she was a vision, and he wanted
to stay right there and make love to her again and again. She sat up with her hair spilling over her shoulders in a glorious tumble. She said, “I almost canceled our date.”
He said, “Me, too.”
Her mouth hung open. Then she asked, “Why?”
He tilted his head to one side. “I could give you the long answer or the short answer. Your pick.”
“Go short.”
He wished he had not admitted that, but now that he had, he had no choice but to say why. “I do not want you to feel like you have to do this just so I will create that program for you.”
“I never thought about that.” She brushed aside a tangle of hair. “Is that why you offered?”
“No. I offered because I wanted to.”
“Because you’re bored.”
He shrugged, “Well, that and the tax deduction.” The joke fell flat, so he pressed on. “Look, I really want to get to know you and…hell, to be honest, I have not done many good things in my life, so I would like to maybe do one thing that is totally for someone else.”
“I see.” Her eyes dropped then came back to his. “Listen, I don’t know what this, exactly, that we are doing, but I am not doing it because I feel like I have to.”
Relief hit. “That’s good to know.”
His relief was short-lived. “But you should know that I…well I…I don’t know what we…I mean I don’t know what you want from me exactly.”
He didn’t know either. Might as well admit it. “Yeah, me neither.”
Her eyes widened. “I see.”
“Then could you explain it to me, please?” He gave her his most disarming smile. “Seriously, I just want to spend some time with you. Beyond that, I don’t know. I know you care a lot about your work and that you are busy and that you do not date in a serious way.’
“Wow. How do you know that?”