by Nichole Rose
"Here," Jared says, stopping in front of a heavy wooden door with ornate scrollwork. He glances over his shoulder at me, giving me a look that is supposed to be reassuring but looks more devilish than anything. If I'm a fancy Little Red Riding Hood, he's definitely the Big Bad Wolf. "I have a surprise for you."
"What kind of surprise?" I ask, arching a brow.
His gaze rakes up and down my body. "The good kind, sweet baby. Always the good kind for you."
My whole body breaks out in a sweat at the heat in his tone. He's way too good at playing the charming prince. I have a feeling he's equally as good playing the wicked wolf. The propensity for both lingers in the depths of his mossy eyes, calling to that part of me that's always been a little unruly and mischievous.
My parents despaired of that side of me when I was younger. While Kennedy was stuck in her books, I was out wreaking havoc on the household, bouncing from one thing to another, like trying to convince the staff to strike until my dad paid them better. Or releasing all the lobsters that were shipped in for a fancy party. I was never settled, never still for very long. It drove my parents crazy.
I don't think this man minds that part of me, though. In fact, I think he knows I'm a little bit wicked too. If the desire blazing in his eyes is any indication, I think he might love it.
"Show me," I say, finding my voice and my courage for the first time all night.
Chapter Two
King
"What do you think?" I murmur, leaning back against the door to watch Caroline roam around the impressive room, her red cape flowing out behind her. As far as I can tell, the room is situated almost directly over the stage below. Music from the band drifts up, pouring through the vents as if from speakers. The acoustics are incredible. Notes seem to dance all around us, undoubtedly amplified by the design of the room. It's a long rectangle, with a high, angled ceiling.
I found it the last time I was forced to attend this infernal Ball. The Dean loves to badger faculty members into attending these things to keep an eye on the students, as if they're not capable of policing themselves like the grown adults they are. Instead of mingling with the students—most of whom dislike me—I snuck off to wait out the night. Unlike this time, I came alone. Which was my plan for tonight until I practically ran into the princess currently floating around the room like a goddess. She is…celestial.
If ever a Greek Mousai stepped down from Mt. Olympus to inspire poetry, they did so as the goddess claiming to be Caroline Kennedy. She does not lie well, but I don't mind her little fib.
I've taught at the college level for the last six years. I'm well aware of the reasons women feel safer providing fake names to men they do not know. I'm relieved she carved out that little safety net for herself, not that she'll need it with me. I would fight the devil himself before touching her with anything less than reverence.
I may strike terror in the hearts of unsuspecting freshmen, but Caroline Kennedy, whoever she may be, is not one of my students. I'm not even sure she attends school here. I think I would have noticed her long before now if she were enrolled. She's petite with a curvy little body and a mass of silky hair that flows like red flame down her back. Even with half of it pinned up in an intricate style, it reaches almost midway down her back. Her eyes are so dark they're almost black, her skin so pale it's translucent. She isn't the kind of woman you overlook. She's the kind you worship on your knees.
She had my dick hard as soon as she looked up at me through those sooty lashes and lacy mask. I don't sleep around, especially not with girls young enough to sit in one of my workshops. But for her, I'm making an exception. I need to get inside her more than I need my next breath.
"The acoustics are amazing," she says, turning to face me. The sight of her smile leaves me a little breathless. Jesus, she's absolutely stunning. I feel a little like I stepped out of time and landed in some fairytale where princesses like her belong.
"Then dance with me, princess." I push away from the wall, holding out a hand to her, eager to touch her again, to see if my body reacts the same way it did downstairs. Like an electrical current shot through me and instantly soothed my irritation into oblivion.
She kicks her heels off, losing a good four inches of height. She floats across the room toward me, her hips swaying in a rhythm that has me clenching my teeth, trying to fight off the urge to tumble her to the floor and fuck her raw. Her cape flutters to the floor behind her, discarded on her way to me. She tugs her mask from her face and lets it dangle from a finger before she discards it too.
I remove mine as well, setting it aside.
"Oh, wow," she gasps, blinking wide obsidian eyes at me. "You're so beautiful."
A grin tugs at my lips at the awe in her voice. There is something so sweet about her, some intoxicating brand of guileless innocence and playful mischief I find myself desperate to protect…and equally as desperate to claim.
I sweep her up into my arms, pulling her flush against me. Her breasts crush against my chest. My dick nestles against the soft swell of her stomach. Her soft scent—like vanilla and honey—swirls around me, clouding my mind.
"Oh," she whispers when she feels the hard ridge of my erection. Her body trembles a little.
"Do you know who the Mousai are?" I ask, spinning her effortlessly around the room. It's obvious that she doesn't dance often but she isn't without skill. There's a natural grace to how she moves, a self-awareness to the way she holds herself that most women her age lack. She follows my lead without hesitation, allowing me to dip and spin her before pulling her back into my arms.
"Muses," she says, her sultry voice clear and confident. "The nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, each of whom was said to inspire great works of art."
"You know your mythology," I murmur, impressed.
A wistful smile dances at her lips. "My older brother spent a lot of time reading to me when I was a little girl. He loved history, so I learned a lot about mythology from the books he would bring me from the library."
I smile at her memory, and then pull her closer, until my lips are against her ear. "You're a muse, Caroline. You had my dick in this state as soon as you looked up at me. Men would wage war against the devil himself to be lucky enough to hold you this close."
She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out in a shaky exhale. "You're good at that," she whispers, her sweet breath washing across my face. It curls around the shell of my ear like a kiss.
"At what?" I whisper back, running my nose up the soft skin of her throat. I inhale deeply, greedily pulling her intoxicating scent into my lungs to hold it there. My stomach clenches, my balls literally aching as it works its way through my system, setting little fires in my veins.
"At being charming."
I chuckle, a dry, gritty sound of agony. "Ah, baby. Charming is easy when you're speaking the truth. I fear you wouldn't feel the same about me if you knew my reputation."
"You might not think I was a muse if you knew mine," she returns, her obsidian eyes meeting mine in the quasi-darkness. Challenge lurks there, or pride, perhaps. She is no delicate, shrinking flower, beholden to a man or his opinion, but a goddess in her own right, certain of her place in this world.
If she thinks that turns me off, she's wrong. Nothing is sexier to me than a woman who knows exactly who she is and who stands, unashamed, before those who would castigate her for fitting no mold. There is beauty in defiance, and this little princess has it in spades.
"Then reputations and those who bestow them be damned, Caroline," I growl, raking my teeth against the delicate shell of her ear as my cock throbs, sending me inching closer toward the edge of the precipice looming before me. It's not one I've encountered before, but I'll be damned if that'll stop me from leaping over the edge with her. "They have no weight here. We're Jared and Caroline, and the night belongs to us alone."
I feel her shiver against me, and a soft moan breaks from her lips. "Jared?"
"Yes, princess?"
"Will
you kiss me now?" she says, a plea in her voice.
Of course I give her what she wants. I may not be a gentleman, but I'm no fool, either. Only an idiot would refuse an invitation to taste those sweet lips. I cradle her head in the palm of my hand, turning her until she's staring up at me, desire glittering like diamonds in her obsidian eyes.
I kiss her slowly, carefully, tasting her lips as if she were fine wine. As soon as her taste hits my system, the world around me wheels wildly out of focus. It rushes and spins before settling again, a new future extended before me. One where this princess writhes and moans, taking her pleasure from me today, tomorrow…as long as she'll have me.
Addiction is that instantaneous, obsession that all-consuming. One taste, and I'm hooked on her, lulled to the edge of desperation, and then sweetly tossed over the side.
I groan like a man dying and pull her closer, kiss her deeper.
Her tongue duels with mine in an erotic dance that leaves my cock weeping and beads of sweat rolling down my shoulder blades. She's unschooled, unskilled, but somehow more enchanting because of it. She kisses me back as if she feels the same gnawing ache, the same driving desire.
Her hands roam freely over my shoulders before her nails drag up my neck and plunge into my hair. I feel them against my scalp, sending aftershocks of pleasure through me in ever widening ripples. My god. Kissing this woman is akin to a spiritual awakening. It's earthshattering.
I back her up against the wall, incapable of continuing to dance her across the wooden floor when every cell in my body screams for me to strip her from her dress and worship her with my mouth. I curse every decision-making body in the school for not supplying this room with a bed to lay her out in. No matter though, I have plenty of time to get her into my bed after I get my mouth on her.
"Jared," she gasps, throwing her head back against the wall. Her chest shudders, the swells of her breasts practically spilling from her top as she sucks in a lungful of air. Right here, like this, with desire in her eyes and her cheeks flushed with pleasure, she transcends anything I've ever seen before, eclipsing even the brightest of stars.
She says my name again, almost sobbing it when I press my face against the creamy swells of her breasts. Her hand wraps around the back of my head, holding me to her as I kiss and lick every inch of soft skin I can find.
Her heady scent fills my lungs and my cock to bursting. I nip and bite at her skin, eager to leave little marks on her so everyone who gets close knows she's been claimed, knows that she belongs to someone. These gorgeous breasts are mine now. End of discussion.
"Can I touch you, sweet baby?" I ask…silently praying she doesn't tell me no now.
"Y-yes," stutters from her lips like a granted prayer from on high.
I rake her dress up, trying hard not to destroy the delicate fabric. It feels like spun gold beneath my far too rough hands. There are miles of the silky stuff standing between me and what I want.
I growl my frustration and nip at her skin. "This dress is beautiful, baby. But there is far too much fabric involved."
"I know," she says, gasping through a laugh when I nip at her throat again. "There's a zipper…on the back. God, that feels so good, Jared."
I pull her hips away from the wall long enough to find the zipper to tug it down. She shimmies her hips and the bottom of her dress comes undone from the top, sliding to the floor. My heart hits my throat and then dives into my stomach, my dick throbbing.
"Jesus Christ," I rasp, squeezing my dick to keep myself from coming in my pants like a teenage boy looking at his first porno. I'm certain the vision of her standing before me in nothing but her corset top, silky red panties, and matching garters is going to star in every fantasy I have until the day I die. She's a wet dream come to life.
Her panties cling to her folds, the wet spot making her desire obvious. The sweet scent of her arousal sets my mouth to watering. Begging isn't something I've ever done, but I'd prostrate myself in front of her in a second, I want to taste her so bad.
"I need to taste it," I growl, lifting my gaze from Mecca long enough to gain permission. "Please, baby. Let me eat you. I'm starving for it."
"I…" Hesitation flickers in her eyes and twin spots of color bloom on her cheeks. "Um…I've never…"
Realization dawns, the truth hitting me like a Mack truck. No one has ever licked her little cunt before. No one has ever fucked that tight little slice of heaven. I fight back the wave of possession tearing through me, beat back the almost overwhelming urge to drop to my knees and lay claim to her pussy.
"You're a virgin."
Her chin comes up, defiance in her eyes again. "Yes."
Thank you, God.
The thought of being this goddess's first is a heady thing. The sudden stab of jealousy at the thought of someone else being her last is sobering. No one else is allowed to touch her. I think… Jesus, I think I'd actually kill a man for trying. And that right there? That possessive, obsessive desperation screaming mine, mine, mine like a soul-starved demon? In thirty-seven years on this earth, I've never felt anything like that.
What is this woman doing to me?
Why don't I want her to stop?
Before I can consider either question too deeply, she sends me straight to heaven.
"I want you to be my first, Jared."
I'm going to be more than that, sweet baby, I want to say. But I don't. Best to ease her into my newfound propensity for obsession bit by bit. Let her get used to me before I show her how fucking crazy she's already making me.
"If you want me to stop, you say the words," I murmur, wanting—needing—her to know that she has the power here. I'll eat her until she sees heaven, no doubts about that. But only if it's what she wants. And if she's a student here? If my professorship is revoked for leading her down the path of temptation? Making her come on my tongue, even once, will be more than worth it.
She nods bravely, practically fidgeting where she stands. Her delectable body trembles. Desire has her caught in its rough grasp, refusing to let her go.
I sink to my knees in front of her, careful not to tear the billowing skirt still wrapped around her ankles. Her pussy is at eye level, instantly drawing my gaze. The wet spot on her panties has soaked them through, leaving them clinging to the soft folds beneath.
I unclip the garters, placing kisses to her skin. She is so soft, so pale. A moan rolls up my throat as I catch the scent of her arousal again. God, I've never smelled anything like her. Sweet, like honey. Tart, like apple. Delicious.
My hands shake as I slide her panties down, slowly revealing her to my gaze.
"God, sweet baby," I groan when I finally tug her panties down her legs, exposing her completely.
She cants one leg inward as if to shyly hide herself from my gaze.
I run the back of my hand down her thigh in a soothing gesture. She has nothing to hide from me, not here. Not now. She is perfection, bare and so pink it almost hurts to look at her. The contrast of my darker skin against hers is erotic as hell. To know this little thing has existed in the same world as me and I didn't know it before tonight makes me want to rage.
"You're so fucking pretty here," I murmur, lifting my head to meet her gaze, so she knows I'm not just feeding her a line. I'm not. "So sweet and pink. God, just your smell has me ready to come in my pants. I'm starving for you, princess."
"Jared," she whispers, her voice low and throaty, pleading.
I lean forward and press my lips to her mound. My eyes lose contact with hers as they roll back in my head. My God. She really is soft everywhere. Her thighs tremble. I wrap one hand around her knee and urge her to lift her leg. She drapes it over my shoulder with a little gasp that's part modesty, part delight.
I may be the Big Bad Wolf here, but Little Red wants me to devour her.
She needs it as badly as I do.
"Steady, sweet baby," I croon, helping to hold her still when she stumbles a little before she's able to right herself. She's so turned on she ca
n't seem to stay still. I'm so turned on I can't seem to take a breath. My entire body is clenched tight, anticipation twisting my muscles into knots.
"Jared," she whispers again.
I'm going to hear her saying my name like that in my sleep. In those quiet moments when I'm standing in front of the podium, waiting for my students to arrive. When I'm in line for coffee in the mornings or sitting in front of my laptop at night. It's going to haunt me, every second of the day I'm not at her side. I already know it is.
"Oh my…Oh!" she moans when I part her lips with two fingers and spear my tongue into her sticky folds. I don't take it easy on her. I can't. I go straight for her clit, desperate to get my lips around it, to show her how good I'm going to make her feel.
She tastes exactly as decadent as I imagined, and yet somehow even better, too. Vanilla honey bursts on my tongue and then slides down my throat. Her nails dig into my shoulders, a throaty cry leaving her lips. I run my tongue all around her clit, kiss her little slit like it's her mouth. Everything else fades as I focus on her…on giving her pleasure and making her sing for me.
She does it so sweetly.
Her legs tremble and shake so hard, I'm slightly concerned she's going to lose her balance. Somehow, I manage to guide her other leg over my shoulder, opening her up to me without removing my face from between her legs. I balance her on my arms, not the least concerned that I might drop her. She tenses as if she's afraid to fall, but it lasts only a moment before she relaxes against the wall, putting her faith in me without reservation.
I thrust my tongue into her tight hole, fighting like hell to get inside that tiny thing. She's tighter than anything I've ever experienced, her body fighting the intrusion tooth and nail. Somehow, that turns me on like nothing else. Her body makes me work to claim her. I do. Like a fucking dog.
I play with her until she's whining my name in an endless chant. Eat her until her juices drip down my chin and all I can remember is how fucking good she tastes, how sweetly she cries out my name…how much I love the way she grinds against my face and pleads for more.