by Anna Edwards
“I just can’t believe you went to Oxford. That’s amazing. You’ll have to show me your alumni t-shirt one day.”
“You could come back and see it after dinner if you want.” I realize how those words could be misconstrued as soon as they leave my mouth. Shit!
This time she doesn’t spit the fajita at me but holds it in a wide-open mouth.
She quickly swallows her food and then asks, “To see your alumni t-shirt?”
“If you want?” This time, I decide to make it clear that I want her. I slide my foot over to her side of the table and up her leg. “Let’s not beat around the bush anymore, Chiara. I don’t know what it is between us, but every time you're anywhere near me, my dick gets so hard I feel it won’t ever go down.”
“H-huh.” She stutters over her words.
“And you seem to go bright red, and”—I lean forward over the table— “I can smell your sex preparing itself for me whenever I walk in the room. I bet you’ve been wet all night.”
“Huh,” she repeats, and I love how endearing she is. She’s like a rabbit caught in the headlights waiting for the big bad wolf to devour her if she tells me I can. I don’t take anything by force.
“Do you want me?” I ask again, and she puts her hand up in the air and waves at the waiter.
“Can we get two slices of the chocolate cake to go and the bill, please?”
Chapter Three
Chaira
“Do you live with your mum?” I ask as Alex drives us from the restaurant to his house on the outskirts of Hertford.
“Should I?” He takes one hand off the wheel and rubs it up and down my leg. I chose to wear a midi skirt tonight as opposed to my usual uniform of leggings and a tunic top. I’m secretly performing a happy dance in my head when he bunches the fabric up a bit, and his rough hands touch the soft flesh by my knee. Why do men always have calloused hands? What do they do to get them? I don’t see Alex as much of a DIY freak to warrant such rough fingers. It’s probably due to a lack of daily moisturizing. He definitely doesn’t seem like the type of man who’d have a daily routine involving plucking unwanted hair, exfoliating, and moisturizing. No, he seems to me more like a splash of water and a squirt of soap type of guy. Ruggedly handsome with a five o’clock shadow. I let out a long sigh and suddenly remember he asked me something.
“I just wondered. I live with mine, and I don’t want your mum thinking badly of me coming back to your house to see your Oxford t-shirt.” The last part is said tongue-in-cheek. The only reason I’m going back to his house is to ride him like a cowgirl because it’s been far too long, and he’s not ‘rank’ like Bethany would say. Damn, I need to chill out a bit, or I’m going to start looking desperate. Time to play it cool...I move his hand away from my leg when it starts to travel higher even though it’s so damn difficult to do.
He wraps his fingers around my hand and brings it up to his lips.
“You don’t have to worry. I live alone.”
The next minute, we pull up a long driveway, and a massive mansion looms in front of us.
“Shit!” I exclaim. “You live here? I knew math was better paid than science…but damn! I’m definitely teaching the wrong subject.”
His big booming laugh fills the car, and we drive straight past the large house and on toward a small cottage in the grounds.
“I’m afraid the big house is my parents. This is mine.” He stops outside the cottage, and I instantly fall in love with it. It could be a complete bachelor pad inside with all modern conveniences and decor, but I wouldn’t care because from the outside it’s simply stunning. There’s a full moon tonight, and it illuminates the Georgian architecture, large windows, and symmetrical composition.
Alex opens my car door for me, and I step out.
“Wow. Is it genuinely Georgian?”
“Yes, it’s not a footballer’s house. It was built in 1760 to accommodate the steward of the manor and his family. When I came back from Oxford, I didn’t want to live in the main house. I’d had a taste of freedom and didn’t want to lose it, so my mum suggested I move in here.”
“And the steward?”
“My parents don’t need one. They sold their printing company for a small fortune a few years ago and now manage the main house as a venue for tourists and the odd wedding.”
He leads me toward the front door, and despite saying earlier I wouldn’t care if the decor was modern inside, I’m now secretly hoping it’s traditional as well. I’m not disappointed. As we enter the house, we walk into a hallway, which I can see leads off to a high ceiling lounge on the left, and a kitchen complete with Aga cooker on the right. Both rooms are painted in traditional colors and paneled in places with wood. There’s even a large grandfather clock in the corner of the lounge.
“Do you want a drink?” Alex guides me into the lounge with his hand wrapped around my waist.
“I want to see if upstairs is as beautiful as downstairs.” I lean back into him, his warmth and the beauty of his house wrapping me in a cocoon of hope. Is this a man I can finally trust? I know him well now, and he’s never given me a reason to doubt him. Maybe it’s time I leave the feelings I have about men at the door. It was one man who betrayed my trust, not all of them. Alex deserves the benefit of the doubt.
“You’re wanting to see if I have a four-poster bed?” His lips suckle on my ear before working their way down my neck, and I’m so grateful I decided to go for the sexy underwear option tonight, on the off chance. Granny pants, though comfortable and hold in all the lumps and bumps, are not what a man wants to see when he undresses a woman.
“You smell delicious,” he murmurs.
“I probably smell of garlic above anything else.”
“Then I do too, so it doesn’t matter.”
He turns me around in his arms to face him.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I first met you. It’s been difficult controlling myself around you at times. Do you know when you’re concentrating you stick your tongue out between your teeth? It’s so fucking hot.”
And there go my panties—they’ve totally melted.
“I... urm...” Sod it, I don’t need words anymore. I smash my lips to his and savor his taste. It is a little garlicky, but it’s fajita, so I’m happy. His tongue pushes against my lips, and I open to allow him entry. We tangle our tongues together in a deep kiss, wanting more and more of each other. Months of flirting and sexual tension, only alleviated by Peter, are suddenly soothed away by the man I’ve been dreaming of.
“Bedroom.” Alex pulls away from me—his eyes are wild and black as the night. “Need inside you.” He breathes quickly and scoops me up into his arms.
I’m not exactly a super skinny model. I eat a healthy amount, but the way he carries me is effortless, like I weigh nothing. He kicks open the door and deposits me on his bed.
“So beautiful, Chiara. So, fucking sexy.” He strokes his hand down my face, and I nip at his fingers when he presses them to my lips.
“Handsome,” I compliment him as I slide his leather jacket off his shoulders. He steps back, kicks his shoes off, and removes his shirt to give me my first sight of his sculpted body. I swear it should be criminal for a math teacher to look this good. The ones I had when I was at school were over-weight and nearly at death’s door. How is it I’m now working with one who should be gracing the covers of Vogue? I would have paid a lot more attention in math if my teacher had looked like Alex.
“Take off your top,” he orders me, and my lady parts are doing that strange tingling thing again. It’s his voice…it’s domineering, and I can’t seem to disobey. My t-shirt hits the floor next to his, and he licks his lips while looking at my breasts encased in their gossamer shield.
“Remove your bra.” He comes to kneel by the side of me on the bed as he speaks. His eyes penetrating so deeply into me I’m left breathless at the insistency in them.
I stretch my hand behind my back and unhook the clasp. Sexily, well as sexily
as I can manage, I lower my bra down until my hands are the only things to hide my breasts from his intense gaze.
“Chiara?” He raises an eyebrow, and my libido hits DEFCON One. I swear he only needs to touch me, and I’ll explode. That’s if he can maneuver through my wetness without slipping into the wrong hole.
I move my hands, and he instantly takes the nipple of one of my tits into his mouth. He sucks and licks until the tip is so hard it’s painful and then swaps his attention to the other nipple, evening out the sensations of pleasure entwined with pain between the two.
“Fuck,” I groan like a wanton harlot.” Need more.”
Bringing his mouth up to mine, he draws my lip between his teeth and pulls.
“How much more?” he questions and then delves his tongue back into my mouth before I have a chance to answer.
I reach forward and feel around the front of the jeans he’s wearing: a black pair of Calvin Kleins that give his bottom a bitable shape…not that I noticed when he went to the bathroom at dinner or anything. I find what I’m looking for and stroke his hardness, which is still covered by the soft denim fabric. Damn, he feels big. Maybe I really should have warmed myself up with Peter before I came out. It’s been nearly two years since I’ve had anyone inside me, and that was a drunken fumble at my friend’s wedding, so I don't remember much about it except he passed out before I finished.
“Fuck!” It’s his turn to nearly lose his cool. He grabs my hand and pushes me back down against the bed. His head’s now level with mine, and his erection’s poking into my thigh.” I’m going to come in my jeans if you carry on doing that.”
“I’d much rather you show me what tricks he can do first. I have you down as a man of stamina, Mr. Underwood.”
He runs his tongue across his teeth.
“Any tips you can give me from your biology teaching would be greatly appreciated, Miss Romano. See, I have this hot lady in my bed, and I haven't even seen her pussy yet.”
I hum a contented sigh. I’m not the only one struggling here.
“Maybe you could take a look at the pussy and touch it. I doubt it'll help with the perfectly impossible hardness in your pants, but it sure will feel good for the hot lady.”
“Getting impatient, Miss Romano?” Alex takes my skirt and pulls it down my thighs. I don’t have tights on underneath as the weather is mild for the time of the year. My body hums with excitement as he pulls the knickers I’m wearing down and discards them on the floor. Yes, I shaved tonight, so I’m all fresh and smooth down there. Phew!
“You were right,” Alex says as he leans down, pressing a kiss to my manicured mound. “Definitely not helping the hardness in my pants.” He parts my legs and slides his tongue along my slit. “Tastes so good though. Better than fajitas.”
“You lie.” I pat him lightly on the head. “Nothing can taste better than fajitas.”
He blows warm air over my feminine parts, and I writhe on the bed with need.
“I don’t know.” He sits back up and cups himself in his jeans. “I can think of another thing.”
“Maybe we’ll try that later,” I tease.
“Fuck, Chiara.”
Alex slides himself out of his jeans, and his thick, hard cock springs free from them. It’s fucking massive…the biggest I’ve ever seen. Damn! My decision not to warm myself up with Peter is looking even more stupid. I hope I don’t have the just fucked walk at school on Monday.
“You got a condom?” The biology teacher in me takes over.
“Of course.” Alex reaches into the bedside table of his nightstand and brings one out. “Er… please don’t think I bring loads of women back here. It’s in there just for safety… something my mum drilled into me ever since I was old enough to understand sex.”
“It’s ok. Just check the use-by date if it’s been that long,” I laugh at him, and he playfully smacks my thigh.
“Ouch.” I pout. “At least make me come before we start with the BDSM.”
“Chiara.” Alex grits his teeth and starts to roll the condom onto his dick.
“Yes?”
“Please don’t talk about BDSM at the moment. The thought of tying you up and spanking you will take me over the edge.”
“Ok, we can explore that next time.”
“Fuck!” His groan, this time, is long and drawn out. He positions himself at my entrance and slowly pushes in. I’m stretched wide, and Alex allows me a minute to adjust to his girth. Eventually the pain subsides and is replaced by a heat growing from my stomach. It fans out through my body, and my clit throbs with a need to be touched.
“Move, please,” I beg like I’m desperate, which I am. “Please.”
Alex leans over and kisses me on the nose.
“I’ll never deny you anything. You’ve captured me under your spell, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk away anytime soon.”
He draws his hips back and slams into me again before setting a movement that allows him to stroke against every sensitive part as he takes me.
“I don’t want you to walk away.” The words leave my mouth before I realize what I’ve said. I’ve never ever said that to a man before, but I know in my heart it’s true. This may be moving quickly. We’ve gone from colleagues to friends to lovers in the space of a few hours, but I have no regrets, and I’ve never felt that way before. Sex…the actual moment a man enters me has always felt wrong before because I don’t trust them. It’s different with Alex. I trust him implicitly.
Before long, I can feel my body spiraling out of control. What started as flickering embers is now a raging fire within me. I need to come. If I don’t, I’ll probably stop breathing and die. I just know it.
Alex reaches between us and strokes my clit. It’s all I need, and I come around his dick, milking it with wave after wave of my pulsating pussy.
He roars out my name, and I feel his dick swell even more before he comes.
I don’t know how long I’m floating, but it seems like forever. I’ve never experienced sex like that. It’s as though our bodies were made for each other. Pulling out, Alex collapses on the bed next to me. He brings me into his arms, and I nestle there against his chest.
“That was great,” he says breathlessly between gasps of air.
“Uh huh.” Is all I can manage to get out at the moment.
“Will you stay here tonight?” Alex kisses the top of my head.
“Yes.” I’m not leaving until I’m unable to walk. I need my fill of this man and perhaps some of the chocolate cake we brought home with us.
Chapter Four
Alex
I feed the slice of chocolate cake into Chiara’s open mouth. She swallows it down and licks her lips.
“Hmm. It’s delicious,” she purrs, and despite having come three times in the last few hours, my dick stirs in my jogging pants.
“Another bite?” I ask as I pop a piece into my mouth. I haven’t checked my insulin in a while, and all the sexual exercise I’ve been doing is likely to have lowered my sugar levels. Hopefully the sugar in the cake will stop me going into a hypo until I can check.
“Is the Pope Catholic?” Chiara teases me as I feed her another mouthful of cake.
We’re sitting on my lounge floor surrounded by the cushions from my sofa, and with a blanket over us. I’ve turned the TV onto a late-night movie, something about modern-day cowboys, which she seems to be enjoying. But I’ve been too busy staring at her…unable to believe we’ve finally been together. I’ve wanted Chiara for so long, but I’ve always felt I wasn’t good enough. I’m not a perfect man. I’ve got to be so careful all the time and plan ahead. Even flying with me is a hassle—I have to carry a doctor’s note to explain why I need to have needles in my hand luggage. My driver’s license has to be renewed every three years, and if I have two hypos in the space of a year that require someone to help me cope with them, then I could lose my license altogether. I’m at risk of complications with my eyes and issues with my feet, which could
even result in amputation, and then there’s the regular doctor’s checks I’m required to have every couple of months. Type 1 diabetes is for life and can’t be overcome by simply changing my diet, unfortunately. A fact that hasn’t stopped people from asking me in the past if I used to be fat when they’ve heard I have it. There is still a lot of ignorance out there in the world between the two types of diabetes. It’s something that saddens me.
Chiara lies back on the cushions. She’s wearing my t-shirt, and it rides up to reveal her pink lace panties underneath.
“My body is going to ache tomorrow. I don’t think I’ve had that much of a workout in ages,” she says with a smile.
“Not up for a fourth time then?” I offer with a lick of my lips.
“Damn! I won’t be able to walk in the morning,” she laughs.
“When was the last time you had sex?” I ask and place the now empty cake plate onto the coffee table in the center of the room.
“Personal questions already, Mr. Underwood?” she smirks at me.
“I’ve seen and licked your most intimate parts, Miss Romano. I think that question’s perfectly acceptable at this point.”
She squishes farther down into the cushions, and I pull the blanket over her, so she doesn’t get cold.
“It’s been nearly two years, and that was just a one-night stand. I’ve not found anyone I can trust. My last partner was a dick and not in the useful sense,” she tuts and shakes her head. “I found him fucking one of my friends a week after he’d asked me to be his girlfriend. Prat!”
“Ouch! I’ll make a note to stay away from your friends then.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” she pouts and reaches over the blanket to take my hand where it rests on her stomach. “What about you?”
“I’m nearly as bad as you…it’s been a year now,” I offer. “It was a one-night stand as well. We went back to her place after meeting in a club. I liked her and thought it could lead to more, but when I entered her house, it was a pigsty. There was stuff everywhere and plates with science experiments growing on them. You would have probably enjoyed that. However, I couldn’t have coped with it. I’m a little bit of a clean freak.”