Excerpt from SEER
(Werelock Evolution, Book 5)
Annnd … more awkward silence.
“What’s your major?” he finally shouted across the small table at me.
“Sociology,” I shouted back. This earned me a frown. “What?”
He shook his head, mouthing what looked like, “Nothing.” Then he glanced away, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. He seemed disappointed. Or … annoyed.
“What?” I repeated, eliciting a shrug as he returned his attention to me.
“That’s a fairly worthless major, don’t you think?” he announced in a voice loud enough to carry.
Assuming he was razzing me, I busted out laughing. Until I realized that he wasn’t smiling or laughing along with me—he was serious. Seriously insulting my choice of a major. My expression straightened along with my spine.
Superiority complex. Check. Douchebag. Check.
“What was your major?” I countered. “Back in the olden days when you went to school?”
“Medicine,” he answered, stone-faced. “I’m a physician.”
Hot as hell. Check. No sense of humor. Triple check.
And fail.
“Well, congratulations to you,” I said, saluting him with my shot glass, “on your worthy choice of major and profession.” Upon downing the cheap liquid courage, I set the empty glass onto the table, smiled, and slowly, very sensuously licked my lips at him. “So nice to have met you. Doctor.”
I dropped the word “doctor” like I was saying “asshole.” I could only hope his humor-impaired intelligence was superior enough to catch the distinction.
I’d already sashayed my heart-shaped hiney halfway back to the bar before I felt someone take hold of my elbow and steer me in a different direction. I didn’t have to look to know that it was him—my hot campus stalker-slash-doctor who thought I had a dumb major.
“Dude, what is your problem?” I grumbled, allowing him to guide me through the throng of dancing bodies toward the rear of the crowded club.
He couldn’t have heard me anyway, it was so damned noisy in there, so I proceeded to bitch aloud for my own gratification, “You’re the one with less than zero social skills who’s been following me around campus, spying from the shadows and leering at me like some hot, older James Bond on a foreign affairs mission to fuck my brains out. Well, trust me, Dr. I’m-too-good-for-the-dumb-college-girl-I’m-stalking, you could stand to take a course or two in the social sciences.”
Bond barked something at the two bouncers blocking the rear exit as we approached, and oddly, they stepped aside. “Close the door and allow no one to come out this way after us, understand?” Dr. Bossypants further decreed as he led me through the back door and into the dark alley behind the club.
“My problem”—he rounded on me once the metal back door had shut with a heavy thud, silencing the noise of the club—“is that you insist upon wearing clothing that is too short and too tight.”
“Oh … Em … Gee.” I jerked my elbow from his grasp. “You did not just say that to me.”
“My problem,” he continued, stepping right up into my personal space, “is that your ass in that pencil skirt makes me want to drop to my knees and thank God for finally creating a perfection worth sinking my teeth into.”
Uh …
Wha—?
I backed up a step, reclaiming my personal space and praying that my eroding equilibrium would follow suit. He stepped closer, stealing it right back.
“My problem is that just looking at your face gets me hard. So hard I’m afraid I’ll come in my pants like a horny teenager if I stare for too long.”
Oh.
Wow.
“My problem,” he told me in a matter-of-fact tone of voice as he proceeded to back me up into the brick wall of the building we’d just exited, “is that none of this should even be happening. I never should’ve noticed you or your luscious round ass and angel face and perfectly formed tits”—he slammed his fist against the brick wall behind me—“with the perfectly diabolical nipples that are constantly, constantly fucking hard, in the first place.”
“Did you just call my nipples … diabolical?” I asked in a strange, breathy voice that came out as sultry as the molten inferno his words had ignited in my sex.
“Yes.” He reached for the buckle of his pants.
My eyes tracked the movement and saw that he was so not kidding about the “hard” part of his rant. And judging from the way his monster tool appeared about ready to Hulk-rip through the front of his slacks, it seemed I’d just hit the penis jackpot. No part of him was touching me, but he was standing so close, I swore I could feel the heat emanating off of that big cock—warming the butterflies scattering in my lower belly through the fabric of my high-waisted skirt.
“My problem … is that I’m about to fuck you in a dirty alley, unless you set a clear boundary right now and tell me to stop.”
My clitoris began throbbing so rapidly at his ultimatum that I was certain had there been more light in the alleyway, its fluttering would’ve actually been visible against the front of my tight skirt.
“Fuck no, I am not stopping this,” I blurted.
I saw his eyes momentarily widen and his lips part in the dim light of the alley.
“Fine, then. But understand that I am not calling you tomorrow,” he warned, abandoning his belt to reach for the hem of my skirt.
“Damn straight you aren’t.” I gasped as he pulled the hem of my skirt clear to my waist and simultaneously spun me around to face the brick wall. “Because I’m not giving you my number.”
I yelped when his palm connected sharply with my now very exposed, thong-clad ass. “Brat. You would give me your number, and you know it,” he scolded in my ear, squeezing my smarting ass cheek in his hand.
I meant to groan an “Oww,” but somehow it came out as “Ohh” instead. This seemed to irritate him further, because it earned my other cheek a smack.
“Cut it out or I’m gonna come in this alley before you even get that hulking cock of yours inside of me,” I complained.
That did it.
My panties were shredded straight off of me, and his hands were suddenly groping me everywhere at once, so fast it made my already-dizzy-with-lust head spin. I made a noise that sounded something like a cat getting strangled when both of his hands attacked my soaking core—his fingers scrambling to penetrate me like they were starving to get inside.
“You’re going to feel me for days,” he threatened, pressing his naked, hard length up against my ass as he thrust several fingers inside of me.
“Bring it,” I managed to rasp.
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