Chapter Five
A sense of rightness filled Erin as she ducked into the social sciences building. She’d been flush with anticipation all through her morning classes, knowing she would get to see Blake at lunchtime.
Two weeks had passed since Blake had accepted a position as a temporary adjunct professor with the university. They’d been together almost every evening in that time.
Normally they were consigned to the night, with takeout and a movie downstairs. They’d tear open the fortune cookies, adding “in bed” to whatever it gave them for the future. Soon life will become more interesting…in bed. And then Blake would set about proving it true in a languorous lovemaking session in his bedroom until the sun streamed between his blinds. Blake had joked that he was a gargoyle, turned to stone at sunrise. A not-so-subtle reference to the scars marring his handsome face.
She balanced two lattes from the vendor outside, slipping through the heavy crowd of students exiting the lecture rooms. A few banded together in small lines in front of the closed office doors. Office hours most commonly ran during the middle of the day between the usual blocks of class times. They began the week before classes started, to allow students to meet their new professors.
In Erin’s case, she had gone to see her advisor, who she already knew from previous years. He was smart and unassuming, so she liked him. He’d given her feedback on her preliminary ideas for the final research paper. She would incorporate his critique into her outline over the next few days, and he would sign off on it when school began.
She had one more stop to make before she left campus.
Professor Morris. The name made her flush with sexual heat. Probably because she’d called him that when he went down on her last night.
He was only here temporarily, but the letters were freshly engraved on the frosted glass of his office door. They must be hopeful he’d stick around beyond one semester. So was she.
Voices came from inside. Damn. Someone had beat her to him. Ah well, better that way. Then he could spend the rest of his office time with her. Oh, she knew he had a job to do. Amusing Erin Raider wasn’t why the university had begged him to be an adjunct professor. But it was the first week of classes; how many questions could they have?
Someone jostled her in the hallway, and scalding coffee spilled onto her hand.
“Shit,” she muttered.
A shadow moved in the office, then another. So there were a few students in there, chatting up the new professor to get in his good graces. With a start, she realized that must be exactly how she looked, coming to bribe him with a coffee. A blush heated her cheeks far more than the hot liquid could. If only they knew what she really did for him.
But no one would know. They had agreed not to tell anyone. More accurately, she had talked him out of disclosing their prior relationship. The position would be toast if the university knew he had a sexual relationship with a student, even if she wasn’t his student. She could see the wisdom in that. It was an ethical black mark, but no way was she putting off graduating or letting him get out of his return to society.
One semester. Only one little semester and they’d both be free. They could have a relationship out in the open. Bliss.
The hallway thinned to the occasional straggler. Finally the office door opened, and two girls tumbled out, a flurry of tiny tank tops and scrunchies, the kind of adorable, I-just-threw-this-on look that Erin always envied. They barely spared her a glance, but some sense of propriety held her back from rushing inside before the door swung shut. No need to draw attention to her double-fisted coffee routine. Acting casual, she hitched her backpack on her shoulder and reached for the latch on the door. With her back turned, she heard them speak.
“Did you see his face?” one of them said, giggling.
“I couldn’t stop looking, and not in a good way,” the other replied.
Erin froze. She held the door handle, but she was stunned by their awful words. They weren’t making any effort to be quiet, despite the fact that they’d only made it two feet away. She wasn’t sure if Blake could hear them from inside, but if she opened the door, he certainly would.
The first girl sighed. “Yeah, but when he turned around…damn, I didn’t mind looking then.”
“Mm-hmm,” the other agreed. “That was a fine piece of ass, no doubt. As long as he faces the other direction, I could stare at him all day.”
They continued down the hallway as anger bubbled up inside her. She’d always considered herself a passable feminist; certainly outright objectification or meanness bothered her. But here it was directed at not only a man, but the man she cared about. The man she loved.
Swallowing hard, she pushed inside.
“Hey, Professor. You have a minute?”
Blake looked up from his desk and smiled. “For you, always.”
Maybe for the first time, she studied him critically. One half of his face was handsome, beautiful even. The other was matted with heavy burn scars from the top of his lip to his temple. His eye was still functional, but the shape didn’t match the other side, giving him a mismatched appearance.
She liked everything about the way he looked. The bravery of his military service, the bravery he showed going out into the world despite how people judged him. How precious it was that he’d lived, that he was with her.
Suffused with sudden emotion, she shoved the coffees onto a cluttered file cabinet and launched her arms around his neck. He caught her with an oomph but soon after tightened his embrace into a hug.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, laughing slightly.
I’m so proud of you. But she didn’t want to bring it up if he hadn’t heard those girls. He seemed in good spirits. Instead she said, “Missed you.”
“You saw me last night,” he reminded her.
She pulled back, smiling slyly. “And again this morning.”
His eyes darkened, and she felt him thickening against her belly. He was so quick to arousal, always ready for more.
Holding his gaze, she slid her hand down. His stomach was taut beneath the button-down and undershirt she’d watched him don this morning. Her fingers crossed the ridge of his belt like it was the damned Rubicon, the point of no return. They were in his office, but they were alone…and damn it, she felt the need to please him. To pleasure him after those ridiculous girls had sullied him, whether he knew it or not. She found his erection, thick and pulsing.
He bucked into her hand, groaning. “Erin. Erin.”
She loved her name on his lips.
“Yes?” she asked innocently. “Is something wrong?”
He gasped out something she couldn’t understand. It didn’t matter. His body told her what she needed to know: the heat beneath her palm, the shudder of his thighs beneath the smooth slacks. The arousal that fine wool and linen did little to conceal. He needed this as much as she did. God, he looked good in a suit. She wouldn’t have blamed those girls for their gawking if they hadn’t been so cruel about his scars.
She sank to her knees, pushing him gently against the wall. Their bodies blocked the door; no one would be able to walk in and see them. But someone could try, and what would their excuse be for blocking the way? Even worse, if someone outside were very near and very quiet, they might be able to hear the ragged breaths wrenched from Blake’s throat, the rasp of his zipper as she tugged it down, the low groan as she pulled him out, skin to skin.
The risk excited her. So different from the safe circle of his bedroom. It felt, somehow, like a declaration. A statement of intent. He’s mine.
He was heavy in her hand, a weight she’d expect from a man who hadn’t been laid in months. Instead he was like this every time. Large enough to fill her palm, her sex…her mouth. A wicked smile tilted her lips.
His nostrils flared, higher on the right side than the left. “God, Erin. What are you doing to me?”
“Should I stop, Professor Morris?”
* * *
Should she stop? No, don’t stop, ever.
Wait. Blake forced the lust fever back, allowed his mind to clear and really think on what they were doing. She looked so beautiful there, with her lips a full, pouty pink and her dark eyes sultry with arousal, that he almost couldn’t control himself, almost couldn’t stop. But she deserved better than being on her knees in this dusty office where someone might walk in. She deserved a lot better than him, but now that he had her, he didn’t plan on giving her up anytime soon.
He should be able to control himself better when he was so well practiced in denial, but damn it, he wanted those pink lips on him, he wanted her sweet, warm heat, but he wanted so much more. Her moans, her pleasure.
“Are you sure we should be doing this here?” His voice came out hoarse, belying any consideration implied in his words. He wanted this so fucking bad.
She squeezed gently, making his hips jerk. She smiled, pleased with her power. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”
Ah, hell. So beautiful. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sight, but he couldn’t last for long that way, feeling the brush of her breath against his exposed cock.
“Erin.”
“Yes, Professor?”
He narrowed his eyes, feeling on the verge of some discovery, on the edge of the cliff and he would jump just to be with her.
“You like this.” Surprise filled his voice. Surprise and wonder.
A small smile curved her lips, though she didn’t answer.
“The idea that someone might walk in on us. It turns you on. It excites you.”
Her cheeks darkened with a blush. She kept her eyes trained on his cock as her hands took up a steady stroke. He wouldn’t be distracted.
“Stand up then,” he rasped. “Let me take care of you.”
She shook her head, slow and coy. God, she turned him on. She only had to look at him, to smile, and he was revved up, ready to burst. But when she was like this, seductive, empowered, he wanted to fall at her feet.
But that wasn’t what she wanted.
“And maybe the power, too,” he mused. “You like me being in control. The role-play.”
“Well, you are a professor.”
“And you’re a student. A naughty one.”
She laughed. “Am I?”
Oh yes. For her, he would play any game, pay any price, and this was no hardship at all.
He knelt in front of her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her forehead gently. “That’s right. Coming into a professor’s office and taking out his cock. Do you do that for all your teachers?”
She blushed fiercely, eyes downcast. “No, sir.”
“Only me, then? This is your first time holding a professor’s cock in your hand?”
“Oh God,” she moaned. Then she righted herself. “Yes, sir.”
Fuck, when she called him sir, it made him lose his mind. “Do you think that was a wise move? I must say, you don’t seem to know what to do with it next.”
She startled at his words, jerking her hand on him. Too much, too fast—he’d blow before the game had finished.
“No, that won’t do at all.” He tsked. “Looks like I’ll have to teach you to do this as well. I hope you can be a better student now than you are in class.”
“Oh, I will.” Her eyes danced with arousal and latent humor. Comfortable with each other, she and Blake kept to their roles, the pleasure well worth the charade, but beneath that they communicated with a sly glance and familiar caress.
“You’ll be a good girl for me,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she begged, and he was lost, her willing slave in the form of a harsh taskmaster, wanting to please her in any way, any form, and illicit role-play was on order.
Slowly he stood up, running the pad of his thumb along her plush lower lip. “Then let’s put this mouth to better use.”
* * *
A glistening drop of precum formed on the tip of his cock, giving lie to the sternness he presented. She wasn’t complaining, though. He filled out his role so well, both the lovely embarrassing words and the heft in her hand. Her mouth watered to taste him, but the tease was too fun to give up early.
“I’m so upset about getting a B, Professor Morris. I’m really an A-plus kind of student.” Of course it was all a game. This wasn’t reality; it was a sex world, a pretend place of security and wholeness.
She continued, “Is there anything I can do to convince you? I’m really quite diligent when I put my mind to the task.”
His eyes were slits, his upper lip lifted in a snarl of arousal. It was scary, and that excited her. She wasn’t frightened of him. His expression was feral because his lust was wild. Underneath, the man was gentle. Exceedingly kind. In fact, she’d thought he wouldn’t play along. That he wouldn’t be comfortable playing the role she’d cast him into. But she should have known better than to doubt him. He had never disappointed her yet.
“I’m sure I can think of some extra credit work for you to do.” His hand pressed gently behind her neck, urging her forward, closer, until she could smell the faint salty musk.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” she said breathlessly, wanting him to use those dirty words she so enjoyed.
He brought his thumb to her lips, rubbing across them in a way that heightened every nerve in her body. “A good student must apply herself,” he said, his voice gravelly and thick with need. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Won’t you give me instructions?” she whispered.
“Lick it. Here.” Guiding himself with one hand, he placed the soft, slippery skin at the tip against her lips. Tentatively, she licked. Outwardly she played the innocent, but inside she reveled in the salty-sex flavor of his passion.
Obliging him and taking it farther, she licked the tender slit again and again. His breath hitched sweetly at each slide of her tongue, but soon he moved on, directing her to lick and suck all over the broad head of his cock, down the underside.
He tapped her bottom lip. “Open.”
She dutifully opened her mouth. He angled his cock inside, thrusting gently as she grew accustomed to his girth. He was too large to move in her mouth quickly. She would inevitably gag, and he didn’t like that. It didn’t matter to her, but he minded any hint of her discomfort.
In steady pulses, he rocked against her face, climbing closer to orgasm. She could tell by the heavy breaths, the tightening of his fist in her hair. When she thought he would explode in her mouth, he pushed her back. In seconds she was up against the wall where he had been, her jeans yanked down and his mouth pressed to her core.
Gasping, he pulled away only long enough to say, “Couldn’t wait anymore.”
Then his mouth was back at her folds, licking and sucking. Pleasure coursed through her, sharp and sweet. Her hips bucked just like his, only more eager now that she was primed. She couldn’t help it; she rocked against the lovely pressure, humping his face, though the low groans told her he didn’t mind much.
Sensation raced over her skin, heightened by her eagerness all day, her anger at those girls, her love for this man. She climbed a peak, propelled by clever fingers and a wicked tongue. Frantic sounds escaped her, unwilling to be held back even at the expense of discovery. She rocked and shuddered, and with the smooth, slick curl of his tongue against her clit, found completion in a soft rush and sated sigh.
He turned her around, bending her over the file cabinet. She grasped the sides, the metal cool and slick beneath her sweaty palms. She heard the condom wrapper tear, felt him nudge her from behind, felt her slick, swollen flesh part for the broad head of his cock. He didn’t waste time; as if his restraint had eroded, he pushed inside, smooth and fast. She gasped at the feeling of being full—too full, a pleasurable hum stretching into an ache deep inside. That small pain was the sweetest, a signal of his loss of control, a sign of his lust. She clenched her muscles, reveling in the low groan pulled from him. He set up a hard, swift rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before plunging to the hilt. She could only hold on, only cling to the hard slippery metal surface with her mouth open in a silent cry until he froze and dug into her hips and throbbed inside her as he came.
For a moment, he curved his strong body over hers in repose and possession. His breath was harsh against the back of her neck, mingling with hers in the cool, dusty air. All too soon, he pulled out—more gently now, gingerly even.
She started to stand, but he pressed her lower back to keep her still.
“Let me clean you.” His voice was rough, an audible remnant of the passion they’d just shared. He tore a paper towel from the roll on a bookcase.
She squirmed at the rasp of paper on her tender flesh. She reached back to take it from him, but he stayed her hand.
“Let me,” he repeated.
Biting her lip, she remained still for his touch.
“It’s too bright in here,” she whispered. He could see every part of her this way. Bent over, she was exposed. Her cunt, her asshole—all of it on display. The corner of the cabinet was cutting into her belly now, more noticeable without the haze of arousal.
He trailed a finger through her inner lips up through the crease in her ass, wringing a shudder from her. “You’re beautiful here. Everywhere.”
It pained her that he meant it as a contrast to him, but she didn’t know how to comfort him without raising the issue herself. A kind word could turn the knife already inside him if she wasn’t careful. In the end, he solved the problem by bringing it up himself.
“You didn’t have to do it,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Have sex in my office because those girls insulted me.”
He spoke so flatly, without emotion, such a contrast to the warm joy that had filled his voice just seconds before that she felt the loss reverberate in her heart. So he’d heard them. And he’d known all along what had driven her—but he would interpret that as pity, not…well, what was it? Kindness? Love? She wanted him to be happy, not to worry, but the world would always judge him, would always mock and belittle him for the scars he’d earned protecting it.
She understood then why he kept her bent over for his admission. It was the veil of confession, distance and darkness allowing the words to come out. The fact that he’d admitted it at all cut her to the quick. He’d been willing to accept the sex he didn’t believe he deserved, but he would release her of any further obligation.
She turned, ignoring his damned divide, and framed his face in her hands. Both sides, one chiseled jaw gently bristled with hair, the other wavy and lacking in hair. Surprise flickered in his deep brown eyes.
“Damn you,” she said. “I had sex with you because I wanted to. Because I wanted you, and unless you want an argument on your hands, you damn well better not forget it.”
He blinked, taken aback. Well, she was too. A little shell-shocked, a little desperate. In some ways, they were close, intimate. Certainly the sex was amazing. But in other ways, she couldn’t break through. His scars were just the surface. He still suffered nightmares for what had happened there. He would always be chained by a past she couldn’t unlock.
“Just let me in,” she whispered, a breath away from his lips.
His eyes searched hers. “All of me, Erin. You already have all of me.”
Even while the sweet words sent joy through her heart, sadness weighed her down. This was all he could give her, he meant. And it would have to be enough, for now.
The sound of a friendly shout from down the hall pulled her attention to the present, the physical. She quickly arranged her clothes back into place. A rueful smile curved Blake’s lips as he did the same and tossed the paper towel into the trash.
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always keep that handy for sex?”
He grinned, which looked charmingly crooked. In reality, it was the scars that tugged one side of his mouth, but that lopsided smile never failed to tighten her chest.
“Just cleaning up,” he said, resting on the edge of his desk. “It’s so stuffy in these old offices.”
“I think it’s all that intellect,” she teased. “Can’t help but get a little full of yourselves.”
“Ah, but you’re the ones with the fresh ideas. We had our chance to change the world. Now it’s your turn.”
“You talk like you’re so old.”
“I am so old.”
She snorted. He had maybe ten years on her and kept in better shape besides. “You keep up pretty well.”
His self-satisfied chuckle placated her. One day he would believe in them as much as she did. Until then…well, until then she would enjoy every second they spent together.
She plucked the roll of paper towels from beside him and replaced it on the bookshelf. While there, she scanned the older texts that she imagined had been here before. One shelf was noticeably brighter than the others—recently cleaned, no doubt—and contained a few books she recognized from his house.
The other half had the composition notebooks he was always scribbling his ideas in, new and stacked up. He would write something brilliant, an off-hand thought that she would consider from every angle before confirming it was correct.
His mind was a treasure-trove, and his body, she was finding, was the map. She could follow the sleek lines, traverse the hard-packed muscles and salty earth and learn him inch by inch, but she’d be no closer to her goal. Great sex would never be enough for her. She wanted him.