Reflection (The Chrysalis Series) (12 page)

Hell, yeah.

He reached for her breasts, cupping and fondling them. Her nipples were hard nubs, tight and beaded. He pinched and squeezed them; she moaned, arching forward into his hand.

She began to move along his cock. Rising up and dropping down hard, taking him deep. Pulsing and throbbing inside her, he wanted to come so badly, but he was determined that she come first.

Licking his thumbs, he rubbed the moisture into her nipples and she gasped.

‘That’s so good, baby. I like that.’

He was trying to watch what he said too, but he wanted to encourage her. He wasn’t sure the more explicit things he wanted to say would go over well. Either way it worked; she was becoming wilder as she rode him.

She ground down on him and pushed her breasts into his hands. She wasn’t saying anything but her eyes were squeezed closed and she was whimpering.

He reared up and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. At the same time, he gripped her hips and thrust deeply inside her. She moaned long and hard. He sucked harder and thrust deeper. She became more urgent.

She churned and bucked on top of him and he gritted his teeth to stave off his own climax. This was what he wanted. He didn’t want her thinking. But he could feel her resistance. That wasn’t acceptable.

Matching her rhythm, he thrust deep and hard. She was too erratic for him to continue sucking those luscious breasts, so he switched to fingering her clit. He wanted her to come apart.

Her clitoris was swollen and protruding, and he alternated between rubbing and squeezing the hard bud. She bit her lip and ground down into him. She was holding back, he could feel it. He wanted her screaming his name, wanted her wild.

‘You’re fucking gorgeous,’ he groaned.

Her head was thrown back and her curls tumbled around her head. Her breasts were swollen and her nipples were red and pouty from his ministrations. She was clenching around his cock and he wasn’t sure he could hold out.

Suddenly, she grew wild; bucking hard, grinding her clit against him. Short, huffing gasps turned into one long moan as her body began to convulse. She cried out wordlessly and clenched hard around him.

He couldn’t hold out any more. Gripping her hips, he pounded into her and let himself explode. His cock jerked with each hot jet and he wished there were no barriers between them. He wanted to mark her.

She wouldn’t be getting away from him. He was going to see to that.

Bridget collapsed over Connor and tried to control her breathing. Without question, that was the best orgasm she’d ever had. She’d had a moment there where she’d almost lost it. Almost given in and begged Connor to make her burn when he’d begun to play with her nipples.

He may have given her food for thought, but she wasn’t sure she agreed with him yet and she wasn’t taking any chances. Either way, what they’d just shared had been amazing.

She rolled off him, concerned she would become too heavy, and snuggled in next to him.

Kissing her forehead, he said, ‘Give me a sec. Let me take care of this.’

She watched him stroll naked to the bathroom. He really did have a fine ass. She smiled, knowing that she’d found someone with whom she might be able to have a real relationship. Something she’d more or less given up on. Time would tell the real story, but she wasn’t willing to walk away without seeing where this went first.

Connor climbed back into bed and pulled her close, but whatever he’d been about to say was lost to Lotus jumping up on the bed.

She licked their faces thoroughly, leaving them both squealing. Bridget was pleased to see that Daisy had better manners and was still on the floor, though she was equally as ready for them to get up.

‘Ah well, sugar. Doggie duty calls,’ she said as she got out of bed and hunted up her clothes.

‘Lotus, Daddy was trying to get some more action.’ He ruffled her head. ‘I’m going to have to teach you about timing.’

Bridget laughed at him and said, ‘Come on, lazy. Let’s walk the dogs.’

‘All right, but I meant what I said.’ He pulled on a pair of sweats as he talked. ‘I’m not close to done with you.’

A small shiver ran down her spine. She felt like there was more to what he said than the words he spoke.

‘Is that right?’ She quirked an eyebrow in his direction.

‘Yes, that’s exactly right.’ He looked her dead in the eye as he spoke.

Suddenly she felt off kilter again.

He must have sensed something, for he dropped the shirt he’d been about to put on and gently pulled her into his arms.

‘Bridget, I want you to trust me so that you can finally let what happened go. That’s all I really meant. I want to show you what sex can be between two consenting adults and I want to show you what we can be together.’ He kissed her gently. ‘If you’ll let me, that is.’

‘OK,’ she murmured into his shoulder despite the butterflies that had multiplied exponentially in her stomach. Squeezing Connor, she repeated, ‘OK.’

She hoped like heck she knew what she was doing.

Chapter Thirteen

Dale Whittier liked the finer things in life. As he stirred a spoonful of organic cane sugar into his freshly-brewed, dark roast Colombian coffee, he contemplated how he’d come to be at Pinewood. Serving as Dean at some tiny little university in the middle-of-nowhere Vermont had not been on his agenda. He’d been a rising star at Stanford University. Firmly on his way to achieving his personal goal – president of the university.

But then that little bitch had fucked everything up when she’d reported him. The ensuing scandal had squelched his plans. She’d been a student at the university, for God’s sake. How on earth could he have been expected to know she was still underage? Besides, she’d thrown herself at him, not the other way around.

He had had no need to go seeking jailbait. She’d been in his senior level chemistry class and was obviously infatuated, flirting with him at every opportunity. Always pretending to be shy and yet making sure her buttons were always undone just enough that he got a face full of tits every time she leaned over her desk.

She’d come to every single study session and office hours too. And she’d always brought cookies and other treats. If he said he liked chocolate chip cookies, she made sure to bring them the very next time.

She did everything except beg him to fuck her. Who was he not to oblige? If she wanted to ride his cock so bad, he’d let her. Then the bitch had reported him. Cocksucking little cunt. He’d been allowed to “quietly resign” for his ethical violation.

He’d done the bitch a favour and what had he gotten for it? A one-way ticket to Vermont and this tiny university that was below him. The only saving grace being that now, rather than Professor, he was Dean of the School of Sciences and once again back on the fast track to president.

And he certainly didn’t lack for pussy. With his combination of money and looks, women practically threw themselves at him. Gold-digging little whores that they were. They all just wanted his money. They served a purpose, though. A grin split his face as he thought of that purpose. He did love to fuck. He couldn’t get enough. And he took what he wanted. There was nothing better than a woman submitting to his will.

Oh, he didn’t force himself on them, he was no rapist, but he loved that look of utter helplessness; the self-recrimination that flooded their eyes as he took them. Little Skyler had been the best so far. He especially loved a virgin.

Initiating them was its own intoxication. Their tight little pussies, untried and waiting for him to mark them. Every man who came after would be for ever held in comparison to him whether they wanted it or not. Every man who came after him would benefit from his training. He served his fellow man even as he served himself.

Skyler could suck a mean cock now. She could swallow him down and lick his nuts in one breath and what she could do with her pussy was off the charts. She could milk the come out of him in no time flat.

Her tears had been sublime. She’d tried to break things off with him, claiming an attack of conscience, but he wasn’t done with her yet. Her scholarship was under his control and he’d made sure she knew that. Sure, she could switch majors, lose her scholarship. That’s all she had to do to end their affair, but she lived and breathed chemistry. Her dream, as she’d so sweetly shared with him that first “chance” meeting over coffee, was to work for the FBI as a forensic chemist and do drug analysis. CSI-type stuff.

You didn’t do that without a chemistry degree. With her family being so financially strapped, she needed her scholarship. She couldn’t just pick up and transfer. Dale grinned at how neatly he’d trapped her.

Pulling back the cuff on his silk sweater, he checked the time. Ross was late. She was so passive aggressive with him. She honestly believed she wasn’t going to fuck him. He snorted and took another sip of his coffee. They all gave him what he wanted in the end.

With Bridget, the chase had been fun. Her little gasps and shivers when he “accidentally” touched her were especially sweet. Unlike most, she was playing hard to get. It had been cute at first, but it was wearing thin.

She needed to get with the programme. Skyler was outliving her usefulness and she’d already proven to be irresponsible. The little cunt had gotten pregnant after swearing she was on the pill.

He wasn’t going to be saddled with a brat; she’d better keep that appointment or there would be hell to pay. His physician was discreet, at least, he didn’t have to worry about this getting around campus, but the fun of fucking her was gone now. He couldn’t relax and let go knowing there was a brat in there, and she’d proven she could no longer be trusted.

Yes, he was almost done with her. It was time for bigger fish and Bridget was definitely bigger in all the right places. Big tits that would wrap nicely around his dick and an ass that was begging to be fucked. He bet she was a crier too. She’d weep pretty tears the entire time and he’d taste them as he came. His body hardened at the thought.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Bridget walked through the door.

His heart thundered in his chest at the sight of her, just as it did every time he saw her.

Bridget’s stomach lurched at the realisation that Dean Whittier was alone in the conference room. She’d deliberately come five minutes late just to ensure she wasn’t the first to arrive. She glanced at the clock on the panelled wall; it was definitely 8.05 a.m.

Whittier sat there looking elegantly predatorial. He was immaculately dressed in a sweater and slacks, sipping coffee as if he hadn’t a care in the world, except for the fact that he looked like a lion who’d just scented a gazelle.

‘Bridget.’ He inclined his head her way. ‘You’re looking lovely as always.’

‘Where is everyone?’ She stopped short of actually entering the room and stood framed in the doorway.

‘The rest of the staff will be here at 8.30, I wanted to speak with you privately first.’ He set his coffee on the table and indicated for her to sit with a sweep of his hand.

Reluctantly, Bridget took the seat at the far end of the table, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Dean Whittier stood and moved to close the door. Her heart rate jacked up a notch at being alone and behind closed doors with him.

‘Coffee?’ he asked, moving over to the sideboard and picking up the carafe.

‘No, thank you.’

He ignored her and poured her a cup. He even added cream and sugar, leaving her bewildered at his knowledge of how she took her coffee, and set the mug in front of her. Rather than return to the seat she’d found him in, he sat catty-corner to her.

‘Ross, as you know your tenure evaluation is coming up at the end of the semester.’

He leaned forward and looked her in the eye. She trembled at the look of smugness she saw there. There was nothing warm in those eyes. They were the blue of ice and she shivered as they bore into her. Gripping the coffee cup, she vainly tried to absorb some of its warmth into her body.

‘I think it’s time that you and I got on the same page.’

He stroked a long, elegant finger along her arm, raising goosebumps and causing her stomach to clench again as she pulled her hand back, shoving it between her legs. Anger flashed across his face, but he quickly schooled his expression.

‘What page would that be, Dean?’

He smiled and stood, coming to stand behind her. The way he moved reminded her of a reptile, cold and slithering. She tensed and her skin prickled at the feel of him behind her.

‘My dear Bridget.’ He leaned over her, resting his hands on the back of her chair but brushing her skin in the process. She could smell his cologne; it was a spicy scent that on anyone else would have been intoxicating. Instead, it made her nauseous. ‘You know what I want. Playing hard to get with me is cute, but it’s wearing thin. I control your tenure review. If you want my signature on that page, you’re going to give me what I want. Do you understand? Because if you don’t I will make sure not only do you lose your job here, no one will hire you when I’m done with you.’

‘You bastard!’ Bridget hissed and lurched up, pushing the chair back as she did so. Whittier fell back, catching himself on the wall. Panic flooded her and she began to tremble violently from head to toe. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Threatening me with my job. This is harassment.’

Her heart raced and dizziness threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to give in. She went on the offensive instead.

‘Besides, what do you have over me? Huh? The last time I checked I performed my duties as a professor here more than competently. My student evaluation average is one of the highest on campus and I’ve published more in the time I’ve been here than anyone else in the department. So, you’ll have to enlighten me as to what you’re referring to as it relates to my tenure evaluation.’

Rage suffused his face as he straightened and pushed away from the wall, smoothing his clothes before speaking in a cold voice. ‘Listen to me, Ross. Who are you going to run to? President Harvey? That doddering old fool does exactly what I tell him to do. He wants my family’s money in this university and he knows that harming me is harming his budget. So, good luck with that one.’

He was right. Harvey had acquiesced to Whittier so much it was a running joke that he needed a straw to suck up as hard as he did.

Either way, she wasn’t going to stay here and be preyed upon. Those days were over. She rushed to the door, wrenched it open, and almost ran headlong into Martha McBrand.

‘Oh!’ Martha cried out as she stepped back.

Bridget quickly pulled herself together and gently brought the door fully open, leaving it that way. As her colleagues began to file into the room, Bridget once again settled into the chair closest to the door and felt growing despair as Whittier’s threats sank in.

*               *               *

‘Stop, Daisy!’

Bridget admonished the dog who was currently carpet surfing on the area rug in Bridget’s living room. Normally, she found it amusing when the dog flopped on her back and began rubbing around as if she had the worst itch in the world. Tonight, however, there was no solace to be found. Not even the mint chocolate chip ice cream was helping and it was her go-to comfort food.

Bridget had come home hoping to find some comfort in her personal space. She’d taken great care in decorating her home. Her living room was eclectic yet modern with comfortable furniture that was soft and enveloping while still having clean lines. She’d decorated in warm tones of pale browns, gold and orange, with touches of flair in the art and knick-knacks. It reflected the woman she considered herself to be – warm, welcoming, and classy. She’d always found sanctuary in her home.

Tonight, she just felt alone.

She’d considered calling Connor, asking him to come over, but decided against it. She wasn’t ready to let him that close. Despite what they’d shared, she wanted to take this
very
slow with him. He left her unsettled and she didn’t like that.

On the one hand, they were good together. He made her laugh. But he challenged her in ways that made her want to run the other direction. His ideas about sex were intriguing, but they also meant she’d wasted almost 20 years of her life.

Uggh! Let it go, she told herself. You’ve got more pressing problems.

Dale Whittier could very well ruin her career.

She’d thought about calling Claire and Mona, but she already knew what they’d say. They’d tell her to report it. To not let him get the best of her. And, while Bridget agreed in principle, it wasn’t that simple.

This was her career at stake.

She could report the harassment, but even if her complaint was successful, she’d find herself labelled a troublemaker and have a hard time finding work elsewhere.

If she got her tenure successfully, she’d be almost untouchable. It was one of the reasons she’d selected Pinewood to begin with. With so few universities maintaining a tenure programme these days, a teacher was constantly auditioning for their job. They’d be lucky to get more than a one-year contract, but the responsibilities were still the same despite the lack of payoff in return for the professor.

When she’d been in that position, she’d still had to advise. Still had to participate in university activities. Still had to be accountable for the curriculum, passing rates, and student evaluations. She’d still had to publish and be relevant but had no assurance that the 50 to 60 hours a week she put in would result in her contract being renewed or her salary not being cut when it came time to renegotiate.

She’d suffered through a few of those types of contracts when she first began teaching and quickly determined she’d wanted a tenured position. When the position had become available at Pinewood she’d done her damnedest to land it and she deeply resented the dean for putting her back up against the wall this way.

She probably wouldn’t have taken the position if he’d been in charge when she interviewed. She wasn’t one to put herself into the line of fire if it could be avoided and she’d known the day she met Whittier that he was going to be trouble. His eyes had lingered too long. His tone had been suggestive and he’d made her feel like a piece of meat under inspection for consumption.

Dean Winslow, Whittier’s predecessor, had been a kind man with a compassionate face that lit up when he spoke of the research he did in addition to leading the department. Her interview had taken place over coffee in the teachers’ lounge because he’d said he wanted all the candidates to get a feel for what it was really like in the department rather than a sterile interview in his office. They’d gone much longer than the 45 minutes he’d allotted for the interview as they’d discussed their passion for teaching and how satisfying it was to see the light bulb go off in a student’s eyes when they finally grasped complex chemical concepts.

She’d instantly liked him and they’d become close that first year. Winslow had become a mentor to her. Unfortunately, his heart had begun to fail and he’d decided to retire. He still served on the board of directors, but he spent most of his time in his garden now or with his children and grandchildren.