PleasuringtheProfessor (3 page)

He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “All right.
Fine. But I don’t want you badgering me with questions until then. You get one
interview. One. Not a long, distended Q&A. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” she muttered. She looked around the cabin for the
first time, given she hadn’t noticed much before, what with being freezing when
she’d first shown up and then all the hot sex distracting her. Bare bones would
be a kind term for the décor. A braided rug on the hard wood floor, a Salvation
Army reject of a plaid sofa and a couple of low, scarred end tables with books
piled high constituted the only furniture in the main room. The kitchen had a
small table as well and a couple of straight-backed chairs. Presumably there
was a bedroom at the back of the cabin where he had disappeared to in order to
get the shirt he gave her to wear. She didn’t harbor any illusions that she’d
be getting an invitation back there any time soon, though. It looked as if it
was the plaid couch for her.

“So NYU, you said?” he asked, surprising her. “Is Alex Friedman
still teaching there?”

“Yes. He’s my thesis advisor, as a matter of fact.”

Liam harrumphed, having exhausted his small talk apparently
and simply stared at her.

“I don’t mean to impinge on your very gracious hospitality
any further—”

“’Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively
bankrupt.’”

“But do you think I could get something to eat here?”

He levered himself off the counter. “Help yourself,” he flung
back as he headed to the bedroom.

A quick search of the empty refrigerator bore out that his
main sustenance was apparently whiskey. Digging in a cupboard, though, she
found some crackers and with the hunk of cheese she still had in her bag,
managed to make a meal. A diet soda in her bag washed it down. But when she
went to make peace with the plaid sofa, she realized she had to go to the
bathroom.

Drat. She should have asked before he disappeared. She
hadn’t heard a sound from the bedroom since then and a peek around the corner
showed her that the room was dark. She hoped to God he had indoor plumbing. She
hadn’t even thought of that. Bracing herself, she tiptoed through the dark
room, glancing at the sprawled figure she could just make out on top of the
covers on the bed, face down. There was a door on the opposite side of the room
and she hurried toward it, gratified to find it was indeed the bathroom.
Closing the door behind her, she fumbled for the light switch. A toilet, sink
and shower. Just the basics, but plenty adequate. After she’d done her
business, she considered taking a shower, but thought better of it. He’d
probably try to charge her for the hot water. Shutting the light off to avoid
waking him, she tiptoed past the bed.

A hand snaked out and caught her arm, pulling her down so
she tumbled on to the bed, with a hot, hard body suddenly beneath her. He
rolled over on top of her quickly so she was on the bottom.

“Come to share my bed, Mary?”

“It’s Clarie,” she whispered furiously, which Liam very well
knew. He just wanted to tease her.

Oh, and to fuck her again, of course.

She merely had to walk past him on her way to the bathroom
and he’d found himself rock hard at the thought of her bare body underneath his
shirt. It seemed as if she’d taken forever to come back out again and if it’d
been one minute more he would’ve gone in after her. But as it was, she’d come
out and he’d nabbed her, which was much more convenient seeing as how they were
now stretched out together on a bed.

He still had his damn pants on, but that was okay for what
he had in mind. He kissed her softly, stretching her arms above her head, and
although she struggled for a minute, she then quieted, kissing him back, her
little tongue sparring with his own. He could feel her hair, almost dry now,
spread out like a silky halo around them, but he couldn’t make out the color in
the darkened room.

Although he’d have thought that his first fuck in years
would have taken the edge off, he still wanted this girl pretty badly. But
after his behavior so far tonight—which he’d been mulling over, kicking himself
mentally, since he’d left her to her own devices without even making her a can
of chili or something—he wanted to play nice. She was a sweet, passionate girl
who by the grace of God had wandered in and given herself generously to a
cranky old asshole.

He lifted his head and saw her lips purse.

“Oh so now I’m invited to sleep in your bed,” she quipped.

“I didn’t say sleep in it. Just share it.” He kissed her
neck lightly, tasting the fresh tang of her skin.

“You’re kind of a jerk.”

“You’re just finding that out? I thought you said you were
doing your thesis on me. Didn’t you do any research? Talk to Friedman? I’m sure
he filled you in.”

Although the thought of Alex Friedman predictably threatened
to put a damper on his mood, he blocked it out, too entranced by the feel of
her underneath him to waste another second thinking of his old nemesis.
Scooting down a little, he started to unbutton her shirt. His shirt actually.
Her shirt. His shirt. Whatever. The point was he needed her naked.

“You weren’t always a jerk,” she whispered and he could hear
the tentative tone that signaled a searching question wasn’t far behind.

To forestall it, he put his fingers to the nipple of one
newly exposed breast and tugged, enough for her to cry out before he bent his
mouth to lick and suck the reddened nub. He could hear her breathing quicken
and, reasonably confident there would be no more observations on his character
or tentative inquiries thereon, he switched his attention to her other breast,
licking and sucking lightly.

God, how had he ever forgotten how mysterious and giving a
woman’s body could be? Just her little moans, the hardening of her nipples, the
slight spreading of her legs beneath him were all incredibly precious gifts to
his senses and his senses responded in kind. His cock was at full mast again,
his balls heavy and his heart…his heart was beating so fast.

He travelled from the soft, pillowy pleasure of her breasts
down, spreading the shirt to the sides to make way for him. Dropping kisses on
her ribs—which didn’t stick out like one of those anorexic models, but lurked
under a sweet layer of flesh—he made his way to her belly button, dipping his
tongue in as she squirmed a little. Reaching one hand down, he felt for the slick
lube between her legs, swirling it around with his fingers for now, readying
her further. When his lips reached the soft skin above her downy pubic hair, he
detoured, kissing the inside of one thigh and she moaned, jerking her hips up.
When he made no moves to center his efforts, she mumbled, “Just do it.”

He lifted his head with a smile. “Do what?”

Her eyes closed, she apparently did not appreciate his
teasing. “You know what.”

“Say it.”

“Go down on me.”

“You young girls are so forthright. Just putting it right
out there.”

“Don’t act like you’re an old man. You’re thirty-eight.”

“Is there anything you won’t say?
Go down on me
,” he
mimicked. “I bet you can say it dirtier. Come on.”

“Kiss my pussy.” It sounded as if she said it with her teeth
gritting. He laughed and kissed her other thigh.

“Say it nicer.”

“Please,” she amended, and because he could smell her
arousal so strongly and wanted to taste her more than he wanted his next
breath, he relented and placed his open mouth lightly, ever so lightly, on her
clit.

The taste of her was incredible.

She murmured approvingly, her hands drifting to his hair,
and he ran his tongue down the length of her clit, shoving two fingers in her
cunt as he did so, eliciting a stronger groan as her inner muscles clenched.

“You’re so tight and hot,” he whispered against her, still
kissing, licking and tonguing the engorged bud. He could barely see what he was
doing, which made it all the more erotic as he smelled and felt and tasted her.

“Come against my mouth.” He sucked then, hard, and she
bucked up against him, crying out. God, she was passionate. He dug his
throbbing cock so hard against the mattress it almost felt as if he came too.
Almost. As he slid up her body, his erection reminded him that he hadn’t. He
ran his hands along her soft skin, stopping to cup a breast, feeling the
panting in her chest as much as hearing it. He kissed her again, without really
meaning to, and her answering kiss, her arms coming to circle his neck, was so
sweet that he pulled away.

He took her hand from around his neck, bringing the palm to
his lips for a second, and then led it to his cock, intent on keeping this
experience in its place—sexual, not emotional. She cupped him through his pants
and he jerked, causing her to laugh a little.

“How about you ask me for something,” she said as she ran
her hand down the length of him, not yet unzipping his pants. He knew she was
offering him a blow job, but that wasn’t what he was looking for.

He had a horrible thought though. “You do have another
condom, don’t you?”

That really caused her to laugh. “Yes. Don’t sound so
panicked. But why don’t you have any?” She squeezed him. “Not an interview
question, I’m just wondering.”

He hesitated, wondering why he was bothering to answer. But
he was. “I haven’t had sex, even wanted sex, in a long time. If I ever had any
condoms, they’d be long expired. Believe me.”

She continued her slow stroke. “So what’s so special about
me? About tonight?”

Nothing.

He wanted to say it. He wanted to say that there was nothing
special about tonight. Nothing special about her.

He watched her face in the faint strands of moonlight that
made it in among the reflection of the snowflakes.

But he wasn’t that good a liar. There was something special.
He just didn’t know what the hell it was.

“’No more than a moment in a sea of hours, but when our
limbs and lips met and joined, we were one in that moment.’”

He started. He hadn’t thought of that line for years. Hadn’t
thought of the delicate precision with which he had crafted it, and the pride
he had once felt when it was cited. It was all bullshit anyway.

The moment
slipped away. “Don’t quote me to myself.”

“Why not? It’s beautiful.”

He shrugged. “Not to me. Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry then.”

“So the condoms, are they in your bag?”

“Yeah.” She started to sit up. “I’ll get them.”

“No, that’s okay. Stay here. The floor’s cold. I’ll get
them.”

Padding out to the living room, he saw she’d left all the
lights on, making it easy to spot the canvas bag by the now-banked fire.
Scooting down, he was rummaging inside when an insistent buzz came from
something he’d grasped sifting through her belongings. Picking it up to look,
he saw it was her phone, but it wasn’t ringing. Instead there was a text that
popped up in neon blue on the face of the phone, catching his attention,
causing him to read it before he could stop himself.

When he did, he read it again. Then a third time, noticing
particularly the sender.

A coldness he hadn’t realized he had even stopped feeling
when he’d touched her tonight descended upon him again.

The little bitch.

He came back to bed, the condoms clutched in his hand, and
Clarie sat up a little, blinking when he switched on the lamp by the bed. He
sat next to her, leaning against the backrest, and put the condoms on the
table.

“You know I changed my mind. I think I would like you to go
down on me.”

She smiled. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Put that sweet little mouth on my cock and suck me
off.”

Something about the way he said it—or maybe it was that they
weren’t in the dark anymore, whatever—caused her smile to falter.

“Is everything okay?”

“What could possibly be wrong? I have a beautiful little
coed turning up out of nowhere, just happening upon my cabin, and treating me
to a hot bout of sex to cure my dry spell. It’s a fucking Penthouse Letter.” He
nudged her over on to his lap. “Come on, get to it.”

She hesitated.

“Or don’t you do that? Wait, sorry, I’m showing my age.” He
sifted his fingers through her hair, then put it behind her shoulders, apparently
so he could stare at her naked breasts, which he brushed lightly with his
thumbs. She sucked in her breath at the pleasure. “You girls these days
probably learn deep-throating before you take your SATs.”

What the…?

She started to get up and he pulled her back. “That was
mean. I’m sorry. You’re just sexually liberated, aren’t you?”

“Look, you came on to me.”

“Just like you undoubtedly knew I would, turning up here. So
much more convenient than meeting in an office or a library somewhere.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I didn’t know you lived
here.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

Even as she was arguing with him, she was acutely conscious
of the tent beneath his pants, the slight catch in his breath and rough tone in
his voice that told her how turned on he was to have her on his lap, in his
bed, even if he probably would have felt the same about any other naked woman.

Well, this was her night. She didn’t know about Penthouse Letters,
never having sampled them, but she wasn’t going to let him spoil it now, since
she’d already thrown caution to the wind and slept with this complete stranger
she adored.

Her hands simply went to his belt, which shut him up. She
opened the buckle and unsnapped his jeans. When she had his zipper down as well
and moved the boxers aside, his heavy, excited cock popped out at her, like
some crazy, sexy jack-in-the box.

Deep-throating may have been giving her too much credit, but
she did know the fundamentals. Leaning down, she touched her mouth tentatively
to the head of his cock, feeling him move the curtain of hair that had come
down as she leaned over away so he could watch her.

She took more of him, laving him with her tongue, one hand
coming to stroke his length, and she heard his quick, indrawn breath with
satisfaction. His fingers tangled in her hair now.

“Do you know until I turned on the light,” he whispered, “I
didn’t even know what color your hair was?” He yanked at the roots of it a
little and she moaned at the sharp sensation. “Blonde. And I can see from all
those delicate tufts protecting your sweet pussy that it’s natural. A natural
blonde. How cute. Goldilocks. The real thing.”

She bobbed her mouth up and down on his cock now, in
earnest, sucking, wanting to make him come, with her hands, her mouth, wanting
to see him and feel him lose control. She sucked hard and his ass squirmed on
the bed, involuntarily no doubt. Sliding her hands beneath him, she wrenched
his pants farther down to get those hard cheeks bared, noting with satisfaction
that he lifted his hips to accommodate her. Then she dug her nails in.

“Fuck,” he moaned, pulling her mouth closer. “Now that is
nice.”

His cock in her mouth, large, throbbing, was like a living
thing as she ran her tongue down the prominent veins and sucked the head, going
back and forth and up and down, his hard ass in her hands now.

But except for the hitch in his voice and the occasional
clench of his fingers in her hair on the down stroke, he didn’t cede control.
Meanwhile, the hot, heavy feel of him between her lips, in her mouth, almost
had her coming again.

She stopped for a second and looked up at him, saw he was
watching her with those intense green eyes. His cock glistened from her
attentions, standing straight up in the air, his balls heavy and tight. He
fisted his erection since she had let it go and said, “What? Tired already? I
expected better from a pro like you.”

A pro?

“I might not have fucked in a while, as you so sweetly got
me to share with you, but back in the day I could go for quite some time, and
honestly, I’ve had better.”

She jumped out of the bed as if propelled. “You bastard!”

Still fisting his cock, he laughed. “Get back here, you’re
not done.”

“Fuck you!” She didn’t know why she was so hurt. What was
she to him anyway? A one-night stand to, as he had put it,
break up his dry
spell.

“If you insist. I’d rather do that anyway.” To her
astonishment, he reached for a condom from the night table and ripped one open.
Standing there as if frozen, she watched him slide it over that beautiful cock
and then hold his arms out to her. “Come here. Come on.”

She hesitated. “Why are you being such a jerk?”

“I told you. I am a jerk. But that doesn’t mean that we
can’t have a hot fuck. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I…”

“Come here,” he demanded.

And like an idiot, she did. She climbed back onto the bed,
watching his slight smile. “You know, the whole time I taught, I never slept
with a student. Not once. But if anyone could’ve tempted me, it would’ve been
you. Look at you.” He reached a hand out to one heavy breast and weighed it in
his hand. “You’re just my type, all fresh and clean like the girl next door,
but with big tits, long legs and a sinful mouth, plus this long, long hair.” He
ran his fingers through it. “All soft and smooth and beautiful.” He rolled over
on top of her and held her hands above her head, kissing her softly, nipping at
her lips until she felt lulled again.