14

Cathy

I can’t concentrate. I want to concentrate. I need to because I still have to pass this class.

The professor will understand when I tell him I’ve been preoccupied over the weekend. I don’t have to explain anything to him. I’ve worn him for two days straight and I still can’t get enough.

His kisses are an obsessive drug.

It doesn’t stop with his kisses. Everything about him is perfect—his piercing eyes, the way his dark hair skims his ears and curls over his forehead. I want to wind my fingers through it and hold on while I lose myself in his touch. His lips. Hands. Tongue. Teeth. Cock.

My clit throbs. Every fiber of my being aches for him. After a weekend of sex, I should have been okay with going back to my dorm and sleeping in my own bed, but I wasn’t. I missed him. I wanted to be back in his arms, surrounded by his scent. His body. His presence.

Thank God his lecture is on Monday morning and I didn’t have to wait too long to see him again. I take my visual fill as he leans against the podium, his arms folded.

His biceps strain against his gray Henley T-shirt. It’s casual, but it looks so good on him. His jeans hang low on his hips and I’m trying not to imagine him teaching the class naked right now because that road will only get me worked up and I can’t do anything about that now.

“So, in summary, while we see contrasting views with labor costs versus outsourcing, there are similarities to how these costs can be budgeted.” Jonathan’s voice drifts across the lecture room. I catch his eye and he shoots me a smile.

My chest tightens as though my ribs squeeze around my heart, and for some ridiculous reason, my limbs get all heavy. I can’t help but reciprocate the tiny smile and instantly my cheeks heat. I hope no one else notices.

I don’t take in another word while he finishes the lecture. Students filter out. I pick up my backpack and make my way down the central stairs feeling his weighted stare on me. A presence looms behind me as I reach the ground level.

“Catherine…” Chris.

Chills rake my body. My full attention had been so locked on Jonathan, I hadn’t given a thought to Chris. He must have been sitting in the back of the lecture theater like the shadow-dweller he is.

“Miss Evans?” Jonathan prowls from the podium, gaze darting behind me.

Students part around me. I spin, seeing Chris close enough to reach out and touch. His gaze blazes through me. His mouth is a straight line and he practically vibrates as though he’s a keg under pressure. He’s going to try to squeeze more money from me.

“I have time for our one-on-one you requested now, if you’re ready?” Jonathan says. He moves in front of me, standing as close to me as Chris is behind me. His eyes are trained on Chris.

“Hey, I need the time. Not her.” Chris shifts behind me, coming up closer.

“I haven’t seen your booking come through on my calendar.” Jonathan’s eyes frost over, turning them to deep navy.

“I’m personally requesting it now. I need it more than she does,” Chris says.

“I’m happy to provide half an hour personal time. As long as it’s booked through the university system,” Jonathan says.

“But you said she personally requested it. I heard you say that…” Chris says.

“And it’s none of your business how I take student bookings.”

Chris’s gaze narrows and slides from Jonathan to me. I look to the floor, not only because I don’t want to see him, but I don’t want Chris reading anything in my face that would give us away.

“I thought we could catch up for a coffee…Cathy,” Chris says, making my shoulders ram up tight around my ears.

Why can’t he give up?

“I need Jonathan to help me with a problem,” I say.

The anger vibrating from Chris scratches below my skin like a thousand tiny claws nipping at me. He leans down and presses the front of his shoulder into my back. He’s not as tall as Jonathan, but he’s built with more muscle. I thought I was attracted to that—the regular high school jock. But that was before I discovered he was the regular high school jerk. I was so young. Now I find Jonathan’s lean, runner’s build pure attraction. “Don’t you mean ‘Professor Black’?”

My face heats with sticky perspiration as I immediately realize my mistake. “My apologies, Professor. I didn’t mean to sound so informal.”

Most people would have taken my apology as a small faux pas but Chris is not most people. I’m going to have to be extra cautious around both him and Jonathan.

“Don’t mention it. Miss Evans,” Jonathan says. “As I was saying, I have time now. If it doesn’t suit, you may book me again through the university portal.”

“No. Ah, now would be great,” I say.

“I would like to see you, Cathy. For old times’ sake. When you’re free from the professor’s undivided attention, of course.” My heart sinks, because Chris knows something is up. He takes one step back and then saunters out the door. I stay still until his footsteps disappear. I don’t relish the thought of scampering around campus because now, more than ever, Chris will be looking for me.

Warm fingertips beneath my chin have me looking up into serious eyes. There’s a deep line between Jonathan’s brows as he stares down at me. “Would you be comfortable enough to tell me exactly what’s going on between the two of you? This doesn’t look like two old friends running into each other.”

I have to tell Jonathan something. He isn’t going to believe just anything. He’s too smart for that, so I settle on part of the truth. “Chris was my first boyfriend. I broke it off with him and he’s never gotten over it. You know, being the school jock and all.”

I try to smile and come up with a wobbly version that doesn’t stay put.

“Is that all there is to it?” he asks.

“He wants to take me on a date. For old times’ sake.” This time my smile sticks. “But I’m seeing someone else. So it will never work out.”

One of Jonathan’s eyebrows rises. “And who is this man you’re seeing? I hope he isn’t going to come between the two of us.”

I step close enough for my breasts to brush his chest, firmly enough for him to feel my nipples pulled tight. “Oh, I hope he very much will.”

“Miss Evans. We have to keep this relationship purely professional.” Jonathan’s voice drops so low I feel it in my abdomen. His hands come to my hips, fingers tightening over my jeans.

“You’ll find me a very professional student.” I palm his chest over his shirt. His heart pounds under my touch, fast and steady.

“Professional students don’t kiss their professors when anyone might walk into said professor’s lecture room,” he says.

My breath hitches. Half of my attention is tuned to the open door and the empty corridor outside. Students usually vacate the corridor quickly after a lecture, eager to enjoy time between classes or to get to their lunch before afternoon commitments.

“Then said professor should be more careful how he touches his students.” My finger hitches in his shirt, my other hand comes to the back of his neck. I pull. He leans down and his lips are on me. My jaw. My chin. His stubble prickles. My eyes close and consciousness fades. I’m just a sentient being. Skin. Nerves. Fire and need churn into a ball of instant desire.

“Only one student. One woman.”

His lips cover mine. He presses. I part and he takes. His tongue sweeps inside and I groan. Anyone might walk in and see us. And he’s still kissing me, as though tempting fate, pulling me up on the tips of my toes, one arm around my waist and the other hand sliding into my hair and taking purchase. He devours me—as though he’s desperate and he’s waited a lifetime for this moment.

Claiming me despite what might happen. Who may find us.

This isn’t a sweet peck or the brushing of lips. This is the real deal. All thoughts of Chris fall from my mind. Any thought of anything other than Jonathan drains away.

I wrap my arms around his neck and thread my fingers into his hair. His lips press hard, claiming me as his. That place between my legs becomes increasingly hot, a light friction in the center of pleasure. He grinds his cock against me and I feel it throb through our clothing. My panties are flooded with my own need.

He stops the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. We pant each other’s breath. Our gazes join. His pupils are dilated, leaving a sliver of the dark blue rim. “Need you, Cathy. Need you now.”

I can only nod, beyond speech. Jonathan growls, stalks across the room and swings the door shut. He flicks the lock, collects me in his arms, steps on the raised dias that holds the podium and settles me on the edge. His fingers work my jeans button, while I fumble with his. Finally the sides of his jeans part. I sink my hands beneath the material, clenching his warm flesh with my fingers.

He rips my jeans open and his hand delves into my pants, through my slickness to impale me on one digit. He swallows my groan as he works his finger in and out of my body. It isn’t enough, and soon I’m squirming for more.

“Jonathan. Now.” I’m panting hard, liquid need coursing through me.

He binds one arm around my waist, and I help him work my jeans and panties down my legs. I kick them off to puddle at our feet. I push his pants over his hips enough to free his erection, then my hands are on his hot, hard cock, circling his length. I wipe the bead of precum over his tip as he catches me in another fierce kiss.

“My beautiful girl.” He thumbs my cheek, traces my lips, my chin, the line of my neck, before he cups one of my breasts in his hand. My nipple strains against his roughened palm. Another liquid rush dampens the timber beneath me.

“Taste yourself.” Jonathan pushes his finger to my lips and I suck. My own essence bursts on my tongue. I taste my own arousal, sharp and tangy and needy.

Nothing matters beyond the touch of his hand on my body, the solid weight of him on me. The spark of electricity that shudders up my thighs. I can’t wait any more. I growl, wrap my fingers around his thick length and bring the head to my wet entrance.

“Yes, Jonathan. Yes. Now, please.”

His hand shivers down the column of my neck, over my shoulder, across my skin and down my side, making every nerve explode in delight. He slides me until I’m hanging over the edge of the podium. I wrap my legs around his hips when he takes my mouth with his and he marries our tongues in a deep kiss. He keeps sucking my tongue as he slowly pushes in.

Stretching. Filling me.

He withdraws, then plunges into me again, fingers digging into my flesh. The head of his cock brushes against the spot deep inside my body. Electricity zings through me. My back arches of its own volition, my legs tightening around his hips to hold him as deep as he can go. My lungs compress to nothing, expelling every last breath from my body in a puffing rush. He impales me again, and again, each thrust more powerful than the last.

Jonathan lifts my leg, angling my hip. His cock drives even deeper. His gaze locks with mine. Unwavering, its intensity steals my breath. He presses against my sweet spot until exquisite pleasure becomes almost pain. His thumb returns to my engorged clit and circles.

My head flies back, a scream building in my chest. Jonathan takes my mouth in a hot kiss and I shatter around him. Shards of pleasure explode from the tips of my toes and rush through my body, splintering apart my bones and melting my muscles.

My mind shatters. My body follows.

I’m weightless as white-hot pleasure crashes though me.

One more thrust, and my hot, pulsing passage is bathed in a scorching heat as Jonathan spills himself deep inside me with a hoarse groan. His cock twitches, pumping me full. He covers me in a human cage of his body as we ride out the final moments of our orgasm. There couldn’t possibly be anything better than this. Anything more fulfilling.

The wild fluttering of my pulse slows to a normal rhythm. My legs turn to liquid, as does the rest of me. I’m held in the cradle of Jonathan’s arms, the strong beat of his heart thumping against my chest.

A knock sounds at the lecture room door. “Hello? Anyone inside?”

“That’s Professor Stanfield,” Jonathan says.

He winces as he eases out of my body. Our fluids coat my inner thighs and they slip against each other as he helps me off the podium and to my feet.

The knock grows into a pounding. “Anyone there? You’ve locked the door from the inside. Everything okay in there?”

Jonathan curses under his breath. He picks up my panties and gently swipes between my thighs, collecting our combined essences leaking from me before giving the podium a quick wipe. He bends down again to hand me my jeans.

“What. I don’t get my panties back?” I quirk a brow.

He slides my soiled underwear into his pocket and zips his still semi hard cock back into his jeans. His full lips twitch as he buttons himself and tucks his shirt into his waistband. “Never.”

I draw my jeans over my backside, ignoring the feel of denim on my bare skin. “I’ll eventually need them back. I only have a certain number of them.”

“I’ll buy you a new set. Hell, I’ll buy you twenty.” He kisses me and tugs the creases from my shirt.

He takes a quick look around to double check that everything is as it should be, before going to the door. Professor Stanfield is a harried woman in her fifties, with wisps of graying hair that always fall free from her updo. She drops the hand raised to knock again, her eyes flaring wide when Jonathan wrenches the door open.

“My apologies, Professor. I was tied up giving Miss Evans her lesson and didn’t realize the door was locked,” Jonathan says.

Professor Stanfield’s slightly startled gaze slides from Jonathan to me. I pick up my backpack off the floor and settle it on my shoulder, keeping my gaze carefully averted and my face blank. “Thank you, Professor Black. That was very…informative.”

I brush past Jonathan and Professor Stanfield, hoping she doesn’t notice my red cheeks, or the scent of sex that still permeates the room behind me.