“I know,” I replied. Real witty, Cooper, I told myself in my head. I forced a smile. “I mean, sorry. I’m Eden.”
The guy smirked at me. “Nice name,” he said. “Your parents into porn or something?”
The horrifying thought made me blush and I shook my head. “No, no, my mom really loves John Milton, and—”
“Relax,” he said, laughing. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m John,” he added. “You go to Oakbrook?”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “I’m a senior,” I said. “English major.”
He nodded, and I sensed he was already losing interest in the conversation.
“You should come with me,” he said, giving me a wicked smile. He was cute – with teeth that were just crooked enough to be intriguing and dark hair swept off his forehead. His eyes gleamed with mischief and the way they traveled over the curves of my body made me flush.
“Why?” I asked.
He smirked again. “Just trust me,” he said. “Eden.”
I bit my lip and followed him through the crowded house. He reached for my hand as we snaked through clusters and groups of people – his touch was hot and sticky, and I tried to ignore the urge to yank my hand free and wipe my palm on my thigh.
Finally, John led me into the back yard where a group of drunk students were playing Twister on the grass. Girls were wearing bikinis and Ugg boots and pom-pom winter hats and laughing, and I immediately felt uncomfortable.
John, however, was clearly enjoying himself. “Relax,” he said again. “Chug your beer, let’s play.”
I did, but only in hopes that the beer would warm me up. I’d left my coat inside, in a heap on one of the beds with Petra’s, and I was already wishing that I’d brought it wish me.
“Hey, you’re cute when you do that,” John said as he watched me chug my beer. The booze made me queasy – I’d never liked the yeasty, thick taste of beer – but something about his smile was infectious and I returned it.
“So, let’s play,” John said. He clapped his hands and some of the Twister-players looked up. “This is Eden,” he announced, and people cheered. “We’re gonna join you guys.”
One of the bikini-clad girls giggled. “Good luck,” she teased. “I’m the state champion!” She and one of the other girls collapsed in giggles, and John clapped his hands together again.
“Disqualified!” He sounded buoyant and triumphant as he looked at me and winked. “You ready to win?”
I nodded. In spite of my better judgment, I was starting to have fun and relax. The beer had worked its magic on me and I grinned.
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Left hand, red!”
Someone blew a whistle and there was a scramble and a flurry as we all dropped to the ground and crawled over the white plastic mat. While I knew that I wasn’t particularly limber, I was already sweating and flushed by the time I reached madly for a red circle with my left hand.
John caught my eye and grinned at me. “Having fun?”
I nodded, surprising even myself.
“Good,” John said. He chuckled. “Way more to come!”
We played for maybe half an hour, contorting ourselves and twisting around with five other college students. The gameboard, clearly designed for small children, was impossibly tiny and soon I was gasping and heaving to keep my balance as the moves were called faster and faster. Some brought two rounds of shots and I took both, feeling the effects of the tequila in seconds. Finally, “right foot, green!” was what did me in, and I collapsed to the mat in peals of laughter.
“Oh my god,” I cried out. “That was insane!”
John grinned as he extended a hand and helped me up.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.
“But you’re still playing,” I objected. “Don’t you want to win?”
John smirked. “Not if you’re not playing,” he said.
A shiver ran down my spine and I wondered if I should really be doing this. It was clear that he had something on his mind, but what? I knew I should be interested in him – even if he was younger than me, he was clearly popular, and he was cute.
But when I thought about how it would feel to kiss him, my stomach turned. I could only see the face of Professor Will Marks in my head, and I swallowed hard and stopped dead in my tracks.
John reached for my hand, but I didn’t let him and his smile faded.
“What?” He asked, sounding annoyed. “Wha’d I do now?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I think I just had too much to drink, I should go home.”
A friendly smirk crossed his face. “You can lie down in my room,” he offered. “I have a really soft bed.”
I shook my head so fast that I felt sick. “No. Um, thank you,” I replied. “That’s nice of you, I should just—”
John rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he snapped. Then, he leaned in – so close that I could smell the beer clinging to his breath.
“I don’t know what the hell your problem is,” he said, making a show of his eyes traveling up and down my figure. “You think guys are just lining up to date you?”
I bit my lip. His comment should have stung – especially because now I was sure that he’d only gone for me since I was obviously low-hanging fruit – but it didn’t. Instead, it sent a small thrill of relief through me – relief that John wasn’t going to try to persuade me into his bed, no matter how cozy and soft it was.
I pushed my way back into the Delta house and went into the bedroom where I hunted for my coat. A couple was groping and kissing on the bed but they ignored me as I pawed through the jackets, eventually finding mine and pulling it on.
Back outside, the wind felt bitterly cold as I began the slow walk back to my apartment. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself. I knew that I should have told Petra where I was going, but I decided that it would be better to just text her as soon as I was home safe. Even though Oakbrook was nestled in a safe little college town, I didn’t feel like risking it.
When I got back home, I shucked off my coat and flopped down on the couch. I should have been tired, but my brain was pulsing with activity and after I texted Petra, I decided to order a pizza – extra-large, with pepperoni and mushrooms – and stuffed cheesy bread. That’ll soak up the booze, I told myself as I reclined on the couch and waited for my late-night feast to arrive.
The pizza arrived only slightly before Petra did. When she stumbled in the door, kicking off her high heels and groaning, I wordlessly handed her a slice and she raised an eyebrow at me.
“What, you didn’t have fun?”
I shook my head. “Not really,” I told her.
Petra frowned, but she didn’t reply for a moment as she flopped down next to me and began scarfing down the piece of pizza.
When she did speak, it totally threw me.
“What’s with you, anyway?” Petra asked. “You’ve been so weird lately.”
I frowned. How could I tell her the truth – that I was crushing hard, on my professor of all people? I’d already edged close to the truth and it hadn’t gotten me anywhere.
It was such a cliché.
I should have been ashamed – especially because I was effectively lying to my best friend in the entire world.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just tired, that’s all. This semester is shaping up to be a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
Petra nodded emphatically, and I sensed that she was quite drunk.
“Tell me about it,” she groaned. “I just wish it was over!”
Me, too, I thought. You have no freaking idea.
8
Will – Tuesday
I hated it – the fact that jacking off to thoughts of Eden’s round, ripe body hadn’t done fuck-all to cure my seemingly insatiable lust for her. When she walked into my class on Tuesday wearing a pair of tight leggings and a white t-shirt with a bra visible underneath, I felt hot desire ripple through my body.
Fuck.
Now that I�
�d touched her soft body, now that I knew just how curvy and lovely she was, my appetite for her was stronger than ever. I could hardly look at her without thinking about how I’d fantasized her – naked and splayed, red in the face and sweaty, moaning and gasping with lust, her magnificently huge tits heaving up and down with every breath. I could still smell the way I’d imagined her pussy to smell – soft and musky and sweet, good enough to lick until my jaw was sore and her clit was throbbing and sensitive.
“Professor Marks?”
My head snapped up and I saw one of my other students staring at me with a strange look on her face.
“What? I mean, yes?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re like, totally spacing,” she said. “You just trailed off.”
The entire classroom was looking at me expectantly and inwardly, I groaned.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Feeling a little under the weather today.”
“Oh, does this mean class is canceled?” The same girl continued, twirling a strand of copper hair around her pale fingers. “Because like, I’m also kind of getting really sick, I shouldn’t even be here and—”
“No,” I said shortly. “Class will not be canceled. It’s just a bug.”
I might have imagined it, but I could have sworn that my remark made Eden smile.
As it was, I barely made it through class – our last discussion of The Waves – without thinking about her. How her plump neck looked so perfectly biteable with her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. How every she time wriggled in her chair, I kept thinking about her riding my cock and straining, whimpering, making herself into a complete little wanton slut for me. How her soft, pink lips would look around my cock, straining and crying to take all of me at once because she just had to please me.
This was unsustainable. This was unhealthy.
This was bordering on madness, and I needed for it to stop.
I knew that I was going to have to work at it – work hard to keep the blood flowing in my brain and not my cock. I purposefully ignored her for the rest of class, not even calling her when her hand was raised and waving in the air like she was Tracy Flick. I could sense that it was driving her mad, but I didn’t care.
If I wanted to push past this and move on, turn into a successful adult, I was going to have to work a fuck of a lot harder. I was really going to have to piss her off.
I was going to have to make her hate me. She needed to think that I was a monster, that I was scum, that I was the same kind of elitist douchebag who would sneer at her lovely curvy body instead of appreciating her womanly figure the way I did.
It shouldn’t have bothered me. I had built my career on being cold and distant, on keeping myself apart from students. I hadn’t even liked fraternizing with undergrads when I had been a grad student – something practically unheard of, especially considering most of my friends at the time had made a game of fucking as many senior girls as possible.
But I was going to do it.
When class ended, I strode out with my briefcase under my arm and my eyes locked at a fixed spot in front of me.
“What’s with him today,” I heard someone hiss as I walked past.
“He’s such a prick,” someone else responded.
Someone else – someone with a heart – would have been bothered by that.
But it just cheered me up.
Maybe I’ve got a handle on this after all, I told myself as I made my way down the hall and into the suite where I had my office was. It was blessedly empty, and I unlocked my office door and sat down behind my desk, breathing a sigh of relief. I had a while before I had to go teach the freshman seminar that I was now deeply regretting I’d picked up, and I intended to fully enjoy my time alone.
And I did.
Until I heard a knock at the door and looked up to see Gina.
“Hey, you,” she said, stepping inside. “Feel like a walk to the dining hall? I’m starving.”
I shrugged. “Sure,” I said. Maybe part of going out of my way to alienate students involved getting chummier with fellow faculty members ... and I had to be okay with that, even if meant getting friendlier with Gina.
“Cool,” Gina replied, sounding more like a student than a professor. She raised an eyebrow at me as I reached for my coat. “I always think it’s so strange seeing the students in their natural habitat.”
I laughed. “No kidding,” I told her.
We left the Liberal Arts building and made our way to the dining hall, which was buzzing with activity and the scent of warm, sour steam. I wrinkled my nose.
“God, I don’t miss the days of having to eat here,” Gina groused as we got in line after paying. “But now that I have a choice, it’s almost fun.” She filled a white ceramic bowl with cereal and added a piece of Danish and a cup of orange juice to her tray.
I only got coffee, black.
We walked to a small table in the back and sat down. Gina stretched luxuriously, like a cat, and cocked her head to the side.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s on Tuesday. It feels like it should be Thursday. At least.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Rough weekend?”
She shrugged, playing coy for once. “Sort of,” she said. “How about you?”
Oh, it was fine, I thought. I just came dangerously close to groping a student ... in the middle of a fucking grocery store. And then I went home and jacked off to thoughts of her body, because I’m the utmost professional.
“It was fine,” I said. “A little boring.”
She nodded. “Sometimes, that’s good,” she said.
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Gina shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Just, you know. Nice to get a break from these crazies.” She gestured at the clumps of students gathered in the dining hall. I must have nodded emphatically, because she caught my gaze with hers. “One of these girls giving you trouble?”
“Come again?”
“Always happens, right?” Gina continued. “Students getting crushes on their teachers. It’s a tale as old as time.”
Before I could protest, she laughed and launched into a story about one of her students from the year before, a guy who had carried a rather obvious torch for her. I listened as she talked, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eden Cooper. She was walking with a blonde girl and chatting animatedly, with a fiery look in her eyes. Her tits were bouncing with every step and a hot jolt of lust raced through my body.
Just then, I knew I was going to have to work far, far harder if I fully intended to forget about her.
9
Eden – Thursday
I had the feeling that Professor Marks was ignoring me, and it was making me miserable. He’d barely looked at me in class on Tuesday and when I’d seen him in the dining hall after class, he’d made eye contact for a nanosecond before turning away. I’d been walking with Petra and she’d practically had to drag me away.
I knew I was being crazy. It was almost enough to make me wish that I wasn’t a senior, that I was young enough where I could transfer schools and go somewhere else and just be happy there. Someplace large and anonymous, like where my mom had wanted me to go in the first place.
Someplace with no Professor Hotties.
I hated that nickname – it was so cheesy and cornball, but ever since Petra had coined it ironically, I hadn’t been able to think of Professor Marks as anything else. It was almost like a secret between us.
Well, except for the fact that he’d never hear it.
And he never would – I’d have rather died than let him know of my private little pet name for him.
I was sure he had a private little pet name for me, too: Annoying Student Who Won’t Leave Me Alone.
Ugh, I thought that morning as I walked to campus, stopping every now and then to take a sip of the coffee clutched in my hand. What a total mess. Maybe I should just drop his class – the add/drop period is still open.
But then I’d have t
o pick another senior sem, and what if there isn’t another English one? Would I get stuck in summer school?
No, I just have to ovary up and get over him.
I squared my shoulders and walked into the building with my hopes renewed. The caffeine from my coffee was pumping through my veins and I plastered a confident smile on my face. I knew I was going to beat this – I was going to shake my intense crush on Professor Marks if it was the last thing I did.
But when I walked into his classroom, my hopes deflated like a balloon.
Professor Marks wasn’t there.
A grad student who I vaguely recognized was standing awkwardly behind the lectern. He cleared his throat when he saw me and gave me a cautious smile.
“Hey,” he said. “Prof. Marks is sick today – I’m his TA, Peter.”
It was like the universe had known that today was the day was finally going to move past Professor Marks and decided to fuck with me.
“Hi,” I said. “Is class canceled?”
He nodded. “Yeah, ‘fraid so. He said he was going to send me the material last night but I guess he’s really under the weather. I figured the least I could do was show up and let everyone know since I didn’t have the log-in for the class email.”
“Oh,” I said.
Peter nodded. “Right,” he said. “So, uh, have any questions?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said shortly. “Thanks.”
As soon as I left the room, I remembered that I did have a question – about how many secondary sources would be appropriate to use in my upcoming paper. I hadn’t even started yet, and it was due in the middle of next week. I groaned and almost turned around, but didn’t want to risk looking like an idiot.
The interaction with Peter had put me in such a bad mood that I left the building in a huff. Even though I’d skipped my technology core class on Tuesday, I decided to skip it again – something I’d never done in my almost-four years at Oakbrook. I had a shift at the bookstore later in the day, but it was cold and rainy outside, and I figured that going home for a few hours and changing into sweats was the best bet.
Forbidden First Times: A Contemporary Romance Collection Page 107
