"Good luck with that," she mutters. "Alright. I'll be in touch. Remember what I said: Take this seriously. If you feel anything is off, call me or go somewhere safe, then call me."
"I will."
"I'll be on my way, then."
After she leaves, I slump against the door and sit there on the floor, exhausted. God, this is all so tiring.
I snap a picture of her card and send it to Tyler with a message for her to call the detective.
My phone rings moments later.
"Cass?" he says in hushed tones.
"Tyler, can someone hear you?"
He sighs. "Cass, no. Besides, I don't think anyone on campus realizes you actually have a first name."
I scowl.
"Stop scowling."
"How did you know—"
"I memorized your eyebrows."
"Make sure you call that woman," I ask him. "Tyler, this is serious. I'm worried about you now."
"Doc, come on, I'm a football player. Nobody is going to—"
"Please," I say.
"Alright, for you. Soon as I hang up, I'll call."
"Thank you."
"I have to go, I'm at work."
"Watch out for someone watching you."
"I will," he says. "Cass, I—"
He just trails off.
"You what?"
"I can't wait to see you again, even if I have to pretend to be a dick. Just try to be a little less snappy next time. It turns me on too much."
"God, you're weird."
"I only date women, not damp toast."
"That's not what I heard, Tyler."
"See ya," he says, and hangs up.
I fall back against the door and sigh, then smile to myself, in spite of the cold ball in my stomach.
Chapter Eleven
Tyler
There are leaves on the trees.
If I tried to be some kind of philosopher I'd stop and look at them harder, but for now, there they are, green shoots from the maple tree near the door to my dorm. It's amazing how fast February passed. Cass and I have been careful—and this person stalking one or both of us has been quiet. I yawn loudly as I walk up the front steps into the dormitory building, a heavy bag slung on my shoulders stuffed with a big binder and notebooks.
I won't lie, I'd be dead in the water on this internship without the girl Cass put me with. Her name is Alyssa, and she's in my senior seminar, too. She's smart as a whip, and without her guidance I wouldn't know where to start at the archives. I still don't know exactly what I'm doing, it's all looking up two hundred and fifty-year-old hand-written probate records, with the values of everything noted in pounds, pennies, and pence.
Fortunately, I don't really see her that much. She emails me lists of names, I look them up and identify them, type a report back, and work on my notes. It takes up most of my day each Wednesday and I usually get back around now, around dusk.
Somehow, I have managed to stay away from Cassandra Mills for six weeks. As if it were some kind of game to her, she's been sending pictures that, while they never show her face, show quite a bit of the rest of her. I have them very carefully saved and stored. No one is ever going to see those but me.
If you read our messages back and forth, you'd think we were the same age. Or younger. Horny teenagers. The one she sent me this morning reads: Wish you were here... and she snapped a photo over her shoulder as she bent forward in front of a mirror. She either has a lot of lingerie or she's been buying a lot just for my benefit. I can't wait to see her modeling it.
We're going to get our chance soon enough. The class trip is this weekend. We're going to New York, New York for the spring break trip for history students. The one wrinkle is that Cass is bringing Becky with her. I don't mind, I hope the kid has a good time. I just hope we can manage some alone time. Maybe the kid gets her own room.
After I drop off my bag in my room, I head back out. I don't feel like the dining hall or eating something from the communal kitchen, and my roommates are playing some fantasy card game on the table in there anyway. I'll go for a jog instead. The air is nice.
Once I've changed, I strap on my running shoes and head out. I haven't done as much cardio since the season ended and it's a rush to get back into it now that it's warm outside. I don't care what Cass says, I don't want to get soft, if only because I like the way she looks at my body. Like I'm a piece of meat. To me, that isn't a bad thing.
My jogging route takes me north of campus, towards Cass's place but not directly past it. I've been keeping an eye out like that detective said, but if someone is following me or her, they're good at what they do, because I haven't seen them. The photos have stopped, too. That only makes me worry more. If that detective is right and the weirdo has some kind of problem with me being with Cass, that's not going to work for me. If they pull anything, they better hope the cops catch them first.
I don't worry that much about Cass—the last time I got her alone she assured me she has a permit for that gun of hers and she takes it everywhere but campus now, just in case. Nobody is going to mess with her.
I keep telling myself that, but it doesn't really sink in. I worry. A lot. I'm doing it now. It gnaws at me. If something happens to her and I'm not there, it's my fault and no one will tell me different.
My jogging turns into a run and I run so far I end up panting before I slow down, trying to burn off all that nervous energy. Someone followed Cass—my Cass—and they're still out there. What kind of a man am I to just let that lie?
What am I supposed to do, though, go door to door? Put up wanted posters? Hire a private detective to chase them down? Do private detectives do that? You'd think one would be able to out-stalk a stalker. It's pretty much their job.
I stop, panting, sweaty. I'm not far from her house.
I swing by at a brisk jog, figuring I'll just reassure myself by making sure she's home. Yes, her Miata is in the little parking lot. She's there. The balcony door is open, along with all the windows. Good air today, so she probably wants to air the place out as much as she can. I don't blame her, an old attic must get musty. I slow and stop, staring up.
Calling out to her would be a terrible idea. I'd better keep going.
Slower now, I jog around the house...
...and there she is in the back yard, eating with Becky at a picnic table. I wave.
"Hi, Tyler!" Becky calls.
I walk over to the fence and lean on it. "You could invite me to eat."
"I could," Cass says in a clipped but playful tone, "but I'm not going to."
"Bye, Tyler!" Becky calls.
I wave to them both again and head off, feeling sick to my stomach. I end up jogging until my thighs feel like the muscle is going to sough off the bone and stumble into the deli near campus—not the one close to Cass, the one that's been a staple for college garbage food since time immemorial—and get a cheesesteak. I keep it wrapped tight and eat it on the way back to my room.
The rest of that night is consumed by studying and preparing a report and sending it off to Alyssa. She promptly sends an acknowledgement and a list of names she pulled for me to research. She said that for the last month or so of the semester I can stop and log the hours I spend working on our presentation for the report.
It's as dull as it sounds, and my mind keeps drifting back to Cass. Strangely, especially for me, I don't think so much about the pictures—her legs, her ass, her delicious breasts. I think about her silky hair and the funny way she smiles, one corner of her mouth always lifting a little higher than the other. That smile is only for me, she has a Mom Smile for her daughter. Only for me.
I think we've both managed to translate the passion into the game we play in the seminar class. Sniping at each other, glaring, smart-assed remarks from me and cool dismissals from her. It's a good thing I know she's hot for me. She'd turn me on anyway. I can't believe the underclassmen aren't shoving each other out of the way to take a course from the winner of the world's most fuckable librari
an contest, but their loss. She's all mine anyway.
At some point I need to start thinking about what I'm going to do after I graduate. Things are humming along, I'm going to make it, and I applied already for a masters program in education so I can teach. I can't think of what else I want to do, and maybe Cass has become my role model, too.
Football isn't happening. I've accepted that.
Every hour that passes before the New York trip crawls. Friday morning is the worst when I plop into my chair, just a touch late, for another seminar class with my naughty professor.
She's wearing a skirt today, and every time she moves I look at her legs, openly. If the goal is to make them think I'm a bastard then they can think I'm a bastard. I can be a sexist bastard. They don't need to know that she likes it.
Judging from the way she glares at me, I don't see how they would.
"Tyler," she says, "did you hear what I just said?"
I look up from my notebook. I was hanging on every word, but hey, the act is the act.
"Uh, our papers, right?"
"I wanted to see a rough draft after the break. Since you're going on the trip with us, God knows why, I hope you have it finished already."
"Yeah, I'm working on it."
"Tyler, you missed the check-in last week. You were supposed to send me progress notes. You realize this means I have to mark you down on your midterm grade."
"Yeah," I shrug.
"Tyler, you know what that means."
Oh. Shit.
"Uh, can I talk to you after class?"
"In my office," she says, curtly. "You better have something to tell me. Don't waste my time. If you don't, you have until the end of the day."
"Okay."
I'm quiet for the rest of the class, sulking. I don't storm after her when she leaves. I hang out with the others.
"Damn, she's got it in for you," Brian, one of the other guys in the seminar, says.
"Yeah, well," I say, shrugging, "she has a point."
"Be careful in there," Alyssa jokes. "I heard she bites. I can talk to her if you want."
"About what?"
"She's not the giant bitch she seems to be, Tyler. Well, I mean, she kind of is, but she has high standards. She's tough on us because she expects us to be tough on ourselves."
"Yeah, well, I am being tough on myself. It's called a 21-hour schedule with an internship."
Alyssa sighs. "Well, see you later, I guess." She smiles, brightly.
"Yeah," I say, absently.
I stroll over to Cassandra's office and step inside.
"Did anyone see you come in?" she says, coolly and casually.
"No," I say, glancing back to double check."
"Then close the damn door."
I swing it shut and lock it.
"Oh yeah?"
She jolts to her feet from behind her desk and steps around it in a sashaying catwalk that has my dick hard just from her hips in that pencil skirt. She lets her hair down and I want to rip my jeans off.
"What's this?"
"It's been too long," she murmurs, "I'm not a robot."
"Doc, I should be pissed. I did email you a progress report on my paper, and I'm ahead of schedule on the—"
She runs her long delicate fingers up my chest and tickles my chin.
"Then teach me a lesson," she purrs.
I grab her and yank her to me. She lets out a soft ah as I pull her in and let her feel what she's gotten herself into. I love how she gasps every time she touches or sees my cock like it's the first time, every time. She looks at me like I'm a freaking unicorn. A sex unicorn.
Sex unicorn? Jesus, Tyler. The blood must be rushing out of my head. To the other one.
"You sure you want that?" I murmur in her ear.
"Keep it quiet," she says. "The walls in here are like paper and—"
I slap her ass, hard. She almost yelps but jerks instead, swallowing it with a scowl.
"I said keep it quiet," she snaps, softly.
"It's not my fault you moan when you get a spanking," I whisper in her ear.
I grab her, not too hard, and caress her lips with my thumb.
"Do you really like it when I'm...pushy?" I whisper to her.
"I like it a lot," she says. "Just don't hurt me and you're good."
I grab onto her ass with both hands as she grinds against me and squeeze. There are no panties under her skirt.
"You little minx," I murmur.
"I figured today was a day for either fuck me pumps or to go commando," she says. "I decided on commando."
"Why?"
"I don't actually own fuck me pumps."
I snort.
"Well, get a pair. You've been raiding Victoria's Secret for the last month, pick up a pair of shoes for me."
"You like that kind of thing?"
I push my cock against her. "Hell yes, I do."
"You can't stay in here long," she says. "These are my posted hours. Another student could show up."
"That's too bad. I should go then."
"And leave me hanging?"
"What do you want?"
She grabs me through my pants.
"Maybe a little preview of this weekend."
"Yeah? If I have to go any minute, we don't have time for anything."
"I'll bet you I can make you come in one minute."
"Bold, Cass. I have fantastic powers of self-control."
She licks her lips. "Even when I'm wearing my red lipstick?"
"Especially. Prove me wrong."
"Oh, very clever."
She's already undone my belt and fly and shoved my pants down. She pulls me out and sighs softly when she takes me in her hands. Okay, this is going to be a challenge. I've been anticipating this too long.
Cassandra kneels, holds me in her hands, and looks up at me as she opens wide, theatrically, and wraps her ruby red lips around the head of my cock. I grunt in near pain and tense every muscle as my balls draw up aching for release. She holds there and swirls her tongue around, one way, then the other.
"Start a stopwatch," she says.
Snorting, I pull out my phone and I actually do it.
"Go."
She practically attacks my cock.
I don't even know how she does it, but she gets me in my mouth, pushes, and holy hell I almost lose it right then. I feel a tickle on my balls and hot wet pressure all around and when I look down, she's fucking swallowed me. She draws back with a little cough and sucks and bobs her head and uses her hands, making little humming noises like she's having the time of her life.
At fifty-five seconds on the clock I'm so damn close I grunt and it turns into a pained euuurgh. I turn the phone 'round and show her the time and she sighs, pulling back.
"I don't know whether to be proud of you, or disappointed in myself."
"Cass, you suck cock like a champ."
"Seriously?"
"Are you going to leave me like this?" I glance at my painfully hard cock.
"Well, you won, so you get the prize. Come in me and make it fast."
"I don't want you to think of me as a minute man," I say.
"I don't fucking care, I just want you to come inside me."
My mouth falls open. That is the hottest thing anyone has said to me. Ever.
She bends over her desk, leans on it, and thrusts herself at me. I pull up her skirt and, surprise surprise, she's incredibly wet and I slide right in. She shudders and pushes back against me, then rises up on her hands, her back arched, looking over her shoulder.
"I said make it fast."
"I don't want to hurt you."
She smirks. "That's adorable. Go for it."
I grab her hips, square up, and fuck her. I almost lose it but damn it I am not going to do that even if I haven't jerked off in a week. She moves with me, urging me on, faster, faster, and grabs a sheaf of envelopes from her desk and bites them hard between her teeth to contain the little noises she makes as I speed up.
I jerk
straight and erect and thrust inside her as I lose it, exploding in an expanding wave of pleasure. She moans through the makeshift gag she made herself and shudders, almost collapsing on the desk. I can feel her gripping me, her body pulsing.
"Ungh," she says. "Don't worry about leaving me hanging."
"Doctor Mills?" A voice calls through the door, knocking.
Shit, I know that voice, it's Alyssa.
Cass bolts upright.
"Shit shit shit," she mutters. "Fuck!"
She darts around her desk and grabs a pair of underwear from a drawer.
"I lied about not wearing these this morning," she said.
I snort.
"It worked."
"Professor?" Alyssa calls.
"Shit," she snaps. "We have to get you out of here."
I'm too busy stuffing myself back in my clothes to answer her, and my legs are shaking like leaves. I swear every time we fuck she eats part of my soul like a damned succubus.
"You're beautiful," I say, absently.
"Tyler, focus. How...the roof!"
She throws open a window that opens out over part of the roof of the floor below. It'll work—custodial staff are out there all the time, there's doors that lead onto it, and some of them even eat lunch.
I nod without another word and sit on the sill, throw my leg over, and stand up on the roof. She moves to close it and I grab her, hard, pull her in, and kiss her fiercely, feeling the way she melts when our tongues touch. When I pull back her eyes are lidded.
"You still kissed me after I, you know?"
"Nothing would ever make me not want to kiss you."
She grins, real joy in her eyes.
I love you. Say it! Say I love you to her, damn it!
"You better see what Alyssa wants."
She nods and ducks back inside, leaving the window open.
I crouch nearby and listen.
"Professor?" Alyssa says, "You're all sweaty, is everything alright?"
"Ah, yes, I, ah...I closed the door to shoo out a wasp."
"Shouldn't you close the window then?"
"I ended up smashing it."
The window slides shut.
Oh great, now I need to get off the fucking roof. I can't let anyone see me, so I have to crouch and crawl under the other office windows, looking for roof access. I luck out when I come on two of the custodians sitting on lawn chairs, smoking some pretty smelly weed. I look at them, they look at me.
Stuck With You Page 13
