The Virgin Diaries: The Complete Series
Page 8
She grabs me in a spontaneous hug. “Dang, I needed that. I’m here for you, honey. Whenever you’re ready to spill, I’m ready to listen and support and celebrate. I’ll see you at home later?”
I laugh. “It’s good to see you too, and I know you’ve got my back. I’ve got yours too. Anytime and always, girl. I uh . . . don’t know about tonight, though.” I stutter a bit on the words, not wanting to lie but not wanting to give away too much.
Her grin is like the cat that got the canary, “That’s okay. Go get you some. Bow-chicka-bow-wow,” she sing-songs as she walks away.
She’s right. I needed that too. I have been so tied up with Connor that I’ve let other things fall through the cracks. Before I can promise myself that I’ll do better, the thought of being tied up with Connor fills my mind with some rather dirty images of just what I want to do with my professor, and maybe what I want him to do with me too.
Connor
Collapsing into a chair in the break room, my body’s exhausted even as my head feels like it’s about ready to explode. I shouldn’t have any caffeine, but I slurp at today’s drink, a double espresso instead of my normal macchiato.
She’s my every fantasy come to life. A brain that commands my respect, sweet but mischievous . . . and her magical pussy is literally the cherry on top of a perfect sundae. I’ve never, in my wildest fantasies about Daisy, thought we’d end up fucking in my office . . . but now it seems as natural as breathing.
I do know that she puts a smile on my face, something I’m not particularly known for, I guess, considering the dean’s secretary asked what had me in such a good mood as we discussed next year’s PhD candidate program in the elevator.
I’m troubled now, though, which is why I’m sucking down caffeine like it’s water. Simply put, it’s not enough.
I want more. Need more.
I need to know that the look I see in her eyes as she kisses me goodbye and the little teasing in her voice as we hurriedly talk about when we can get together next aren’t just figments of my imagination. My deepest fear about giving in to my desire for Daisy was that it’d be a one-time thing, a booby trap in my background that someone could use to blast me with when shit got tough.
But now, I’m even more scared . . . because I want something with her I’ve never wanted before. I want her mind, soul, and heart, not just her body.
“Hey amigo, you’re looking grim,” Nick says, breaking me out of my head. “The dean’s fundraising shit got you that screwed up?”
“No, nothing like that,” I assure him. “Just a little indigestion, I guess. Busy.”
“Uh-huh. Well, here’s some news that’ll get your mind off that,” Nick says, sitting down. “Cunningham resigned.”
“No shit?” I comment, surprised. “He didn’t hang onto his tenure?”
“Nope. Oh, they’re calling it an extended sabbatical, but he’s out, man. I figure he’s digging himself a hole for when his wife’s lawyers get done crucifying him,” Nick says. “Oh, and his lover? Kicked his ass to the curb from the scuttlebutt. I know I’ve never been too fond of him, but still . . . shitty way to go out. Never want to see that happen.”
I nod. I should probably be worried, but I’m not. Daisy would never say a word. Our . . . situation that seems to be developing at light speed is safe. Risky, but safe. Every moment I’m with her, I feel like instead of black jeans and a T-shirt, I’m wearing a Kevlar suit, a giant bat emblazoned on my chest. I’m fucking untouchable, man.
“It is a bad situation,” I finally reply. “He’s brilliant enough to still get grants and work privately, but this will be a side note in everything he does.”
Dean Michaels comes in, giving Nick and me a wave. “Professor Daniels, when your office was empty, I figured I’d find you down here with your partner in crime,” he says, shaking hands with the two of us. “I just wanted to say, the PhD board has come back with its initial comments on the theses they’ve gotten this year. Your students, as a whole, blew their socks off. Very, very impressive.”
“Thank you, sir . . . but they’re the ones who put in the work,” I defer, but he’s having none of it.
“Oh, of course, but their mentor deserves some kudos too. I hope your undergrads will be just as impressive.”
“We’ll have to see after finals, but I’m confident in them.”
“In any case, congratulations,” Michaels says. He watches as Nick gets up to refill his mug and then carefully asks, “Have you heard anything from TED?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Although I had a previous mentor contact me saying they’d called him too. Still research phase, it seems.”
Michaels nods. “Very well. Good day, gentlemen.”
He leaves, and I chug back as much of my espresso as possible in one gulp. It sits heavily in my belly, but I need the jumpstart to be at my best today.
Class is well . . . class. They sit, I talk, they listen, I teach. It’s a good group of students, and like I told Dean Michaels, I’m confident in their work. But my mind is a million miles away. Or at least a hallway away, down in my office, with Daisy laid out on my desk as I pound into her.
But no, that’s only in my mind. In reality, she’s sitting front and center like always, eyes glued to me. It takes all my caffeinated control to hold back from kissing her.
As I wrap up, I give her a hard look that she seems to understand. I walk out of class, ignoring her as she leans against the wall, face buried in her phone. I wonder for a moment who she’s talking to, but I realize it’s probably for show.
I try to stay casual, exchanging greetings with other professors and students as I make my way to my office.
Barely a minute later, she knocks gently on my door that I left cracked for her, and as she comes in, I shut the door behind her, pressing her to the wood and capturing her cry of surprise with a hungry kiss. She seems just as hungry, the two of us devouring each other before the pure need for oxygen forces us apart slightly. “Twenty-four hours,” she moans, thinking about the time since we last got together. “It’s too long to be without you.”
“I can’t fucking get enough of you,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers. “You’re like a habit, but a fucking good one. I’m addicted to you after just this short of a time.” There’s more, but I don’t want to say it here. She deserves more than that.
“Me too,” she says, letting her hands slide down to my ass. “I thought talking on the phone last night would be enough to get me through class, but the moment I saw you, all I could think was how much I need you inside me.”
“I want to ruin you,” I admit, pulling her toward my desk. “I know it’s too fast, but I don’t want any other man to ever have you. You’re mine, Daisy.” I’ve told her that before, but it seems heavier in this moment, a taste of the bigger truth.
Her eyes shine, and I think she hears the words I’m not saying. “Take me. Ruin me. You’re all I’ll ever want.”
She wiggles away from me, slipping her panties off and holding them out to me. An offering. Then she flips her skirt up, lying forward, her chest pressed to the wood. An even better offering on the altar of my desk. My sacrifice. My life. My everything.
She’s already sloppy wet, the tease of being together but not able to touch for the last hour driving us both wild. I moan, unbuckling and pulling my cock out as I stand behind her. I grab her cheeks, savagely squeezing them in my hands as I spread her for a better view of her pink slit.
I lick at her, fucking her with my tongue and torturing her clit with fast flicks, needing her taste on my tongue as I fuck her. I rise, slipping through her folds, coating myself in her honey, and then I ease inside her, one inch at a time but not stopping until I’m balls-deep. I hold there, my cockhead pressed to her back wall, bottomed out, as she adjusts to the feeling of being so full.
“Yes,” she hisses. She looks back at me over her shoulder. “You have all I am,” she whispers, both of us dancing around the words we want to say.
&nbs
“Touch yourself, Daisy,” I command her. She shifts slightly, getting her right hand down to play with her clit. “That’s it, honey. Take my cock in your tight little pussy and rub that clit for me.”
She does as I say, both of us working her body, me from the inside and her from the outside. I watch as my cock disappears into her and reappears coated in her creamy honey. It’s beautiful, and her surrender to me is glorious as she lets me ride her harder, pressing her so firmly into the desk that she can’t move, can’t fight the heat I’m building within her. She takes it, letting me split her with violent thrusts.
I lean forward, growling in her ear, “Give it to me, Daisy. Come on my cock like my good girl.”
She cries out, the sound strangled as I rush to slam my hand over her mouth, stifling her sexy noises. If anyone hears, there’d be no doubt about what’s happening in my office.
It’s wrong, but the thought of someone catching us, of some poor schmuck student walking in and seeing me fucking ravaging innocent virginal Daisy Phillips, the class good girl, gives me a thrill. I’m the lucky fucker she chose to pop that cherry, and I’m the bastard who will keep this pussy full of my cock, and only my cock, for as long as she’ll let me. I come hard, filling her deeply with my cum, marking her as mine.
I lay a kiss to her shoulder as I slip out, grabbing tissues as my cream leaks from her. She stands, spinning, and we seal our vows, both spoken and unspoken, with a kiss.
She tries to straighten the mess we’ve made of my desk, stacking papers and putting the stapler upright once again.
“What’s this?” she asks, holding up a red envelope.
My eyebrows pull together. “I don’t know. Let me see.” She hands it to me and I open it. I pull out a folded sheet of paper as something flutters to the floor.
Daisy drops to the floor to pick it up and gasps. “Oh, my God!”
I take it from her hand and realize it’s a picture. A picture of Daisy and me, here in my office. She’s on her knees before me, head buried in my crotch, obviously mid-blowjob, and my head is thrown back in pleasure, my hands buried in her hair. It looks sexy as fuck. It looks like I’m forcing her. It looks like I’m fucking my student.
It looks like I’m . . . fucked.
Daisy
“We have to go, need to get out of here and figure out what the fuck is going on. Skip your next class and meet me at home,” Connor tells me. He’s all-business, hard and brooking no argument.
I’m frozen, eyes locked on the picture. He grabs my head, cradling it his hands roughly. “Daisy, honey . . . look at me. Go to my house. It’s going to be okay, but we need to talk this through, and we’re obviously compromised here. You okay?” I must nod because he lets me go and picks up my bag and places it on my shoulder, but he pauses with a hand on the doorknob and turns back. “It’ll be okay, I promise,” he tells me before placing a sweet kiss to my forehead.
Outside, I hurry along the sidewalk. I’ve always felt safe here. Hell, I probably felt a bit too comfortable, considering the mess I’ve gotten into now. But as I scurry to the corner, waiting for the bus to take me across town to Connor’s, I feel like there are eyes on me from every direction, like there’s a big sign over my head that’s blinking, Fucking Her Professor, and everyone can see it but me. The little bubble of happiness I’ve been living in for weeks just burst spectacularly, and now I feel exposed, vulnerable.
The bus ride is painfully slow, giving my brain all sorts of time to freak out, worry, and compose a million different scenarios. They all end badly . . . for me and for Connor.
By the time I walk up to his door, I’m verifiably a ball of nerves, looking over my shoulder and wondering if it’d be better if I just went to the dorm and we pretended none of this ever happened. But I can’t do that. I don’t care if I’m screwed over. I can always change schools if I have to. But I won’t leave Connor to face the firing squad at school alone. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect his career because that’s not as easy as switching universities. He’ll be blackballed and his reputation as a student-fucker will precede him. Even if it’s not like that, not really. I mean, I am his student, but this is more than some naughty taboo. This is real.
I don’t even get the chance to knock before he rips the door open and pulls me inside. At first, I think it’s so no one will see me, but he immediately presses me to the door and takes my mouth in a kiss. Between smacks, he asks, “How’re you doing, honey? Are you freaking out?”
I nod, feeling the tears wet my lashes. “I’m so sorry, Connor. I know we shouldn’t have in your office, but I thought we were okay. Your career, this is going to ruin you, isn’t it?” I’m rambling, verging on hysterical. But he’s steady, calm, a port in the storm ravaging us.
“Come on, Daisy. Sit down so we can talk.” His words don’t inspire confidence, and I’m almost certain this is the point where he tells me this has been fun, but he needs to think of himself now. But dutifully, I sit on the couch, bending my legs and hugging my knees to my chest.
He sits down beside me and tosses back the shot of Scotch sitting on the table before burying his head in his hands. “Fuck. I knew something like this could happen. But I got careless, so wrapped up in being with you. I knew better. I fucking knew better. Now, I’m going to be just like Cunningham. Even now, we’re taking a risk with you in my house, but I couldn’t think of a safer place.” He’s talking to me, but his words seem more to himself, castrating himself over what we’ve done.
It takes every bit of my strength, but I’ll do anything for him. I scoot closer to him, my nails tracing soothing patterns on his back. “I’m so sorry, Connor. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I can tell the dean that I seduced you, that it’s my fault. Whatever you need so that your job is secure. I’ll switch schools. Anything you need.”
He lifts his head, looking at me strangely. “What are you talking about?” he asks angrily.
I duck my head, not able to meet his eyes when I say the words. “I figure this meant you’d switch into self-preservation mode, and rightfully so. I’m willing to do whatever you need me to so that you’re safe at work. I can switch schools a hell of a lot easier than you, and then maybe you won’t get fired.”
Understanding dawns, and he smiles slightly, even at this scary moment. “Daisy, I’m not throwing you under the bus to save myself. We did this, and I want to keep doing it. We’ll figure it out together.”
Hope blooms in my chest. “Really?”
He pulls me into his lap, grabbing my head and forcing my eyes to his. “Daisy, it’s you and me. I told you that you’re mine. Nothing changes that. I love you.”
He doesn’t give me time to process what he said. He just covers my mouth with a kiss, promising that things are going to be okay and that we have a future beyond some taboo naughty affair. But as his tongue tangles with mine, the words settle in my heart, lighting me up and giving me strength. I pull back. “I love you too, Connor. So much.”
And then we seal my words to him with another kiss. It’s beautiful. It’s amazing. It’s something I thought I’d never find, much less find with my professor.
And someone wants to take this away from us.
Connor rests his forehead against mine, our breath mingling. “I know this may be a stupid question . . . but have you told anyone about us?”
I look at him, glancing at the photo on the table before shaking my head slowly. “Not even Arianna knows. She sorta knows I had a crush on you, but that’s it. She would always be the one pushing my buttons about it, teasing me a little.”
“Would there be any reason for her to follow you and want to do this? She wouldn’t want to hurt you, would she?”
I shake my head as I think for a moment. “No,” I finally say. “If anything, Ari would be the one person I could actually trust with our relationship. I can’t imagine her being anything but supportive. She’s . . . she’s pretty fucking awesome, really. But I didn’t think it was fair to you, so I kept it a secret.”
“Okay. Well, we’re going to have to lie low,” Connor replies, obviously wishing the solution were so easy. “It’s like any math problem. Until the variables are identified, the problem is unsolvable.”
And just like that, a switch in my gut flips and I’m not scared. I’m furious. “How dare they? Why are we being forced to lie low when we’re not doing anything wrong? Not really. We’re two consenting adults.” I know my voice is reaching a fevered pitch, but the anger is burning hot.
“If only it were that easy. But I think you know that. I’m talking about more than the law. If people find out about our relationship at the university, there are serious consequences for both of us. Though maybe a little more for me. I may be asked to resign, and if not that, I’m certainly going to be pigeonholed. My reputation would be ruined. More than that, so would yours. I can live with being seen as some horny professor who couldn’t resist the temptation. I can make a living in the private sector. But you . . . you’re just getting started.”
My face crumples as his words sink in, and for a moment, I think the tears are going to overflow.
“I know, honey. I understand, but don’t cry. Your tears are like a knife in my gut.”
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, not wanting to hurt him any further. “Connor . . . I don’t know how to deal with all this. I feel like I just found happiness. I found the man I want to be with . . . and now this.”
“I wish I could lie and say that somehow it’ll all work out, but I’m not a good liar.” He takes my hand, kissing my fingertips. “But what I can say is that I want to be with you, too. But if there’s even a chance of that, we need to figure out what this person wants. I mean, there’s no note, no blackmail demand, which is what I’d expect. So who’s sneaking around to take this picture of us? I need you to think really hard about who this could be. Because I’ve racked my brain, and I’m drawing nothing.”
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