Every time I’d watched her get off on my desk, I’d wanted to suck her down, slurp her up.
With her, I wasn’t a gentleman. I was a beast. A savage. I wanted to ravage her, claim her with every base, visceral part of me.
Fuck, she twisted me up, churned me until I was a shadow of the man I’d been before.
Gina wouldn’t recognize me like this. None of my other lovers would either.
With Phoebe, I was raw and ready. Hers. One hundred percent.
When she curved up in a semi-crunch, this time her hands on my hair were there to discourage me. She began mewling, “No, no, no. Your cock, Nicholas, need you. Please. Need you inside me.”
Mid-suck on her clit, I stared up at her, saw the desperation on her face, that eagerness for me that was just as strong as what I had for her.
I lapped at her clit with the tip of my tongue, teasing it until tears leaked from her eyes.
I’d wanted her to come first, and it stunned the shit out of me that she was withholding her pleasure, that she was refusing to orgasm without me inside her.
Because that level of self-control deserved a reward, I reared back, and began shucking out of my shirt. As I did, I watched her look at me. But I saw no revulsion as my scarred abdomen was revealed.
When I unfastened my zipper, her mouth trembled, and the second I pulled out my cock, her eyes rounded.
Not wanting to strip anymore because I had scars on my hips as well, I grabbed a firm hold of my cock and began to jack off in front of her.
In time to each thrust of my hips into my fist, she panted, and I watched her lick her lips as though she couldn’t wait to taste me, to savor me as much as I’d savored her.
I thrust into my fist to torment myself. I’d denied myself even this measure of release over the past eighteen months I’d been watching her, because I hated what I was doing and knew it was wrong.
But from that wrongness, this had spawned.
It seemed insane, and maybe it was, but it was perfect for me.
“Nicholas, I need your cock deep inside me,” she whispered, her face flushed, her tits jiggling beneath her shirt.
“Take off the shirt,” I ground out, ignoring her other words, and watching with satisfaction as she ripped it off overhead, leaving her bare before me. A vision of silken, olive skin that I wanted to come all over. I wanted my seed marking her from the inside out.
“Beg me,” I whispered. “Beg me for my cock.”
Her lips trembled, but though I could have mistaken it for sadness or fear, it wasn’t.
It was lust.
One-hundred-percent lust.
She groaned, “Nicholas, I need you. I need you so badly. You’re so fucking big and I’m so empty. I’m going crazy without you inside me. All these weeks, all this time, I’ve gotten off, but it’s felt half-complete. Like I was missing something, and I was. You. I need you, Nicholas. I need you.”
I dipped down, satisfied with her words, and as I pressed my cock to her slickness, letting it settle along the length of her cunt, I pressed my weight into her and whispered against her lips. “What am I to you, Ms. Whitehouse?”
Her eyes flared. “You’re my professor, sir.”
I grunted at that, loving that she wanted to play with me too. “You’ve been a very naughty student, Ms. Whitehouse.”
“I’ll be even naughtier if you let me, sir.”
I couldn’t stop the grin from forming, even if I’d tried. I kissed her smirk then thrust my tongue into her mouth, fucking her there first, needing to claim all of her, even as I rocked my hips and let my cock be coated in all her glossy wetness—juices that had been born from her attraction to me as well as my toying with her.
When her hands dug into my back then slid down to cup my ass, I tensed against her, aware that she’d be able to feel the rough skin, knew that she’d be able to discern the different patches where they’d taken grafts.
My breath froze in my chest, and I was unable to move for endless seconds, until she pulled her mouth from mine and whispered, “Nicholas? I want you, professor. Please.”
A deep groan escaped me, and I whispered, “You can have me.”
Rearing my hips up, I grabbed hold of my cock, which was dripping with her juices, then slid the tip to her gate. As I pushed inside, she clenched down on me and began panting again, but even though her nails dug into my sides, even though they dragged up and over to my back where I felt them bury themselves deep into the muscle, she didn’t pull away, didn’t try to pull back.
As I thrust into her, sinking home, she let out a broken cry as she burrowed her face into my throat, her body clinging to mine as her legs cupped my hips, crossing over so her heels dragged against my ass.
I felt surrounded by her, all encompassed, and it felt so fucking good that I wasn’t sure if I’d last longer than a goddamn minute.
Her slick heat was like nothing I’d ever known before. After all the years of denial, I felt like a fucking virgin again, but I wasn’t. I was an experienced lover, and there was no goddamn way that even if I was ready to burst, I’d do so without her exploding around me first.
And so, I ground my hips against hers so that each time I slid into her, I made sure to go deep enough that she felt it in her clit. Time and again, I sank home, loving how deep I could get, how much of me she took. Then, when her pussy spasmed around my cock, a soundless cry escaping her as she flung her head back until it was rocking against the floor in silent pleasure, I let myself go.
Four years of hunger let loose inside her.
Ripped from me like the shroud she’d ripped from my life.
It was too soon, too crazy, but I couldn’t stop myself from whispering in her ear, “I love you.”
And when she whispered back, “I love you too,” I thought my heart was going to explode with joy.
❖
The sound of Scottie squawking woke me up, but when he instantly settled, I knew I didn’t have to move because he’d have carried on crying if he needed one of us.
The floor wasn’t one of the most comfortable places to sleep, but I was certain I hadn’t slept better in years because she was there.
With me.
Cuddled into my side, hugged around me until I wasn’t sure where my skin ended and hers began. We were stuck together, literally, through sex sweat, and my lips curved as I remembered that particularly delicious part of sex.
As well as the wet puddle beneath us.
Fuck, even that felt good.
Especially because I’d come inside her.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, however, I felt like a shit.
She was twenty-one years old and already had a baby to take care of. I should have made sure she was protected, should have…
Her hand petted my chest, rubbing through the sparse hairs that grew there. “What’s wrong?” she murmured, and I realized she’d been awake for a while.
“Nothing.”
“Liar,” she teased, a laugh in her voice.
“I was thinking about birth control.”
“I have an IUD.”
Jealousy ripped through me. “Oh.”
She hummed, apparently not sensing why I’d tensed, otherwise, I doubted she’d have sounded so relaxed. I was acting like a damn caveman and I deserved to be smacked in the belly, not to be petted like a pampered pooch.
“When Mom got pregnant, I wasn’t about to let that happen to me.”
The breath that escaped me wasn’t relieved, as I believed she might assume, but poignant with loss.
Still, even if I wanted her full and round with my child, I was well aware that she was young, and even though I wanted her tied to me in more ways than I thought were legally possible, I wasn’t willing to rob her of more freedom.
As much as I’d loved Rosa, as much as I knew Phoebe loved Scottie, I also knew how all-consuming kids were. She really didn’t need another baby before she hit her mid-twenties.
Even if I wanted her to have
my kid.
And fuck, yeah, that was a really stupid thing to be thinking so soon, but this wasn’t soon for me.
She’d been at the forefront of my thoughts for months now. Christ, getting her out of them was damn near impossible.
For her to be here, in my arms, accepting of all my scars—both physical and mental—was more than I could dream of, so I needed to back the fuck off and stop being so greedy.
I kissed her temple. “Feel better?”
When she wriggled against me like a little pup, I chuckled and laughed harder when she slapped her hand against my belly. “Shut up,” she whined, making me laugh harder than I thought I had in years.
“Is that a yes?” I choked out.
“You know it is,” she pouted, then she released a deep sigh. “I’ve never realized how empty an orgasm can make you feel.”
I cocked a brow. “Isn’t pleasure, pleasure?”
“How do you feel when you jack off in the shower?”
“I don’t.”
She froze. “Ever?”
“No. Well, not recently.” I blew out a breath, wishing I’d kept my fucking mouth shut. “I don’t like to look at my body,” I admitted.
She tensed. “Oh.” Her hand petted my belly, rubbing over the tissues I loathed, and yet she seemed intent on touching them all.
I clenched my eyes shut because if I didn’t, I’d want to rail at her, demand she stop touching me, and I couldn’t do that.
Wouldn’t.
She didn’t deserve my cruel words just because I was tense and on edge, uncertain and insecure.
I needed to man up.
Stat.
So, instead of being a pussy, I choked out, “Please. Don’t.”
“Don’t, what?”
“Touch them. It makes it hard for me.”
She hummed. “All the more reason to touch them.”
Before I could argue with her, she was suddenly on top of me, straddling me, and I felt the wet kiss of her slick pussy against my belly, against the damaged flesh as she rocked into me.
On purpose.
She coated me with her slickness like the little siren I hadn’t expected her to be, and when she wiggled her hips, as though she was trying to coat me with even more, I had to shake my head because fuck, I needed this.
I needed someone who didn’t take life so damn seriously, and the truth was… I hadn’t expected that of her.
Unless she was with Scottie, she was usually frowning. Worrying over something. And with her schedule, I couldn’t blame her. I’d known med students who slept more than Phoebe did, and damn, I wanted that to change.
I wanted her lifestyle to change.
For the better.
I reached over and cupped her hips, pushing down on them so that she was grinding into my lower belly. Suddenly, her teasing turned serious as a wispy breath escaped her.
“Empty orgasms aren’t always so bad, are they?” I mocked, as she rocked against me, just frigging that deliciously dirty clit against me like it was her reason for being.
She sighed. “They’re not empty when you’re involved.”
“I watched you, every fucking time,” I retorted.
“But you looked bored,” she complained on a mewl, which turned high-pitched as the pleasure apparently hit her. “Sometimes, I thought you were asleep.”
It stunned me that she thought that, and because I was bewildered, I didn’t anticipate her sliding down, rocking into my cock, notching it to her pussy, then filling herself to overflowing with my dick once more.
“Aren’t you sore?” I rasped, grabbing her hips to stop her from riding me before she was ready.
“Oh yeah,” she moaned, “but it feels so fucking good.”
Christ, who was I to complain?
I let her ride me, loving the jiggle of her tits, loving the way she raised her arms overhead and fumbled her hair with her fingers as though she didn’t know what to do with them, as though she wanted to reach for the heavens but knew it was stupid.
When I reached between us and began rubbing her clit, she froze atop me with a startled, “Oh.”
“Feel good, baby?” I asked, my voice a low rasp as I watched her slowly start to grind herself on me once more. But this time, she was scowling, like she was trying to discern the flavor profile of the pleasure she was experiencing.
It was one of the hottest fucking things I’d seen in my goddamn life.
Watching this woman coming to own her pleasure?
It was a privilege.
I stunned the hell out of her by rearing up into a seated position, and the proximity changed our angle. She clamped down on me, making me press my face into her tits before I latched on to her nipple and tugged on it with my teeth. With each nibble I gave her, she grunted and moaned—evidently, she liked her tits played with.
Keeping one hand between us, I touched her in tandem, giving her the caresses she needed to explode around me like a light show.
When I came, it was deep and intense as her slick walls cupped me tight, held me close, like they’d never let me go, and fuck if I never wanted them to.
I’d die a happy man this close to this woman, and Christ if that didn’t seem to be the best life goal a man could ever have.
When we both fell flat on the floor again, she began giggling, but this time, she sounded punch-drunk.
“What’s wrong?” I inquired hoarsely, but I was smiling. Something about her made me feel like I’d drunk a shit ton of champagne too.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she tittered. “I’m just thinking about how many bedrooms this place has, and how we’re sleeping on the floor.”
My lips curved in a grin because she wasn’t wrong.
I reached for her hand, entwined my fingers with hers, then whispered, “Best night’s sleep I’ll have in a long time. The bed doesn’t matter, it’s the company that does.”
She fell silent at that, and I wasn’t sure if I’d freaked her out or not. She seemed to appreciate my intensity, but was also taken aback by it. But tonight, she didn’t say a word, just pressed her lips to my shoulder and gave me a gentle peck before nuzzling into me and falling asleep.
Chapter Twelve
The sunlight dappled Phoebe’s hair into a thousand shades of chestnut, but though she was more fascinating to me than a classical painting, I tore my attention away from her beauty, and instead demanded, “What are you doing here?”
It didn’t seem like she was all that surprised to see me, because her only response was for her to cock a brow my way when she determined where I was.
Ever since we’d grown more intimate, I’d allowed technology to take a lot of the stress off my shoulders. I always knew where she was, thanks to an app on my phone and hers, hence my tracking her down at this park, but her lack of surprise… My brow puckered as I contemplated what that meant, but she broke my concentration with her grumbled, “I want to speak with her.”
It didn’t take much to realize that by ‘her,’ Phoebe meant my she-witch of an ex, especially as we were in a damn park outside the bitch’s office building.
“Why?”
Her mouth tightened, and the sun seemed to bounce off the delicious curves of her lips. She had some kind of gloss on, and gross or not, I wanted to eat it off her mouth.
Fuck, I couldn’t keep my hands, mouth, or cock away from her body. She was like my very own personal drug, and I wanted to devour her.
“I saw the email.”
That had me narrowing my eyes at her, all arousal shoved to the side. “Why were you looking at my laptop?”
“It pinged!” she retorted, but I saw that her color was bright on her cheeks. “You’d left it on the coffee table, and I just saw it.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Anyway, this isn’t something you should have hidden from me.” She pointed a finger at me, jabbed it in the air. “You should have told me.” Point. Point. “Why didn’t you?”
I shrugged as I slid onto the seat beside her on the bench. Seamlessly, I
lifted my arm and curved it around her shoulders. Though she was pissed at me, I rather enjoyed how she snuggled into my side.
“A shrug isn’t an answer,” she told me grumpily.
“What can I say? I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Worry me?” she squeaked. “This is more than a worry, Nicholas. She’s threatening to tell the Dean about us!”
Sighing, I reached up with my free hand and pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s why I didn’t see any point in telling you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because I don’t care if she does.”
Her mouth firmed. “Well, I do. We’ve done nothing wrong.” Another huff. “Just because the school is archaic—”
I laughed. “Rules exist for a reason.” I dipped my head and nipped at her earlobe. “They think you devious women will corrupt us innocent professors into giving you better grades.”
She rolled her eyes, but I felt her shiver at my nip. “As if. You’re the corrupter here. I was innocent, just minding my own business before you came in like a wrecking ball.”
“I built everything back up that I knocked down though, didn’t I?” I rejoined with a smirk.
She huffed. “I guess.” Then she bit at her bottom lip. “Please, Nicholas, don’t joke. I’m concerned.”
And those two words were my kryptonite.
I figured I’d spend the rest of my life making sure this woman wasn’t concerned, which meant even though I’d been content to ignore Gina, I couldn’t now.
Dammit.
I’d consider myself pussy-whipped if Phoebe wasn’t just as afflicted. Although, I knew her reasoning was different than mine. Phoebe was young, had a bright life ahead of her. I knew what I felt for her and didn’t expect her to understand.
“If she thinks she has power over us, she’s more likely to use what she knows,” was all I said, keeping my tone calm. “You sitting outside her office is the exact opposite of keeping things relaxed.”
She winced. “You’re right. We should go.”
I snorted, squeezed her arm. “It’s a beautiful afternoon. We should go for a late lunch.”
“I have to study.”
“You also have to eat,” I countered, though she wasn’t wrong. Her finals were approaching and she had two weeks left to study. My class was her last exam, which I found rather apropos.
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