by Ivy Collins
“No,” I correct her mildly. “I’m irresistible when I’m smug. I am smug most of the time, after all, and you’re still somehow attracted to me.”
I lean down to kiss her on the top of her head, and leave to go retrieve her clothing from the dryer. When I come back, I can see a new anticipation in her eyes as she looks at me, no matter how she tries to hide it.
I smirk at her again, because I know it drives her wild. “Would you like me to tie you up and have my way with you tonight, Sophie?” I ask her archly.
She snatches her clothing from me. Her face burns bright red. But to my surprise, she forces out a clipped answer: “Yes,” she says. “I would like that.”
I reach out to tug her back by the arm. Before she can react, I twist her wrist behind her, hauling her up against me for a punishing kiss. She responds just as intensely as before, when I had her wrists above her head. The restriction on her movement makes her moan and arch against me eagerly.
I pull back just far enough to look her in the eyes. She’s flushed and bothered, and I suspect she’d probably go right back to bed with me if I asked. But we both have things to do today.
“It’s hard to keep my hands off you when you’re so honest,” I murmur. “If you’re a very good girl, I promise I’ll tie you up tonight, Sophie. I’ll make you come for me all over again.”
I let her go, and watch as she regathers herself. Her face is flushed, and I know she’ll be thinking about that promise all day long. Good. I want her to have something to look forward to after everything she’s got to sort out.
She heads for the bathroom to get dressed—but pauses, on her way there. “If anyone asks, er... should I just say I’m staying in a motel right now?”
I consider that for a moment. It’s what I implied to Linda, certainly, though I never outright stated it. “I suppose so, for now,” I say. I don’t tell her that it won’t be a problem for much longer. I don’t want her worrying about the things on my to-do list as well as her own.
She nods, and disappears into the bathroom.
SOPHIE
I’m staring at the clock on the wall at work, counting down the minutes until I can head back to Elijah’s condo. I should be worried about a dozen other things, in spite of the progress I’ve made today, but somehow instead they’ve all been shoved aside by the anticipation of that promise he made to me. I’ve gone from being too tired and harried and wary to have sex to thinking about it every other moment of the day.
I force myself to go bus a few tables, to make the clock go faster. I work as a waitress at a mid-level chain restaurant in the area. It’s far from the sort of job I hope to have once I finish my degree, but for now, it pays the bills so I can get that degree.
Speaking of paying bills—after much dancing around the issue, I reluctantly took up Elijah on his offer to pay for some clothing and basic necessities. He said he’d allow me to pay him back if I wanted, but I know he expects me to quietly let go of the issue. He’s wrong, of course. I’ve got one more semester before my degree is complete. With that proper programming job, I’ll be able to pay him back every cent, and maybe give him a bit extra as a thank you. I’ve kept all of the receipts, and put them with my other legal documents so I don’t lose them.
I did get through the email that Linda needed from me. I was dreading the idea of working on it all morning—but once Elijah sat down with me and I got some coffee in me, it was far easier than I’d feared. The hardest part were the details about Jordan that she wanted, but even that was bearable, with Elijah squeezing my hand every time I felt like hiding under the table.
What on earth I would have done without him... I don’t even want to contemplate it. I owe him more than just money, that’s for certain. There’s no way to measure how comforting it’s felt, just having another person around to help me while I deal with all of this. After my last exam tomorrow—his exam, in fact—I’ll be on holiday break. I ought to do something special for him as a thank you. I don’t know exactly what, just yet, but I’ll probably be able to think on it more when that last exam is over with.
My coworker comes by to tell me we’re closing up, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve gotten through another hard day. The rest of the night, at least, is mine.
And I know exactly how I intend to spend it.
7
Sophie
I call Elijah on my way back. At first, he’s a bit distracted by something, but he soon shifts his attention my way. I ask about his evening, but he quickly changes the subject to the sort of subjects I probably shouldn’t be discussing in public. I sit in my car for an extra moment, as he asks whether I’d prefer having my hands tied behind my back or in front of me. “It very much depends,” he drawls, in that deceptively high-class accent, “from which direction you’d like me to fuck you.”
“You know,” I say finally, in a voice that isn’t quite as steady as I’d like. “I’m starting to think you want me to drive off the road before I make it back to your place. You shouldn’t contribute to distracted driving, Elijah.”
He laughs. It’s that rich, low laugh again—the one I never hear from him in public. “I’m looking forward to seeing you,” he says. It’s not an innuendo; there’s a sweet sincerity to the words that touches me. I can’t remember the last time someone said those words to me and meant them. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t remember the last time someone said those words to me at all.
I park just outside of Elijah’s building, and head for the lobby. He’s already waiting there patiently to let me inside, and from the very first moment I see him standing there, my heart does a flip-flop in my chest. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him, but it’s just so different knowing that he’s waiting for me. He smiles and opens the door for me, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve thrown my arms around his neck.
He catches me with a bit of surprise. I sigh into his neck, surrounded again by the scent of his cologne. “I missed you,” I mumble, before I can stop myself. It’s the truth, I realize. I’ve been thinking about him all day, like some lovesick teenager. Now that I’m here with him again, everything seems just a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter around the edges.
He closes his arms around me, and pulls me inside. “I missed you too,” he murmurs in my ear. The words don’t seem to come naturally to him, but I can tell that he means them. The obvious effort makes me appreciate the comment even more.
Elijah slides his arm around my waist and heads to the elevator with me. Once inside, I lean against him, letting my cheek fall against his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, I can feel him relax a bit as I sink into him and absorb his heat. I’ve nearly forgotten his promise in the moment—I’m just so happy to be near him again.
I love him. The thought overwhelms me again, though I manage to keep it to myself. I figure there’s little fighting it at this point. Whether it’s just hormones or stress or some kind of actual, deep connection, it’s a moot point. It’s there, and I can’t seem to stop it.
As soon as we’re through the door to his condo, he closes it and leans me back against it, ducking his head to capture my lips. It’s a slow, languid kiss—somewhere between nice to see you and might I tempt you soon to do something naughty. I melt in his hands like butter. It’s so strange how I manage to out-stubborn him in every other circumstance except for when he touches me. I don’t know how he does it—there must be some kind of black magic involved—but he somehow knows just how to handle me in the bedroom so that I turn into a senseless, moaning mess.
Right now, he slides his tongue into my mouth, and I eagerly part my lips for him. He tastes like tea right now; I’ve learned that he prefers his Earl Grey with a dash of milk, and that he feels the need to make it himself, since Americans always oversteep it. There’s a soft tanginess to the taste that I normally wouldn’t enjoy—but I’m learning to crave it from instinct, now that I taste it every time he kisses me. I briefly wonder whether he has some sor
t of evil plan to addict me to tea, but the silly thought passes from my mind as his thumb brushes casually across my nipple. I suck in my breath, and feel him smile against my lips.
Yes, I confirm to myself, he’s definitely playing me like a fiddle right now. But I suppose it feels less annoying because in this specific case, it means he knows exactly how to make me feel good.
“Tell me,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Have you been a good girl tonight, Sophie?”
The words instantly dampen my panties for some reason. I’m instantly brought back to that moment when he twisted my wrist behind me and hauled me up against him. I shudder against him, now keenly aware of every little breath between us. His thumb circles my nipple through my shirt and my bra, and I need more.
I melt even further. Of course I do. It’s him. “I’ve been very good, I think,” I tell him softly.
His teeth nibble at my lower lip, and I sigh blissfully. He tugs me back toward the bedroom, and my body buzzes with anticipation.
He’s surprisingly gentle as he leans me back onto the bed. I was expecting this to be a little rough, but I enjoy the softness even more, as he grabs my wrists and pulls them together in front of me. He knots a black silk rope around them, and my pulse instantly jumps. It’s tight enough that I’d have to work to free my hands enough to touch him, but not so tight that it hurts. In a way, it’s just an implied promise—a suggestion that I’m not expected to use my hands to please him.
“Is that all right?” he murmurs, holding my eyes with his. “Not too tight?”
I nod slowly. “It’s... it’s good,” I mumble shyly. I can’t believe I’m doing this—not just letting a man tie me up, but letting my professor do it. But I am. In fact, I’m deeply excited by the prospect.
He tugs my tied wrists up to the headboard, looping another knot there, and I’m forced to settle back into the pillows. When he’s done, he leans his body into mine and gives me a slow, considering kiss. I can feel that he’s doing it to reassure me... but I don’t need reassuring. I’m already hot with desire, ready for him to make me beg again.
“I’m not going to ask you what you want tonight,” he breathes against my mouth. “I’m just going to take what I want.”
Those words suffuse my whole body with instant warmth. It’s a game, I know—he’s tying me up because he knows I want it. I know he’s going to spend the night doing things that I enjoy. But somehow, the pretense that I don’t get a say is turning me on. I don’t have to think tonight; I just get to enjoy myself. And I fully trust that Elijah is going to make this good for me.
His fingers trail down my neck, to snag on the buttons of the black button-down shirt I picked up today for work. He pops a few of the top buttons open, exposing the upper swell of my breasts and the edge of my bra. There’s a very open, appreciative look in his eyes as he takes in the sight. He snags his finger beneath one of my bra straps, and pulls me toward him, and I suck in my breath. He’s looking me in the eyes again, and it feels like I’m already stripped bare.
“In all seriousness,” he murmurs, “do tell me if you need to stop. If you dislike something, or... no, I don’t need a reason. Just promise me you’ll say something if you’re uncomfortable.”
I blink, caught off-guard by the sentiment. It’s the last thing I was expecting, but the obvious concern in his eyes makes me warm in a very different way. No one’s ever shown so much tenderness toward me before. I love you. The words are on my tongue again, desperate to escape. Instead, I give him a shaky smile. “I promise, I’ll say something,” I tell him.
“Excellent. Though, I’ll be honest—I intend to make it very hard for you to think about much of anything.” The concern fades away, back into that devastating smirk of his, and he flicks open another button of my shirt. I can’t help but notice that gorgeous blond hair in his eyes again. My fingers itch to brush it away, but they’re firmly pinned to the headboard. I twist my hands a bit to relieve the instinct. The resistance reassures me for some reason.
“Already getting impatient, I see,” Elijah observes, as he kisses down the column of my neck. His lips are light on my skin, barely ghosting over it. He parts my button-down fully, exposing the relatively plain black bra beneath it. I’d contemplated picking up something more exciting today, but with him paying, it would have taken on a particularly uncomfortable feeling. Still, he looks at me like I’m the sexiest woman alive, and I forget that I’m really wearing the most drab, work-appropriate attire I could find.
“You know,” Elijah sighs, sweeping his eyes over my breasts, “I haven’t spent nearly enough time enjoying these. I need to rectify that.” He releases my bra strap, kissing the skin of my shoulder next to it, then descending slowly down the swell of my breast. His lips reach the line of my bra, and I feel his warm breath just above the place where I really want it. I squirm with need, and he flicks his tongue just beneath the fabric, grazing my hard nipple.
I gasp, and rise off the bed just a little bit. He presses his palm firmly against my stomach, shoving me back down into place. “Naughty girl,” he drawls against my skin. “Stop trying to rush me. I’ll take what I want, when I want it.”
God, I’m already dying. I knew this was going to be good, but I had no idea just how good. My brain is swimming with heat and desire. Every time he tells me what to do in that confident, authoritative tone, another stab of strange pleasure goes through me.
Elijah toys with the top my bra with one finger, sliding it down just far enough to expose my nipple to the air. He considers it admiringly for a moment, running his thumb over the tip. Then, he dips his head and closes his mouth around it. A loud moan slips from me, echoing in the bedroom. His palm continues pressing against my stomach, holding me down as he licks and sucks at that nipple, eliciting more sounds from me.
He soon turns his attention to my other breast, leaving the first barely exposed. He slides a knee between my thighs as he does, parting my legs. I open up for him, though I’m still wearing my jeans, and he settles himself there firmly, pressing his weight down on me. I can feel his cock against me, already deliciously hard through the clothing that separates us. I try to rub against him, desperate for friction, but he simply pins me down harder with the weight of his body, holding me in place.
I’m going absolutely crazy in the very best way. “Oh god, please, yes,” I’m whimpering, trying to urge him on. “Please, Elijah, please.” I know he loves it when I beg—and sure enough, his cock grows harder against me as I do.
Elijah lifts his lips from my breasts to watch my face as I writhe beneath him, and I see his eyes darken with desire. He brings his mouth down on mine—hard, this time, uncompromising. It’s utterly different from that soft, gentle kiss before. He forces my mouth open, invading with his tongue, conquering me utterly. The more I make approving noises, the more punishing he becomes. He knits his fingers through my hair, wrenching my head to the side to grant him better access to my mouth. He bites down on my lower lip hard enough that I taste just a hint of copper.
His other hand pulls down the straps of my bra, leaving them limp next to my shoulders. He tugs the bra down roughly, fully exposing my breasts so he can massage them each in turn. His breathing is harsh, and I know he’s enjoying this as much as I am. The idea just turns me on even more. My moans are getting higher and more desperate. My jeans are so damp between my thighs that I know he can’t help but notice.
His fingers descend between my legs, rubbing along that damp spot, giving me just a hint of the friction that I so desperately need. “You’re so fucking wet already,” he groans into my mouth. “You really are delightfully naughty.”
My head is spinning now. I can barely think straight, with his fingers running up and down the outside of my jeans. “Are you going to punish me, professor?” The words come out on instinct, before I can give them a second thought.
There’s a pause between us. He blinks in surprise, and I worry that I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t have, reminding us both
of the professional relationship we’re trying to leave behind. But his mouth quirks into that sly smirk, and he snaps open the front button of my jeans, holding my eyes.
“I am going to punish you very hard, Miss Eddings,” he promises me heatedly. He tugs my jeans and my panties down off my hips, pulling them from my legs and tossing them to the floor, and I whimper with newfound desire as the air hits my naked pussy.
Elijah brings his mouth down between my legs then, and presses his lips to the little swollen nub there. I cry out in shock, rising up off the bed again. He presses his palms to my inner thighs, forcing my legs open beneath him as he gently pulls my clit between his lips. He licks and sucks there, and I know I’m screaming now, bucking underneath his mouth.
He licks his way down my slit, dipping his tongue inside. “Oh god,” I sob. “Oh fuck. Professor, please!” He swirls his tongue approvingly, shifting his fingers to circle my clit. Just a few more licks have me coming apart beneath him, crying out wordlessly as I orgasm. My head feels like it’s floating a foot above me; I’m blinded with pleasure, helpless to do much more than ride it out.
He keeps licking me as I come. I can’t do anything. I’m shuddering beneath his mouth, slowly surfacing back to rational thought as the waves of pleasure slow and finally subside.
Elijah looks up at me with the most arrogant smirk I’ve seen on him yet. It makes me want to shove him down and ride him until he comes—but I’m still quite firmly tied to the headboard. He slides back up my body and kisses me, and I taste myself on his tongue. He pulls back to unbutton his shirt as I watch, finally shrugging it to the floor.
“That,” he tells me, “was not your punishment, Miss Eddings. It was not nearly enough.”
I watch him heatedly as he tugs his slacks far enough down to reveal his cock. I fix my eyes on it hungrily, and he strokes one hand over it as I watch. He climbs back on top of me, pressing his palms against my inner thighs again to force my legs open beneath him. His eyes glint with anticipation as the tip of his cock presses against my swollen entrance.
