Midnight Passions

by Leigh Ellwood

  Colleen obliged, her movements frenzied and her hand cramping. She watched Daryl’s eyes flitter underneath his lids and his lips slowly pucker into a pleasured moan, and when she bent over to take him in her mouth he sighed audibly and long. The middle seat belt buckle cut into her side, and she tried to move to relieve the ache, but Daryl kept her head pinned low with a strong hand.

  “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop,” he repeated until finally he came, and Colleen jerked upward before it all shot into her mouth. His hot seed sprayed the steering column and his pants, and trickled down her knuckle. Colleen made a show of licking her hand clean and cooing her pleasure, but Daryl’s line of sight was focused elsewhere. In the dim of the cab, it was difficult to tell exactly what he was looking at.

  “Oh, that was good,” he sighed, and Colleen scooted back to the passenger side seat and spread her legs, awaiting Daryl to snake a hand between her thighs.

  Instead she heard the loud, benign click of all the automatic door locks releasing. Daryl tucked his limp cock back into his pants and wiped off the cum with a towel from the truck floor, as if it were the normal thing to do, and looked at her expectantly.

  “Well,” Colleen pressed, and thrust her hips higher. Surely he was going to reciprocate in some way? It’s not like he hadn’t done anything with her before. So many times they had done it in the bed of the truck, and wasn’t he so eager to get her home a few minutes ago? What had changed?

  “Oh, baby, you know it’s different for a woman in a truck. I’ll be bending over wrong and hurting my back,” he said, his voice a steady whine.

  Translation: you’re too fat to fuck in my truck.

  No, I’m not. That’s not what he’s saying. Leave me alone, Colleen chided her conscience.

  “So we’ll move to the bed of the truck. What’s the big deal?” Colleen pressed her thighs together. Her clit throbbed; she needed release, and wasn’t above stroking herself in front of Daryl to get it. Right now, though, she was angry with him, and figured if she did so he would only get turned on, and not feel as if he were being punished.

  “It’s late, babe, but don’t worry.” He leaned over and appeased her with a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you get double tomorrow night.”

  That slight tickle of mustache against her skin held the promise of an incredible night of oral play. It was enough to sting every nerve in her body; she probably didn’t need direct contact to her clit to come at the moment.

  “You better,” she purred. She mouthed silent goodnights and I love yous and hopped out of the car as Daryl nodded in time to the cranking of the engine. The truck roared to life as she rounded the grill and headed toward the front door. She turned back to blow one more kiss, but Daryl’s attention was turned toward the street as he backed away.

  She had her knob on the door when she became aware of the taste in her mouth. She couldn’t kiss her daughter goodnight with Daryl on her lips. A frantic search in her purse, however, yielded no more peppermint candy.

  Just as well, Colleen realized with a sigh when she entered the house and Melissa didn’t immediately leap up to greet her. The young girl remained on the couch, focused on Professor John Spence, hanging on his every word as he read from a leather-bound book.

  What don’t I know about her? Colleen thought sadly. Used to be Melissa homed in on her mother with protective radar. In pre-school, the girl could have been in another room and knew when to come toddling up front to greet her.

  It was John instead who acknowledged Colleen’s presence. He folded the book into his palm, appraised Colleen over his square-rimmed reading glasses, and smiled. “How was your evening?” he asked. Only then did his hold on Melissa release, and the young girl looked up as if seeing Colleen for the first time.

  “Fine, very fine. Thanks.” Colleen kept her head low, her voice aimed into her blouse. All she tasted was popcorn salt and cum, and the sensation spread throughout her body, making her feel sticky. She didn’t want Melissa touching her, so she quick-stepped toward the kitchen. “I’m just a bit thirsty…”

  John rocked forward to stand. “I’m sorry to keep Melissa up so late. We were reading and lost track of the time…”

  “Hm? Oh.” Colleen noted the time on the microwave clock and saw indeed that Melissa should have been in bed two hours ago. “Oh, that’s fine, Prof—”

  “John,” he interrupted. “No need to be formal.”

  “Right.” Colleen laughed nervously. She peered through the service window dividing the kitchen from the living room and watched the professor stretch his lean body. This, she had to admit, was the first time she had gotten a good look at him since signing the lease. Until this point, he had always been a blur on the way to the car or back into the house.

  He was a very good-looking blur when he stood still, she realized. His white Oxford shirt hung loose, but when it pulled tight across his back Colleen could easily make out the planes of nicely sculpted muscles as he stretched and twisted. The clean white of the shirt set off nicely his bronze skin, especially his large, strong hands. Long legs encased in black denim stretched about a mile long, up to a nice, tight ass.

  Damn! She hadn’t realized before how handsome her landlord was, so dark and exotic. She remembered he had once casually referred to his Caribbean background, and she wondered how remote it was. Spence hardly sounded like a tropical surname. Maybe an ancestor Americanized it when he came to the country.

  How old was Professor Spence again? She had heard early forties at a neighborhood clambake a while back, but nobody could say for certain. That he owned his home, a BMW, and a motorcycle for occasional jaunts attested to some life experience—more than her twenty-eight years. And he taught college, so he had to have spent a considerable amount of time going to school.

  “Well, I should get going, gal,” he was saying to Melissa. “I’ve kept you up long enough.”

  “No, stay until we finish the chapter, please?” Colleen heard her daughter wheedle. “Mom?” Melissa called to her. “It’s only two more pages.”

  Colleen stood in the kitchen doorway, clutching a coffee can, her eyes riveted to John’s backside. As her gaze panned upward to two expectant faces the bubble burst and she quickly masked the sudden rush of desire flushing her cheeks with a hand, faking a sneeze. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a problem, if Prof—er, John, doesn’t object. What’s another twenty minutes?”

  Melissa happily bounced back on the couch and bade John to finish the story. “Tell you what,” John said, instead handing the girl the book, “I think you’re an advanced enough reader, why you take over for a while?”

  “Yeah? But what about—” Melissa looked nervously at her mother. Colleen felt suddenly unnerved. Were they reading a book a girl of eight shouldn’t be reading?

  John winked. “You’ll be fine,” he assured Melissa. “You can handle the words.”

  Colleen watched the girl’s eyes light up as she smoothed her hands over the gilt-edged pages and began to recite aloud. She was floored; a year ago it had been a struggle to get Melissa to choose a book from the library, one at her own reading level, and now this man had her reading something that probably better suited one of the professor’s students. Melissa read it rather well, too, and not stumbling over her words.

  It was difficult, though, to miss the dreamy expression on Melissa’s face as she looked up for his approval. Yeah, the man was gorgeous; that probably had something to do with it.

  John resumed his place next to Melissa, draping an arm over the back of the couch and dipping his head low to listen better. It was a perfect domestic scene, one Colleen hoped to have with Daryl soon, once he settled his finances and agreed to a time to house hunt. What bliss it would be to snuggle with her man and her girl after a day’s work, reading and being a family, something she had wanted with Melissa’s father, though it hadn’t worked out.

  Daryl, though, would. Yes, he was rough around the edges, but once he settled down…

  The hiss of the
coffee machine broke into her thoughts, and the tantalizing aroma of vanilla and hazelnut teased her senses. She poured a mug, then dipped her head through the kitchen portal. “John, would you like some coffee?”

  The couch faced away from her. She saw only the back of John’s head and broad shoulders and tufts of Melissa’s brown hair poking up from the cushions. But when John shifted in place to look back at her, her heart stopped. For the first time tonight she got a good look at John Spence’s face. She had just shot past him on the way to the kitchen, but she saw now that he was truly beautiful, if a man could be called that. He looked different than he had all those times they met to make arrangements for the townhome. She had seen him then as just another landlord, but now...he looked different.

  Thick, brown hair barely dusted his collar and hid his ears, and soft, brown eyes smiled back at her with such warmth that she felt it radiate against her skin and color her cheeks. An outsider might have considered his expression and relaxed demeanor fatherly, protective and unthreatening, but there was a sensual vibe about him hiding under the surface. Maybe it was the glint in his eyes, they way they appeared to appraise her as she smiled awkwardly back. What was he thinking at that moment, did he find her attractive? Was he only smiling out of politeness?

  Get over yourself, girl. He’s only being nice because you pay your rent on time; it’s not like he thinks you’re attractive. You’re lucky Daryl notices you.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that his expression was open to more interpretation. Colleen hoped that was only a trick of the light from the ceiling fan. The aroma of rich, flavored coffee was already making her heady, but coupled with sudden images of those full lips kissing hers, and those brown hands kneading her breasts threatened her balance.

  “No, thank you,” John said, breaking her reverie, and Colleen silently regained her composure and nodded. Hidden by the dividing wall, she crossed her legs tightly and braced her weight against the kitchen sink in a poor attempt to ease throbbing in her pussy. Suddenly her pants felt tight over her expanding thighs, making her all the more uncomfortable.

  In this time Melissa completed the chapter and John handed her a paper marker. “Aw,” Melissa whined. “Can’t we read any more?”

  “It’s late, sweetie. You need to get upstairs and into bed.” Colleen stepped slowly into the living area with her coffee and quickly took the opposite recliner.

  “But, Mom, we’re really getting into the story. I mean, really getting into it.” The girl giggled. “I want to find out what happens to Marianne, if she ends up with Willoughby or Colonel Brandon.”

  Colleen leaned over and studied the book’s spine, reading the gilt-embossed title. “Sense and Sensibility?” She looked pointedly at the professor. “You don’t think that’s a bit too much for a third grader?”

  John shrugged. “Not really. I wasn’t that much older than Melissa when I started reading Austen. There’s no inappropriate language or situations to worry about.” He paused. “Though I suppose I should have cleared it with you first, but Melissa said you wouldn’t mind…”

  “Oh, no. That’s fine. At least she’s reading.” Her heart panged with guilt now. How quickly had Melissa grown up without her realizing it? Colleen had expected her daughter might still be into dressing dolls and comic books, and here Melissa was reading classic literature she herself had never cracked.

  John broke the awkward silence with another dazzling smile. “Melissa, if you like, you can borrow the book and finish it on your own. I won’t need it for a while.”

  Melissa clutched the book to her chest. “You mean it? You don’t think—”

  “I trust you with it, Melissa. I know you’ll enjoy it.”

  Melissa gasped with delight, but looked to her mother for approval. When Colleen smiled back, the girl quickly pecked John on the cheek and thanked him, then kissed her mother goodnight.

  “I’ll give it back as soon as I’m done,” she called as she hurried upstairs, the book clutched to her chest.

  “Take your time,” John called after her, and turned back to smile at Colleen. Colleen felt the warmth shoot straight down to her toes.

  “She’s a wonderful little girl,” John said.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Colleen said with all seriousness. “And thank you for watching her. I know you have better things to do with your time…”

  “It’s no bother, really. Any time with a child willing to read instead of rot in front of a video game is time well spent.”

  Colleen tried not to think of Daryl, his long, lean legs crossed in front of his television as he maneuvered aliens onscreen with a game control. “I agree,” she said and fell in step behind John when he moved toward the door. “If there’s any way I can repay you—” she began, but John stilled her voice with a raised hand.

  “There’s no need. I can only think of one thing, and it’s not my business to ask it of you,” he said.

  Colleen was intrigued. “Really?” He must be talking about something related to the property, she decided. Melissa was often careless about leaving her bike and sports equipment laying in the common yard. “What is it?”

  John’s face turned suddenly grim in the outside porch light as he stepped over the threshold. “I would strongly suggest you tell that selfish bastard you’re seeing to take a hike. You can do so much better,” he said, then set his mouth in a straight line.

  Colleen hadn’t expected such frankness from this man, and didn’t know how to react. How dare he, for one, comment on something that wasn’t his business?

  Instead of saying that, though, she said, “Oh, really? You think so.”

  “We both think so,” he said, and walked the ten feet to his home without another word.

  Chapter Three

  John’s words pounded in her temples as she tried to sleep; they ricocheted off the walls and taunted her all the next morning as she served breakfast and tried to get Melissa ready for the school bus. Nothing could make the words fade into silence: not playing her favorite morning radio show at full blast, nor crunching on her hard-as-granite cereal. When she noticed Melissa eyeing her with curious expression she pasted on a false smile.

  We both think so, he had said. Had Melissa talked to John Spence about Daryl? Why hadn’t Melissa said anything to her before about not liking him? If anybody mattered when it came to relationships, it was Melissa. Did the girl think she wouldn’t listen?

  “All packed?” Colleen adjusted her earrings and smoothed her long skirt.

  Melissa sat in the recliner, flanked by her book bag and a duffel for the sleepover. She swung her legs and stared at the plastered cracks on the opposite wall. “Professor Spence said this used to be all one house,” she said, “before the son of the original owner split it to get twice the amount of rent for it.”

  Colleen pretended to look for something in her purse. “Professor Spence seems to know a lot of things,” she bit out, relieved that Melissa hadn’t picked up on her tone.

  Melissa nodded to the wall. “The son sold both halves because he didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

  “I know, dear.” She wondered why Professor Spence didn’t try to reconnect the halves after buying the building. Yes, the extra income was nice, but to have all the space without the inconvenience of somebody practically living on top of you would have, to Colleen, well made up for the financial loss.

  Then again, she felt she should at least be grateful to have such a nice place at a reasonable price.

  “That wall didn’t used to be there,” Melissa was saying, pointing, “and he said my room used to be bigger, but it backs up to his study now. And the room against yours is…”

  Colleen looked at her expectantly, but Melissa just shook her head. “Never mind,” the girl said in a tone that implied Colleen wouldn’t be interested. Colleen, however, didn’t need to know the layout of the professor’s home to know that his bedroom backed against hers, or that the professor had done his s
hare of overnight entertaining. More than his fair share.

  She wondered briefly how many lovers John Spence had over the years, and how skilled a lover he was.

  None of your business.

  She shook the thought away. “Speaking of study, are you ready for your geography quiz?”

  “Yes, Mom,” Melissa said on a sigh. “I know all the state capitals. Jeez.”

  “Just checking. Uh, Melissa.” Colleen looked at her hands. “About Daryl…I was talking to—”

  But a bright flash of yellow rolled past their window, and Melissa snatched her bags and ran out the door. “Bus is here, Mom. See you tomorrow!”

  “Call when you get to Monica’s,” Colleen called after her daughter, and received a shrugged, silent answer as Melissa dashed for the bus. Her discussion about Daryl would have to wait.

  She stepped out of the house to see her daughter off and stopped short of the entranceway, watching for any sign of activity next door. Both John’s car and motorcycle were parked in the driveway.

  Quickly she grabbed her purse, locked the door behind her, and dashed to her car. She drove out of the neighborhood in record time, and didn’t take a breath until she hit the first red light on the way to work.

  “What is wrong with me?” she asked herself, her heart pounding. Why was she afraid of John Spence? He was just a man, an opinionated man sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Why should she be afraid to see him, and why should she care what he thought of her boyfriend?

  She turned onto highway and drove to work. Forget him, she admonished herself. You’re going to have a great time tonight with Daryl. That’s more important than what some snooty professor thinks.

  Some gorgeous, snooty professor with a nice, tight ass.

  Colleen groaned.

  * * * *

  Daryl showed right after work, as promised, but John Spence had yet to leave. His words haunted her all through the evening as they ate dinner and watched TV, and later in bed, preventing her from giving her full attention to Daryl’s lovemaking.