by London Hale
“How much time do we have?” he asked against my lips, his hands already sneaking under my shirt to cup my breasts.
“Not long. Five minutes.” I bit my lip to stifle a moan as he tweaked a nipple through my bra, my hips rolling against his as I sought relief.
“Then we better hurry.” His fingers deftly undid the button on my shorts before slipping inside, going straight to my pussy. He hissed out a ragged breath, his eyes connecting with mine as his fingers slid against me. “Jesus, you’re wet.”
I nodded and clung to him, eyes going fuzzy as he stroked my clit. The day had been the longest foreplay session I’d ever been part of, so I wouldn’t need more than thirty seconds of focused attention to come. I was already close, and he’d only just started touching me. It should’ve surprised me, how easily he elicited these reactions in me, but I no longer was. Our connection wasn’t something I questioned anymore. It simply was.
Just as I was climbing to fall over the edge, Elliott removed his fingers, then tugged my shorts down and off, along with my panties. Before I could do anything but gasp out a shocked “What—” he had me pinned to the wall, his shorts pulled down just far enough to free his cock. And then he lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he pushed inside me with a low groan.
“Elliott,” I moaned, my head thumping quietly on the wall. I’d intended his name to come out as an admonishment, but there was no denying the breathless quality of my voice. Or the way I swiveled my hips as he thrust into me. “My parents—”
“I know,” he said, his forehead pressed against my neck. “I know. I couldn’t wait another minute to have you. My cock’s been hard all day because I can’t get you off my mind, and you looked so fucking stunning up there in the sun. I kept thinking about your freckles and…shit. I just wanted to make you come.”
The sounds of our joining filled the stateroom, Elliott’s hips slapping fast and frantic against the inside of my thighs. He gripped my ass in his hands, pulling me forward as he thrust deep. And even though my parents were nearly right above us, could have come down at any moment and stumbled upon the dean of students fucking their daughter against a wall on their boat, I didn’t care.
More than that, it heightened the buildup low in my belly. As Elliott worked his thick cock in and out of me in the perfect rhythm, at the perfect angle, it only served to thrust me that much faster toward my orgasm. The threat of being caught was my ultimate undoing, the muffled voice of my dad above deck reaching my ears just before I clamped down on Elliott’s cock.
“There it is.” Elliott groaned. “Fuck, so tight and hot. Never enough. I’ll never get enough of your pussy, princess.”
I moaned low through my release as he gave a short succession of shallow, fast thrusts before pushing deep, his cock pulsing inside me as he came.
“Fuck, Sam.” He exhaled sharply, catching his breath before he pressed a kiss to my neck. Then he took my mouth in a slow, sweet kiss, so contradictory to the way he’d just fucked me, I couldn’t help but smile against him. My grin only grew when his lips curved to match mine.
“That was really stupid,” I whispered against his mouth.
He nodded. “I know.” Pressing two quick kisses to my lips, he pulled out and set me on my feet before reaching for my shorts and panties. “Why don’t you get cleaned up in the bathroom and we can go back up.”
“Head.”
“What?”
“It’s not a bathroom. It’s a head,” I said, stopping just inside it. “If we go back up and you don’t even know the proper names, my dad will know I didn’t do my duty.”
“How about I tell him we didn’t discuss head nearly enough?” He shot me a salacious grin. “But that we plan on making up for it this evening.”
Laughing under my breath, I hurried into the head, very aware of how long we’d been gone, and cleaned up before righting my clothes. As soon as I stepped out, I grabbed Elliott’s hand and pointed to the different areas, calling them by their proper sailing terms while dragging him toward the ladder. As I climbed in front of him, he rested his hands on my hips, then leaned in and gave my ass a sharp nip, barely moving away by the time we were in view.
“Everything okay down there?” my dad asked, his eyes flitting back and forth between us, his gaze shrewd and assessing.
And even though I knew with near-certainty my dad couldn’t possibly know what his little girl had just gotten up to on the family boat, my stomach still knotted, anxiety making my palms sweat.
Fortunately, Elliott was quicker than I was, his reply coming as easy as the grin he shot my dad. “Sam must’ve told me the names for all the rooms down there five times, and I still can’t get them right. I don’t know the stateroom from the galley. Not much of a sailor, I’m afraid.”
My dad laughed, clapping a hand on Elliott’s shoulder. “We’ll get you up to speed soon enough. For today, let’s just enjoy the perfect conditions.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, settling against the seat across from Elliott. Jesus, what had we been thinking, tempting fate by not keeping our hands to ourselves? We may not have been caught this time, but this little outing only proved that we couldn’t be trusted in public. Not when there was so much on the line. Not when we both had so much to lose.
Chapter Seven
Elliott
Monday came like any other. Though Mondays with Sam in my bed were much sweeter than before. Especially when she was warm and soft underneath me.
“You got some sun.” I licked down her chest, tracing the new freckles that had appeared. Those spots drove me wild. I knew every one, could practically count them in the dark. Every time she got more than the smallest dose of sun, they multiplied, giving me new targets for my kisses.
“Hmmm, all that time on the water with my parents.” She ran her fingers through my hair. She sounded sleepy, more so than usual. Probably because of how I’d kept her up late the night before. I couldn’t help myself. She’d made me dinner, singing and dancing around my little kitchen like some goddamned TV show housewife from the fifties. As progressive as I was, that shit was hot. My woman, taking care of me, enjoying the labor of making a meal for us? Total turn-on.
I’d fucked her over the kitchen counter after I’d finished the dishes, then teased her with my fingers while she soaked in my tub, and I’d closed the night by licking her pussy until she came multiple times on my face. A quick fuck from behind for me—though I’d made damn sure she came on my cock as well—and I’d finally let her fall asleep.
Apparently, all that had taken a toll.
“I’ll make the coffee today,” I said, rubbing her bare ass and kissing her nipple once. “Take an extra few minutes.”
Sam said something that sounded like an argument but fell back asleep before she could voice it clearly. Definitely too tired for the day, something else that gave the caveman in me a little ego thump. I’d worn her out. I’d be swaggering for days over that one, at least internally.
Wanting to let her rest, I reached over and turned off her alarm before heading to the living area. The sun was coming up, the sky lit up and the water bright. Summer was close. It would be a good day.
Once I had the coffee and toast made just the way Sam liked them, I headed back into the bedroom. I whistled as I walked, figuring food and caffeine first, then I could throw Sam’s ass in the shower with me. I could tease her awake in there, maybe have a few minutes to play with her pussy and make her come before she had to go to work.
But Sam wasn’t in the bed when I walked in, though I could hear the shower running.
“Sam?” I knocked once on the door, which she’d left ajar.
“Hey.” She peeked out from behind the shower doors. “I figured I could shower while you made the coffee. Multitasking, and all that. I’ll be out in a sec.”
Teasing shower sex…denied. The good thing about basically moving Sam into my apartment right from the start was that I could always try tomorrow morning. Or the next. Or the
one after that. We had a lifetime of mornings to have teasing shower sex. She was my…my girlfriend? That sounded too juvenile. If I called her my woman, she might hit me, which could lead to some awesome angry sex. I’d save that for a night when we had more time. If I saw that fiery spark of irritation in her eyes she sometimes got, I’d have her bent over the couch and we’d both be late to work.
Back to the naming thing. Not girlfriend. Not woman. Someday, I’d call her my wife, but for now…
She was simply my Sam.
After her shower, coffee, and a few jam-flavored kisses that did nothing to ease my near-constant erection, Sam was out the door. I followed suit, showering quickly—well, quickly once I jacked off to the memories of what we’d done—before grabbing my laptop bag and heading out the door. I had a morning of meetings with the financial team, so there was no way I could skip a second cup of coffee from Bundt and Grind. Damn the risks.
Sam grinned when I walked in, catching my eye around the young man with the wild hair ordering an espresso.
“Good morning, Dean,” she said once it was my turn at the counter. Fuck, that was hot. I loved it when she called me dean in the bedroom. Or the living room. Pretty sure she’d called me that more than once when I’d had her pinned to the kitchen counter last night.
“Morning, Sam. Looks like you got some sun.” I grinned as the espresso drinker walked out. We were alone, at least for a few minutes.
She raised her hand to her chest and pulled the neckline of her top down enough for me to get a good look at those freckles. At her breasts all encased in white lace, too. “Sailing again. The sun seems to love my skin.”
So did I, and she knew it. She moved to the side to make my coffee, and I followed. Edging farther along than usual. Needing something this morning. Needing her.
“You know,” I said, glancing into the storeroom at the end of the cooler. “I’ve never seen your storage room.”
Sam looked confused, glancing to the dark, closet-like room and back. “Why would you want to?”
I shrugged, heading toward the door in question. “I don’t know. It seems quiet, perhaps a little out of the way. Customers don’t go in there.”
Sam must have picked up on my intentions. “No, they certainly don’t. I’d show you, but I’m not supposed to leave the front unattended. Because of customers.”
“I’m the only one in here with you.”
Sam smirked. “True, but it’s still against the rules.”
“I do like to break the rules now and again.”
“Don’t I know it.”
When she came out from behind the counter, I pulled her inside the little room. I didn’t even close the door, just moved us far enough into the shadows to not be seen by a casual observer. I couldn’t control my hands, couldn’t stop them from running up and down her body, under her clothes, and over her luscious ass. Her resulting giggles whenever I passed along her sides only turned me on more. Fuck, this woman was everything.
“Needed a little taste,” I mumbled against her lips before licking down her neck. I yanked on the neckline of her shirt, exposing more of her new freckles. “I didn’t get enough of you this morning.”
“I know.” Her hands were in my hair, tugging. Directing me. I peeled down the cup of her bra and sucked her nipple between my lips. Just a bit, a tease. I’d fuck her against the racks of coffee in a heartbeat, but there was no way the shop would stay empty for long.
“God, Elliott.” Sam hissed as I bit down, and I responded by grabbing her ass and hauling her against me. Fine, maybe we did have time. I just needed a few minutes to get her off. If I slid my hands inside her pants and—
The chime over the door sounded, and Sam sighed. “Shit.”
Yeah. Shit. “You need to get to work.”
She nodded against my chest. “So do you.”
I gave her one last kiss before adjusting myself to be more presentable. Couldn’t walk around sporting a hard-on all day, though I probably would. My Sam left me hungry for her every minute of the day.
Clothes straightened, hair combed back into place, Sam took a deep breath and headed out into the shop. “I’ll be right with you.” She looked back over her shoulder as I appeared from the storeroom. “Thank you so much for helping me with those boxes, Dean Goodridge. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t walked in when you did.”
I nodded once and grabbed my coffee. “No problem, Sam. Please tell your parents I said hello.”
And with that, I was done. Separated from my Sam for the next ten hours or so as I tried to put back together the college’s student activities while she worked and studied and prepped for finals. Just a couple more weeks and school would be over. Just a little longer of keeping our love secret, and we could stop hiding.
I couldn’t wait.
*
Five hours of meetings, and my brain was mush.
“Dean Goodridge.” Bonnie leaned into my office, looking oddly tentative. “Dean Mackelroy’s office called. She needs you to go up there immediately.”
I set my pen down and removed my glasses. Being called to the dean of faculty’s office wasn’t unusual, but something about Bonnie’s expression unsettled me.
“Any idea why she needs me?”
“I’m not sure, though her admin told me a parent has been in her office with her all morning.”
That could really mean anything. “Okay. I’m heading up now.”
“I’ll let them know, sir.”
I took the stairs up to the fourth floor, not wanting to wait for the antiquated elevator. A parent in the dean’s office all day—sounded like there was a problem with the staff. The only reason I would be pulled in was if it was someone who fell under my department or there was a discrimination issue. I hoped like hell it wasn’t something major—I didn’t want to lose an instructor now that we had a strategic plan on how we were going to build our extracurriculars and attract new students. I’d spent the last two and a half months planning off of the staff count I’d been told to expect. A firing would result in more work.
“Go right in. She’s waiting for you.” Dean Mackelroy’s assistant nodded toward her door. I followed her instructions, opening the door with a single soft knock.
“Dean Mackelroy,” I said when I walked in. “You wanted to see me.”
“Yes, Dean Goodridge.” Dolores Mackelroy stood, looking over at the people on the couch across her office. The people I knew. One of whom I knew far too well, whose relationship with me could have just lost me my job. I couldn’t show fear, though. Couldn’t show doubt. It was time to put on my professional armor.
Dolores simply waved me toward the seating area where everything good and bad in my world was crashing together, clueless as to the storm inside me. “A parent came to see me this morning regarding what is potentially inappropriate conduct between a faculty member and a student. I’m hoping we could smooth this out with conversation. I believe you know Trustee Charles Monroe and his daughter, Samantha?”
Charles glared, his arm protectively thrown around Sam, who looked just as mad, just as fierce, though that ire wasn’t directed at me. It was directed at her father.
This would not end well.
Chapter Eight
Sam
I couldn’t deny that I’d spent the past several weeks contemplating being in this exact position—Elliott and I having been found out, both our futures on the line. It’d played over in my mind a hundred different ways, but I hadn’t ever truly believed it was something we’d have to face. Thinking, somehow, we were untouchable. Love managing to blind me to the very real consequences we faced by voluntarily and enthusiastically participating in a strictly forbidden relationship.
My dad’s hand rested heavily on my shoulder as I sat rooted in my seat in the dean of faculty’s office, as if somehow the weight of his fingers on me would keep me from going to Elliott. When I’d gotten the call earlier that Dean Mackelroy needed to see me immediately, I’d been too
nervous to do anything but go straight to her office, the terrifying possibilities that I’d been too naive to truly consider staring me in the face.
I should’ve called Elliott or sent him a text, giving him warning of what I’d feared I’d be walking into. Save him, perhaps, from the shock and disbelief I’d been feeling for the past half-hour as my father had spoken about hunches and Samantha being seen leaving Dean Goodridge’s apartment building and do you have any idea what this can do to your college career, young lady?
I’d sat the entire time, quiet and contemplative, not knowing how to answer. That was one thing Elliott and I hadn’t specifically discussed—what we’d do if this ever came to light. We’d simply agreed that whatever the consequences, they’d be worth it. But was that the case now? As we faced those challenges head-on? I could still say the same for me—losing credits for the single semester since Elliott had arrived at the college wasn’t a big deal. It’d be inconvenient, having to go to the mainland to take enough credits to graduate, but that was it. An inconvenience.
I couldn’t say the same for him. If this came to a head, if there were true consequences brought about because of our actions, Elliott’s entire career could be over. His livelihood was on the line. That wasn’t something as inconsequential as having to take a few extra classes.
Where I seethed in my seat, furious my father had had the gall to go straight to the dean of faculty rather than discussing this with me like adults, Elliott stood calmly, seemingly unconcerned about what this meeting could possibly lead to. As if he hadn’t been found sleeping with one of his students. As if his career wasn’t on the line.
“Please, have a seat,” Dean Mackelroy said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of my father, too far away for my liking. I wanted to rest my fingers on Elliott’s forearm, wanted the comforting weight of his hand on my knee, wanted to tell him without words we were in this together, however he wanted to play it. That I’d back him up no matter what.
