“You know, the program here is really excellent. And it’s completely separate from the undergraduate program.”
“So, you can’t pull any strings to get me in?” At his silence, she laughed. “It’s a joke. But I’m not letting you off the hook for writing me a recommendation at least.”
“Oh, of course.” He relaxed. “No string-pulling. But also no conflict of interest.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I were to, um, ask you out sometime.” His voice was adorably gravelly, and it delighted Bree she made him nervous.
“Like on a date?”
“Yeah. On a date.”
She laughed. What a ridiculous, wonderful prospect. “You’re very concerned about propriety, aren’t you?”
“Well, I’m trying to get tenure. I intend to stay at Weston for the duration of my career. It wouldn’t do to court controversy.”
Bree laughed again. He was so endearingly stuffy sometimes. “So, are you asking me out?”
“No, I—”
“Because it’s okay with me if you do. I mean, I’d probably say yes.”
“Only probably?”
“I’m very changeable,” she teased.
“You don’t think it would be awkward?”
“Aidan, you’re not my teacher anymore. You weren’t technically my teacher before, and it didn’t stop you from—” She broke off, not exactly sure how to characterize it.
“Nothing could have stopped me. No matter how much I wanted to stop. I couldn’t.”
Bree swallowed. “Oh.”
He gazed at her with eyes as intense as the fire burning before them. “You have to know I’d never done anything like that before in my life, and I haven’t since. I abhor men who use their power to coerce women.”
“You would never coerce anyone to do anything. How many times do I have to remind you? I threw myself at you.”
“Don’t belittle it as something tawdry, Bree. That night was…unexpected…but I enjoyed it, thoroughly.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
“Fine. Let’s stop talking about it.”
“Fine.” Bree struggled to come up with a neutral topic of conversation, but while they were having this heart-to-heart, she had to know. “One question. Did you think about me…like that…before I showed up in your office? Or was it an of-the-moment thing? I mean, I’d obviously thought about it a lot. I was a silly kid, but I felt like we had a weird connection. Stop me if I’m embarrassing myself further.” She closed her eyes, as if doing so would protect her from his answer.
“No. You’re not embarrassing yourself. You’re incredibly brave. I’ve never been able to talk about…to talk to women…as fearlessly as you seem to be able to talk to me. I wish I had some of your, well, balls.”
“That’s sweet.” She opened her eyes and drank in the sight of him, long and loose and completely focused on her.
“But to answer your question, yes, I thought about it. I admired your mind, but how could I help but notice how gorgeous you are? I started looking forward to the next class as soon as the last was finished. A week was too long between seeing you. But I thought I was suffering a useless infatuation. I had no idea I’d have my fantasy served up to me on silver platter. You bewitched me.”
Bree’s eyes grew hot with tears as she listened to Aidan bare himself to her. She had no idea the depth of his desire for her. It humbled her. It made her feel like a goddess. The knowledge he’d wanted her made her feel powerful, as nothing ever had before. Of course, that was then.
What about now? The living room was well heated by the fire. Her clothes were completely dry, she was barefoot, her sandals kicked off when she’d taken up residence in the armchair. He was six feet or so away, stretched out on the uncomfortable-looking wooden side chair. He’d long since finished his drink, but he hadn’t gone back for another splash. Her tea had grown cold. She held the mug in both hands like a security blanket. She had no idea of the time, but she could hear the rain against the front windowpane. There could be worse things than staying with him in his cozy house and finding out if the spark between them still burned.
He might have been reading her mind, because when their gazes met across the room, he regarded her with a quiet, penetrating look. She tingled from her earlobes to her toes. He would have to be the one to make the first move this time.
“It’s getting late,” she said.
“Yes. You better…stay,” he said, finishing the sentence in a jerky rush of air, as if he had changed his mind about what to say halfway through.
“Is that what you want?”
“Very much.”
“Then, yes, I’ll stay.”
He was up and out of his chair and at her side in half a second. “Thank God,” he said, and he held out his hand to her. She stared at it for a moment, the wide palm with strong, straight fingers offering her a way up out of the chair, offering her the strength and stability of a good man for whom she had a long-dormant lust and something else—respect? Affection?
She set the tea on a side table on top of an old copy of The New Yorker, and placed her hand in his. He lifted her up from the chair as if she weighed about as much as the magazine, and drew her in against the entire length of his body. She shuddered involuntarily at the sensation of warm, strong Aidan touching her.
“Cold?” he murmured into her hair.
“No. Happy,” she said, unable to censor her emotions around him.
But nothing she could do or say seemed to scare him off. He lifted her in his arms, carrying her as a groom does his bride over the threshold and up the stairs to what she presumed was his bedroom. A window had been left partially open, and the room smelled like spring rain. The fresh air heightened Bree’s already zinging nervous system, and she braced herself to be taken on a sensual ride, the likes of which she’d only experienced once in her life.
All Aidan could think as he swept her into his bedroom and laid her carefully down upon his bed was madness. This was madness. He had no self-control around this woman. As long he knew she was willing, he’d take her as far as she would let him. It flashed in his mind their connection wasn’t just physical. If she wanted the moon, he’d find a way to get it for her. If she wanted a ring on her finger, he’d gladly claim her as his own, forever. Every single cell in his body relaxed into a feeling of rightness when he was near her, and it didn’t matter what the circumstances were. All that mattered was he was with her and the world was aligned in a way he didn’t feel with anyone else.
As he smoothed the hair over her forehead, he basked in the presence of her, nearly trembling at the reality of having her underneath him, loving the view of her face from six inches away. Her lips were parted, her cheeks a little flushed. He was glad he’d had the finger of Scotch; it took the edge off his burning desire to consume her in one gulp. He’d had her that way once. As far as he was concerned, they had all the time in the world, and he could take hours, days, to worship her body.
He realized he’d been staring at her, his body half covering hers, for too long when she smiled, startling him out of his contemplation.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you what to do this time,” she said, a flirtatious note in her voice. “But if you don’t kiss me, I’m going to have to revise my approach.”
He smiled back, remembering how she’d told him to take her, but also remembering it had only required that bit of permission for him to assume complete control of the situation. The power play turned them both on, he suspected. He didn’t mind her ordering him around, as long as he was in charge of the execution.
“I was thinking how well you look underneath me, in my bed, and wondering how you’ll look when you’re naked and I’m coming inside you. I didn’t get to see your face last time.”
Her eyes closed at his words, and she arched her body into his. He loved how the things he said could arouse her, how responsive she was to the suggestive talk.
“Let’s find out,”
she said, a little breathlessly, but matching wits with him even so. “Kiss me.”
In response to her demand, he took his time, capturing each of her wrists and raising them over her head, holding them in place with one hand, while the other stroked her body. He took inventory of her curves and planes, her full breasts, her strong arms, her firm thighs. She was a physical creature. She writhed and wriggled beneath him, anxious to move, to direct his touch, he knew. There would be time for that, yet.
He shifted so he straddled her waist, holding her to the bed with his body weight. Her eyes were focused on his face, and he saw in them complete trust, and impatience. He was hard as steel, and he was nearly desperate with the need to remove each article of clothing standing between them, but he denied himself in favor of finally leaning down and claiming her lips with his.
He kissed her open mouth long and deep, and she responded with her tongue. The mewling sound coming from the back of her throat pushed him over the edge. Scotch or no Scotch, hours, days, or minutes, it didn’t matter. He had to be closer.
He released her hands but left his mouth on hers, unbuttoning his shirt, while she followed his lead, seemingly instinctively knowing what he wanted, unbuckling his belt and loosening the top button of his slacks.
He let go of her mouth long enough to tear off the shirt and his undershirt, but left his pants on, open at the waist while he turned his attention to her clothing. He kissed his way down the side of her neck, peeling her thin sweater over her shoulders and down her beautiful arms. He vaguely realized she was in a skirt and blouse today instead of a sundress, but the material felt like tissue paper all the same as he pulled the blouse up and over her head, leaving her in the skirt and a simple nude bra. Her breasts, round and firm under his roaming hands, begged to be taken into his mouth. He recalled every minute of their first encounter, and he remembered everything he hadn’t gotten to do during that brief, dreamlike episode. This time he could pull the cups of her bra down over tawny nipples, and teased them by pressing them between his thumb and forefinger, only to follow up with a gentle lick and harder suck. She cried out and gasped, and he could have listened to her respond to his mouth on her body for hours.
“My God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he growled, removing her bra entirely, grabbing the exposed flesh firmly with both hands as she pressed her pelvis up, grinding against his straining cock. Her hands stroked every inch of his skin they could reach. Every stroke brought him closer to the end of his self-control.
He went back for another round with her breasts, licking and sucking the tip of each heavy globe into his mouth. Bree’s hands were in his hair, on his back.
“I’m so wet,” she choked out. “Please.”
She might not have known exactly what she was pleading for, but he decided to grant her a reprieve. He rolled off her, shedding his pants and boxers, while she half-sat up and reached underneath her skirt to peel off her scrap of a thong.
“You’re definitely going to be able to see me when I come,” she said. “But I want something first.”
She sat up, and pushed him backward on the bed. She looked exquisitely sensual, wearing nothing but her floral skirt flowing around her waist, her hair loose and wild, her skin flushed a rosy pink. He understood her purpose a moment too late, when her mouth had already wrapped itself around his erection. “Bree…I’m not sure….”
She paused, and he thought he’d be saved, but then she took his entire length into her mouth until he felt the head of his cock bump the back of her throat. She drew away, sucking the tip before pulling off and saying simply, “I am.” Then she swallowed him all the way down again. Her hands, firmly holding his thighs, her lips, tongue, and throat created a sensual abyss from which Aidan feared he’d never return. The sight of her bent over him, her luscious lips around him, was enough to make him ready to burst. Coming in this phenomenal woman’s mouth didn’t seem like the right way to make a first—well, second—impression in the bedroom.
But she was relentless, and he gave himself over to the pleasure, to the heat and wet, and the highly erotic noises and sights of her licking and sucking him off.
“Oh, my God, yes, don’t…you…dare…stop,” he grunted, and he took a fistful of her hair while bracing himself against the bed with his other hand. She kept up her unyielding campaign, and his mind went stunningly blank in one perfect moment as an orgasm rolled through him like a tidal wave, clearing out everything there before, leaving him empty and clean. His cum shot out in fierce jets, and Bree swallowed it down. She took her time pulling off him, her mouth curving upward into a cat-got-the-cream smile.
He panted, and his limbs felt as heavy as lead as he collapsed his full weight against the bed. How could he come back from that and give her the pleasure she deserved? She’d drained him completely. Bree arranged herself against his body and dropped her head to his chest, so he could feel her cheek and hair against him, but not see her face.
“Jesus, Bree, you didn’t have to…. I mean that was amazing, but—”
“I wanted to. I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw your magnificent cock for the first time.”
Her casual admission and her dirty little mouth made his recovery seem closer than he’d imagined possible. “That was the best blow job I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” She sounded pleased.
“Really.”
“What can I possibly do for an encore?” she asked, her voice innocent.
He growled and pulled her up so they were face to face. “Right now, all you need to do is lie there.” He grabbed her skirt, lifting it up and scooting down the bed so his mouth was positioned right over her dark curls. They were not quite dark brown, but had a red tint and they glowed in the light of the single lamp. He needed to replete himself so he could take her properly, but he had every intention of putting the time to good use.
Her body was so supple and ripe, and he wanted to explore every inch of it. He started slowly, pressing gentle kisses to the bones of her pelvis where they joined her legs, to the tender flesh of her inner thighs. She moaned and stretched and said, “More.”
“Demanding, aren’t you?” He felt her sigh, and he complied with her request, sliding her legs apart, breathing in her unique musky scent, memorizing it, certain he’d become intimately familiar with it until he knew her scent better than he knew his own. He studied her wet folds, dusted with ruby-tinged hair, his mouth suddenly watering at the feast laid out before him. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever benevolent being had led this woman into his life. He opened his eyes and raised his head to meet Bree’s gaze. She was propped up on a few pillows, her eyes blurry and unfocused, her mouth in the slack smile of someone who knows she’s about to be ravished and ravished well.
“You are lovelier than Raphael’s Madonna,” he said, and watched her smile quirk up at one corner, as if she didn’t believe him but appreciated the sentiment all the same.
Then he dove in, his mouth open against the nub of sensitive skin at the top of her mound, the place he’d touched and made her come against his hand five years before. He remembered it clearly, remembered the pressure she liked. He used his tongue instead of his fingers to tap out a seductive rhythm, sweeping up and down, tasting and sucking and generally driving himself mad with his craving to have every part of her.
She bucked against his mouth, and her cries of arousal and her nearly incoherent demands—more and faster and please—satisfied him almost as much as coming in her mouth had. His cock was swelling again, and she was getting close. He had no inclination to make her wait; she hadn’t teased his cock after all, but efficiently, ruthlessly gotten him where he needed to go. He thrust three fingers inside her with no warning as his tongue swirled over her clit, and he felt her come apart beneath him, a decadent cry echoing off the walls of his bedroom. Her cries of ecstasy would now haunt this room, every time he tried to fall asleep in this bed without her.
But he’d contemplate that lat
er. Now he rushed, not letting her come down from her orgasmic high, but widening her legs farther. He paused for a moment to don a condom he fished out from his bedside table. With an arm on either side of her, he anchored himself to the bed then pushed into her to the hilt. Her passage, drenched with desire, stretched as he entered her. She clenched around him, and shockwaves of pure elation pounded through him. He stroked in and out firmly, until they had a tempo going. When his mind cleared a little bit from the heaven of his cock sliding against her gorgeous wet pussy, he kissed her with all the fervency of a monk worshiping his god.
She matched him with her kiss and her touch against his back, his chest, his hair. Everywhere she touched left him burning, made him want to thrust into her as fast and as hard as he could until their bodies fused like two silver pieces soldered together in perpetual bliss.
He was almost too lost in the moment to remember what he’d said about wanting to see her face when she came, but he knew, when her eyes closed and her lips parted, she was nearing the edge. He had to go with her over the cliff. He pumped himself dry inside her, feeling her clench around him, watching her mouth move, realizing belatedly the sound she was making was his name, like a benediction, and he was crying out, too, her name over and over, a mantra of need, of hope, of joy, of lust.
Then he collapsed on top of her and the only sound was their breath, ragged and heavy, and the rain hitting the windowpane.
Chapter Four
When the dust had settled, she’d finally removed her now very damp and sticky skirt, and Aidan had emptied half a box of tissues tidying them both up, Bree allowed herself a moment of panic. She was naked, in sheets that smelled like Aidan, her body limp with exhaustion, her pussy swollen in the best way possible from two consecutive champion orgasms. Their heart-to-heart and sexual tension had led to the most intense erotic experience of her life. Going into the day, she hadn’t exactly expected that.
Passionate History Page 4
