by Haley Pierce
I let out a snort. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, it’s so,” she snaps, her eyes on fire. “And if you want to find someone who’s just going through the motions, look at yourself. You’re the one who clearly doesn’t want the career he’s chosen. But I have news for you. I’m not like you.”
I nod. “All right. So being a surgeon is what you were born for. I’m not sure what kind of surgeon you’ll make, though, considering it involves a degree of precision, and you’re clearly having trouble steering clear of doors.”
She glares at me. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“With pity. I’m a McBride, for god’s sake. My family owns the biggest house in town and fourteen distribution centers in the United States alone. We’re royalty, and everyone wants to be like us,” she says, as if she’s reciting it from a cue card. Her next words are pointed, each word cut off with razor precision. “I’m. Not. Some. Fucking. Victim.”
She starts to storm away. I grab her arm and whirl her to me, coming up close to her, pushing her up against the white board. “Then act it.”
Her eyes blaze as she studies my hands, which are closed upon her upper arms. She struggles futilely. “What?” she seethes.
“Prove it,” I challenge. “Prove it to me by doing something you want to do. Not something someone else wants from you. Something you want.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She pulls me to her, kissing me hard, taking my breath away.
“Satisfied?” she groans, our noses touching as she claws at the buttons on my shirt.
No. Fuck no. I’ll never be satisfied where this woman is concerned. She’s tugging at the knot of my tie, loosening it, which can mean only one thing.
She wants me, us, naked.
I am more than happy to oblige. I reach down over her thighs and lift the hem of her dress, my hands sliding over her bare thighs, and up the delicate curve of her ass. There is nothing else there but a little piece of string masquerading as underwear. I’m instantly as hard as a rock, and I know she can feel my cock pressing against her abdomen.
“Fuck me,” she growls into my hair, pushing her tits up against me as she scrapes her fingers through my hair. “Can you fuck me here?”
Yes. Hell, yes. That talk I’d had with Dean Armstrong, the one that convinced me I needed to become a better professor?
Fuck it. Right now, I need this.
Scooping her up from her tight little ass, I wrap her limbs around me as she takes my earlobe into her mouth, sucking on it. I carry her to the doorway and pull the door closed, then manage to pull the shade closed. Then I shove her hot body up against the door, easing the dress up to her hips. She lets out a gasp and tilts her head back, giving me access to her long neck as I feel for the fabric of her barely-there thong.
Her breath hitches when I hook a finger under the fine filament and easily rip them free, lowering my hands down her hips and caressing the full globes of her backside. Incredible, is all I can think, and I might even say it aloud. She’s incredible, a fantasy come true. It makes it impossible to believe I ever doubted this.
I nudge her thighs apart and run my fingers down her slit, finding her so wet and ready. She gasps and shudders when my finger finds her clit, suggesting she wants more. I hungrily oblige by flicking my finger over it, making her moan aloud. “Cain,” she whispers. “Please . . .”
She’s begging me for more. I can’t even fucking believe this luck. I’m finally going to be inside her pussy.
“Do you want me to fuck you on my desk?” I growl at her, to which she nods mutely. When look up at her face, I notice her eyes are closed, and she’s gnawing on her lip again. It’s a wonder I don’t come right then, as I’m shoving aside books and lowering her down onto the wooden surface. I step back to admire her, her gorgeous lower half bared fully to me, save for her worn red cowboy boots. She’s there, available to me, waiting for me, wanting me, finally.
“Cain,” she murmurs, still gnawing on her lip as I start to unbuckle my belt. “Can you go easy on me?”
I slow while yanking down my zipper. She’d seen me with Anna, and I’d been angry. Angry and rough. “You have nothing to worry about, baby,” I say, touching her clit again, feeling that tight little bud tremble. I run a finger down her wetness, finding the right spot, but before I can ease into the opening, she tenses visibly.
I stop. “Addison,” I start, hardly able to believe what I’m witnessing. That this woman, a physical manifestation of ultimate beauty and undoubtedly the fantasy of countless men, is a . . . “Are you . . .”
She’s looking up at me, and I can see the shame blooming on her cheeks. “I’ve never done this before.”
I stop and turn away before she can see how disappointed I am. I take a calming breath, feeling my cock rebelling, its animalistic response to just keep going. I know I’ll be suffering later for it. But I can’t. This changes everything.
I whirl back to her. “Were you just not going to tell me?”
Her eyes fill with guilt. She nods. “But what does it matter, anyway? It honestly doesn’t matter to me. I haven’t been saving my virginity for the right man. I’ve just been too busy.”
I reach over and pull her dress down over her thighs, averting my eyes from the heavenly nirvana underneath that could’ve been mine. “It should matter. Your first time shouldn’t be on your teacher’s desk. It should mean something.”
“Shouldn’t all times mean something?” she counters, sitting up and arranging her dress primly over her knees. “And yet you clearly do it with your agent, and from what you said, I don’t think that means very much.”
“That’s just fucking for pleasure, and first times are anything but pleasurable.” She’s looking at me in a vaguely disgusted manner, so I say, “Your first time isn’t just cock into pussy, head and heart need not apply. It’s a rare woman who can separate emotions from sex, Addison. Especially first time sex.”
She straightens. “But what if I could?”
“You can’t.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What if I—“
“Jesus, Addison. Would you listen to me?” I shake my head and come close to her, so close that I’m inches from her knees. “You wouldn’t know if you could until afterwards, and by then it’d be too late. I’m saving you from that. I’ve done the love thing, Addison, a long time ago, when I was your age. And trust me when I say, it’s brutal, and it fucks everything up. You might think you can get me to come around, but I’m warning you, I’m not going down that path again. Ever.”
She stares at me, silent, for the longest time. Then she jumps off the desk, stalking past me, and picks up her ruined panties. “I never wanted you to. You told me to do something I wanted to do. Well, I wanted to be fucked by you. That’s it. Even if it did hurt a little.” She balls the panties in her tight fists and crosses her arms. “And obviously you think you’re so much more mature than me, and I can’t handle it.”
She’s staring hard at me, her eyes blazing. “But guess what? Maybe it isn’t about love for me, either. It isn’t even about you.” She runs her tongue over the healing sore on her lip. “It’s about getting free, for once. Just . . . once. Then I’ll go back to my regularly scheduled good girl life.”
“And if you decide you like being bad?”
She shrugs a shoulder dismissively. “Then I’m sure there will be other men.”
There’s no doubt about that. She could have any man she wants. And yet she chose me. The thought of being her first is beyond an honor. It’s damn near killing me, how much I want her.
I can’t physically bring myself to say no.
Even though there’s no chance in it happening now, my cock is still straining, putting up a last-ditch effort to get me where it wants to go. “All right. But even if this is exactly what you want, it shouldn’t be like this. Not this way, Addison.”
“Then what way?” she fires back. “Give me the terms. But don’t be surprised
when sweet, innocent Addison walks away from you after she gets what she wants.”
Her eyes are blazing with determination. It knocks me momentarily speechless. Where did that sweet, innocent girl go? “Is that so?” I finally manage.
She nods. “I’m a McBride. We don’t fail,” she says, tilting her chin up.
I can’t believe I’m going to do this. But then again, it seems like it was destined to happen all along. Wanting it is beside the point; I’ve wanted plenty of things that were bad for me. I think about that time we’d texted, when she’d told me that she would be corrupting me. Back then, I’d laughed. Now, I don’t put it past her to do just that.
“All right. If you want to do it, with me, I’m in.”
A small smile appears on her lips, but I cut her off before she can reach for me. I grab her hands and hold them still between us.
“But not here. Let me take you to a nice hotel or something. Buy you dinner, at least.” I nod toward the ravaged panties in her hand. “And new lingerie.”
Worry creases her forehead. “I can’t. It has to be here. Or . . .”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“My mother is kind of strict about where I go and who I see,” she admits.
Her mother. Her mother, who is so strict that she won’t permit a twenty-one year old girl to live her own life, but clearly not strict enough to notice the bruises on her face? Something about this doesn’t add up. I study her, wondering if that’s another lie. I find it hard to believe her mom could be that strict and not notice that someone is hitting her. Maybe she’s turned a blind eye to it all the time.
“I’ll cancel class,” I suggest, but that would only give us two hours, which is definitely not enough time for what I want to do to her. “My apartment is—“
“No.” She slumps her shoulders miserably. She’s twenty-one, I know, but right now, she looks like a five-year old whose mother just told her she couldn’t have a play date.
“Well, why—“
I stop short when suddenly, she raises her head. I can almost see the gears turning in her head. “Wait. Are you doing anything the weekend of October 12?”
I don’t have to check my schedule to know I’d cleared that weekend for writing. Which means I’ll be doing nothing. “No. Why?”
“Well, Harvard Med School is having an open house. I was supposed to go with my mom but she has a conference in Salt Lake City. My mother didn’t want me to miss it, so she’s having Hobson, my chauffer, take me. He’s a pretty hard warden to escape. But I’m going to have a hotel room all to myself in Cambridge, for two nights.” She’s tapping her finger to her chin and smiling slyly, and all I can think is, this is a woman possessed. “Do you think you could come up? Pose like a room service waiter and sneak in?”
When I hesitate, she laces her fingers together in front of her. “Please?”
I study her closely, doing everything in my power not to be turned on by her begging. I’d fucking kill to be inside her. She’d been so unsure before, but the way she’s looking at me now is very different. Now, the tables are turned. Now, I don’t expect her tough exterior to crumble.
No, I’m more worried about mine.
“I don’t know, Addison,” I say, cringing at how weak I sound. “You’re sure you want me for this?”
She comes up close to me, stands on tip-toes, and kisses my cheek, a sweet brush of angel wings that’s meant to tease me. “Yes. Please,” she says like a child. She bats her eyelashes. “Don’t you want me?”
Oh, fuck yes.
I dig my hands into the pockets of my trousers and adjust my withering cock. Fuck it. I don’t get attached. This’ll be no different than the other girls I’ve fucked and left. I’m going to make damned sure of it. “Then fine. I’m in.”
She smiles, but I don’t like it. She thinks she has the upper hand, now, because I’ve agreed to her terms.
When she reaches for me, I stop her. She needs to know that even though I’m agreeing to this, I’m still in authority. I’m going to give her what she wants, rock her off her foundation until she doesn’t know up from down and can do nothing but beg for more.
“What?” she asks, pouting.
“You will understand,” I begin, pacing like I’m at the head of the classroom, “That until that time, you will do as I say.”
She tilts her head, not comprehending.
“If I’m going to do this for you, you’ll have to do something for me,” I tell her. “Understand? Nod if you do, McBride.”
She swallows, and her eyes trail down my chest, toward my crotch. “Oh.” She nods.
“You’re my student. And so what I say, goes.” I pace slowly, hands behind my back, choosing my words carefully. “In order to ensure that you have the most pleasurable and worthwhile experience, I’m going to tease you. I am going to tempt you, toy with you, and seduce you until you will be begging for me by the time we’re in Boston. Do you understand that?”
Her eyes widen, but she says nothing. Instead, she nods, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, and my once-withering cock responds to her subservience. I get a feeling I’m going to like this.
“And everything I do, you should consider it a lesson in making you more passionate. You should be thankful for it, and follow it to the best of your ability.” I stop pacing and whirl to her. “You do want to get an A, don’t you?”
The lip-biting is back. “Oh, yes.” Then she adds, with a sly smile. “Please, Dr. Cain. What can I do for you?”
I come up close to her, so that my trousers are touching her knees. She spreads her legs apart, allowing me between them as I take her chin in my hand and bring it close to my face. I stroke the smooth skin of her throat and my eyes gleam. “Have you ever touched a man’s cock before?”
Addison
I suck in a deep breath, not so much from nervousness as excitement. “No,” I admit, daring to lower my eyes to the bulge in his pants. “But I want to.”
He steps back and raises his hands out of the way. “Feel free to.”
My eyes widen as I study his midsection with great interest. He fills out ordinary slacks like I thought no man could, hanging on him just well enough to give subtle hints to the muscular thighs and shapely backside underneath. My eyes catch on the square buckle of his belt. I suppose I should start there. Reaching forward tentatively, I take hold of the mottled leather and pull it from the buckle. It separates easily, but I’m heartbreakingly aware of the thud of my pulse in my ears, his eyes on me, and the slow clumsiness of my fingers.
He grabs my hand with such fierceness that all the air whooshes out of my lungs. I raise my eyes to his, and his are pure fire. “Don’t,” he breathes. ”Don’t be afraid.”
I nod. “I’m not,” I say, but it’s a lie, because part of me is, if only a little. When he drops my hand, I reach for the button. After a little more fumbling, it pops free. I ease the zipper down, suddenly keenly aware that here I am, in my English classroom, undressing my teacher.
Get a hold of yourself, Addison, I scream in my head. If you’re going to be a doctor, you’d damn well get to know the male anatomy a little better. Consider this research.
Calming my breath, which is racing through my lungs, I move in like a scientist, engaging in a study. When the zipper is completely undone, I peer down at the waistband of dark underwear, at the growing bulge.
What do I do next? Do I reach in and take it? He seems to interpret my hesitation, then reaches down and pushes his pants down over his hips, baring boxer briefs and the enormous cock which is straining against the front of them. Then he lifts the elastic band with one hand, takes my hand gently, and guides it very slowly inside.
It’s warm there, so warm. I am so close to him now that I can feel his pulse, melding with mine. My fingers tangle in some soft, curly tufts of hair, as he pulls me lower, until I feel it. I travel along the length of it, feeling the veined smoothness of it. As I do, I look up at him, and he’s staring at me with rapt
curiosity. “Touch it,” he says. “Any way you like.”
“Any way?” I bite my lip. “I’ve just . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I promise.”
My fingers travel over the mushroom head, and toward the spongy tip, where there’s a bit of wetness. I let them graze over the top, and feeling braver, wrap my hand around the thick shaft. He closes his eyes and shifts his stance. “Is that . . . good?”
He nods. “Yes. Continue.”
So I do. Closing my hand lightly around it, I begin to stroke my hand up and down. When he lets out a slight groan, it spurs me on. My movements more sure, I begin to stroke harder. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice is muffled, tortured. “Keep going.”
I do. I start to get into a rhythm, going faster and faster, until I’m pumping him, until I start to feel sweat soaking out of my skin. He slides his pants and boxer briefs down to his mid-thigh, giving me better access, and for the first time, I’m able to see it.
I don’t know what I’d expected. In science textbooks, it always looks like some alien appendage that doesn’t quite belong where it’s been placed. But his? It’s magnificent. One-hundred percent Cain Hill: thick, and gorgeous like the rest of him. I see the sac beneath him, firm and round and covered with the lightest layer of cinnamon hair. I reach out my other hand, cupping them as I pump, and he lets out a low, almost animal groan.
“Jesus, fuck, Addison,” he says, almost jarring me into thinking he’s mad at me. Before I can stop, he adds, “Have you done this before?”
He likes it. He wants more.
And it spurs me on. “I want to taste it,” I tell him. “Can I taste it?”
There’s momentarily silence. When I look at him, he’s studying me, a look that I can only describe as . . . surprised. For the first time, I think I’ve stunned Dr. Hill speechless. Finally, he asks, his voice dripping incredulity, “You’ve never given a man a blow job?”
“No, I told you—“
“I know what you said. I just . . .” He tilts his head back and lets out an exasperated laugh. “Yes, Addison. Put your mouth on my cock.”
