by Claire Adams
“We are?” I inquired. It was nice knowing that I would now have close friends. People that looked out for you and enjoyed your company without any particular occasion to do so. It had been a long, long time since I had experienced friendship in that manner, and I was looking forward to this new phase of my life.
“You know, for a brilliant billionaire, you aren’t very smart,” Stacey said pointedly. “You got Fiona Davis to plan Nick and my wedding, without us so much as asking, and more importantly, you just married our best friend. And you still have to ask if we are friends? Maybe Aria didn’t make the best decision marrying you after all.” She shook her head.
“Since we are friends,” I said jovially. “I feel comfortable saying that if you repeat those words ever again, I will stab you with a dagger.”
“Do you even own a dagger?” She looked at me quizzically. “Because I do. Let me know if you ever need to borrow it. It will give much more weight to your threats, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Sure, I will gladly borrow it so that I can threaten you with it next time you call me that. For someone who calls us friends, you seem to have an awfully difficult time referring to me by anything but Mr. Sinclair.”
“Fine, Mr. Roberts-Sinclair then.” She giggled some more.
“Seriously, how do you girls find time to exchange news at such rapid speed? It has barely been half an hour since Aria and I made a decision to go with that hyphenated last name and I can swear on my favorite car that the two of you haven’t even been a foot within each other since, considering everyone has been dancing the whole time.”
“We have our ways.” Stacey said and shrugged as the Christmas carol ended. “You will get used to it soon enough. Now, dance with your wife, I think the party is about to come to an end.”
The final song was a perfect representation of the wedding and Christmas, as Mariah Carey sang “All I Want for Christmas is You,” just as Nick and I switched partners and Aria was back in my eager arms.
“Your friend is quite funny,” I said, starting to move with her. “And rather intoxicated, I believe.”
“She should be. I would never forgive her for being sober at my wedding. I don’t plan to be sober at hers!”
“You guys have the strangest friendship,” I said, screwing my nose. “Although, I suppose you develop a very special kind of bond after skinny dipping at a neighbor’s pool when you were 14. Wow, now that I think of it, that was only six years ago.”
“I am pretty sure you weren’t supposed to tell me you knew about this,” Aria said scornfully. “If you want to be friends with Stacey, you better learn how to keep her secrets.”
“That sounds like way too much work,” I joked. “I think I am fine without the friendship. I’m joking,” I added when she looked at me with almost murderous rage. “I really like your friends.”
“Good,” she said sharply and went back to placing her chin on my shoulders. “Now, on to some important things. You know what all I want for Christmas is?” She looked at me with a naughty glint in her eyes.
“Me?” I suggested. “That is what the song says, anyway.”
“I want to secretly disappear from our wedding reception and make our way into your hotel room. Then I want you to rip my wedding dress – and by that I mean carefully remove it from my body because if there is a single actual rip on it, I will have to kill you – and make love to me until we are both so tired we can no longer perform basic human functions, such as breathing.”
I got so hard that I had to employ all the strength I could muster to not fuck her right there with all of our friends and family watching.
“I’ll go first, through the back door,” I said quickly. “If someone asks, I am going to the bathroom. You should use the front door so we don’t raise any eyebrows. Just say you need some air. It’s pretty busy in here, people should understand.”
She burst out laughing. “We don’t have to plan so hard, baby,” she said. I couldn’t remember her ever having used that term of endearment before, and somehow it had the effect of making me harder than before. All I wanted for Christmas was to fuck her as my wife for the first time. “I am sure people will understand that as newlyweds, we cannot wait to take each other’s clothes off. Of course, we don’t have to tell them for the sake of not embarrassing them, and ourselves, but it is kind of understood. There is no need to play 007 here.”
“Alright,” I said, breaking off as the song ended. “The thought of my mother knowing what we are off to do makes me uncomfortable. The thought of your mother too, but since she has already heard more than she should have, she happens to be the least of my concern. I think my way is safer. I agreed to change my name, now you must agree to this little request. And hurry, because I don’t want to fuck you in the limo and make Ned uncomfortable. So the sooner we get to the hotel, the better.”
“I’ll see you in five minutes, Mr. Roberts-Sinclair,” she said, and kissed me hard on the mouth before turning on her heel and walking away.
Chapter Nine
Aria
As the champagne had started to wear off by the time we reached Zayden’s hotel room, I started to feel rather nervous and I couldn’t figure out why. We had done this repeatedly countless times. There was nothing different about this time, was there?
Except there was.
We were married this time, and it made a whole world of difference. I sat down on the bed with my legs crossed, a meaningless feat since my wedding dress covered up to my ankles. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was trying to accomplish here.
When Zayden got back inside with two fresh glasses of champagne in his hands, the look in his eyes was radically different from that during the wedding ceremony. He looked hungry, ravenous, and excited. My feelings matched the look in his eyes as I longed to get out of this 20,000 dollar dress and devour him.
“Hey,” he said, sitting next to me and handing me one of the glasses. “You should drink this.”
“I don’t need to,” I said, taking it from his hand and placing it on the bedside table.
“Well, it might help,” Zayden said, devouring his own glass in one giant gulp.
As soon as he was done, it was like a heat wave had suddenly attacked our hotel room. He dragged me by my hands and took me into our private hot tub. Then, he placed his lips on mine firmly and his mouth urged me to open my own. His tongue met my longing mouth and explored every inch of it as I grasped on to him like this was the last moment of us ever being alive. My hand found its way to the cusp of his pants, and I gasped by how hard I had made him. Soon enough we were so wrapped up in each other that I couldn’t quite tell where his body began and mine ended. We made out while standing by the hot tub– just like teenagers who couldn’t take their hands off each other – for almost half an hour, desperately and passionately, before he broke off first.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, panting.
“We need to get you out of that elaborate wedding dress. I could rip it off your body, of course, but not long ago I was threatened with my life if I did that. Plus, we should get into this hot tub. The water must be fantastic right now.”
I stood up and turned around. “Gently. It’s all yours.”
He approached my back and ran his fingers through the bare skin, visible in my sleeveless gown. He leaned down and kissed every inch of the skin, running his warm tongue against my cool, willing bodice. After continuing the torture for a while, Zayden slowly unzipped the back of my dress and unhooked my bra almost simultaneously. His tongue ran down the back of my spine, as his hands slowly worked towards sliding the dress off my body. Before long, I stood in front of him with only my white lacy wedding panties on, while he undressed himself.
Throwing me into the warm tub, he began to kiss my neck, sending all kinds of shudders down my spine. He worked his way from my neck, licking and sucking, down towards my breasts, as the water made my mind numb. His mouth found room for my throbbing nipples and his hand cupped me through my panties.
He stopped.
“Not yet, Aria. You are not allowed to come yet,” he said sternly. He lifted me up and sat me on the edge of the hot tub and covered his face around my panties. “You smell just like my wife.”
“That might be because I am,” I said in a raspy voice. It was difficult to be clever when my whole body was screaming to be fucked.
“Uh-huh,” Zayden moaned, apparently not even hearing me.
He ran his tongue over me through my panties, and then something took over him. He ripped them with his teeth and dove into me, his mouth completely encapsulating my pussy. I heard him moan, “Oh, Aria” against me, as he sucked and licked harder and harder on my clit, making me forget the whole entire world around me. He continued sucking and licking for the longest time, stopping every time I would nearly climax.
He finally said the words I was hoping to hear, “Come for me. Make it hard, Aria. I want to taste every bit of you coming in my mouth for the first time as my wife.”
He slid his tongue deep inside me, moving it in and out while the top of his lips still rubbed against my clit. It must have been seconds before I exploded violently into his mouth, trembling from the sheer intensity of the sensation. I was shaking for over a full minute, but Zayden did not stop his exploration and continued to work his way inside me. He thrust his tongue as fast as he could so that within minutes, I felt another surge of eruption bubble inside me and grabbed every inch of his hair as a second orgasm followed the first one with equal intensity.
---
I didn’t know how we made it back into the room and onto the big, plush bed. We were entangled in each other once more, and I wasn’t sure I could take it any longer.
Finally, he looked at me completely naked. His cock was pointing at me in anticipation and he said, “As much as I would like for your mouth to devour my cock right now, I don’t think I can take another minute of this torture and I will probably come within seconds, delaying our opportunity to fuck as a married couple right away. So,” he said and held me tight by my arms, pushing me flat against the bed. “I am just going to,” he said every word with great emphasis. “Fuck you,” he finished, sliding himself right through me while his mouth found its way to my neck.
The feeling of him inside me – my husband, who I had just married – was so overwhelming; I almost had another orgasm on the spot. But I wanted to match his climax, so I did everything in my power to stop my body from reacting to its natural tendency. Instead, I moved with him as he fucked me, every thrust harder and deeper than the last, hitting me in all the right places. I fucked him back with all my might until both of us couldn’t take it any longer ,and we both exploded with what I was certain was the most intense climax either of us had ever experienced.
“I love you, Mrs. Roberts-Sinclair,” my husband said to me a few minutes later, after we made love as a married couple for the first time in what was to become a lifetime.
“I love you too, Mr. Roberts-Sinclair,” I said, the happiest I had ever been in my life, before passing out into the arms that had become the most comfortable place for me in the world.
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TEACHER’S PET
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Tessa
I didn’t think there was ever a time in my life when I had been more nervous.
And this all had to do with a paper.
Well, really it was the grade that was going to be on the paper, and as I sat there, waiting, I tried to convince myself that everything was going to be okay, that I had done well enough on the assignment to get at least an A. Because that’s what I needed: an A.
My palms were sweating, and my heart was beating fast, like I’d drank too much coffee on an empty stomach. My stomach, in fact, was all clenched in knots, and I was having trouble sitting still in my seat. I tried to take deep, calming breaths like they told us to in yoga class, but taking deep, calming breaths is difficult to do when your whole chest feels like it is in a vice. Professor Rochman had given Kristin, the teaching assistant, half the papers to return, and he had the other half. It was probably random, who had which papers, but my mind for some reason latched onto the idea that if Professor Rochman handed mine back to me, it would be good news. And that good news could only come in one form: an A.
“I was mostly quite pleased with the effort shown in these articles,” he said. “Most of you showed that not only have you been paying attention in the past month’s lectures, but you’ve been applying the principles we’ve been learning to the work you do out in the field.”
My best friend, Lindsey, sat next to me, chewing on the cap of her pen, not even paying attention. She wasn’t in this class because she was interested in journalism; rather, she was here because she’d heard the professor was hot and not a curmudgeon like a lot of the faculty here at Benton College were.
And Professor Rochman was hot—call me Leo, he’d said on the first day of class, but that was so weird. I couldn’t call him Leo; I’d never been on a first-name basis with a teacher before. None of the other students seemed to have a problem with it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
He was getting closer to us, and I felt my heart rate accelerate. My GPA had slipped below a 3.5, and my parents would be infuriated if it remained there. Subpar performance was simply unacceptable to them, and up until this point in my life, I’d always gotten straight As. I had just assumed that going into my junior year at college, things would be the same, but then I’d made the mistake of falling in love. Well, I thought it was love, but it really turned out to be a big disaster. His name was Nick Sanders and he was one of the stars of Benton’s basketball team, a total jock, not the sort of person I ever would have dated, but we ended up sitting next to each other in an American politics lecture and it just sort of went from there. It was great, until it wasn’t, and I’d found myself totally caught off guard when he told me that he didn’t think we should hang out anymore. I didn’t think that I’d done anything wrong, or that anything had changed between us since the last time we’d hung out and everything seemed great, and it had taken its toll on my schoolwork. Only in the past month or so had I been able to wake up and not find myself thinking about him first thing in the morning, but it was still difficult to see him around campus, to know that he probably hadn’t given me a second thought.
And now here I was, behind in most of my classes, all because of some stupid guy.
There was more than just my GPA at stake. I did not take it for granted that my parents were paying my tuition, and they were also paying for my car and for me to live in a small apartment in the city, as opposed to the dorms, because they thought living by myself would not just get me out of the party atmosphere, but would also help me become more independent. My father transferred a monthly stipend into my account, which I could use for groceries, utilities, and any other expenses that cropped up. Unlike many of my classmates, I didn’t have to eat in the cafeteria, I hadn’t needed to take out any loans, and I didn’t have to try to juggle a part-time job on top of my studies.
The one condition of this, though, was that I maintain a 4.0 GPA.
If only I hadn’t gotten involved with Nick, this wouldn’t even be an issue. But I had, and on more than one occasion I’d put off studying or doing my homework to hang out with him, because the whole experience was thrilling. Here I was, dating a popular guy, a guy that other girls around campus were interested in, yet he had wanted to be with me. I still occasionally thought back to that time, m
arveling at the fact that it had even happened in the first place, except those memories always ended with me recalling how unceremoniously he had dropped me.
Professor Rochman was heading my direction, and I felt my heart lighten, and relief begin to flood me as he paused right in front of us. I even went so far as to lift my arm, palm up, to receive the paper he was about to hand back to me, but he handed it to Lindsey instead. He glanced at my outstretched palm like I was some panhandler he’d encountered on the street, and then kept walking. A few seconds later, Kristin appeared, dropping my paper down in front of me. She was average height and very thin, with blunt-cut, shoulder length brown hair and big brown eyes that sort of reminded me of a basset hound’s. She looked at me with those eyes but didn’t say anything. I looked down at the paper.
A C+. A big, red C+, right there on the front of the paper, like an angry slash, a blood stain, a symbol of doom.
“Shit,” I whispered.
“How’d you do?” Lindsey asked, leaning over, peering at my paper. “Oh,” she said when she saw the mark. She quickly flipped her own paper over, but not before I caught sight of the A- scrawled across the top.
Professor Rochman and Kristin had finished handing back all the papers, and he was saying something now to the class, but I couldn’t really hear what it was; his voice was distorted, like he was talking underwater.
“It’s okay, Tessa,” Lindsey said quickly. “It’s not like you got an F. C is average. So you got a C+. That’s better than average!”
She smiled, but I could tell that she felt bad for me. She knew what my parents were like. Unlike her parents, who didn’t seem to care what her GPA was, my parents were not going to be happy to hear about this. Part of me wanted to just keep it quiet, to resolve to get nothing but A-pluses on all my remaining assignments, but I didn’t even know if that would be possible. I didn’t have another choice; I would have to tell my parents.
