by S. R. Jones
And he does.
He drops his head down and brushes his lips over mine. Subtle as air at first—the kiss tingles, but quickly deepens to something almost desperate as he claims my mouth. He’s utterly in control, and I’m happy to let him be. Happy for once to give up over-thinking, and planning, and worrying. Not always trying to be one step ahead, for once just living in this glorious, blissful moment.
All rational thought flees my mind and a deep ache takes up residence at my core. I want to relieve it, and on instinct I press into him, He groans and pushes forward, until I’ve got hard wall against my back, and hard Luka against my front.
And he’s hard everywhere.
His body is incredible. His erection is poking into my belly, and I wish it were lower.
We’re both rubbing against one another now, our bodies moving in a primal, familiar dance, seeking relief. His fingers wind into my hair and he tips my head to an angle to give him better access to my mouth. Then he’s kissing me full force his tongue tasting me, tangling with my own.
Oh god, I can honestly say it’s one of the best sexual experiences of my life, and we’re only kissing.
His thigh pushes between my legs and presses there, and it’s oh-so-good. It eases the ache and I let him push against my core, ratcheting up my arousal.
One hand is tight around my back, the other moves up my side to cup my breast through my top. He palms my flesh, and then pinches my nipple firmly enough to make me gasp into his mouth.
His lips lift into a smile against mine. I’ve forgotten all the reasons I shouldn’t be doing this. His scent curled around me is delicious. The taste of him divine. The heaviness of his thigh at my center, heavenly.
I start to move against him, and I must be insane, because I’m dry humping my student’s thigh in the hallway. Getting off on it, and climbing towards an orgasm. I can’t. But I also can’t stop myself.
When he tears his lips from my mouth and bites my neck, I tip over the edge and come, pulsing against his leg as I moan and squirm.
“Fuck, you’re such a horny thing,” he growls.
I should hate him calling me a thing, but in the heat of the moment it only turns me on more.
“I’ve jerked off imagining your lips around my dick so many times.”
He has? And for once I don’t feel unattractive. I feel…hot. Hot enough to make a guy fantasize about me.
I want to hold onto that feeling, but I’m not good at sex. Not this kind of sex anyway. Not in my hallway, with the stark light above us. Him so big and powerful against me. I’m used to…nice sex. Not obliterating sex.
I need to taste him though, now he’s said what he wants I can’t get the idea out of my head.
“Shall we go to my bedroom?” I ask.
He grins at me then, and it’s a whole lot hot, and a little bit nasty. “We could. Or you can get on your knees for me here, like a good girl.”
Holy shit! I’m playing so far out of my depth I’m drowning.
“Erm…I don’t know what to say to that. I mean, here? In my hallway?” I look at the door, but the glass is stained, and you can’t see through it, which means people can’t see in. Then I glance at the floor. It’s clean. I mopped yesterday. Although, my knees are going to be on the floor and it’s hard...
“Cara.” He says my name like an order. I look at him.
“Stop thinking and get on your knees.”
And I do. God help me, but I do it. I sink to my knees until I’m facing a rather large bulge.
“Take me out, babe.”
Babe. Ugh. My feminist hackles are rising, but then I start to smile to myself, thinking that’s what I’m bothered about in this whole fucked up scenario. Him calling me babe?
I unzip him and take him out and he’s…stunning. Perfect. Thick and long, with a nice curve. But hell, he’s big. Maybe too thick. I lick my lips and am about to explore him when one hand wraps in my hair and pulls it into a ponytail, pulling me forward.
It doesn’t hurt. In fact, it makes me moan with pent up desire. I catch the masculine scent of him, and then I lean in and take him in my mouth.
He tastes clean and tangy. I settle into the rhythm of tasting him. Sucking at him as my hand moves up and down the lower part of him.
“Fuck, that’s good. This is a much better use of that smart mouth of yours.”
I stop and look up at him, narrowing my eyes. But he smiles at me, and it’s genuine and dazzling, and I can’t be angry, despite his dick-ish ways.
I go back to what I’m doing, loving how my mind has finally shut off for once. I exist on a purely physical plain in this moment, and I’m so turned on I want to touch myself, but I daren’t do anything so forward in front of him.
It doesn’t take long before he’s grunting, and he gives a little tug on my hair, starts to pull out of me as I feel him swell. Oh, so now he’s being chivalrous. But I don’t want him to be. I want to swallow him down. I stay the course, and soon he’s pulsing down my throat, and I am taking it all.
Once he’s done, he pulls me up, and starts kissing me again. It’s as if he’s starving. Then, to my total surprise, he drops to his own knees. Smooth and easy, with the finesse of someone totally in control of their body.
“Payback,” he mutters as his big hands sweep my skirt up my legs.
I already came, so he doesn’t owe me anything. About to say as much, I lose all coherent thought when he pulls my panties to one side and licks a stripe right up my center.
Oh, Lord. My head falls back against the wall behind me, and I close my eyes and give in to the heady sensations.
It doesn’t take him long at all until I’m dancing on that precipice once more. When I go over I cry out. I’m not noisy during sex normally, but I can’t keep the sounds in.
He stands up, moves my underwear back into place, and pushes my skirt back down.
Oh, crap. I’m all at sea. I don’t know where to look, and shame at my behavior, at what we’ve done, washes over me.
I want to invite him to stay, to take him upstairs and forget all the shit in my head for a little while longer. But reality crashes in on me. We’re too different. I’m not sure, despite the glimpses I’ve seen of another side of him, that I even like the man. I’m in no place for a relationship. And he’s a student!
I may well lose my job over this moment of insanity.
I need time and space to think, so I step away and give him a bright, painted on smile.
“Well, as you said earlier, it’s been…interesting.” I hate ending it this way, but don’t know what else to say. And I need him to go because I’m starting to panic now at what I’ve done, and in about thirty seconds might start freaking out.
“Yeah.” He gives his right shoulder a lazy roll. “I’ll see you Thursday night for the adult ed class.”
“Okay, see you then.”
Luka turns to go but stops on the step and looks back to me. He leans in close. “I’m going to come again tonight thinking about you.”
With those final words, he jogs down the steps and out into the dark.
Did he honestly just say that? How crude?
But the words turn me on despite myself.
This can never happen again.
But I’m only kidding myself.
I know deep down that me and Luka aren’t remotely done with one another yet.
Not by a long shot.
Chapter Six
Luka
I spend a week of mental torture after the slightly fucked up, but oh-so-hot sexual interlude at Cara’s house.
Why did I kiss her? Start it all up again. Why the fuck do I want her so much still?
At first, I thought it was some sort of twisted hate fuck thing happening. But I don’t dislike her, not truly. She’s too vulnerable and neurotic to dislike. Another reason to stay the fuck away.
She’s not my type. If I say it enough I might get my dick to start believing it. I don’t go for frumpy teachers. I go for hot, sexy, ligh
t, and fluffy girls-about-town who want a fling and nothing more.
Plus, she’s my tutor, and there’s probably a whole ton of rules against any kind of fraternization.
The fact is, she intrigues me. She’s tough but vulnerable. And I sense depths to her most people have never plumbed. But she’s also capable of pushing my buttons in ways that aren’t completely healthy. On the other hand, there’s that intrigue, that interest. And it’s so rare anything or anyone interests me these days.
People are merely background noise to the fucking shit I’ve got going on inside. Apart from Poppy, who has me well and truly wrapped around her chubby little fingers, I don’t generally notice people much anymore.
Even my friends moan they don’t see much of me. I’d die for those brothers I made out in the desert, but they don’t play on my mind the way Cara has these past few days.
We had class on Thursday, but I didn’t see her much as she isn’t my tutor group leader, Laura is. And then our time at the prison, where I also didn’t get to talk to her. She split the classes into two groups each lesson, and got me to take one as she took the other. After the lesson finished, she always managed to disappear. I think she’s avoiding me.
I should respect her wishes and leave her the fuck alone, so why the hell am I jogging down her street this Friday evening? Sure, my runs often take me this way, but I could easily avoid her road.
I get to her house and stop running, resting my hands on my thighs as I bend over and take in some air.
Lights are on in the lounge, but the curtains are drawn against the cold, dark night. I stand there like some fucking loser creeper, watching the light for a moment, and decide I need to keep on running, because no way am I knocking on her door. At that moment though, the door opens spilling light down the path and catching me in its golden glow. Fuck. Busted.
But it’s not Cara who stands there looking at me, it’s Laura.
“Luka?” She stares at me, and her expression is a picture.
I wave as my brain tries to come up with some way to explain this without dropping Cara in it. I could say I’m jogging by and pretend I don’t know Cara lives here, but that’s not going to fly.
“I had a couple of questions for Cara, and I jog by her house anyway on my regular route.” I pause to suck in some more air and think up more bullshit. “But then I realized it’s late, so planned on jogging by. Just taking a breather.”
“Come in. I’m sure Cara won’t mind.” Laura gives me the warm, motherly smile she seems to use on all her students.
A striking blonde comes to stand by Laura. She’s hot. Much more my usual type than Cara, and she sweeps an appraising glance up my body before smirking.
“And who are you?”
“This is Luka,” Laura replies. “One of our students. He had a question for Cara. I told him to come on in.”
“Do you always run to your teachers with questions at…” The blonde glances at her watch “…nine-thirty at night?”
Snarky bitch. I like it.
“Mags, don’t be bitchy.” Laura shoves the other woman with her hip, and Mags makes a face at her, but then slings her arm around her and nuzzles her hair. They must be together. And now I’m wondering if Cara’s gay? But then why did she respond so heatedly to our kiss?
The woman in question appears behind the two and her eyes widen comically. “Luka? What brings you here?”
The blonde, Mags, sticks out her hand as I approach. “I’m Maggie. Cara’s friend. We’ve finished dinner, and were about to sit down with a nice glass of wine. Won’t you join us?”
Cara shoots her daggers, but Maggie merely smiles and slips back inside, ignoring the icy looks.
Cara steps to one side. “You may as well come in for a bit.”
I ignore the total lack of grace in her invite, and follow Cara, Laura, and Maggie down the hall and into the lounge.
Cara flutters about the room, all nervy and stressed. She might as well put a big neon sign on her head saying, something’s going on here.
“Drinks anyone? Laura, Mags, more wine?” Both women nod, and Cara turns to me. “Luka, wine for you?”
“Only water for me, please. I’ve been running, bit thirsty.”
I feel fucking ridiculous in my sweaty running gear, and think this is the worst idea I’ve had in a long time. Seriously, if stopping screwing around is going to result in me doing batshit stuff like this, I’m out on the pull tomorrow night.
Maggie strides to stand by the fire. She’s wearing a crisp white shirt tucked into dark skinny jeans, with boots up to her knees. She looks sexy in a hot-boss kind of a way. A massive contrast to Laura, who’s wearing a long floaty skirt, and a silky top, with the usual stacks of chunky jewelry she always has on. I don’t know a lot about women’s fashion but these two seem like total opposites, clothes-wise at least.
“Did you come to see Cara about anything special?” Laura asks me. The question seems innocent enough, but I’m more than aware I might have dropped Cara right in it with this impromptu visit.
I measure my words. “No. Simply found myself on her street while out for my run. I tend to run around here for the main part of my jog. When I passed, I saw the light on and thought I’d say hi. I didn’t know she’d have company, and when I checked the time I thought better of it anyway. It’s only because you opened the door, and saw me, that I’m here.”
Yeah, too much info, jackass! Sometimes I want to remove my own tongue with a rusty knife and no painkillers.
“Oh, don’t mind us. We’re not company. We’re always around here, or Cara’s at ours. We’re more like extended family.” Laura’s warm smile stretches wider.
“Do you run a lot?” Maggie runs her eyes up and down the length of my body. It’s an appraising look, but it holds no heat, no sexual interest.
I shrug. “Probably four times a week, on average. I do weights twice a week, and take one day a week off. Well, except for things like the plank and the chin-ups I do every morning, they’re part of my daily routine...” I trail off, aware I’m rambling.
“I’ve never been able to do things like chin-ups or press-ups.” Laura waggles her arms in front of her. “Weak arms.”
“You could if you worked on it, built your upper body strength up a little for a couple of months, and did plenty of body weight exercises,” I tell her. Then I laugh. “Get me started on exercise and I can go on forever.”
Cara comes back into the room. She hands out the drinks from a tray.
Maggie looks between us.
“You should go running with Luka, Cara.”
“What?” Cara’s squeak amuses me.
“You need to get back to doing some exercise, and it will help your leg.” Maggie smiles.
“I’m nowhere near the running stage,” Cara shoots back.
“Not now, maybe. But in a few weeks, you will be.”
“What happened to your leg?” I’d noticed her favoring it slightly the other day. Not limping on it as such, but she kept leaning on the other leg when standing in the classroom.
“I hurt it in an accident,” Cara says, but she shoots Maggie a narrow eyed glare, and it tells me she’s lied.
Maggie doesn’t take the hint to shut up and rolls her eyes. “If getting attacked by a group of men is an accident, then yes, you did.”
Attacked? My heart thuds in my chest as I turn to stare at Cara. Suddenly it all makes sense. I couldn’t figure out why she seemed nervous around the prisoners when she’s so committed to her role. I’m thinking now the nerves are a new thing, and nothing to do with her job.
What did the fuckers do to her? I realize I’m grinding my teeth.
I don’t want to press her on it if she doesn’t want to talk about it. No one respects a person’s right to shut the fuck up more than me.
“If you want to do some gentle jogging with me, we can. I’m a fully qualified personal trainer, and I’ve worked with people with health problems.” I change the subject back to exercise.<
br />
Maggie claps her hands. “There you go, Cara. A way to get back into it again. You used to love running.” She turns to me. “Is that why you’re doing the adult education course, to help with training clients?”
I shake my head as I down some of the water, Cara handed me. Her face is flushed, her eyes bright. This whole situation is freaking her out. I kind of like her discomfort, which proves I’m a dick. I turn back to Maggie. “I’m phasing that out, got a new job.”
“Oh?” She waits for me to go on. She’s a curious one.
“Yeah, security work. High end stuff. Close protection for dignitaries, that kind of shit, but the guy who started the company also wants to set up training courses for more ordinary security work. I’m going to be running those. Christ knows why.”
“Why wouldn’t you run them?” Laura asks.
“Because I’m not a people person.” I would have thought the answer would be obvious.
“And are your other colleagues people persons?” Laura asks.
Well, when she puts it like that. I smirk at her. “No, they’re not.”
“Then perhaps you are the best man for the job.”
I sigh. I doubt it. But Liam’s the boss, and he’s paying me frankly stupid money. I have quite a bit stashed away anyway, and if there were only me to consider, I might not do this. But I want to make sure there’s more than enough for Sally and Poppy. Me and Ethan both have ended up helping care for our sisters and nieces, and now we’re both going to be working for Liam. Good job we trust him with our lives.
“Does your military background make the sort of work you’re doing now a good fit?” Laura asks.
“Yes, it helps a lot.”
“What branch of the military were you in?” Maggie pipes up. “My dad’s ex-RAF.”
I smile at her. “Royal Marines, and then the Special Boat Service.”
Her brows go up. If she’s from a military family then she’ll know what that means.
