What the hell?
Suddenly, she's knocked me on my ass again. Too innocent to know what she is really asking for or not, this girl is on a mission to get my attention, and I don't think I have the willpower to say no. Just a brush of her fingers has me ready and raring to go, there's no telling what will happen if she does something more. My cock is just telling me what my brain is afraid to say.
I want her. I want her bad. And, if that little show of triumph outside the caf is any indication, she wants me too.
Fuck.
I shove my food away, intent on a new mission. Save myself and her a world of hurt. As much as I'd love to plunge my cock into her and watch those red lips curl into an "O" as she screams my name, I’ve got too much to lose and I’m not in the business of ruining innocent lives.
I need a plan, or it's the end of both of us.
I got her by a decade in years and a lifetime in experience. Surely, I can outsmart a twenty-year-old who thinks she’s in love with her “harmless” professor.
But when I think of Grace's hands on my thigh, wide eyes blinking up at me, a strange sense of foreboding sizzles through me.
What if I’m way off?
What if this isn’t a schoolgirl crush at all?
What if she’s been sent to test me? To work me?
The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and I take a swallow of the coffee Grace handed me.
That line of thought brings a whole new slew of problems because once I think it, I can’t let it go. It makes so much sense. Any one of my enemies could’ve hired her to play the coquette and draw me in in an attempt to learn my secrets.
Putting Grace off is no longer an option. Until I get to the bottom of her motives, I need to keep her as close as possible…while also managing not to fuck her.
Jesus.
It’s going to be a long few days.
Chapter Four
Grace
Holy crap, it worked.
I’m practically running back toward my apartment in stunned disbelief, heart racing, insides a jumble.
He agreed to get coffee with me.
As soon as I think it, another thought follows.
So now what?
Willow will know what to do. After all, she’s been wrapping men older than her around her finger since she was sixteen. Who I pretend to be around Ridley is who Willow has always been, just with a little less of an attitude problem.
She’ll know just how to proceed. While she might be one drunken binge away from failing out of college, she’s always been good with the stuff that’s actually important in life. Behind the big hair, heavy mascara, and legwarmers is a streetwise woman who knows how to get what she wants.
I rip open the door to our shared apartment, toss my books onto the kitchen counter and call out for my trusted roommate.
“Willow?”
No reply.
I call out again, “Hellloo, are you here?”
The bathroom door jerks open, stealing my attention. Willow is there, hair frizzed and untamed, but more importantly she’s holding her cell phone against her ear with one hand and an elongated box in the other.
Inside the box?
What appears to be a ten-inch purple vibrator with spikes decorating the head.
“What in God’s name are you yelling about that is so important that you need to interrupt my me time?” she asks as she pockets her phone.
I don’t respond. I can’t respond. My jaw swinging on its hinges does all the talking as I stare in disbelief.
“Yes, Barney the Big-Dicked Dinosaur is huge. Now, can you stop pretending as if you’ve never seen a fake dick before, and tell me what’s up?”
I just shake my head, deciding to not press her on the choices she makes when it comes to the shape, design, girth, and length of the toys she pleasures herself with.
I drop down onto the couch and let out a squeal. “You’re not going to believe it.”
“What won’t I believe?” She pulls the bathroom door shut behind her and makes her way to join me on the couch. She sighs as she tosses the box onto the black coffee table. It immediately begins vibrating and shaking against the glass top.
We both eye the toy suspiciously. “Since when do they come with batteries?”
“I bought it off eBay.” She reaches forward and smacks the box, bringing the vibrations to a sudden end. “And you’re right, they don’t usually come with batteries but I’m not going to complain because have you seen the price of batteries lately?”
“You need to throw that gross thing away.”
“Nah.” She chuckles as she kicks her feet onto the coffee table. “I think I’ll save it to give to someone for Christmas.”
I can’t help but wonder who possibly merits a used purple schlong for the holidays, but think better of asking. I have too much crap of my own to worry about.
“I’m going to be frank,” she says, throwing her arm over the back of the couch behind my head, “I’ve got an appointment with myself in about fifteen minutes, so whatever hell you’re going through, I can only offer you ten minutes of my services.”
“You are so generous,” I grind out, sarcastically. “Since we’re stressed for time, I’m going to go with the Sparknotes version. I have a coffee date with Ridley tonight.”
“You’re such a whore.”
“Coming from you, I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”
“Good,” she applauds me lightly. “Own that shit. But seriously, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I become a different person when I’m around him. It’s like I’m possessed, and I have tunnel vision, and he’s all I can see. All I can hear. All I can feel. There’re these thoughts that run through my head when I become that other girl, and I’m kind of starting to think I might be crazy. And I have no idea how I’m going to get through these next four hours without losing my shit, and what I really don’t know is what the hell am I even going to do if by some chance Professor Ridley gets me someplace private.”
“You need to start by breathing.” She shifts in place, pulling her feet onto the couch so that she faces me. “And then you need to start thinking of him as Jack instead of Professor Ridley.”
“That’s the easiest part.”
“Grace, I love you and your mother should have had this talk with you, but I’m going to guess that she didn’t. And that really means she’s failed as a parent—”
“Let me stop you there.” I place a finger as a barrier between us.
But she just swats it away as she continues unmoved, “Men are basic. Men are easy. Once you understand that, you can own any man you want. All you need to know is that they are visual motherfuckers. It doesn’t matter what you’re saying to them at any given moment, because, if you look at them the right way, what they are hearing is, fuck me, daddy.”
I pucker my lips and shake my head. “I don’t think all men—”
“That’s because you’re naïve and delusional,” she interrupts me. “It’s about sex. Always has been. Always will be. Sure, men can occasionally break free from their masculinity and actually love someone, but even then, that bond will always be tied to sex or they’ll find someone else who will fill that need. It’s more than a want for them. It’s a craving. It’s a desire. It’s a goddamn need, and it plays a huge role in their psyches.”
“You do know that sexism exists on both spectrums, right, and what you’re saying is blatant sexism.”
“Honey, I’m imparting you with the truth, and it’s not sexism. It’s fucking textbook science. A man’s sexual desires are part of the system that Mother Nature put in place to ensure the survival of the species.” She chews into her lip and offers the vibrator on the coffee table a mournful look. “I’m going to take one for the team here.”
She reaches for the box.
And I can’t help but to protest. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you your Christmas present early.” She rips open the top o
f the box and turns it upside down, catching the purple dildo in her palm. I’m able to get a better glance at the toy now, and although there are soft spikes on one head, there appears to be another head at the opposite end.
“You clearly need some lessons and far be it for me to deny you in your time of need. Now, most dicks aren’t going to have spikes on them,” she begins, a smirk pressed across her full lips. “In fact, if you find yourself on your knees and see anything resembling spikes, that should be your cue to run.”
My mouth drops open as she begins molesting the dildo right in front of me, slicking her hand up and down the shaft that’s shared between the two different heads.
She eyes me with a wicked smile, but I think she notices the curiosity behind my mortified expression. She scoots closer to me and passes the toy into my hand, which I do not accept. Gravity does its thing and it drops right onto my crotch, nestled against the thick denim of my skirt.
“Just skip oral and get straight to vaginal, I suppose.” She chuckles. “Which might not actually be a bad idea because let me tell you, it’s much more difficult to give good head than it is to get railed.”
“Why?” I question, my throat dry. “Why must you always be so damn crass? Is it just to hurt me?”
“The girl who is carefully plotting a perfectly executed fall onto her professor’s dick calls me crass. That’s Alanis Morissette-level irony.”
“You have a point.” I tongue the inside of my cheek and glance down at the dildo in my lap. “Still, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this.”
Her eyes do acrobats, rolling to the back of her head as if I just said the dumbest thing possible. “I really don’t know what’s so damn complicated about this. You need to practice.”
“Practice?” I exclaim as a nervous chuckle explodes from my lips. “I don’t think so.”
“You might think you have this seductress act nailed down, but what’s going to happen when you find yourself on your knees, an erect cock poking you in the face?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Will.”
“I’m trying to save you from another embarrassing encounter, because God knows one more scene like the one you caused in Jack’s office might just be the final nail in your virginal coffin.”
“Fine,” I sigh and reach for the purple dildo. It’s softer in my hand than I would have imagined, plushier too.
“Right,” Willow nods approvingly. “Now stroke the shaft, pump it up and down.”
If there were a mirror in view, I’d probably notice how red my cheeks are. If I’m going to feel comfortable doing this around anyone, it would be Willow. God knows she has no room to judge, considering she has a drawer full of fake penises for her own personal enjoyment. Though I’m not sure why she needs them. After all, it seems as if she has no problem getting actual men into her bedroom based on the battle cries I hear almost nightly.
I pump my hand up and down the fake shaft and begin to get a good handle on it. To my side, Willow feigns a yawn and slaps her hand over her mouth.
“What?” I question dryly.
She rips the dildo out of my hand forcefully, sticks it between her thighs and clenches tightly. Her eyes bore into mine, her lips flat.
“Suck my dick, Grace.”
I want to laugh, but I can’t. I’m beyond mortified at this point, even more horrified than I was before. There has to be a line that I draw in the sand, and this just might be it. I’m not about to drop my head into her lap.
“I said, suck my dick, Grace.” She throws one hand forcefully behind my head and pushes me down until my mouth is pressed against the soft purple head. “Just like that, baby.”
She applies more pressure until I’m left with no choice but to wrap my lips around the head or run away screaming.
It’s even smoother in my mouth, and though I choke on it at first—after which, to my shock, she doesn’t relieve the pressure—I soon get a good handle on it and make my way down the shaft until the smooth purple spikes press against my mouth. At that exact moment, the fake cock begins to vibrate with an intensity I’m not prepared for. It takes me by surprise and I flinch.
I’m busted in the lip.
Willow breaks into hysterics from above me and throws her head back in maniacal laughter.
I push upwards with enough force that I’m able to escape her hand of molestation. And when I’m able to breathe, I take a large inhale.
“That wasn’t so bad,” I gasp. “I didn’t puke or anything.”
“Girl, that was a fucking disaster,” she scoffs and cocks her head away from me. “No girl’s ever been turned into a whore in a matter of seconds, but you’ve got a lot of practice to do in the next four hours, because if you start choking on his dick, you’re not going to get a second date or a thir—”
“Let me stop you right there,” I interrupt her. “I’m not trying to fall in love here.”
“Right, and let me warn you about that.” She grabs the dildo and places it on the coffee table. She turns to me with a serious look. “You need to watch your ass. Don’t get too attached to this man.” She hooks her arm back along the top of the couch. “I’m all for getting your rocks off and exploring this naughty professor fantasy of yours, but this guy is ten years older than you, and if you’re right, he’s hiding something from you. From the world, even.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that you’re my best friend and I love you.” She drops a palm into my lap, a rare display of affection from her. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Our eyes lock for a split moment, before the seriousness becomes a little too much for her to muster. She jumps to her feet, grinning wildly. “Now, I need to get back to me time. Luckily for you, I have plenty of boyfriends in my bedroom drawer, so you can keep Barney. I’ll save you the embarrassment of doing it in front of me, but look up some videos online and keep practicing, girl, because you’re going to need it.”
I just chuckle lightly, but I know she has a point.
She paces around the couch and to her bedroom door, shutting the door behind her. When she’s gone, I crane my head over my shoulder to make sure she’s out of sight before reaching for the dildo and caressing it in my lap with a newfound determination to learn the ropes.
Willow is right. I’ve played up my sex appeal to the professor. If by chance, we should find ourselves alone and in private, I’m going to need to learn my way around a cock.
I’ve always been the careful one. I’ve always been the girl who takes the safest, sanest road. The one who doesn’t take chances or unnecessary risks. This is my last chance to be young and wild, because come graduation, I’ll be saddled with twenty years of student loan payments and a day job.
I deserve this.
I drop my gaze to the dildo as I begin to stroke it in slow motions, beginning with the second head—which I imagine is a pair of testicles—and rising all the way to the top, caressing my hand over the head.
I’m going to pull out all the stops to make him mine, even if it’s for just one night.
And if I go down in flames, so be it.
Chapter Five
Jack
I glance at my watch.
She’s five minutes late. With the level of enthusiasm she has shown towards me lately, I’d figure she’d beat me here. Even if I, myself, planned to be here fifteen minutes early just because that’s who I tend to be—the guy who’s always fifteen minutes early in order to get the lay of the land. Except on the off occasions when I’m preoccupied polishing my cock.
There’s a fine line when it comes to Farrow. I have to ride the line between seeming interested and borderline flirtatious enough to have a long, in depth conversation to try and get a read on her, all the while not putting myself into a compromising position where she thinks we’re actually going to fuck.
But, man, do I want to fuck her. Hard and rough, make her scream my name in every language she’s ever studied.
Once our d
ate is over, though, I’ll be left with steel tight blue balls and probably have to choke my cock as soon as I find my way back into my apartment.
I’ve already phoned up my PI buddy, Hank, to find out about her; Where she’s from, who her family is, and how long she’s been in the city. I’ve directed Hank to assemble a list of known associates and if she has a record.
The plan is to ask her some questions to see if anything she says makes my bullshit radar scream. I’ll compare her answers to Hank’s when he gets back to me in the next day or so.
I lean back in my chair while waiting anxiously for her, my fingers flirting with a fork on the table. I’ve killed a man with a fork before. It’s a long story and not one of my best memories, so I push away the thoughts and think about something else.
I think about her.
It’s always fucking her. Always her fucking lips wrapped around my hard cock. Always me painting those lips with pearls of hot come.
She pushes through the front door like I’d willed it, a cool draft of wind trailing in behind her that could never chill the erection poking against my jeans.
She’s really been on a different level lately. This time, showing up rocking the sexy librarian look. Hair swept up in a sloppy topknot, a white, button down shirt pulled tight around her taut tits, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need. Not unlike my own clear-glass spectacles that are all for show as part of my professor costume. I question if she’s on to me, and readjust the glasses on my face, pushing them up the length of my nose.
She greets me with a smile as she places a notebook onto the side of the table.
“Good evening, Professor Ridley,” she says as she slides into her chair and pulls herself forward so that she can rest one elbow on the table, pressing her palm against her chin as she gazes into my eyes.
“How was your day, Grace?” It’s all I can ask, seems to be an okay conversation starter that’s not too heavy and not too risky.
She sighs. Drops her gaze slightly. My gaze drops too, to the space between her breasts that peeks behind her tight white blouse. I look away and force a smile. She cocks her head ever so slightly—again, making me believe she’s fully aware of my interest.
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