by Dani Dundee
I’m utterly wet from my orgasm, and his cock slides effortlessly between my thighs, the angle it takes bumping against my clitoris at the end of its course. With his hands, he angles my body further, forcing me to stick my butt out, and the rubbing and sliding take a whole new depth. He comes and goes, both his hands holding my hips strongly. I can hear him sigh at the movement.
I try to angle myself even more, unable to wait any longer for him to penetrate me, but he tsks me and rights me at the position he had decided. “Not now, love. I want you to come like that once more as I rub myself against your pussy.”
His words make me shiver, and I bring my thighs closer to each other as I feel my pussy pulsating against his touch. “Aaahh,” he says, louder than before, as I press them against each other. “This feels so good,” he grunts, more for himself than for my benefit.
I keep my thighs close together, hoping to make him come as well … an eye for an eye. But I soon realize this is a trap, as my body reacts to his touch just as if I hadn’t come three minutes ago. What is happening to me?
I forget all about that question as my body shakes again under the strength of the orgasm. This time, he doesn’t let me ride it slowly, he starts pumping his penis faster against me, stroking harder, and I let a cry out as my orgasm becomes deeper.
“Damn,” he says, “I love that sound you make. And how your body shows me you enjoy what I’m doing to you.”
“I want you to take me now,” I demand with as much conviction as I can muster.
“Sshhh.”
He angles his cock with his hand, pressing against my pussy, and slowly penetrates me despite my desperate attempts to make it faster. “Now don’t you move a muscle,” he says once he is half inside.
His hand leaves my panties to bare one of my shoulders, pushing the fabric of my plunging V-neck dress to the side, and then grabs one of my breasts firmly as he starts moving inside of me, going in and out slowly. His index finger and thumb pinch my nipple, while his other fingers cup my breast. With his teeth he bites my shoulder lightly, tasting my skin with his tongue as he searches along my neck to find my earlobe.
I can’t help but moan as he ups the cadence, feeling more aroused than I thought I could be after coming twice. But my privates are anything but numb—I can feel his engorged dick sailing the waves of my pleasure with the strength of a conqueror, taking possession of both my body and that hidden place in my heart I had refused share with my previous lovers.
I’m confused, unable to think straight, and I try once more to change position and face him—something more vanilla, and less guilt-inducing than this bestial coupling, but he holds me firmly against his body with one arm, the other hand still playing with my breast, not stopping the movement.
“Let yourself enjoy this,” he pleads. “I promise I will hold on to you. You can fly away safely.”
His arm leaves my waist and his hand finds it way into my panties again—and I have no will to fight anymore. I can’t think about anything but the perfect moves he’s subjecting me to. Both our universes seem to find their focal point between my legs, some sort of black hole changing the rules of time and gravity, my orgasms like a thousand comets shining bright as they dash through the night.
I lose track of time, but eventually Michael reduces his speed and I start to breathe normally again. When he leaves the spot between my legs, I feel cold and lonely. He turns me around and I notice right away that he is still very strongly erect, brandishing his weapon through the zipper of his pants. I look at him straight in the eye, my cheeks warm with both shyness and lust. Michael is smirking, proud of the reaction he’s provoked.
“I’m not done with you yet, pretty lady,” he says. With one hand, he pulls the fabric of my dress, and it slides to the ground slowly. One of my breasts is out of my bra, my panties are in disarray, but it doesn’t matter because they both follow the dress on the floor.
I bask in the glory of his gaze. He is taking both the hills and valleys of my body in, caressing every one of them with his hungry eyes.
I take one step forward to rejoin the warmth of his arms, where he welcomes me. His hands slide to my butt, caressing it, while his tongue explores mine, and he lifts me off the floor, pushing my back against the wall. My head is higher than his now; I’m in control of the kiss. Both my hands explore his hair, touch his face, his cheek, his mouth, as I keep kissing him in all of the ways I can imagine.
Michael’s left hand does the lifting, while his right hand explores between my legs with one finger, stroking lightly the length of my slit, sending little shocks of pleasure in my spine. My brain isn’t in command anymore—my body is. I start moving my backside in circles, trying to incite Michael to take action—which he does, gladly.
His finger finds its way inside of me, entering cautiously at first and then starting to rub more strongly. I have to stop kissing him to let a loud moan out, arching my back against the wall—I know I’ll feel ashamed to have let myself be seen so vulnerable later … but for the moment, I can’t find the strength to care. I am letting go; I am succumbing to the passion inside of me.
Michael grunts, and his mouth seizes one of my nipples, sucking it impetuously, and then licking it with ardor. I have to hang on to his shoulders not to be adrift, taken away by the waves of pleasure I’m experiencing.
Sensing my need to be anchored, he lowers me, impaling me slowly onto his dick. His hands keep me in the air, one of them caressing right between my buttocks as his hips move at just the right rhythm. I’m out of breath, shaking as I keep coming, trying to keep up with his demanding thrusts.
After a while, he secures his grasp on me, and I can feel his abandon to passion, as he moves erratically between my legs, his grunts half-silenced by his face burrowed into my shoulder. In that moment, he abandons himself to me.
This is it. The moment of truth, the one event I needed to decide that, whatever happens, and however short Michael’s lifespan may be, there is no going back for me.
His fate matters even more to me now that I’ve given my heart to him so openly, but I realize he’ll always be a mortal, and I’ll always be immortal.
When his time comes, I’ll have to carry out the most heartbreaking duty I have ever faced—because it is my own fate to end his life. In the end, I will be the one cutting the thread of his life with my shears. But we’ll have had our moments of eternity in those embraces—my memories are the one thing death cannot take away from me.
I wrap my arms tight around him, pulling him farther into my embrace, caressing his skin soothingly as he tries to catch his breath.
“Let’s rest now,” he mumbles, giving me a kiss on the shoulder. Michael doesn’t put me down; he just walks with me still sitting on his arms and lowers us on the bed. As he rolls onto his back, I follow him, resting my head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around me; with his other hand, he grabs the corner of the huge blanket on my bed, and wraps it around us.
“I want to do that every night for the rest of my life,” Michael says after a minute. He turns around to face me, resting on one arm, while the other drags me even closer against his body. “Will you keep me, Aisa?”
My heart doubles in size at his glorious words. I want to be with him so much, too. And after tonight, there is no way anything could take me away from that man.
“I will, Michael,” I swear, sealing that vow with a kiss.
***
It's not over! After bringing Aisa and Michael together against all odds, Old Cupid's matchmaking skills tempt tragedy when he stabs Paige with his golden arrow. She falls hopelessly in love with Jared, a young medical resident with a quick wit, a ripped body and a heart of gold, who has a terrible secret—one that has always stopped him from baring his heart.
TAMING THE WOLF
(a Cupid Standalone Short Story)
See TAMING THE WOLF at:
Amazon
***
He’s been in love with her since they were children. She thinks s
he’s getting married to a complete stranger. When the wedding night ends in tragedy, the only thing two lovers need is to trust that LOVE KNOWS NO LIMIT—not even death.
ELECTRIC BLUE BUTTERFLIES
(Will o' the Wisp 1)
See ELECTRIC BLUE BUTTERFLIES at:
Amazon
About Irma Geddon
Irma writes contemporary Dark Fantasy and Paranormal New Adult Romance about doomed true love—losing it, and trying to get it back against all odds.
Website | Mailing list | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Table of Contents
Red Hot Candy
Table of Contents
The Things I Never Said by Jo Raven
Perfectly Equipped by Lacey Silks
Billionaires in Disguise: Rae, Kidnapped by Blair Babylon
A Fan-TAB-Ulous Night by Olivia Rigal
Take it Easy by Daisy Prescott
Before Flesh by Sky Corgan
Scorched into Submission by Daizie Draper
Pandora's Box by Sarah M. Cradit
Braving Love by SJ Mayer
Always Enough by Molly McLain
Mine In Dreams by Olivia Hardin
Like Home by Mira Bailee
Unshakeable by JC Valentine
Yearning to Yield by Pavarti K Tyler
First-Class Scoundrel by Liv Morris
Mated in Bearfield by Jacqueline Sweet
Le Moulin by JC Andrijeski
Jesse's Girl by Alison Foster
Dude by Gillian Cherry
Biker Billionaire's Bitch by Layla Wilcox
Swaying Fate by Irma Geddon
Gender Studies 101 by Dani Dundee
Disclaimers and Copyright Notices
GENDER STUDIES 101
by Dani Dundee
GENDER STUDIES 101
by Dani Dundee
GENDER STUDIES 101 © Dani Dundee 2015
My name’s Hayley. I’m a 19 year old student at Riverton University; it’s a nice place with a mix of buildings old and new. My first class of the year is Gender Studies.
In a class of 100-odd women, there’s one guy. Thomas. Tall, lanky, and a little shy—just the way I like them. I’m going to have a little fun with him, I can tell.
But there’s a hitch. In a class of so many women, with so few men in it, there’s going to be stiff competition…not to mention we only have a ten minute break between lectures. I’m going to have to take him to the Lavender Room for this one; it’s a race against the clock, and I’m going to have to move fast if I want to get what I want.
“Gender Studies 101” is an erotic short story featuring a forceful, assertive university student and the single, lone dorky guy in her class.
PROLOGUE
“If someone believes they are limited by their gender, race or background, they will become more limited.”
—Carly Fiorina
The First Day of Class
With the rustling of papers and the shifting of seats, the students of Gender Studies 101 took their seats and waited for the lecture to begin.
I’m Hayley. I’m 19, and I’m a student at Riverton University. It’s your standard university; modern buildings mixed in with sandstone structures, which gives the uni a somewhat chaotic appearance, as though someone had mashed together Hogwarts and a lab from CSI.
Gender Studies 101 was held in a lecture theatre that was the latter. Folding desks, powerpoints aplenty, white walls and new carpet that smelled vaguely of chemicals.
Over a hundred students crammed into this ultra-modern lecture hall, all women. Female lecturers. Female tutors. Female student body.
And then a guy sat down in the seat in front of me, accidentally squashing his neighbor’s purse with his backpack. One guy in a hundred female students.
“Sorry,” he said, seeming to genuinely mean it. He was tall—lanky, even, with long black hair that sat in a disorganized mop on top of his head. He was cute, in a dorky kind of way. Delicate, playful, funny.
The kind of guy I really liked.
They got settled and the lecturer began to speak. How are women’s and men’s identities shaped by society? was the lecture slide. I know I should have listened; instead, I stared at the back of the lone guy’s head. What was this one guy doing here? Why was he in such a female-dominated field?
He was probably gay. My heart sank slightly. He was really cute; the gay ones usually were. What a bummer.
I let my mind play with the possibilities. I imagined him with one of my old high school boyfriends; the two of them kissing a little, their hands exploring each other’s bodies, maybe a little tongue as they made out…
I didn’t absorb much from the lecture. I was too distracted thinking about sex to try and learn about it. I’m usually such a good student, but the more the class droned on, the more I decided that I needed something a step away from the theoretical and a little more…practical.
I had to have him.
“We’ll have a ten minute break,” said the lecturer, jolting me from my daydreams. Everyone began filing out of the room, including the guy.
Not so fast, mophead. I slid out of my seat and, quite deliberately, bumped into him with my shoulder.
“Oh,” I said, smiling up at him. He had green eyes—I hadn’t noticed, staring at the back of his head all this time. “I’m super sorry.”
“All good,” he said, holding up his hands. “Sometimes I don’t watch where I’m walking.”
Polite, too. “It’s okay,” I said, putting on my absolute best smile. “I’m Hayley.”
“I’m Thomas.”
Together, the two of us started walking up the steps to the main doors, surrounded on all sides by a crush of students all trying to make the most of the break.
“So,” I said, “you’re enjoying the class so far?”
“Sort of,” he said, pushing open the door and holding it for me.
Well, now, guys who do that get points in my book. I stepped through, making sure I kept nice and close to him as I did so.
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I can’t focus today.” I smiled my best smile. “Must be something in the air, you know?”
“Right,” he said, falling into step beside me. “So we got ten minutes.”
Ten minutes. Lots we could do in that time…
PRACTICAL STUDIES
The Lavender Room
We didn’t have that much time. Normally I’d play with guys, stretch them out a bit, make them come begging for it; that was just how I did things. However, I knew I wasn’t the only girl in this class with their eye on Thomas; I hadn’t seen anyone, but I could sense them eyeing him off. Sense their need.
I had to move fast. Thomas and I walked away from class; I steered him toward the southern courtyard, where the four parts of the J.D. Ashur building formed a neat square with gardens and stuff in it.
“So,” I said, making conversation as we walked. “You have family nearby?”
“Yeah,” he said. “My Dad works in the city, nearby.”
“Boyfriend?” I asked, cautiously.
He laughed. “Just because I do Gender Studies doesn’t mean that I like guys,” he said, to my probably-palpable relief. “And no, I’m single at the moment.”
Want to change that? I almost asked, but no. That would be way too much too soon.
“That’s a shame,” I said instead, casually steering him toward the edge of the J.D. Ashur building. There was a little study room that very few people knew about—third year students only—but I had my sister’s pass so I could get in. It was called the Lavender Room because, well, everything was purple. For the next leaders of the world, the movers and shakers, we were sometimes uncreative.
Thomas smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s not that bad.”
“Mmm hmm,” I said, stopping in front of the door. “Hey, this place has free coffee.”
“Really?” Thomas regarded the unadorned, opaque glass door with a skeptical eye. “How do you know that? Are we
even allowed to be here?”
I subtly swiped my sister’s card over the magnetic reader instead of my own. It beeped cheerfully and the door unlocked with a click.
“Guess so,” I said, pushing it open before it locked again. Thanks, Tammy.
The room inside was purple from floor to ceiling; purple beanbags lay scattered all about the room, and just as I’d remembered, a small coffee machine was tucked into the far corner, complete with foam cups. Steam rose from the back. We had the room to ourselves.
“Wow,” said Thomas as he stepped in after me. “Doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it’s neat in here.”
“Sure is,” I said, as the door closed behind me. “My sister told me about this place. She said it’s a great place to get a cup of coffee during winter, to study if you need a quiet place…” I let my voice get a little bit playful. “And a few other things.”
“What kind of things?” Thomas asked, probably completely missing the point. He walked over to the coffee machine, inspecting all the buttons.
Well, he was either not very smart, or kind of shy. I assumed the latter. He was articulate and seemed bright.
I followed him to the machine, casually sliding my hands around his waist. “Oh, you know,” I said, as casual as I could be, “just stuff. It’s really quiet; almost nobody knows this place even exists, so it’s usually kind of…” I slid the tip of my fingers into his jeans. “Private.”
