Cindy had read and reread the words over and over again. They made her tempted to believe something she knew couldn’t be true. It was all in her imagination, a funny coincidence that what she was studying happened to be similar to what she was feeling. It was a convenient explanation that would give her strange feelings towards Professor Turick some excuse, some reasoning.
Because try as she might to deny it, she couldn’t help but realize that what she felt for him, ever since the moment he’d dragged her into his eyes, was pure, unadulterated lust. Cindy, being eternally practical, had actually made a list of the things she felt when her mind wandered to her handsome, silky-voiced professor:
Head rush – like being tipsy, or woozy? Increased heart rate Sweaty palms Stomach turning – in good way Forget to breathe? Thighs clenching – throbbing between legs…
And she’d cross-referenced that list with every website that popped up when she Googled “what does it feel like to be attracted to someone”?
Check. Check. Check, check, check.
Groaning and leaning back in her seat, Cindy had to admit that she was lusting after Professor Turick.
And that terrified her.
Especially because it was uncanny, wasn’t it? More strange was the fact that she’d never been attracted to anyone before – ever. The way his gaze had made her feel - paralyzed and aroused and scared all at once. The way he stalked across the room while delivering his lectures, feral and…feline. Those green eyes that weren’t really quite green, but more like yellow.
As the hours dripped by, the night getting later and later, Cindy realized she couldn’t go to class the next day. The very idea of it made her want to throw up. But she wasn’t going to drop the class entirely; she couldn’t, without paying the price in credits. She just needed another day…or two…before facing him again. She wanted to talk to Sam, who’d gone up to visit some friends at a state school for the weekend. She wanted to give herself time to figure out what she was going to do. She needed it.
With that resolution in mind, she finally managed to get the summary completed. She e-mailed it to Jenna, asking her friend if she could print it and hand it in with her own paper, claiming that she was too ill from “the bug going around” to make it to class. She considered emailing Professor Turick to say the same, but even the thought of emailing him made her fingers shaky.
How in the hell am I going to get through this semester, she lamented, crawling between her blanket and sheets.
She should have been able to fall asleep easily after that – after all, she’d gotten the assignment done, and she’d already made the decision to give herself some extra time to come to grips with this crush, or whatever it was. But instead, she lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, remembering the dark forest her mind was dragged to whenever her eyes lingered too long on Professor Turick…the dark forest where passion throbbed wet and damp as the leaves in the undergrowth…the dark forest where something stalked, back and forth, tail whipping softly…
6
She wasn’t there. The smell, it wasn’t there. Cillian had waited as calmly as he could as the students filed in. The more seats filled, the more hopeful Cillian got that the girl was running late; then, when she came in alone, he would have no problem picking out her scent, knowing exactly who it was that was driving him slowly insane.
But as the clock ticked past the time for class to start and the door shut and stayed shut, she still hadn’t arrived. A few innocent coughs from the audience in front of him reminded him that he was there to teach, not to find a mate – he didn’t want a mate, anyway.
Roll call will tell me, he thought suddenly, and tried to keep a shake from his voice as he started reading out the names.
“Jenna Bradbury.”
“Here.”
“Cornelia Bratts.”
“Here.”
“Justin Caldwell.”
“Here.”
“Cindy Corning.”
Silence. His eyes flicked up. The seat next to Jenna – one of the blondes he’d pegged as a possibility – was empty. Immediately, his mind conjured up the memory of the other girl, the other blonde, the voluptuous one with the freckles and the cute ponytail and the generous chest and the rolling hips and…
“Cindy Corning,” he repeated, this time saying the name like he was reciting a prayer. Cindy Corning…
“She’s sick,” Jenna piped up. “Got the bug. Gave me her assignment.”
Cillian’s blood boiled. Illogically, he felt stood up. He felt that the thing he was supposed to have – the thing he deserved to have – was being denied him. The memory of her smell wafted through his mind, almost as strong as if she’d been right there in front of him. He heard himself growling low in his throat and, with a sudden shock of reality, realized he was standing in front of a room of students fuming for no reason.
“If anyone missed what I said the first class,” he said, aiming to cover the awkward silence with some tough love. “I don’t take kindly to absences. Moving on…”
Somehow, Cillian managed to get through the rest of roll call and class, and shut himself in his office to try and think his way out of the predicament. He’d thought that not having her scent in his nostrils would make it better. But knowing what she looked like made it worse.
Now, he could see her small, full lips in his mind, could combine the vision with the memory of the smell. Desperate, he whipped through the papers that had been handed in that day, finding hers and holding it to his nose, hoping that if she’d handled it at all he might be able to smell her on it. But nothing. Frustrated, he threw it back in the pile.
He paced back and forth in his office, a constant growl in his throat. He tried to shoo the unwelcome images from his mind, but they were relentless. He couldn’t stop thinking of how it would feel to part her creamy white thighs, to lap at the sweetness between them; he imagined her nipples, whether they’d be rosy and small or wide and brown; he imagined her hair in his hand as he kissed her neck, his cock buried deep inside her, making her cry and moan in ecstasy….
For a feline shifter, nothing came before his mate’s pleasure. Shifter-receptive females of the feline persuasion were so few and far between that when you found one, you’d do anything to keep her. Protect her from any harm, dote on her with gifts and affection, make her come until she couldn’t see straight…
That wasn’t enough to keep Lila, though, he thought, a stabbing pain in his stomach. He’d had to leave England because of the woman who’d left him, who’d been afraid of devoting herself body and soul to him when he’d been eager to do the same.
To live knowing she was somewhere in the same country, possibly bearing some other shifter’s kits…it had been maddening. He’d nearly done something awful out of anguish…he couldn’t let that happen again. No matter how young and sweet and delicious this girl was…
Slamming himself down at his desk, he opened his e-mail and, scanning through the list of his students, found her school address. He typed out his message, nearly breaking the keyboard in his fervor. He had to end this now, before it got worse.
7
Cindy’s hand shook as she turned the doorknob. He’d responded to her light knocking with a gruff demand to enter. The e-mail had been just as gruff, telling her that she had to come by his office the following day at three. The thought of being in such close – and private – quarters with him had nearly driven her into hysterics, but what option did she have? She had to get control of herself – she couldn’t drop the class, and he was her professor for God’s sake. Even in her wildest dreams, it would never work…even if she wanted it to…which she didn’t, right?
Except, why had she spent the whole day off thinking of him? His low, primal voice, the accent that made it smooth as butter, his hands on her shoulders, or perhaps lower…or lower still…
And then why had she worn these short shorts and tiny camisole? It was still warm out, sure, but it was far from an appropriate outfit for this sort
of meeting.
The room was dim as she entered, tiptoeing up to the chair in front of his desk. He sat brooding, watching her with those greenish-gold eyes.
“Cindy,” he said, voice tight with control. “Sit.”
It was more of a demand than a request, and she happily obliged, unsure if her legs would even support her for very much longer. Being so close to him…oh, God, it was like he was a drug, pure heroin, something exuded from his skin and eyes like…like…
Like pheromones, she thought. Like a mating call…
“You need to drop my class,” he said, curt. Cindy’s jaw dropped open slightly, a squeak escaping her throat. Coughing, she tried to pull herself upright in the chair, to look less like a wet puppy.
“Because I missed? I was sick and….” She said.
“No,” he growled, and pushed her assignment across the desk towards her. “Because of this. You got it all right, Cindy. Every detail about how a shifter feels when he finds a potential mate. How he knows. How she knows. And you’re not stupid. So you should know why I need you to drop the class.”
Cindy’s heart dropped into her stomach. I was right…oh, my God, I was right…
“I can’t,” she said, voice too high. “It’s not going to look good on my…”
Cillian slammed his fist against the desk, interrupting her. Her heart raced, palms breaking out into a sweat. She was feeling that woozy feeling again, her stomach churning and knotting up. With no small shame, she felt her nipples hardening under her shirt, felt her panties growing damp. She’d only been under his gaze for a few minutes, and already she was feeling something she’d never felt before. Desire. Uncontrollable desire. Needy desire.
“I don’t give a shit about your transcript,” he said. “Do you know what will happen if we’re in that classroom together for a full semester?”
At that, he rose up, his back arched, his eyes glowing amber. Cindy shook her head no, but she thought she had an idea of what he was going to say. Almost before she could blink, he was in front of her, towering over her, his body all heat and taut muscle. Leaning over to grab the arms of the chair, his eyes loomed close to hers, hypnotic and luring. She wanted, more than anything, to lean forward, let their lips crash together and…
“I’d take you,” he growled, a chill running up Cindy’s spine. “I would do anything I had to, and I’d take you. And I’d make you mine. I’d claim you; make you my mate. And you’d be begging for it. I can smell how wet you are right now, Cindy. I can feel your heat. You would feel this way all the time, every moment we were together, unable to even think about anything but my cock inside you, my tongue against your clit. Is that what you want, Cindy? To be a slave to pleasure? To be my slave? Or to have me as yours?”
Cindy squeaked again, her head spinning, her fingers digging crescents in the wooden edge of the chair where she grasped it. What do you want…what do you want…do you want…do you want…?
“Yes,” she whispered, giving in to the desire that coursed through her veins, flooding her senses with a pressure so great she felt it might kill her. “I want…”
“No, you don’t,” he growled, pulling himself away with visible effort. Cindy’s eyes widened as she took in the sizeable bulge in the front of his pants. “You want to make something of yourself, and have a life…”
“I never felt this way,” Cindy said, interrupting him. Something deep inside her sparked with anger. Who was he to tell her what she did and didn’t want? This was something she’d never had before – something that other people only had a fraction of. Who was he to say that she didn’t want it? He didn’t know her, didn’t know that all of a sudden, all of those years of feeling nothing seemed like one long preparation for this moment, this heat, this need inside her.
“I’m sure you haven’t,” he said, turning away, moving around the desk once more. Before she could stop herself, she leaped forward, grabbing his arm and yanking so that he would turn to her once more. The contact between them ignited flames that sparked at every nerve in her body.
“Don’t tell me what I want,” she hissed. “I want to feel….”
Her sentence was cut off by a moan as her professor’s hands suddenly clutched at the crotch of her shorts, rubbing the fabric against her sex, her eyes rolling back into head in the sudden and singular pleasure.
“This? Is this what you want to feel?” he growled, moving in once more, now grabbing her hair with his other hand and yanking backwards, revealing the creamy white line of her neck. His lips fell to her skin, the vibration in his throat sending shivers through her flesh as he rubbed at her slit, one thumb grinding against her clit through the denim.
“Yes, please,” she moaned. “More…”
His teeth grazed her neck, his hand moving away only to plunge down the front of her shorts, bypassing her thin panties, her wetness slick against his fingers. Cillian groaned against her.
You need to stop, you need to stop, you need to…
But it was too late. He had to have her now. He needed it more than he’d ever needed anything. He needed to lick her wet slit, lap at her juices, feel her cunt tightening in climax. He needed to fill her with his seed, claim her, mark her as his, dig his fingers into her flesh until she screamed with pleasure…
With a single swooping motion, he cleared the desk, and grabbing her around the waist he sat her down on it, his hand slick with her juices, his mouth attached to her flesh as though if they were apart for a single second her would die.
“I need to taste you,” he growled against her skin, and Cindy gasped as his hand closed around the top of her tank top and ripped it away – quite literally, the top was in tatters in his hand, and he threw it to the side. She was so lost in pleasure and desire that she could only sit dumbly as he did the same to her bra, his hands coming to rest on her breasts, kneading them roughly and rolling her nipples between his fingers.
Arching her back, she leaned against her hands, eyes closing in bliss as her body responded to his rough touch. His mouth finally left her neck, his hot breath blowing across her breasts. Looking down, he saw her eyes studying her like he wanted to memorize every inch of her flesh.
“So beautiful,” he growled, then leaned forward, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, playing over it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth. Cindy almost wanted to cry for all the years she’d spent feeling nothing, no hint that pleasure like this could ever exist. She could feel him purring against her as he lapped at her breasts one at a time, tonguing each nipple in turn, his hands cupping her large breasts from below.
She could smell him, wild and musky and…alive, somehow, in a way that normal humans weren’t. His hands fell to her shorts, and Cindy lifted herself slightly as he shimmied them down. The smell of her sex filled his nostrils, her dampness an aphrodisiac of the highest order. For a moment, pulling his head away from her chest, their eyes met, and Cindy almost came from the intensity of his stare.
“You want this?” he growled, one finger teasing her slit, tracing it with the slightest contact.
“I need this,” Cindy heard herself responding, her body crying for release, her thighs trembling with need. She felt her sense of self being pulled into him like a riptide, all her logic and plans for the future swallowed up, leaving only a deep, dark hunger.
Without another word, Cindy’s professor dropped to a crouch in front of her, and his hot breath against her pussy made the walls of her cunt tighten in anticipation. She could do nothing but watch as he brought his lips towards her dripping slit.
“Holy fuck!” Cindy screamed as she felt his tongue lap at her clit. Her thighs immediately closed around his head, her arms giving out, body slamming backwards against the desk, his tongue finding her clit again and flicking over it quickly, then circling it, then flicking it again. Cillian could smell his student’s juices, and wanted them, let his tongue slide downwards to her slit, probing inside her, tasting her sweet and musky nectar before returning to her clit.
And then he closed his teeth around her clit, gently, and her gasp filled the room, the slightest edge of pain making that wave crest and break in a shattering release of pleasure. She grabbed handfuls of his hair, pulling him tight against her, lightning bolts released all throughout her body, her clenched muscles releasing in a rush of ecstasy she’d never known before. It seemed to last forever; the tingling, shuddering, pulsing pleasure. And then, all too soon, it faded, and she was left panting against the desk.
Until he rose up once more, and looking up she saw his lithe figure towering above her, those molten gold eyes devouring her naked body, his hands falling to her hips and pulling her forward in a single jerking movement.
“I’m going to claim you now,” he growled, one hand falling to his zipper. Cindy’s eyes widened as his cock emerged, fully erect and massive; none of the few guys she’d been with before had been close to his size, and her body was seized in sudden panic – it wouldn’t fit. There was no way.
But when he pressed the head against her slit, she moaned, his eyes on her drawing forth her desire once more, as though it were some rope inside her that he had his hands on and could tug into life at any time.
ENSLAVED BY SHIFTERS Page 51
