“Maybe I can assist with some private tutoring. One-on-one.”
Her breath hitched and she breezed close, her alluring scent of wild flowers drawing him in. “I need personalized help now, Professor. What can I do to thrust my grade to the top?” With a devilish gleam in her eyes, she arched her back, thrusting her fantastic cleavage dangerously close to his mouth.
Desire made his dick throb and he removed his sport coat. He wanted to pull her into his arms and drive himself deep inside her until they both surrendered to the ecstasy. “I should take you over my knee and spank you for being such a bad student.”
On a breathy gasp her lips parted. “The perfect punishment,” she murmured.
“You’ll have to come twice weekly. And you must agree to whatever lesson I’m prepared to teach you.”
She briefly closed her eyes, then pinned him with a smoldering stare. “I’ll do it if I can assure myself an ‘A’.”
“No.” He brushed his hand across her sweater, his fingers grazing her hard nipple. “I’ll promise a passing grade only. Anything more, you must earn.”
“How many sessions will I need?”
Her sexy moan roared in his ears. “That’s up to you. How fast of a learner are you?”
“Very.” She nibbled his lobe and palmed his crotch. “I catch on quickly.”
“Good.” As he unfastened a button on her sweater, his fingers brushed against her cleavage. “We have a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time.”
A husky groan ripped from her throat when she curled her fingers around his forearm. “You keep your office warm, Professor.”
“I like it scorching hot.” He continued unbuttoning her sweater. “How do you like it, Electra?”
“Hard,” she said, dragging her fingernails down his back. “And fast.”
Sliding next to him, she sat on the desk and slowly unzipped her boot. Before she could tug it off, he pushed off the desk, faced her, and slowly removed it. Her sockless feet were toasty warm and her toenails were painted a holiday red. She’s hot.
He unzipped and removed her other boot, then placed her bare foot against his erection. She gripped the desk, flexed her long toes against his hardness. “I’m eager to learn. What will you teach me today?” Ever so slowly, she ran her tongue over her lower lip, then bit down on the soft, pink flesh.
“Lesson one. Failure equals punishment. For starters, I’m going to spank you.”
Damn if she didn’t tremble. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Stand,” he commanded. Stepping away from her, he snapped the crop across his hand. “And show me your tits.”
As if she had nothing but time, Electra unbuttoned and pulled her sweater off, exposing her perfect breasts, her hardened nibs ready to be sucked. “Is that better, professor?”
Fuck, yes. Crockett was there to release his need. She didn’t want nice and easy. She wanted raw and uninhibited. That worked. Grabbing her around the waist, he placed his mouth over her firm and plumped nipples, licking and biting until her knees wobbled. On a low growl, he pulled away and straightened up.
“Time for your punishment, Electra.”
Even in the candlelit room, he couldn’t miss how the blacks of her pupils bled over the caramel brown. Her breath came in short gasps, her fingertips kneading his back.
She wiggled out of her jeans and hitched her hands on her bare hips. Naughty Electra hadn’t bothered with underwear. Sparks flew between them in the charged air. She stroked her hairless pussy, teasing him with her nimble fingers and raw moans. But when he ran his fingers along the length of her cunt, her juices soaked him. A groan shot out of her. Driven to fuck her, his cock ached.
“Turn around. And hold on,” he bit out. Even to him, his voice sounded sinister. Like she’d awakened his inner wild.
With her palms on the desk, she bent over, offering her beautiful, round ass. First, he ran his hand over her smooth skin and between her legs. Then, he bit her flesh.
Her yelp morphed into a long, gritty groan.
“My favorite kind of coed. Dripping wet.”
He snapped the crop over her firm ivory flesh. Once. “What did you learn?”
She moaned. “I need to study.”
Again, he flicked the crop across her pinkened skin. “And?”
“I should come to you with questions.”
This time, he put some force behind the smack and her throaty moans made thought impossible.
“I’m going to enjoy tutoring you, Ms. Electra. You’re a fast learner.”
Her shoulders rose and fell, her jagged breath roared in his ears. “Fuck me now before I explode.”
“You’re in no position to bark orders.” He tossed the three-pack of condoms on the desk. As he removed his clothing, she turned and watched him with keen interest. “What did you do instead of study?”
“I partied.” Still gripping the desk, her hungry eyes perused every inch of his naked body. Twice. Then, her lips curved up. “Your cock is huge, Professor. I can’t wait until you’re balls deep inside me.”
“You’re eager. I like that.” He sheathed himself in a condom, pressed his shaft against the crack of her beautiful ass, and reached around to pinch her hard nipples. “Define partying.”
“I went to a frat house and fucked a couple of guys.”
“You’re a dirty girl, Electra. Did you have fun?”
“Yes, for hours and hours.”
“Do you like fucking?”
“Yes. I. Do.”
“And I’m going to enjoy fucking you.” He anchored his hand on her hip. “Spread your legs.” He nudged them apart with his knee. “If you liked screwing those frat boys, you’re going to love getting fucked by me.”
“Ohgod, yes, Professor, I am.” Her breath came in gasps. Her body shook.
With his shaft in hand, he pressed the head against her slickened core. Then he slid his cock back and forth over her opening until she begged for mercy.
“How do you want to be punished?”
“Hard and fast.”
With his head poised at her opening, he reached around and fondled her fantastic tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples. She shot him a primal stare over her shoulder while her throaty moans made his knees weak.
“Please, please, fuck me, Professor. I need you inside me when I come.”
He took himself in hand and tunneled inside her hot, tight sex. She felt incredible. Her throaty cry made his balls tighten. Through gritted teeth, he bit out, “You come when I let you. Do you understand me? I’m in control. Not you.” The harder he fucked her the more intense her cries and whimpers.
She bent farther over and spread her legs wide. On his next thrust, he sank to her end, pleasure spiraling through him. The reality of everything faded away as the ecstasy built.
“Yes, ohmygod, yes, I’m trying not to come, but damn you feel—oh, oh, fuuuuck—so good,” she rasped.
Their gritty, raw sounds filled his ears as he waxed his speed, driving himself to her end, again and again. “Harder, Professor,” she cried out.
“Come for me, Electra.” This time he smacked her ass with his hand.
“Oh, hell, yes.” Crying out, she convulsed and shook as the orgasm ripped through her. “I’m coming,” she hissed.
He slammed balls deep into her and released. Waves of pleasure pounded through him. He groaned through gritted teeth, the intensity stealing his breath, his thoughts, his mind. For several euphoric seconds, the intense pleasure filled him with hope. Every agonizing moment disappeared in a fog of ecstasy and he enveloped her in his arms. Still panting, he let the goodness wash over him. Whatever savagery this woman had evoked helped exorcise his demons.
As Crockett caught his breath, her delicate back distracted him. He wanted to drop tender kisses along her skin. But this was nothing more than a hookup in a swanky sex-play club. He’d done his job. And made sure she’d come. In the world of anonymous fucking, he’d done right by her. Though he could
n’t imagine why he should care. For all he knew, he’d never see her again. But somehow, pleasuring this woman mattered.
While Crockett wanted to stay inside her heat, Hunter didn’t cuddle or engage in tender anything, so he withdrew. She turned to face him, wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed those fabulous tits and engorged nipples against his chest. Would she break her rule and kiss him? Kissing this sexy goddess would be heaven.
Still catching her breath, she murmured, “Did that boost my grade?”
He wanted to laugh. She’s good. Unable to stop himself, he smiled. “Only marginally. Next time, nipple clamps.”
On a soft gasp, she rose on tiptoes and twirled her tongue in his ear. “I can’t wait. Thanks for the fun fuck.”
He’d no idea whether her interest in using the nipple clamps meant in the next ten minutes, in an hour or sometime next week. Since he wasn’t about to blunder through a question, he excused himself into the bathroom. When he returned, she was gone. Damn.
But she’d left a note on his sports coat. “Until next time, Professor.”
With a satisfied smile, Crockett dressed and left the club. Next time couldn’t come soon enough.
5
Stuck with Max
Alexandra’s blood boiled. Her former boss, Max Buchard, had kept her waiting for over an hour. On purpose. Her stomach growled again. She rummaged through her handbag and spied a stick of gum. Yes!
But it was so old she couldn’t separate it from its wrapper. She gave up and tossed it into the trash. Her meeting, with the pompous TV station manager, had been at eleven. She’d made the incorrect assumption she’d be out by eleven thirty and grabbing a sandwich with the DC lunch crowd.
She needed to take this gig for more reasons than a paycheck. Being an out-of-work journalist was the kiss of death. So, she’d do what the network recommended. I’ve endured Max before. I can do it again.
Four years ago, Alexandra had applied for the weekend anchor position in the mid-sized northern California city where she worked. Max, then her news director, had pressured her to withdraw her candidacy. She refused. His decision to promote another woman was overruled by the station’s GM and Alexandra got the job. The other candidate filed harassment charges claiming she’d had a sexual relationship with Max in exchange for that anchor spot. Not only had Max vehemently denied any sexual misconduct, he blamed Alexandra for the entire fiasco.
A young man with a shiny complexion zoomed around the corner. “Alexandra Reed?” She glanced up at him and smiled. Had to be an intern. “Max will see you now.”
Painting on a smile, she followed him through the newsroom toward the corner office. While one reporter paced with phone to ear and a copy girl scooted by on the way to production, a handful of reporters worked at their desks. Even though it had only been two weeks, she missed the excitement of working in a newsroom. If she felt at home anywhere, it was here. Her anxiety morphed into excitement.
“Go on in,” said the young man.
She heaved in a breath, steeled her spine and pushed open Max’s door. With any luck, he no longer clung to his grudge.
Max stood with his back to her, facing the window, while he spoke on his cell phone. Alexandra waited, squinting against the bright afternoon sunlight.
“Good job covering the White House press briefing, honey,” Max said. “Since you’re playing with the big boys, I’ll coach you on some more substantive questions. ‘Who designed the First Lady’s gown for the state dinner?’ doesn’t pack the punch you need to be taken seriously.”
Goose bumps covered her arms. The conversation sounded like so many she’d heard Max utter. Even after all these years, his patronizing tone chilled her blood. She cleared her throat.
“I’ll see you in ten—” He turned and shot her a cool glance. “Let me call you back.” He slipped his phone into his pocket, didn’t bother to shake her hand. “Our paths cross again, Alexandra Mitus.”
Mitus? He knows I use Reed professionally. She really didn’t want to meet with him and forced a pleasant smile. “Hello, Max.”
In addition to packing on the pounds, he’d colored his salt and pepper hair to midnight black. No longer wrinkled, his face reminded her of a baby’s rump. His attempts to conceal his age had only exacerbated it. But the one feature that hadn’t changed was Max Buchard’s smug expression.
He eased into his executive chair and leaned back. Across from his desk, she perched on the edge of a Kindergarten-sized seat and peered up at him. In every way possible, Max exerted his authority.
After he pontificated about the differences between the West and East Coast markets, he rested his clasped hands on his protruding belly. “Rick Schwartz forwarded me one of your magazine shows. Cozying up to those A-listers got you big ratings.”
She bit her lip to force herself to stay silent. My journalistic integrity got me those ratings.
“But watching your demo reel gave me an idea,” Max continued. “We need something to jump-start our dwindling viewership. Launching a news magazine show could be our ticket out of last place. Congressmen, senators, hell, a segment with POTUS and his family would rocket our numbers sky high and get me noticed.” He broke eye contact to stare out the window for several seconds. “Capitalizing on your popularity in LA could work. Would you consider hosting my show?”
Absolutely! She sat tall, trying to make up for the difference in chair size, but she didn’t want to show her hand, especially since the network had forced his. Max was the Big Kahuna and she needed this job in this market. So, she played it cool. “Whatever you think is best.”
This Max appeared affable and more relaxed. Had he changed? Learned his lesson? Buried the hatchet? A tiny seed of hope took root.
“Also, I’m not averse to letting you cover the White House,” he said. “For now, keep all this under wraps.”
Her heart leapt at the thought. The White House. “Of course.”
He checked his watch. “Thanks for stopping by. I run a tight ship of hardworking professionals, so prepare for ‘nose to the grindstone’ at the start of the New Year.”
Alexandra struggled out of the tiny chair. “Thank you for your time.” Trying to sound casual, she added, “By the way, I don’t use Mitus. I still use Reed, professionally.”
“Yes, I remember. Like an elephant, I forget nothing.” His eyes narrowed. “Thought you’d want to capitalize on the famous Mitus name. In this neck of the woods, that packs one hell of a punch.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Pushing out of his chair, he looked down his nose, though they stood eye-to-eye. “I have an off-site meeting. I’ll walk you out.” As he rounded his cluttered desk, he grabbed a weighty stack of papers. “Take these.” He shoved the pile at her. “No one here has time to flush out these possible leads. My gift to you.”
Alexandra’s cheeks heated while her hope fizzled. She glanced at the disheveled papers cradled in her arms. Rookie reporters would sort through the pile, hungry for a story or news tip. Surely there was a journalist more junior than she who should be assigned this job.
With the meet and greet over, Max escorted her out. A few minutes later, she stood alone on the busy sidewalk as Washingtonians whisked by.
After grabbing a sandwich at Phillips Cafe, she tooled around the nation’s capital. Even though the one-way streets turned her around, she loved the vibe of her new city. As she drove past the Newseum, a long line of children, walking in pairs, traipsed inside. She hoped something in that museum would spark an interest in journalism for one of those kids.
Later that afternoon, Alexandra ran on the treadmill in the gym of her mom’s condo building, then cooked dinner. While she and Kimberly ate, Alexandra mentioned how the network had found her a temporary assignment. But she didn’t mention her new boss by name. Why ruin her mom’s day? Like Max, Kimberly forgot nothing.
Years earlier, when Max had insisted Alexandra withdraw her application for weekend anchor, she’d consulted her mom
. Kimberly suspected Max might have been up to no good and encouraged her daughter to stay the course.
After setting down her fork, Kimberly regarded Alexandra for several seconds. “That sounds like a rookie job. Float your resume with the local competition.”
She was all too familiar with her mom’s cocked brow and unblinking stare. “Working forty hours will be a piece of cake.” Alexandra smiled. “Plus, this arrangement lets me spend time with you.”
Kimberly stared at her half-eaten plate of pasta. “I’m doing fine, as you can see.”
Sadly, though, Alexandra knew differently. Her mom needed help dressing. And the nurses doled out her daily meds after Kimberly had taken the wrong chemo dose one evening, then vomited all night long.
Alexandra blanketed her mom’s hand with her own. “We haven’t hung out together in a long time. I’ve missed that. Plus, my life in LA isn’t going anywhere.” Rising from the table, she stacked their dinner plates. “How about this? When you have a clean bill of health and go back to work, I’ll get out of your hair and return to California.”
Although Kimberly’s lips lifted, her eyes grew sad. “Deal.”
As Alexandra loaded the dishwasher, she blinked back the moistness from her eyes. She wanted to scream, tell me the damned truth, but Mituses never discussed anything with her. Even now, Alexandra didn’t dare discuss her mom’s ill health for fear of upsetting her. She made a mental note to talk to Colton. No doubt, Kimberly had confided in him.
Ten minutes later, her mom dozed on the sofa, the unread Washington Post blanketing her chest. While waiting for the night nurse, Alexandra curled into the comfy recliner and watched the evening news. When it ended, she perused the pictures of masked men on Incognito’s website.
While at Provocateur, she’d enjoyed a variety of kink partners. And she had every intention of doing the same thing at her new club, too. Until Hunter. As she stared at his photo, his steely blue eyes sent a rush of heat down her neck, her chest. Her insides clenched. That man can screw. And talk about eye candy.
THE WILDE TOUCH: Book Two of The Touch Series Page 5
