I gasped, and stopped talking. Silenced when I felt delicious pressure against my pussy. Once again he stroked my folds with the beer bottle. Pressing it, nudging it against my core just as I'd described in the fantasy.
"Please, go on," he prompted me as if nothing was amiss.
"You pause there, delaying the moment, drawing it out. Your hands run down my body, over my breasts, and the small of my back. Then you grip my ass and use your thumbs to pull me open wide. You kick my legs a little further apart and then slowly, so slowly you push inside of me."
As I spoke I felt the Professor's movements deftly echoing my words. His strong hand pressing the neck of the bottle against my hole, sliding inside.
My eyes flews open, my gaze meeting his. I bit my lip and nodded at him, our eyes locked together as he pushed the bottle forward, a fraction of an inch. I moaned and looked down, saw those elegant fingers curled around the bottle currently breaching my pussy and nearly came at the sight.
He followed my gaze, watching the slow progress of his movements, his eyes clouding with lust.
"So pretty,” he said, "so wet."
"You start to move," I continued, closing my eyes again. "Slowly at first, then faster, each thrust plunging your cock a little further into my cunt. You lift me, and turn my head to the mirror, making me watch. Then you pull my arms up and grip me by the elbows. You use my body to brace yours and finally you thrust deep and hard, buried to the hilt inside of me."
At my words he plunged the bottle deep and I cried out.
"Are you watching us in the mirror?" he asked.
"Yes."
"And what do you see?" he said, his breath came heavy now, labored with desire and exertion.
"I see...I see..." I began, struggling to respond, to find the words, my senses being overridden by the hot thread of pleasure that was coiling deep in my core.
He spoke for me, weaving the fantasy as he leaned over me, his breath hot against my skin, as his hand kept fucking me with that bottle.
"I'm pounding into you," he said, "your tits bouncing with each thrust. I release your arms and hold you to me, kneading your breasts as I ride you."
"More!" I said. My fingers slipped frantically over my clit, trying to keep time with his thrusts.
"I feel you tightening around me," he rasped, as he pounded the bottle faster and faster. "I move one hand to massage your clit, I can feel your inner muscles squeezing me, straining around my cock. You're desperate to come, I want to feel you come around me, want to feel your muscles spasm as I fuck you. I want to come inside. I want to hear you moan and know it was me that did that to you, my cock that wrenched that sound from your throat."
"Oh god," I said, feeling the first waves of my orgasm cresting. I threw my head back, straining for release.
"Fuck," he growled. "So beautiful." His hand worked faster, the wide base of the bottle slapping wetly against my pussy as the neck slammed inside of me.
"Look at me Jane. Look at me, I want to see your eyes when you come."
With the greatest of effort I lifted my head and raised my gaze to meet his. The look in his eyes was enough to send me over the edge, and I came, shaking around his hand, my juicy cunt squelching obscenely as he pistoned into me. Our eyes were locked and with dim awareness I realized that his free hand had come up to embrace the back of my head, drawing my forehead to his, our noses touching as the last waves of pleasure convulsed through me.
"Shit," I gasped. "Shit, that was..."
"Fucking amazing," he laughed. "Beautiful, so fucking hot. Jesus." He slipped the bottle from me and reached behind him, setting it on the table.
"Come here," he said, sitting beside me and gathering me in his arms, pulling me onto his lap. "Come here."
"No touching..." I murmured. "Your rule...line...addict--" I was shaking like a leaf, and the room seemed hazy. I wasn't entirely sure if was the aftershocks of passion or the fallout of such a heady emotional experience.
"My line to cross," he said. "My rule to break. Right now, you need to be held."
And he was right, I did.
7
Chapter Seven
"Then what happened?" Charlie gaped at me from the vid-chat screen on my laptop.
"Then he held me for a while, kissed me on the forehead and followed me home in his car so that he knew I got home okay."
"Holy shit."
"I know, right?"
"What did Sasha say?"
"We haven't had a chance to talk yet. I mean I texted her that I got home all right, it was really snowing hard last night. But the rest, I'll fill her in when I see her."
"Yeah. So wait. Why'd he use the bottle? Does he have like, an unusual prop fetish or something?"
"No," I laughed again. "He was trying to avoid touching me."
"Good lord why?"
"Because he has this rule." I tried to explain to her, did the best I could with what I understood of the Professor's convoluted and complicated "rule."
"Uh, huh. So he basically pulled a MacGyver then. Turned a bottle into a dildo, to get around this rule of his. He just MacGyvered that shit."
"Yeah, he MacGyvered the fuck out of that shit."
"Damn," Charlie shook her head slowly, "that's hot."
"Yes." I agreed, I was getting aroused again just thinking about it.
"But wait, then he was all cuddling you. What's up with this rule?"
"Yeah well consistency hasn't been his strongest trait so far."
"Uh huh." Charlie rolled her eyes.
There was a knock at my apartment door.
"Oh, hang on a sec." I rose, walked to the door and peered through the peephole.
Smiling, I opened the door wide and welcomed in the delivery guy. He walked to my table and set down two large flower arrangements. One bouquet of two dozen deep pink roses, and one elegant pink orchid potted in a planter of silver and black damask.
Charlie hooted and yelled from across the room.
"Holy shit, Janie! Two bouquets? Throw that pussy in the air. It'll turn into sunshine! Goddamn!"
"Shut the fuck up, baby sister!" I called to her sweetly. "So sorry about that," I apologized to the delivery guy, as I extricated a card from the rose arrangement and read it.
“I couldn't decide, so I went with both. They each remind me of you, perfect pink petals, beautiful and rare.”
It was signed simply ~T and for a moment I was confused. Then I remembered that his first name was Thomas. Thomas.
Well hello, Thomas, so nice to meet you. Can't wait to see you again.
"Yeah um," the delivery guy spoke, breaking me from my reverie. "No problem. Hey I'm supposed to give you this too, but I need to take it with me when I leave so can you um, go ahead and read it?" he handed me a plain brown envelope. I opened it and withdrew a stapled set of papers. A yellow post-it was attached to the first page. I read the post-it, removed it, and then flipped through the other pages of the document. When I'd finished with them, I slipped the document back into the envelope and handed it to the delivery guy.
"Thanks. Here you go. Hang on and I'll get you a tip."
"No need," he replied, "that's been taken care of. Have a great Thanksgiving."
"You too," I said, and walked him to the door.
"Come on, come one, come on. Fill me in!" Charlie yelled from the laptop as I locked the door. "This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me. And actually that's really sad, because it's not even happening to me it's happening to you so let's not dwell on that. What was in the envelope?" she wailed.
"It was a health record," I said, walking over to her. "A physical exam. From a few weeks ago. The Professor's."
"Huh?"
"It shows he has a clean bill of health. Every possible STD, tested and accounted for. All negative."
"Okay, that's cool. But what the fuck? Ooooh," she said, realization dawning.
"Yes," I held up the yellow note that had accompanied the document, and read it aloud.
"Jesus Christ on a cracker, Janie. I just can't with this guy. And listen I'm glad you'll be getting a sample of his DNA because then we can clone him and make a mint. Because let me tell you, every woman I tell this story to is going to want a copy of their own."
"Yeah," I said, "probably. But I've got dibs on the original."
"Well yeah, you saw him first," Charlie continued rambling, her words fading into the background as I drifted off in thought. I had seen him first she said. I'd seen him. I looked at the flowers on the table, my two beautiful arrangements, one showy and proud, the other romantic and reserved and I saw the nature of our acquaintance reflected in those two contradictions.
"No, he saw me first," I said, interrupting Charlie's rant. "He saw me."
"Huh?"
"He saw me Charlie," I smiled. "He sees me," I said again, tears welling in my eyes. "Me." I clutched the yellow note to my chest. "He really sees me."
"Oh, Janie," she said, smiling at me sadly. "Honey, be careful."
Thank You!
Thank you for reading Becoming Jane – The Professor. I hope you enjoyed it!
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The next book in the Becoming Jane series is Commencement. Coming Soon…
About the Author
Alexis Adare lives in the American Southwest with her lovely husband, cheeky teenager and entirely too many animals. When not writing, she can be found reading, gaming, or watching the latest thrilling episode of whatever HBO series is currently dominating her fancy. She drinks a lot of tea.
I write books. Some of them are naughty. Others are more well behaved. ;) I like my heroines smart, funny, adventurous and independent. I like my heroes assertive, intelligent, charming, and sexy as hell.
Which British actors inspired Professor Grayson? What kind of music is on Jane’s iPod? What on earth is going to happen next? Answers to these questions and more can be found at my website.
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Copyright © 2014 by Alexis Adare
All rights reserved.
Published by Geek Girl Books
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Cover and Book design by Brigid Ashwood
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Alexis Adare
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