Beauty and the Professor (A Modern Fairy Tale Duet 1)

Touch her now, take her now. She’s mine now.

Too late, he noticed her hand pressing against his chest, stopping him. She wanted him to stop. Yes, he would. Of course he would. He would never force himself on anyone, and especially not her. Not his broken face or his worn body.

She wasn’t really stopping him. Instead she took him by the hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom, the same way he led her last time. Kicking off her black yoga pants, she crawled onto the bed, making him watch the curve of her ass.

Her legs were parted in that haphazard way of a woman. Sprawling in invitation but tilted closed with modesty. It was the perfect dichotomy that made her—the knowing seductress, the innocent young woman. He wanted them both.

Before he could process any reasons why he shouldn’t, he was on top of her. A crazed man. He licked and sucked and bit. She should stop him, the small rational part of his brain demanded. That thought was doused by her heat and his.

She gave it all back to him. Touching him, tasting him.

Her mouth worked its way down, and he wanted that—God, did he. He wanted her to suck him again, but he couldn’t last. He knew he couldn’t, so he stopped her.

“Baby,” he said, and she stopped and looked at him. He nudged her shoulder, not able to get out more words than just that. Baby. She was his.

Erin

At his urging, Erin rolled to her hands and knees. Yes. This way, that way. The position didn’t matter, so long as he got inside her, in her mouth or somewhere. She was frantic with it, with the need to hold him in her body.

The sharp tear of the wrapper, a short pause and then he was at her entrance. His cock thrust into her from behind, and she cried out at the stretch of him—bigger than she expected, more than she had ever taken before. It hurt, but she wouldn’t have stopped him for anything.

He covered her with his body as if protecting her from some threat. There could be a bomb going off, and this is how he’d shield her. Only, the bomb was his lust—and he fucked her the same way he protected her. “Baby, you’re so hot. Do you know how much I want you? All I can think about. You make me stupid. Mine, mine.”

It felt good. It did. But…she thought back to the first time and what he had said. You don’t have to look. Is that what he was doing? Making it so she didn’t have to see him?

She wanted to see him.

More than that, she didn’t want him to think she didn’t. God, who had made him think that? He was a handsome man. The scars only added to that.

She started to turn, but he put a strong hand on her back, holding her in place.

“Not good?” he said, his breathing harsh, restrain a rough edge.

She could feel him changing the angle and—ahh!—yes, that was good, it was impossibly good. Her eyes rolled back. That wasn’t the point though. That wasn’t the problem.

She jerked away so he had no choice but to let her go or restrain her.

He let her go. He always would, she knew that.

He would always be gentle with her. Without giving him a chance to think, to pull away, she flipped over, spread her legs and guided his cock inside her. His eyes widened, as if he might protest, but then they slid shut.

He moaned, long and low. “So good. Mine.”

She wanted to smile at that—she loved when he said that. She never wanted him to stop saying it, but she couldn’t smile at all. Not when the pressure, the tension, the joy of it was building, higher and higher. She could hardly breathe, much less smile, and then she’d reached the peak. She came with a strangled cry, and he followed after, pumping into her and wringing out her orgasm until she was begging for him to stop.

“Erin,” he mumbled into her hair. “Don’t leave. Don’t ever leave.”

He froze. She could almost hear him thinking—first replaying what he’d just said and then searching for something to say. Some way to take it back.

She cupped his cheek in her hand. It was the one that fit her free hand, but it happened to be the damaged one, the scarred one, and she stroked her thumb over the too-smooth, discolored skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.

He groaned and shut his eyes, turning his face into her touch.

Chapter Four

Erin

Two weeks later