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

Erin woke up in slow degrees.

Awareness tugged at her like a gentle tide. Arousal lapped at her skin. She had been in a deep slumber, both sated and sore, but she came alive again under his touch.

Blake. Sighing, she might have said his name aloud. Or maybe just in her mind. They were in sync right now, so soon after sex. Wrapped up in each other, cocooned in sleep. Past the point of discussions, negotiations, they’d been stripped to the core.

Just him, her, and the pleasure they could invoke together.

Calloused fingers roamed over her hips and lower, lower, to where her curls were still damp from their earlier sex. She turned her head toward the windows. A faint, eerie light glowed against the curtains, heralding late twilight, the onslaught of night. He was insatiable really. Earlier this evening, then now. They’d do it again in the morning most likely. She loved it.

When his fingers slipped inside the wetness pooling at her sex, she moaned.

“Shh. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Liar. A lazy smile curved her lips. “Is that right?”

He found her clit and pinched. His breath was hot at the back of her neck, his erection pressing urgently against her from behind. “But now that you’re up…”

“You have plans for me.” Delicious plans. They always were.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” he murmured, rolling her onto her back. He nuzzled his way through the valley of her breasts, across her belly, and settled in between her legs. Her knees splayed wide, her whole body spread open to him, encouraged by anticipation and the laxity of sleep. Her hips canted up, an instinctual invitation.

She’d been given oral sex before, but never by someone as dedicated as Blake. He enjoyed himself as much as he enjoyed regular sex—maybe more. He could make her come endless times, until she was throbbing and restless, until she had to beg him to come inside her.

God, she loved it.

Two weeks wasn’t a long time, but she felt incredibly close to Blake. She trusted him with her body—and hell, with her heart. She had dated her last boyfriend for months without feeling this level of intimacy. He certainly had never done this to her, lapping from the bottom to the top, lingering in a lazy circle around her clit, pressing in an instinctual rhythm until her hips took up the beat.

Before she could climax, Blake licked and sucked his way lower. His tongue slipped between her lips, sparking tendrils of need through her core.

“Oh, no,” she moaned, lost to the sensations, shuddering on the edge.

“What is it, baby?” he murmured against her flesh. “Tell me what you want. Take what you need. I’m not going to stop. However long it takes.”

She fisted his hair and guided his mouth to her clit. He sucked her, using his lips and tongue to drive her higher and further until she was taut, stretched out, and ready to burst.

It was the touch of his fingers to her inner lips that pushed her over, a tickle combined with the harsh pleasure at her clit, and she came in a sunburst that belied the heavy shadows surrounding them.

Slowly coming down, she blinked up at the ceiling, feeling energized. “Now I’m well and truly awake.”

“Shit,” he said, sounding dismayed.

“It’s not a complaint, mister. That was amazing.”

“Don’t worry.” He lowered his mouth to her sex, amusement and arousal warring in his voice. “I think we can wear you out all over again.”

She would have smiled then, but his tongue curled and his fingers delved deep. Her thighs drew up tight, and she came again, smaller this time, intense, rolling waves. He didn’t give her a reprieve, just set the flat of his tongue against her clit, which was at once too sensitive and exactly what she needed. She grew louder, her body writhing without her control, but each new orgasm sent her farther into the sex-drugged space.

When her body shuddered in one final orgasm, he knelt between her legs. She noticed distantly that his hands were shaking as he put on the condom, as he angled his cock at her slippery cunt and pushed inside. It was all wonderful but never more than that moment, when she felt so full and watched an expression of bliss soothe his tortured face.

On the one side, his skin was smooth, aside from the ruggedness and bristle of an active, healthy man. The flesh on the other side had once been burned, ravaged by fire and war, now covered with scar tissue.

It hurt to see, but only because she ached for him, for the pain he felt then, for the pain he felt now. It kept him locked up in his immaculate house instead of out in the world.

He was beautiful.

In the moonlight, the jagged landscape of his scars was more pronounced. But it was his sla

ck jaw that she admired, his glazed eyes. The signs of his ecstasy brought on by her body. As if he were a god, she offered herself up to him, but it wasn’t a sacrifice to feel the heavy weight of his muscles, the thick pulse of his cock, the tender press of his lips against her when he bent to drop a kiss. He thrust inside her, faster and harder, pushing them onward in a sea of molten pleasure.