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

She pulled back, smiling slyly. “And again this morning.”

His eyes darkened, and she felt him thickening against her belly. He was so quick to arousal, always ready for more.

Holding his gaze, she slid her hand down. His stomach was taut beneath the button-down and undershirt she’d watched him don this morning. Her fingers crossed the ridge of his belt like it was the damned Rubicon, the point of no return. They were in his office, but they were alone…and damn it, she felt the need to please him. To pleasure him after those ridiculous girls had sullied him, whether he knew it or not. She found his erection, thick and pulsing.

He bucked into her hand, groaning. “Erin. Oh fuck, Erin.”

She loved her name on his lips.

“Yes?” she asked innocently. “Is something wrong?”

He gasped out something she couldn’t understand. It didn’t matter. His body told her what she needed to know: the heat beneath her palm, the shudder of his thighs beneath the smooth slacks. The arousal that fine wool and linen did little to conceal. He needed this as much as she did. God, he looked good in a suit. She wouldn’t have blamed those girls for their gawking if they hadn’t been so cruel about his scars.

She sank to her knees, pushing him gently against the wall. Their bodies blocked the door; no one would be able to walk in and see them. But someone could try, and what would their excuse be for blocking the way? Even worse, if someone outside were very near and very quiet, they might be able to hear the ragged breaths wrenched from Blake’s throat, the rasp of his zipper as she tugged it down, the low groan as she pulled him out, skin to skin.

The risk excited her. So different from the safe circle of his bedroom. It felt, somehow, like a declaration. A statement of intent. He’s mine.

He was heavy in her hand, a weight she’d expect from a man who hadn’t been laid in months. Instead he was like this every time. Large enough to fill her palm, her sex…her mouth. A wicked smile tilted her lips.

His nostrils flared, higher on the right side than the left. “God, Erin. What are you doing to me?”

“Should I stop, Professor Morris?”

Blake

Should she stop? No, don’t stop, ever.

Wait. Blake forced the lust fever back, allowed his mind to clear and really think about what they were doing. She looked so beautiful there, with her lips a full, pouty pink and her dark eyes sultry with arousal, that he almost couldn’t control himself, almost couldn’t stop. But she deserved better than being on her knees in this dusty office where someone might walk in. She deserved a lot better than him, but now that he had her, he didn’t plan on giving her up anytime soon.

He should be able to control himself better when he was so well practiced in denial, but damn it, he wanted those pink lips on him, he wanted her sweet, warm heat, but he wanted so much more. Her moans, her pleasure.

“Are you sure we should be doing this here?” His voice came out hoarse, belying any consideration implied in his words. He wanted this so fucking bad.

She squeezed gently, making his hips jerk. She smiled, pleased with her power. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”

Ah, hell. So beautiful. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sight, but he couldn’t last for long that way, feeling the brush of her breath against his exposed cock.

“Erin.”

“Yes, Professor?”

He narrowed his eyes, feeling on the verge of some discovery, on the edge of the cliff and he would jump just to be with her.

“You like this.” Surprise filled his voice. Surprise and wonder.

A small smile curved her lips, though she didn’t answer.

“The idea that someone might walk in on us. It turns you on. It excites you.”

Her cheeks darkened with a blush. She kept her eyes trained on his cock as her hands took up a steady stroke. He wouldn’t be distracted.

“Stand up then,” he rasped. “Let me take care of you.”

She shook her head, slow and coy. God, she turned him on. She only had to look at him, to smile, and he was revved up, ready to burst. But when she was like this, seductive, empowered, he wanted to fall at her feet.

But that wasn’t what she wanted.

“And maybe the power, too,” he mused. “You like me being in control. The role-play.”