Chapter Two
King
"What do you think?" I murmur, leaning back against the door to watch Caroline roam around the impressive room, her red cape flowing out behind her. As far as I can tell, the room is situated almost directly over the stage below. Music from the band drifts up, pouring through the vents as if from speakers. The acoustics are incredible. Notes seem to dance all around us, undoubtedly amplified by the design of the room. It's a long rectangle, with a high, angled ceiling.
I found it the last time I was forced to attend this infernal Ball. The Dean loves to badger faculty members into attending these things to keep an eye on the students, as if they're not capable of policing themselves like the grown adults they are. Instead of mingling with the students—most of whom dislike me—I snuck off to wait out the night. Unlike this time, I came alone. Which was my plan for tonight until I practically ran into the princess currently floating around the room like a goddess. She is…celestial.
If ever a Greek Mousai stepped down from Mt. Olympus to inspire poetry, they did so as the goddess claiming to be Caroline Kennedy. She does not lie well, but I don't mind her little fib.
I've taught at the college level for the last six years. I'm well aware of the reasons women feel safer providing fake names to men they do not know. I'm relieved she carved out that little safety net for herself, not that she'll need it with me. I would fight the devil himself before touching her with anything less than reverence.
I may strike terror in the hearts of unsuspecting freshman, but Caroline Kennedy, whoever she may be, is not one of my students. I'm not even sure she attends school here. I think I would have noticed her long before now if she were enrolled. She's petite with a curvy little body and a mass of silky hair that flows like red flame down her back. Her eyes are so dark they're almost black, her skin so pale it's translucent. She isn't the kind of woman you overlook. She's the kind you worship on your knees.
She had my dick hard as soon as she looked up at me through those sooty lashes and lacy mask. I don't sleep around, especially not with girls young enough to sit in one of my workshops. But for her, I'm making an exception. I need to get inside her more than I need my next breath.
"The acoustics are amazing," she says, turning to face me. The sight of her smile leaves me a little breathless. Jesus, she's absolutely stunning. I feel a little like I stepped out of time and landed in some fairytale where princesses like her belong.
"Then dance with me, princess." I push away from the wall, holding out a hand to her, eager to touch her again, to see if my body reacts the same way it did downstairs. Like an electrical current shot through me and instantly soothed my irritation into oblivion.
She kicks her heels off, losing a good four inches of height. She floats across the room toward me, her hips swaying in a rhythm that has me clenching my teeth, trying to fight off the urge to tumble her to the floor and fuck her raw. Her cape flutters to the floor behind her, discarded on her way to me. She tugs her mask from her face and lets it dangle from a finger before she discards it too.
I remove mine as well, setting it aside.
"Oh, wow," she gasps, blinking wide obsidian eyes at me. "You're so beautiful."
A grin tugs at my lips at the awe in her voice. There is something so sweet about her, some intoxicating brand of guileless innocence and playful mischief I find myself desperate to protect…and equally as desperate to claim.
I sweep her up into my arms, pulling her flush against me. Her breasts crush against my chest. My dick nestles against the soft swell of her stomach. Her soft scent—like vanilla and honey—swirls around me, clouding my mind.
"Oh," she whispers when she feels the hard ridge of my erection. Her body trembles a little.
"Do you know who the Mousai are, princess?" I ask, spinning her effortlessly around the room. It's obvious that she doesn't dance often but she isn't without skill. There's a natural grace to how she moves, a self-awareness to the way she holds herself that most women her age lack. She follows my lead without hesitation, allowing me to dip and spin her before pulling her back into my arms.
"Muses," she says, her sultry voice clear and confident. "The nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, each of whom was said to inspire great works of art."
"You know your mythology," I murmur, impressed.
A wistful smile dances at her lips. "My older brother spent a lot of time reading to me when I was a little girl. He loved history, so I learned a lot about mythology from the books he would bring me from the library."
I smile at her memory, and then pull her closer, until my lips are against her ear. "You're a muse, Caroline. You had my dick in this state as soon as you looked up at me. Men would wage war against the devil himself to be lucky enough to hold you this close."
She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out in a shaky exhale. "You're good at that," she whispers, her sweet breath washing across my face. It curls around the shell of my ear like a kiss.
"At what?" I whisper back, running my nose up the soft skin of her throat. I inhale deeply, greedily pulling her intoxicating scent into my lungs to hold it there. My stomach clenches, my balls literally aching as it works its way through my system, setting little fires in my veins.
"At being charming."
I chuckle, a dry, gritty sound of agony. "Ah, baby. Charming is easy when you're speaking the truth. I fear you wouldn't feel the same about me if you knew my reputation."
"You might not think I was a muse if you knew mine," she returns, her obsidian eyes meeting mine in the quasi-darkness. Challenge lurks there, or pride, perhaps. She is no delicate, shrinking flower, beholden to a man or his opinion, but a goddess in her own right, certain of her place in this world.
If she thinks that turns me off, she's wrong. Nothing is sexier to me than a woman who knows exactly who she is and who stands, unashamed, before those who would castigate her for fitting no mold. There is beauty in defiance, and this little princess has it in spades.
"Then reputations and those who bestow them be damned, Caroline," I growl, raking my teeth against the delicate shell of her ear as my cock throbs, sending me inching closer toward the edge of the precipice looming before me. It's not one I've encountered before, but I'll be damned if that'll stop me from leaping over the edge with her. "They have no weight here. We're Jared and Caroline, and the night belongs to us alone."
I feel her shiver against me, and a soft moan breaks from her lips. "Jared?"