A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago. Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.
Word count: 2392
Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, jealousy, discussions of sex
Summary: Chris shows up at the Gala in an attempt to win back Thalia’s heart, where instead, he sees something he didn’t expect.
Click here for intro to Educating Thalia
Chris knew she’d be there, but watching Thalia out of her element is such a pleasant surprise. All made up, she looks stunning in a black satin gown. He’s so used to seeing her in jeans and t-shirts, he’s taken away by her royal air. Her beauty sweeps him away as he slowly lets his eyes wash over her. Her dark hair is pulled back in a tight chignon, with a pile of curls at the nape of her neck. Frankly, he feels the black dress hides her best assets, but the diamond brooch on the hip, draws his attention to her waist and rounded hips. The thigh high slit shows off her shapely legs but her confidence is the sexiest thing about her.
She turns, scanning the room and spots him. Her surprised expression turns to a wicked grin and she licks her matte red lips as a tease. Fuck, he can already feel the blood rushing to his groin and he wants to sneak away with her. She turns back to her group, but a need and curiosity fills him so he walks towards her. Crossing the room, drawn to her, he stops when he realizes who else is in the circle that seems to have her attention. Professor Hiddleston. That pompous British arse.
He hangs back, choosing to stop at the bar. He’ll wait. He can see it on her face. She didn’t mask it quickly enough…
So Tom is the other man he’s been competing with for her time and affections. Well, she did say ‘for reasons’ she wanted to keep her other relationship private as well. He had expected a married man, not this… Not another professor.
Making small talk with other community leaders and school figures, he waits till he can get her alone, and is pleasantly surprised when she comes to him instead. She slides up next to the bar, but does not address him, ordering a gin and tonic, neat. While she waits she turns and leans her elbow against the bar, her hand dangling down and caressing the sleeve of his suit. Just the simple touch ignites him, but they don’t speak. A game of cat and mouse, and he wants to make sure he’s the cat.
When she turns back around to get her drink, she brushes her full chest against his arm and he can feel her warmth. She smiles innocently at him and begins to walk away. He speaks her name and she stops walking, waiting for him to slide up next to her. Discretely he addresses her. “Not many students rank an invite to this event… Professor Hiddleston? Well done, my dear.”
Fire flashes in her eyes, but he sees her breath catch; the flutter of her pulse at her neck. He wants to watch it race.
“Chris.” Her tone is steady. “Don’t do this. Not here. Please do not make a scene.”
“What if I want to?” He is heated and his fiery anger is fueling him. Tom fucking Hiddleston. That man has been a pain in his ass ever since he came to campus. He ignores the twisting of the knife in his heart. A quick glance around the room, and he sees the tall Brit dancing with a member of the math department. Without drawing attention to them, Chris moves back into her space, hissing in her ear. “What if I want him to know- people to know- you’re mine. I want you to belong to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” she laughs haughtily, but he sees the fear in her eyes. A quick blink and her confidence returns. “Besides, I haven’t heard from you in days. You didn’t return my calls and had your secretary tell me the work on the Honduras exhibit was complete. I make my own choices, just like you seemed to make yours.” She starts to move away from him, so he grabs her elbow.
“Bullshit, I can prove you’re mine. I’d love nothing more than to find a quiet corner to fuck you in, to take you right here, but no,” he smiles wickedly and leads her over to a table. With his touch on her arm, he can feel the blood coursing through her veins. She’s just as turned on as he is. “Tonight isn’t my night with you, and now I know why, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.”
Pulling the chair out for her, he pushes down on her shoulders, forcing her to sit. He squeezes his thumb into the permanently tense spot in her shoulder and her moan is audible even over the music of the jazz band playing on the stage. The other couple at the table takes that as their cue to leave.
“Chris, why are you here? You made it clear you… we, were done. Please. Let’s not do this. Not here,” her voice pleads with him, a slight stall in her confidence.
Sitting in the chair across from her, Chris captures her between his legs, spreading his open for her to ogle as he leans back against the seat. She sits prim and proper, keeping her legs closed.
“I came here tonight to tell you I wasn’t giving up. I’ve had the worst week; but I can see you haven’t been too lonely.” The scowl on his face mars his handsome visage as he stares across the room to the competition. He sighs, rubbing his fist in anger on his thigh and pulls his attention back to the maddening creature in front of him. “I haven’t told you how beautiful you look. By far, the most gorgeous woman in the room. I’m sad you covered up your beautiful breasts, but you weren’t dressing for me tonight, were you?”
He chuckles at the rising blush on her face, her freckles showing through her make up. “No, if you were dressing for me, the dress would show off you beautiful decolletage, and I’d want to bury my face in it. But I can see how someone else might want not want such an intimate tat on display either. Not that I mind; I think it’s beautiful.” He closes his eyes in thought, visually seeing her lying back, her rounded breasts exposed for him. Adjusting his glasses, he continues his fiery tease. “I love to cover it with kisses every time I see it, to caress it with my tongue before seeking out your succulent nipples.” He watches as she folds her arms over her chest, trying to hide the hardening of her lovely tits at his words. “Not that you don’t have beautiful legs that look so AMAZING wrapped around my waist, or up over my shoulders, but-”
She fidgets with a loose curl hanging by her ear. In barely a whisper, words fall from her swollen lips. “Christopher, what are you doing?”
“I’m making you wet. If I can’t fuck you, I’m going to tell you all the things I would do to you tonight, and then when you go home with him, he has to know he’s not the only one on your mind. He’ll know another man made his woman wet.”
Shuddering slightly, she taunts him. “What if I just got up to leave?”
“Oh, Niña, you and I both know you won’t do that. You’re too curious, you want to know things. You want to know what I’d do to you.” He absently scratches at the scruff under his nose, waiting for her response. When there is none, he continues. “Where was I? Your legs. Yes, beautiful, thick… My favorite place these days is to be trapped between them, your thighs against my ears, crushing my skull while Ibrush my tongue over your slick wet hole. Again and again. So I think that’s where I’d start if we were together tonight.”
Turning a bright shade of pink, she squirms in her seat, admonishing him. “Shh. Not so loud; someone will hear you.”
But she doesn’t stop him. People pass around the table, but the bubble of secrecy surrounding them seems to be visible, so no one stops to truly interrupt, although colleagues wave hello to him or wish her congratulations with her assistance on the project.
He leans forward. “That reminds me; you’re loud too. I fuckin’ love that. I love to hear you when you tell me what want or when you call out my name when you’re coming… Your moans and whimpers, your cry of ecstasy. Tonight, I’d make you call out your praises and my name… At least three times, until the sun comes up. Three is our favorite number.”
He stops a waiter walking by and takes two hors d’oeuvres from the tray, kindly handing one to her. Not even looking at it, she sets hers on the table, almost afraid to take her eyes from his. He pops the bacon wrapped mushroom in his mouth, promptly dropping the napkin on the floor. Boldly, he leans forward to pick it up and runs his cheek against her exposed leg. Inhaling, her scent is unmistakable. “I can smell you… I love that after I’ve fucked you all night, and fingered you, I can still smell you on me when I get home in the mornings. After I did all those things, I’d go home and collapse in my bed, and wish we’d been in mine, so it could smell like you and our sex.”
Tucking her leg under her, her intake of breath is sharp and she holds it. Involuntarily she bites her swollen lip and flicks her tongue out to moisten the soft pink petals. Her pupils are black with desire and the beauty she displays for him causes his cock to stir. “Look at me; look what you do to me.” Commanding, he shifts in his seat and his discomfort is apparent in the suit fitted perfectly for him. Not much space to expand without being noticed.
Her eyes drop for a quick peek and she glances up, batting her eyelashes at him. “Damn you; this is ridiculous. You need to stop.”
“But you can’t get up and leave, can you? You’re too wet. Dripping wet. And no panty lines, so there’s not a damn thing there to soak up your juices. I would offer to crawl under this table, but-”
She looks to him in surprise, and closes her eyes, shamefully acquiescing to his words. When her closed lashes gleam with tears, he realizes he’s pushed too far, maybe had a bit too much fun at her expense. He stops another waiter, grabbing two glasses of champagne, clumsily spilling one on her as he hands it to her.
Jumping from his seat, he grabs napkins from the table, proclaiming how accident prone he is and apologizing profusely. Angry at first, she appears to soften immediately when she realizes what he’s done. A wet spot on her dress. From spilled champagne.
“My, my, what’s the commotion here? Darling, what happened?” His clipped British tone grates on Chris’s nerves, but Chris can see he barely registers with the man at the moment, Hiddleston’s attention solely on the lovely Latina.
Chris watches her cringe at the term of tenderness in public, but she replies calmly. “Tom, it’s okay. Professor Evans and I were discussing new archeology techniques for my trip this summer.” She rolls her eyes and stands, still patting at her dress with the cloth napkins. “He’s a clumsy oaf, and spilled our drinks. It’s okay, I’ll just go freshen up before our presentation.”
Before she walks away, the tall, lanky Brit addresses Chris. “Enjoyed chatting up my best assistant, have you Professor Evans?” Professor Hiddleston asks politely.
“Assistant?” Chris smirks at the implication, but lets it pass. “She would be well-suited for my field, but it seems words have a way of reaching under her skin. ‘Although she is little, she is fierce.’ That’s what your man once wrote about women like her, right? A clear and focused mind, I’m sure she’s a great help for late nights researching your dusty old files.”
Catching all the hidden innuendoes, she blushes and moves to push passed them both. “Excuse me gentlemen, I need to go freshen up.”
Tom pats her arm tenderly, and replies. “I’ll be waiting, please hurry back.”
Chris calls her name as she walks away, stepping forward and handing her the little silver clutch she’d left on the table. “I can still smell you,” he growls quietly.
“You ass; your words won’t take too long for a wordsmith to figure out; he’ll know, Christopher.” But she relaxes, gratitude written on her face. “Thank you for the quick thinking with the spill.”
“I’m not sorry he’ll know. May the better man win. And if I’ve ruined the dress, I’ll pay for it. Replace it with one I’d like better…. And as for the quick save with the spilled drinks? You can repay me later,” he tells her with a wicked grin.
“Please, can we talk later? Don’t make a scene; don’t do anything hot-headed and stupid.” Her hands tremble at her side, and he’s never seen her so shaken. “I’m nervous about my speech; please don’t ruin it for me. If you still care about me, don’t. I promise we’ll talk.”
He’s not sure what there is to talk about, but he can’t destroy her chance to awe the room full of people waiting to hear her speak. He simply nods, before she whispers ‘thank you’ and walks away from him.
After cleaning up, Thalia returns to the ballroom, wondering just how much Tom has figured out and how much damage Chris has done. If he shows his hand, this will all come crashing down and she knows it now. Tom is the more possessive of the two, and won’t like finding out he has unknowingly shared her all this time. She’s seen his dramatic performances in class and knows the anger he sometimes hides under the surface of his cool British exterior. She’s not afraid of him by any means, but she is afraid of losing him.
She checks her clutch for her notecards containing her part of the speech to the gathered alumni and staff on behalf of the Literature Department. Looking up she watches as Chris leaves the room in a huff. Her heart drops, hoping she can patch things up with him before this turns into a big ugly mess.
Click here to read Chapter 37 Jealousy
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