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Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando


Chapter 32

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: 3272

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, real life, foreplay, oral sex, dry humping

Summary:  Thalia’s period changes plans for the activities just a bit and the couple finds other ways to create fun

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

images found on Pinterest

Scrabble image created by avenger-nerd-mom

waking up in cabin.gif

The next morning Chris is woken by her hushed curses.  The sounds echo in the cold room.  He rolls over and looks at her through squinted eyes.  Her wild mane hangs around her and his plaid shirt, buttoned crooked, slides off her shoulder.  “You’re never awake first; everything all right?”

A quiet “fuck” snaps him to…  His blue eyes fly open and he quickly takes in her pained expression.  “Thalia?  What’s wrong?”

Dropping her head forward, her reply is muffled behind her hands and she pulls away when he reaches out to her wrist.  “Christ, it’s so embarrassing.”  She sighs heavily, looking at Chris with her dark brown, sleepy eyes.  “My period came early and I don’t have anything.  Can you drive me to town?”

Biting back the laugh and comment he knows will get him in trouble, he pats her knee, caressing his thumb over the old, knubby bedsheet.  Better early than late.   “It’s okay, babe; it’s a guest house.  I’m sure we can find ‘things’ you can use in the hall closet.”

He really hopes over time his mom, sisters, hell even his ex-wife have left things in the closet.  It’s the first time he’s ever seen Thalia unsure of herself, and although a crack in her tough girl armor is endearing, he wants to help right her as soon as possible.  Throwing the covers back, he starts to climb out of bed and she scrambles the blankets towards her.

“The bed, Chris…”  She chuckles, shaking her head.  The blush on her cheeks and the morning light hitting her face creates a halo effect, and in all honesty Chris has never seen her more beautiful.

Rolling back to her, he crawls up on his knees behind this beautiful, distraught woman.  Gently caressing down her back he tells her it’s no big deal.  Her plump, full body is warm, even in the cold cabin and he moves closer to her, wrapping his arms around her.  His t-shirt and flannel bottoms are no match for the cold air.  He’ll have to restart the fire soon.

She relaxes into him, resting her head back against his shoulder and reaching up to scratch his scruffy chin.  “That’s really nice, thank you.  Come on.  Go now and check.  I need to go take a shower.”

Kissing her temple, he slides off the bed, walking to the door.  “I’ll give you time.  When I hear the shower run, I’ll be back to check on you, alright?”

She nods her head, her hands still worrying at the sheets.


Fifteen minutes later, the fire is going again and he sees the sheets in a big ball in the hallway.  No stains to the mattress pad.  Not that it would have mattered.  As a father, he’s cleaned worse messes.  Setting out fresh sheets on the bed for later, he smiles to the little tune she hums, remembering another time long ago he waited impatiently while she was in the shower.

“A lot of the snow melted over night,” he announces, stepping into the steamy room, her signature scent of orchids filling his nose.  “If you feel up to it, I’d like to take you on a hike.”

He sets down the selection of feminine supplies he found in the closet on the counter.  “Do you need anything else, Niña?  I’ll go get the laundry started.”

Pulling back the curtain slightly, Thalia smiles wryly.  “No, please don’t.  I’ll take care of it.  A hot coffee before a hike sounds perfect; I’d like that very much.”  Embarrassed, she hangs her head, tendrils of curls falling around her face from her messy bun.  “Chris?  Thank you.  If… If you wanted to go home, I’d understand.”

Chris crosses the small room, placing his large hand on the back of her exposed neck, gently pressing his lips to her tantalizing plump flesh. Sliding his mouth from the welcomed exchange, he rests his forehead to hers.  “Oh, Thalia… beautiful, funny, amazing woman.  If you think we’re just here for a sex-fueled weekend, you are entirely wrong.”  His lips graze across her forehead and he turns to walk out of the room.

“I plan to beat your ass at Scrabble later today.”

Her laughter bounces against the tiles as he gathers the soiled sheets in his arms and takes them down the hallway, his own laughter echoing hers.


Over bacon and eggs, Thalia announces she’s not ready for a hike just yet.  She’d like to warm up and stay cozy by the fire.  Chris putters around the kitchen a bit longer, checking on the wash as she finds a volume from the bookshelf and carries it over to the couch to curl under the hand stitched quilt to read.  Shifting her slightly, he settles in next to her, opening a book on his tablet.  At one point, he knows she drifts to sleep next to him, and he rests his cheek on top of her curly head.  Happy. Content.  Satisfied.

When she wakes, she disappears into the bathroom.  Upon reentry of the room, she pulls the Scrabble box and a dictionary off the shelf and starts to set it up on the coffee table in front of the fire.  “How about that popcorn now?  I’m hungry; I could use a snack.”

Chris readies the kettle and the kernels begin to dance and pop over the flames as they decide on the rules of the game.  Sexy Scrabble.  Only words related to body parts and sexual acts, slang and traditional phrases included.  “What about scientific names, or Greek and Latin?”  Thalia asks.

Squinting, his competitive nature getting the best of him, Chris chuckles.  “You study languages.  I would be at an unfair advantage.  That doesn’t seem right?”

Tilting her head to the side, she pushes a wayward curl behind her ear. Adjusting herself comfortably on the pillow, she smiles up to him, still sitting on the edge of the couch.  “Well?  You could choose one of those words and we could try it out sometime…  But I’m telling you now, you’re going to lose.  I have an excellent sailor’s vocabulary.”  He laughs at her tease.

The game begins and she’s right.  It’s stacked against him. Right from the start, she plays ‘olisbos,’ earning nine points.  “Shit, this is not fair.  What the hell is that?”  He chuckles.  “Do I want to know?”

Laughing, taking a small handful of popcorn and chocolate candies she had in her bag, she replies.  “It’s fairly tame; it’s the Greek for ‘dildo.’”

“Fuck. Remind me to never play word games with you again; you’re gonna beat the pants of me.”

Raising her eyebrows, she giggles.  “Isn’t that the point, Evans? And you know, I get 50 bonus points because I used all my tiles.  So make that 59 points over there on that little notepad you’re keeping.”

“Fuckin’ hell.  Evil, evil woman.” He chuckles, laying out the only word at his disposal, ‘seed,’ for a measly four points.

Other words tossed about during the game are fairly customary, traditionally used in common language.  The list of synonyms for ‘whore’ takes the game to a new level, as slang terms were allowed in their rules.  But the dark-headed woman is constantly ahead in points and Thalia finally takes pity on him and allows Chris the privilege of using his phone to help him google words to use.  “Man, we shoulda set the rules for strip Scrabble.  We’d have been done in about four turns,” she laughs, throwing popcorn at him.

“Four is a good number.”  Wiggling his eyebrows at her, he hopes she knows he’s enjoying their meeting of the minds as much as he loves the joining of their bodies.  “Hey, Thalia.  This is a lot of fun; I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun at Scrabble before.”

“Don’t you get soft on me; try to butter me up!  I’m gonna win this damn game,” she shouts playfully.  “Don’t try to distract me with your niceties.”

“I know you’re gonna win, and then I’m going to enjoy claiming my prize…  Hmmm… What should it be?  I’ll be honest, I’m leaning towards ‘irrumatio.’”  He’s pleased with his new vocabulary, learning this is the Latin for ‘face fucking.’

Placing the last tiles on the board, Thalia announces she wins, spelling out the word ‘fellatio.’  With a predatory gleam in her eye, she crawls around the table to him, pushing his leg to the side to make room between his thighs.  “You know,” she says, biting her lip seductively and then flicking her tongue out, licking her bottom lip, “that’s a prize you can claim now.”

Breathing ragged at just the touch of her hands on his thighs, he exhales, “We could… I could accept that reward right here.”

Rising up on her knees, Thalia places a frantic, heated kiss on his lips.  He winds his hands in her hair, tighter as hers knead over his thighs.  The flannel pants rub against his cock, already beginning to twitch with desire for this ethereal creature.  Her tongue teases along his swollen lip, encouraging him to open for her.  When he does, she pulls his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping and biting, her hands continuing to caress up his muscular legs.

Covering her warm hands over his bulge as their touches continue, quiet moans escape them both.  Massaging his hard cock through the soft fabric, he wills himself not to crack under pressure.  Her lips continue the chain of bites and nibbles across his sandpapery scruff.

Grasping his tapered waist, she tugs him further down the couch so his ass nearly hangs over the edge.  Resting back on her heels, she digs her fingers under the sides of the waistband and gives a yank as he lifts his ass up. Sliding the pants down his legs as he removes his t-shirt in a swift move, she licks her lips at the sight of his beautiful, veiny cock.  “Who’s really getting the prize here?” she moans quietly, removing her own t-shirt as well.

Rising back on her knees, she stretches up, resting her belly against his throbbing cock, running her hands over the defined plane of his torso.  “Like a damn Greek statue,” she whispers, memorizing every ridge with the touch of her hand, followed by her hot mouth blazing on his skin.

Chris writhes beneath her, enjoying each touch, wanting to be closer than ever to her.  Knowing he can’t have her is killing him, and she’s taking her time with her own pleasure.  Her fingertips scratch over his nipples, bringing them to painful attention, easing the hurt with her sweet lips wrapping around them.  “Fuck,” he chokes out between panted breaths as she sucks and bites at him, making her way south.

His slick precum lubricates between them and she continues to brush her body against his, the lace of her bra rough against his sensitive nerves.  She wiggles her ass back and forth as she slides across his body, tonguing his belly button and toying with the coarse hairs leading to his aching muscle. Putting his foot up on the coffee table behind her, he spreads his legs wider as she slides her nose along his cock, resting hard now against his thigh.

“You really suck at Scrabble.”  Thalia breathes warm puffs of air against his legs.  “Fortunately for you, I suck at other things.”

Looking up, her eyes capture his and her desire is evident there as she holds him in her hands, cupping his balls and rolling them between her fingers.  Slowly she uses one hand to slide up his thick shaft, covering the palm of her hand over the tip and using his slick to ease her glide as she begins to stroke him up and down, never taking her bright wide eyes from his.  When her touch becomes too much for him, his eyes roll back and he rests his head against the couch.

With his eyes closed he savors the feeling when her mouth closes over him, her tongue teasing under the ridge.  He can’t stand the torture.  Placing both feet firmly on the floor, he lifts his hips so the head slides into her waiting mouth.  She grips his shaft so only the tip can slide in and out between her lips as her tongue swirls around, sucking off him with each penetration into her opening.  Holding his balls tighter, she holds him in place silently guiding him and he rests back down as she sucks softly along his shaft with sweet open-mouthed kisses.  “Oh, shit, that’s good,” he groans as she repeats the steps going back up to the head before placing her mouth over the tip and sliding down on him.  “Fuck, yes,” he hisses, grasping tightly to the edge of the couch.

Pulling the clip from her hair, her curls tumble down over them, an erotic waterfall of sensation across his belly, thighs and exposed cock.  Her humming causes his need to build, and so aroused, his hips thrust up again, forcing his length down her throat.  Pushing up from the couch, she holds still as he reflexively pummels into her again and again, until she taps his thigh indicating her threshold.

He pushes back with his feet, shoving the table out of the way and pulling his shaft from her mouth,. Easing her gently to the rug, he spills himself over her chest, long spurts as she smiles up to him, caressing her hands over his muscled back and his tight ass.

Collapsing to her, she holds him close, tenderly kissing his sweaty temple and dragging her nails down his sides, holding at his V as he grinds against her a bit more.  “Jesus fucking hell; stop that,” she laughs, pushing against him, truly wanting what he’s offering.

“I should stop, ‘cause I know you’re gonna be mad…”  He whispers against her neck, nibbling the tender spot just under her neck.

Rolling him off to her side, they are both covered in his sweet sticky mess.  “Why would I be mad?”

“It’s in your hair, and I know you hate washing it when it’s cold outside.”

Gripping his chin, she holds firmly.  “I hate you, really.  But I think we both need a shower anyway, after.”

Biting the side of her cheek and pulling from her grasp, he rests his head on his crooked elbow, beginning to wipe her down with his t-shirt.  “After what?”

Propping up on her elbows, she drags a finger through the mess and licks it off like a lollipop.  “After a haircut.  Your hair is a shaggy mess.”  She tugs at the curls starting to grow on the back of his neck.

“You’re going to give me a haircut?”  He smiles in wonder.  “Fine, fine.  On one condition.  You stay halfway naked, just as you are now.”

Caught midway with pulling off her sticky bra, she pauses.  “That’s fine.  I’m okay with that.  Wrap up in a towel or something.  Easier to clean up.”  She climbs to a standing position and holds her hand to him.  “We’re going out on the back porch anyway.”

“What?  Fuck no.  It’s cold.  I hate cold.  I don’t wanna be half naked outside.”  He gets to his feet and holds her close before she steps from his reach.

Walking to the bathroom, she calls over his shoulder.  “You set the clothing challenge.  I’m just going with it.  It won’t take that long to cut and there’s less to clean up ‘cause birds will carry the hairs away to build nests.”

He hears her banging away at the cabinet doors and she emerges with two towels and the razor set from under the sink.  “You’re not kidding?”  He responds by moving to the back door when she pushes on his back, wrapping a towel around his waist.  “Have you ever cut hair before?”

“Chris, would you relax.  It’s just a buzz.  Running the electric razor over your head.  It’s not that difficult.”

When Thalia opens the door,  a whoosh of cold air greets them.  She lays out the kit on the little side table and Chris watches the goosebumps rise on her skin, her dark nipples peaking in the cold.  If it bothers her, she doesn’t say a word.  Stubborn thing…  She sets the chair in the center of the porch and motions him to sit down.  He tries not to shiver at her touch or the cold but it’s such a jolt to his system after the warmth they’d just shared together.  She wraps the other towel around his shoulders and gently blows on the back of his neck, telling him to look down.  She quickly runs the blade up the back of his head a few times, the comforting whir of the familiar sound easing his mind.  She blows on the back of his ear to brush away stray hairs and he can’t help but wiggle.  “Sit still,” she giggles.  “You don’t want it to look crooked.”

Walking around in front of him, she continues her task, her lovely breasts right in his face.  She stops and breathes heavily when he pulls her close, latching his warm mouth over one of her cold tight buds.  A few deep breaths and she regains her composure, returning to the job of trimming his hair.  His nose slides down the valley between her breasts and he takes the other tip into his mouth, beginning to knead the one he just left.  Her breasts feel larger, more full.  He keeps his touches light, realizing in her state she might be tender.  Her quiet moan is the only response she gives.  Resting the arm holding the clippers over his shoulder, the buzzing still in his ear, with her other hand, she pushes his legs together and straddles his lap.  Bowing his head to her chest, she carries on, small wisps of hair falling around them, tickling his nose and his shoulders.  His tongue flicks over her breasts and she begins to grind over his lap, a rise and fall of her own as the shaver slides over the top of his head.

With the click of a button the sound stops and the razor clatters on the table.  Her hands brush over his head, checking for hairs still too long.  He pulls one leg away and balances her on one thigh as she continues her ride, his hands greedy on her ass, pulling at her flannel bottoms, and playfully smacking her behind.  His mouth comes down roughly on her tattoo, the branch of orchids over the top curve of her breast, beautiful and sweet and highly erotic at the same time.  He feels her grow tight in his arms and she digs her fingernails into his shoulders as she comes, crying out in little whimpers, snuggling close to his chest when she comes back down.

Chris pulls the towel around them both, kissing her tenderly as she falls from her eroticism.

“Holy shit,” she giggles.  “Wasn’t really planning on that, but okay.”

“Niña, that was the most fucking awesome hair cut I’ve ever had.”  She still trembles in his arms and he holds her tight a few minutes more.  He’d carry her inside, but the whole threshold thing messes with his mind briefly and he waits till her legs are less jelly before insisting she go into the shower first.

The door closes behind him and he stands on the back porch, clearing their mess, his head full of thoughts.  He’s distracted by the sight of two birds, hopping over to swipe his hair, chattering and chirping away at one another about their good fortune.

Click here for Chapter 33 Choose

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

Late Night Reading

Educating Thalia

Chapter 1: Late Night Reading

Word Count 2545

Warnings: Fluff, language, adult situations, mention of death, thoughts of sexual situations

Summary: Professor Tom Hiddleston runs into his favorite student working late in the library  one Fall evening

Tom hums softly to himself as he strides through the empty library. It’s way past the time when everyone leaves, but he loves having the deserted, half-dark place to himself. It’s in these quiet hours that he finds and grounds himself in this hectic world through his love for books.

Slowly, he walks towards the back of the place where chairs, bean bags and desks are included among the shelves with non-fiction books hardly anyone ever gives any attention.

A hollow thunk and the shuffling of papers halts him in his tracks. His eyebrow quirked, he listens for more sounds. Who would be here at this time of night when every normal college student is huddled on a sofa to watch TV or out partying?

A sudden image flashes in his mind of a curvy, tanned woman with long dark hair and the most vivacious smile he’s ever seen. Could it be her? He knows she is one of those who never rests either. On many nights, she works at a bar on the other side of town, and on other nights, she buries herself in books.

Tom rounds the corner, the sound of his long strides muffled by the carpet.

Yes, it’s her. Thalia.

What a lovely name for a woman like her. He smiles to himself, wondering whether she knows that Thalia was one of the nine Muses. The one responsible for comedy and pastoral poetry, no less. Is she aware that her name derives from the ancient Greek “to blossom?” But she’s no timid blossom. She’s an exotic hot-house orchid already in fragrant bloom and tempting only those men who know how to handle someone like her. Despite her age, she isn’t a girl, but much more mature. All woman. A woman he damn well shouldn’t feel so attracted to…

Pausing in the doorway, Tom allows himself a moment to look his fill. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and slowly rubbing a finger over his lips.

Thalia is sitting on one of the beanbags, and his throat goes dry at the sight of her legs with their luscious thighs. She’s wearing a short denim skirt and a rose colored t-shirt, the temperature in the library toasty enough to chuck her jacket which lies on the floor next to her. Her little white tennis shoes still cling to the Indian summer weather and remind him of their days working together in England.  Her curly hair falls over one shoulder. She tilts her head a little to read something, and he wants nothing more than to march over and lavish her exposed neck with kisses, licks and bites.

God, how many times has he fantasized about doing things to her that he fucking well shouldn’t? How many times has he jerked himself off to sultry images of her, to the imagined sound of her naturally husky voice with the teeniest bit of Latina accent?

Inhaling deeply, Tom tries to calm himself somewhat.

It is wrong to find her so attractive, but she’s irresistible with her mix of confidence, caring and an underlying vulnerability that she hides well most of the time.

She’s a grad student, for fuck’s sake. Out of limits, Hiddleston, he scolds himself and runs a hand back through his blondish-brown hair.

But he’s never been good at denying himself what he desires, and he wants her more than he’s ever wanted anything else.

There is something about Thalia that has wiggled its way into places inside him which others haven’t touched in a long time. Something about her strength and passion gets to him every single time…and the damn sinful way in which she says “Professor Hiddleston”, a sure-fire way to make him yearn to plunge so deeply into her she’d feel him for days.

It doesn’t help that she’s got such a smart brain inside her pretty head. He’s always found intelligence to be a huge turn-on, and Thalia has proven how intelligent – and diligent – she is by contributing immensely to his research.

It is their collaboration on the recent Shakespeare project that has brought them closer together. Although he’d been intrigued by her ever since she’d walked into his class eighteen months ago and smiled before hanging onto his every word as if her life depended on it.

Working alongside her for days on end, sometimes for nights too, has made him drunk on her. He can still smell her, conjure her image when he closes his eyes.

Damn it all to hell, she’s like a drug that has entered his bloodstream, hooking him for good. And he hasn’t even had a taste of her yet.

But he’s held her in his arms, and boy, does he remember that…

Tom allows his mind to wander back a few months. He received a call from a distraught Thalia that she wouldn’t be able to help him out for a few days because she suddenly had to travel to Chicago due to a family emergency.

He was worried about her the whole time, wondering what she was doing, listlessly plotting away at his work like a love-sick boyfriend. Pathetic how much he longed for her.

He’d seen her return late at night, hunched over and hugging herself tightly although it hadn’t been a particularly cold spring evening.

Lord knows he should have stayed out of her life, but he had been unable to when he had seen her shake like a leaf. He’d waited for a while to see whether anyone would look after her, but he was aware she didn’t have many friends because she preferred to stay on her own.

So, he grabbed a cup of take-away coffee exactly the way she liked it and went to her place.

Seeing her red-eyed from crying had been a punch in the gut.

She should have kicked him to the curb for invading her privacy at what was obviously a moment of grief, but she let him in with a wobbly half-smile. They sat in silence, her nursing the warm cup in both hands and worrying her plump lower lip with her teeth, him so on edge he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Thalia, are you alright?” he asked. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

And then a dam had broken and she’d told him everything in a garbled rush of words interrupted by half-suppressed sobs.

She’d received a call in the middle of the night that her friend Amy and her fiancé had been in a car crash. The man had died on the spot, and by the time Thalia had arrived at the hospital on the earliest flight, her friend had passed away too.

Tom had not forgotten her anguished face when she whimpered again and again that she hadn’t been there for Amy when she needed her most.

Thalia told him that her friend had fallen out of her parents’ graces because she had become involved with a bit of a bad boy. The two had eloped, secretly getting engaged with only Thalia present. She’d been supporting them morally ever since.

When Thalia broke down, Tom acted purely on instinct. In a flash, he was by her side on the sofa and pulled her into his arms. He hugged her close, rocking her from side to side softly, stroking her quivering back.

“Shush, darling, don’t. It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay. Let it all out.”

He murmured comforting nothings to her until she calmed down a little, trying to ignore how amazing she felt in his arms, how right, as if it were her place.

“You’ll pull through. You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered, leaning back a little to tilt her face up by her chin. He swiped a thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tears, his gut clenching at the forlorn look in her huge eyes.

She was usually so confident and self-contained, so full of energy. He’d heard talk that she wasn’t afraid of clocking a drunkard in the face if he tried to grab her at the bar. But at this moment, she was vulnerable and he wanted to protect her from all harm.

“You were there for her all the time. She must have known that you loved her. Please don’t tear yourself up over this.”

“Th…thank you, Tom.” She sniffed and hiccupped, one of her hands unknowingly still fisted in his white shirt which was now tear-soaked and clung to his chest.

Her gaze followed his and she sucked in a breath, letting go of his shirt and shifting away from him.

But he didn’t let her escape, didn’t want to break this special bond between them. She’d called him by his name, and he could barely think around the desire to hear it again and again, falling from those beautiful lips in pleas and moans and screams.

Something had changed between them that day. She’d let him bring her a glass of water, and he made her a sandwich and forced her to eat it so she wouldn’t faint from exhaustion and stress.

When she swayed after getting up, Tom steered Thalia into her bedroom, removed her shoes and settled her on the bed. He drew the covers over her and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead as if she were a small girl and he her daddy, offering comfort as naturally as if they’d spent their whole lives together.

He could see she wasn’t used to being taken care of, and something about the initial flare of defiance followed by such willing surrender really got to him. It heated his blood to think of being in charge, of showing her how nice it could be to hand over the reins and succumb to all the care he could provide, sexual and non-sexual.

Back in the present, Thalia shifts on the beanbag, folding one leg beneath her and making the skirt ride up to mid-thigh. Tom suppresses a groan, returning to the here and now with desire clawing away inside him.

He takes another deep breath. Since that day, she often calls him Tom and smiles at him in a way he can’t quite read, and it drives him wild.

As happens almost as automatically as breathing to him, Tom seeks solace in Shakespeare. Softly, he quotes aloud, “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

Before he can take the words back or wonder why his mind settled on this phrase about love, Thalia’s head shoots up. Surprise morphs into that special smile she has for him, making him feel like he’s the only man on the planet.

Fool. He should not be feeling like this, thinking all those forbidden thoughts. He’s at the height of his career, partly thanks to her research and his perseverance, and she has all of her career still waiting. He’ll ruin it all if he can’t keep it in his pants.

“Tom. I didn’t hear you enter, I’m sorry.”

He gestures for her to remain seated and walks over.

“Were you quoting the Bard again, Professor?” she asks, her tone teasing and traveling straight to his groin.

Fuck, he shouldn’t find it so hot when she calls him professor.

“What if I was?”

He can hear himself adopting the same teasing tone.

“It wouldn’t exactly surprise me,” she said with a saucy lift of her brows. “I bet you dream in Shakespearean sonnets.”

Tom chuckles. He is acutely aware of them being all alone in the library.

Their breathing is the only sound in the room for a while. He adjusts his glasses to overcome the sudden awkwardness, and she licks her lips. He’s seen her do that a few times, as if the sight of him fumbling with them turns her on.

“Have you come to join me?” She pats the seat next to her, shifting again to press her long, thick legs together.

Shit, shit, shit, he should hightail it out of here before he loses his last ounce of control around her.

He clears his throat, his feet in his trusted grey suede shoes walking closer of their own volition.

“I was just thinking I’d enjoy a few quiet hours of non-academic reading. I’ve been buried in work-related stuff for so long I feel my head is going to explode. And I’m afraid my students won’t appreciate the gore much, even though they claim to be horror fans.”

Thalia laughs, a throaty sound that tugs at his cock.

“Well, sit down. I am really good at being quiet. You won’t even know I’m there. And for the record, I wouldn’t mind having you all over me. I bet even splatters of your brain are sheer brilliance we could all use a dose of.”

Holy shit. Tom swallows convulsively at the image of him all over her, which involves a lot of nakedness, entangled limbs, sweat and other bodily fluids.

As if it has just dawned on her what she has said, Thalia blushes. She lowers her head back to the book, pressing her legs closer together.

To pull himself together, Tom walks to a nearby shelf and pulls out a random book. He glances at Ulysses and takes yet another deep breath. It’s bloody unlikely that he won’t even know she’s there, for he’s always much too aware of her.

He has no idea what devil rides him, but instead of sinking onto a beanbag far enough away to keep his wits, he all but folds his tall body into half to perch on the carpet next to her feet. He leans his back against the side of her beanbag and stretches out, her bare leg so close he could rub his shoulder against it or let his hand glide over her ankle and shapely calf.

Is he imagining things or has she sucked in a breath?

God, he has no idea what game he’s playing right now. He only knows one thing: he wants her, so much that it hurts.

They sit like this in silence for a few minutes, and Tom can’t for the life of him concentrate on his book. The sentences are an inky black blur, while her subtle perfume makes him lightheaded. After a while, Thalia crosses her legs, and the new position makes her calf touch his arm. She keeps it there, the warmth searing through his navy-blue sweater into his skin and making his body tingle.

He has the weirdest urge to crawl up next to her in the big comfy chair and snuggle closer, to rest his head on her shoulder and grab the hand that is clenched into a fist on her lap. But thinking of her lap makes him tumble right back into the gutter, and he imagines sliding his hand beneath her skirt, pushing her panties to the side and driving her to the edge only with his fingers.

Christ, he needs to get a grip on himself.

Before Tom can think of something to say to break the tension-filled silence, Thalia snaps her book shut.

“I can’t find what I’m looking for in this,” she says, her voice even huskier than it usually is.

He smirks to himself. Oh yes, he affects her just like she affects him.

When she gets up, he hurries to his feet too, loving it that she is almost as tall as him. Perfect kissing height.

He follows her to the back of the room, his nerves tingling at the brief contact when she deliberately brushes against him on her way.

Click here to read Chapter 2 Library Seductions

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