Christmas in NYC

NYC dec 23 2018

Christmas in NYC

Being Thalia

Collaboration by avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

It’s TRUE! @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom are working on a SEQUEL for Educating Thalia, involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans! The two rivals are still vying for their right to claim the lovely Thalia Bareo. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago is all grown up now, holding down a job in Paris, continuing her studies and freelancing as a consultant for museums around the world.

To kick off the premiere of the sequel, Being Thalia, we’ll take a look at Christmas vacations Thalia’s shared with her men in the last two years since her graduation.

A Christmas one-shot, featuring Thalia and Tom in Munich, is posted below and the story with Chris in NYC will post December 23. The series premiere is slated for January 2, 2019!

Warning: This work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.

Thalia comes to Chris’s rescue when she finds out he will be all alone for Christmas

Word Count: 6888

Click here for the story page to read all the chapters in the novella, Being Thalia. Click here for series one, Educating Thalia.

The Lyft ride pulls up to the curb of the hotel and she sees him standing there, stamping his feet in the cold, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Home. She’s home and her body vibrates with every breath, a joyous contentment rushing through her body. “Stop here and let me out,” she says to the driver. Thalia’s hands shake with nervous excitement as she points to the spot. She expresses her gratitude to the driver as a concierge rushes over to take her bag and she exits the car quickly, poised to tap her phone to send the payment.

The dark haired beauty nods to the hotel attendant and he disappears inside with her things.

Pulling her wool coat down and adjusting her signature pink scarf, she shakes her hair back, inhaling deeply, readying herself to see him face to face again.

“Hey, you,” Thalia calls warmly, her voice a bit shaky, inviting him to turn to look at her.

He spins on his heels, righting himself quickly. “Hi,” he whispers, the sound not quite carrying to her ears. God, he looks so handsome! The wave of love rolling off him barrels towards her down the sidewalk as she quickly bridges the gap between them. His sad, puppy dog look is immediately replaced with love and awe and she already feels wrapped in his love.

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His love. “Tell your expressive eyebrows to shut up.” She laughs, happy tears streaking her face. “They’re already screaming at me.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he reaches out for her, wrapping his arms around her thick waist. Her heart soars when she feels his hands clasp together, reaching all around despite her bulky winter clothes. Suddenly, all her troubles disappear. Work? Forgotten. Responsibilities? Forgotten. Everything is forgotten, except for him.

He chuckles, his own eyes misty with tears. He purposely quirks his eyebrow, replying, “I have no control over them. They speak whatever truth they know.”

Pushing herself against him, she lifts to her tiptoes, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Merry Christmas!”

“Stop talking and kiss me,” he commands, his voice deep and reassuring. “It’s been too long.”

His lips press softly against hers, his beard scratchy and ticklish. Melting into him, she parts her mouth, accepting his tongue to tease hers. Their kisses are salty from their tears, his mouth cold from standing on the brightly lit sidewalk, waiting for her. Hers turns up into a smile. Pulling back, she takes in his strong features, brushing her gloved hand over his cheek. “It’s only been about eight weeks,” she giggles.

“Sixty-seven days, but who’s counting?” He chuckles, pulling her closer, his hands roaming over her back, warming her up, and cupping under her ass.

Oblivious to the crowds bustling around them, holiday shoppers running last minute errands, the two continue their kisses, reacquainting their lips.

***

Two days later, Thalia stretches lazily, rolling over onto her hip. Throwing her arm out, she feels around on the empty bed. Shaking her head, she furrows her brow. It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. The best Christmas Eve sex ever couldn’t have just been a dream, could it? Her thoughts are a bit hazy from the amount of alcohol she’d had the night before, spending Christmas Eve with aunts and uncles, cousins she hadn’t seen in years.

She swallows hard, her throat raw. From the cold? Skating at Rockefeller Center till the late hours, or from the… She blushes, thinking about the enthusiastic sex she and Chris shared hours before, after returning to the hotel from Midnight Mass. It wasn’t a dream. The bruise around her wrist is too real, and she smiles up at the red ribbon still tied to the bedpost. Pushing thoughts of ribbons and last Christmas, a very different holiday in Munich, from her mind, she pulls on the satin sash till it falls on the bed next to her. She sighs, remembering how disappointed Tom was when she announced she was visiting her parents, alone. But she couldn’t leave Chris alone, not this Christmas, and she did her best to avoid an argument with Tom. The precarious situation had become a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ type thing between her and her men. It was getting harder and harder on her heart to make a decision, but she didn’t mind wracking up the airline miles. Both men kept her happy, and she craves their love and attention. Very satisfied, she thinks to herself, looking to the shiny red restraint.

Thalia swallows again, stretching like a feline and practically purring. She hears his soft chuckle echoing from the other room in the suite. Thalia reaches into the nearest box strewn across the floor, grabbing the nightshirt and cute socks he’d given her last night. Pulling them up over her knees, she pads out softly to the dimly lit room.

Seeing her string along the ribbon as she enters the room, his face lights up and he holds up his hand to quiet her.

“Yes, honey. That’s amazing! I’m glad Roger is taking time to teach you to ski,” he rolls his eyes. “You be careful okay? Could you imagine if you had to go back to school on crutches- No, no I don’t know what else Santa brought you, tell me.”

Thalia walks to the kitchenette, smiling at the pot of coffee already brewing and the tin from the cookie shop she and Chris found while exploring. Pulling up on the lid, she breaks off a piece of the Kitchen Sink Bar from Schmackary’s and rests it on a napkin. Pouring a cup, she nods to Chris. He shakes his head no, pointing to his mug on the side table, precariously balanced on a stack of folders. Opening the mini-fridge for milk and creamer, she sighs and mumbles to herself, “Grading papers on Christmas Day. This is our vacation, man!”

She looks over her shoulder when he lets out a low whistle. She shakes her ass, showing him her panties with Christmas lights all over them. They match the boxers she gifted him last night. He chuckles, and continues talking to Avery. Her heart aches for him, knowing he’s trying to keep himself together. Although so handsome perched in the chair, already dressed for the day in a festive sweater and slacks, his face shows his raw, beaten emotions. The man is tired.

She remembers their frantic calls as he tried to decide what was right for Avery. He’d been so upset when his ex-wife’s new boyfriend wanted to whisk them away for the holiday. Still somewhat friendly, the two adults had agreed as part of their shared custody to spend Christmases together while Avery was still young, believing in Santa. It’s his first holiday since the divorce without his daughter, the first in her little life they aren’t together, and Thalia can see it’s killing him. His pain is a palpable beat, echoing in the room, bouncing off the walls and slamming into her. She sighs, warring against the feeling so it doesn’t bring her down with it. Her number one goal for the next four days is to keep his spirits lifted until Avery joins them in the city to celebrate the new year.

“You wanna talk to Thalia?” She lifts her head at the sound of her name, her hand hovering over the coffee cup, ready to dunk in the breakfast bar. “Oh, ok. Well, you have fun then!” She completes the dunk and nibbles on the bar quietly as he finishes his call. “I’ll tell her and you can call back later to talk to her. Yes, we both miss you.” His eyes shine with tears. “Bundle up warm and take lots of pictures to send me, okay, Bug?” He nods his head, his eyes filling with tears. “You too, sweetheart. Merry Christmas. I’ll see you at the end of the week.”

Ending the call, he drops the phone on the table and rubs his hand over his face, wiping at his eyes and smoothing out his beard. Thalia finishes chewing quickly and wipes her hand on a napkin. She waits, giving him his moment of grief, her own heart aching. When he sniffles, she asks quietly, “Wanna talk about it?”

He clears his throat and rests his head back against the chair. “The guy proposed to her last night. He’s gonna be Avery’s stepdad.”

“Oh, shit,” she whispers stepping around the counter, moving closer as he runs his hand over his thigh.

“And I’m gonna have to share her more, and get used to her having a complete family-”

“Chris, don’t be silly. She’s already got a complete family, even if you don’t live in the same house. She’s got amazing aunts and a crazy uncle, a doting grandmother… And me. She’ll always have me. And no one can ever replace you as her father. Daddys are special.” She smirks when he snorts as the movement along his thigh becomes more of a pat, inviting her to join him. “Just because your ex remarries doesn’t mean you’ll lose Avery. And she knows you’ve always been there.”

“I’ve never taken her skiing-”

“No. You’ve taken her to Disney and Paris and on archeology sites, museums and college campuses. What’s tying two sticks to your feet compared to all that? You’re just wanting to sink in it. But I’m not going to let you.” She steps closer, her socks sliding on the polished hardwood floors.

His hand rests on his thigh, licking his lip. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Thalia crouches low and makes a run towards him and the chair, his eyes wide, arms open to catch her. She stops short enough to slide up next to him in her socks. Wrapping her arm around the back of his neck, she sits on his lap. “Didn’t think the old chair could take my weight,” she smiles.

“I’d brace the impact,” he says with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around her waist and grabbing around her knees when she settles in against him. “I’ve always got you, Niña.”

She nods her head to the stack of papers as he lazily drags his hands over her thigh. “I thought we said ‘no work?’ It’s Christmas Day!” She kisses the tip of his nose. “Merry Christmas.”

He grips her hip tighter. “Merry Christmas, Thalia. Thanks for not letting me wallow in my sadness… Being here with you, the best present.”

“Totally agree,” she whispers, sighing contentedly from the gentle caress of his fingertips over her dimpled thighs.

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Lifting her hand to scratch his jaw, his gaze flickers to her wrist. “Oh, shit, honey,” he murmurs, taking hers in his, twisting her arm and raising the bruised wrist to his lips. He ghosts his lips over the tender skin carefully, blowing cool air over the red flesh. “I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

Thalia blushes, wiggling down in his lap. “I don’t mind… “ She shrugs. “A little pain’s okay.” She presses her wrist to his ripe pink lips and he kisses the tender spot sweetly. “I like it when you’re kinda rough, I can take it. You know that, you can’t break me, and you’re always so sweet after.”

“Like right now?” he murmurs, the vibration against her pulse causing her personal heat to rise. His lips continue to bite and nibble up her arm.

“Mmm… damn that feels nice,” she giggles, as his other hand slides over the silly printed panties.

Feeling her warmth, he groans, nuzzling his face into her wild morning hair. “Not as sweet as you’re gonna taste in about five minutes when I get you back in that-”

They jump at the pounding on the door, followed by shouts of “Merry Christmas!” and “¡Feliz Navidad!”

“Yeah,” he chuckles against her ear, stretching the word out. Still holding her, he stands up before gently setting her to the floor. He turns her in the direction of the bedroom, and gives a little push, smacking her ass as she walks away. “Get dressed. I’ll stall ‘em.”

From behind the closed bedroom door, she can hear him greeting her family. “What a wonderful surprise! We weren’t expecting you so early! ¡Feliz Navidad!”

She chuckles as she grabs her clothes and dashes into the bathroom.

*****

Leaning his head back on the cushioned seat, Chris rolls his face to the side and sees there isn’t anyone else around. “Niña,” he calls out, “how much longer are you gonna be?”

Her string of curses slide out from behind one of the red curtains. “Shit! Chris, can you come over here? The zipper is stuck.”

Shaking his head in amusement, he rises from the chair, picking up their shopping bags. “Which one are you in?”

All the fitting rooms look the same until her hand waves out from one at the end of the hallway. Chris looks over his shoulder, seeing a clerk assisting other shoppers on the sales floor, but the fitting room area is relatively empty. A quiet, secluded spot amid the hustle and bustle of the Christmas holidays in New York City? His grin devilishly lights up his face and he licks his lip. Reaching the curtain, he sits the bags at his feet and runs his fingers down the lush velvet drapes. “It’s gonna cost you,” he teases, his heart pounding in his chest.

“It sure is! This leather skirt you picked out is over $200 bucks and-”

“That’s not what I meant, Thalia,” his voice drops. He pushes the bags under the curtain with his foot, and checks one more time before sliding into the fitting room with her. He bites his tongue, trying not to laugh at her, shirt hanging from her waist, stuck in the zipper, her lush tits ready to pop out of the black lace bra she wears. “Well, this is quite a situation you have here, love.”

Her eyes are welled with tears. “We’re meeting up with my parents later for lunch, and I’m stuck here. Help, Chris.”

She still hasn’t realized how funny this is or how he intends to help. “Sweetheart, just relax,” he says, running his hand down her arm, squeezing the tips of her fingers. The thought cemented in his mind, he’s full of bravado and calm. “Turn around and I’ll help you.”

She turns to face away from him, and he can see every inch of her in the three way mirror filling up the corner of the dimly lit space. “It’s gorgeous on you. Hugs every curve,” he compliments her, running his hand down over her hip, smoothing the soft leather, landing just above her knees. She never believes him, but her size, her full, round curves are a part of her appeal, like a siren’s call.

“Not really something I can wear for work, Chris,” she sniffles. “It’s a ridiculous expense. Can you get it unstuck?”

Resting back on the little bench in the room, his hand still on her thigh, he pulls her back to him, leaning in for a better look at the zipper. Easy fix. The sheer fabric hem of her shirt is caught in the metal teeth of the lovely leather skirt, but it won’t be a problem. “I don’t know, babe,” he replies, fully knowing he can fix it.

Feeling slightly guilty at the plan formed in his head, he lifts his left hand, and his fingers brush against the small of her back. Chris tugs carefully at the zipper, careful not to rip her shirt. With his right hand, he curves his hand around her leg, lazily reaching under the skirt and gripping her thigh. He’s not at fault, he can’t help himself. His wickedly sexy girlfriend is standing in front of him, in a lace bra, a leather skirt, and boots, and she’s purely helpless.

He leans forward, kissing the small of her back. Thalia sucks in her breath, her head lifting up and catching his gaze in one of the side mirrors. “No,” she quietly whispers, her eyes wide.

His kisses continue across her lower back, along the waistband of the skirt, till he reaches her hip, where he bites her tender flesh. “Mmhm,” he hums, his hand sliding higher under the skirt, pushing her legs apart. She rocks on her heels and follows his direction.

“This is the cost you meant, oh, you asshole!”

He quietly clucks his tongue. “Can you blame me? Look at yourself. Open your eyes and really look. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Thalia. A model.” He ignores her snicker of derision as his fingers glide higher, fluttering against her thighs, brushing against the matching silk and lace panties. He bites his lip, turned on by her gasp, watching her breasts heave with excitement. His cock hardens and strains against his tight jeans. “So beautiful, lush. I wanna lick every inch of your body.”

To prove his point, he pushes the scanty fabric aside and dips his finger in her well, pulling out her wet and teasing her lips. She involuntarily pushes against his hand, yet whispers, “Not here, Chris, no.”

With a wicked grin, he pulls his hand out from under her skirt and raises it to his mouth, drawing in the succulent taste of her right off his fingers. He happily sighs and gently tugs on the zipper, freeing her shirt to fall to the ground. She takes a deep breath. “Too tight?” he chuckles.

“A little, but they didn’t have my size.” She shakes her head, frowning at his reflection in the mirror as he begins pushing the skirt up her thighs, bunching it around her waist. “Chris! We’re in public. After Christmas shoppers. What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught if you’re quiet,” he taunts, pushing her panties aside and spreading her open in front of the mirror. He admires the gentle folds of her lips, caressing over her smoothly shaved pussy. “Beautiful. My favorite color. Did you know it changes the more excited you get?”

His smoky voice fills the air and rather than dropping her head to watch his hands, she leans back, staring up at the ceiling, her legs already quaking and he’s barely touched her. Chris confidently wraps his arm around her waist, moving forward on the bench seat and pulling her to him, supporting her against his chest as his fingers slowly slide in and out of her hot, wet cavern, occasionally flicking against her hooded clit. She throws her arm to the side and braces herself against the mirror and with her other hand, grabs behind her, pulling up on his sweater at the shoulder, twisting it between her fingers. The fitting room is hot and small, Christmas carols still playing on the loudspeakers throughout the store, drowning out her occasional whimpers.

“Evans, you can’t just finger me and think,” she gasps when he pinches her tender bundle of nerves, falling forward, weak in the knees. She sucks in her breath. “You can’t think that’s a fair game. You have to be more of an active participant.”

Looking up into the mirror as his fingers dig in deeper, they lock eyes. A twisted smile brightens her face and she flicks out her tongue to lick her lips. Releasing his sweater, she slides her hands down his chest, reaching for the bulge practically throbbing under her hand. She fumbles with his belt while his fingers continue their caress of her inner walls, bringing her high, almost to her peak before changing his pace.

He chuckles, leaning forward and resting his lips against the small triangle of satin covering her ass. “Already working for top spot on the Naughty List next year?” He moves her hand away and begins to unbuckle his pants.

“If we’re gonna get arrested, might as well do it right.” Her eyes gleam. His eyes never leave her reflection, his gaze dropping to her hand squeezing and pulling her breast, teasing her fingers over the lacey cup. The nipple underneath pops up and Chris wants to grab it between his teeth. “Uh, uh, uhn…” she clucks quietly.

Wondering about the soundproofing of the tiny fitting room, he listens for other customers, realizing a clerk hasn’t been back in ages to check on them. “What makes you think we’ll get caught?”

Feeling the tip of his head against her rim, she slides on his stiff cock, spreading her juices before pushing back on him, sinking around him. He grunts and she giggles. “You make more noise than I do.”

She’s not wrong. He loves it when she’s confident, demanding, in charge. It’s such a turn on for him, and he can’t deny it makes him feel powerful to bring out this side of her personality. With his hand on her hip, he thrusts in and out as she rolls against him. In the mirror, he can see her flush, her freckles popping under her blushing skin, the flutter of her pulse at her neck. She spreads her legs further apart and he steps in closer to her as she drops her head and grasps the mirror with both hands for support.

His hand pushes down on her back, sliding up her spine and grabbing her braid, twisting it in his hand. The squishy sound of his cock plunging in her juices, soaking him, fills his ears, as does the tightness in her breath as she holds in her whimpers and whines. Each time he pulls away, she slams back on his cock, pushing him balls deep, skin slapping against skin. Each thrust sends pulses of delight rippling through his veins, strengthening him, as a deep guttural groan escapes his throat. God, how much he’s missed her! She tenses with every drag of his dick in and out, the head hitting against a particularly sensitive spot. His breath is hot against her neck and he smiles at the peppermint scent, remnants of the candy canes he’s sucked on all morning. Her knuckles whitten as she grips the edge of the mirror tighter, dropping one hand to flick across her clit. Her nails dragging across his sliding cock elicits another gasp from him.

“So close,” she whispers, her voice dripping with need.

He gently tugs her hair, lifting her head higher to look at him in the mirror, a sheen of sweat along her hairline, little curls popping free from their hold. His hand slides down over her belly, resting at the cusp of her mound. “You can do it,” he cheers, speeding up his thrusts as her hand vigorously punishes her exposed clit.

Through gritted teeth, she pants. “No, I can’t. Help me,” she whines. “It’s not enough.”

Sliding his hand down over hers, he pushes down on her fingers, adding more pressure against her clit. Her thighs tremble as her orgasm builds and he can feel the electricity flow through her as she comes, a wave of pleasure that knocks him backwards onto the bench. He doesn’t lose his connection with her as she falls into his lap and he continues thrusting upwards, pounding her sopping pussy as her slick washes over their hands. Her head rolls back against his shoulder and he can see pure bliss on her face, the tension leaving her body. He hears her mumble something, but can’t make out the words. Down from her high, her hands still and he slows, settling under her.

“A+, Professor Evans,” she critiques, “Attacked with gusto, completed in-”

“C-, Miss Bareo,” he chuckles in her ear, washing away the salty sweat on her neck with his tongue. “The task is incomplete,” he whispers as he slides out of her. He shakes his head at her look of confusion. “I’m not satisfied with the conclusion.”

“Oh, well, I guess I need to put in some extra credit then, don’t I, Sir?”

He shakes his head, fisting the leather skirt in his hand. “Hate that, it sounds so pompous.” He blocks all negative thoughts from his mind concerning her and that… that word. “‘Professor’ will do,” he chuckles darkly as she rolls her eyes.

Standing quickly, Thalia shimmies out of the offending article of clothing, kicking it to the side. She peeks out the curtain and smiles to a customer entering a room across the hallway. She puts her hands to her lips, motioning for him to be quiet as he slides a condom over his glistening cock. Her hair falls from it’s braid, wild curls sticking out around her head. Her chocolate brown eyes are blown black from lust. Her swollen lips are a bright pink, begging for more kisses. Chris loves knowing she’s so undone and he’s the cause of it. He grins when she looks down on him as though she’s famished and he’s the only meal she’s had in weeks.

The dark haired beauty straddles him, lining herself with his stiff rod. His eyes roll back as her hands wrap around his girth, sliding the tip of his head in her waiting slick. She drips down over him, and he can’t wait to be engulfed in her heat again. “Fuck me, Thalia,” he moans quietly, pushing down on her shoulders, impaling her in one slow thrust.

He pulls his sweater back, away from their mess and exposes his tummy as she grinds up and down on him, teasing and tugging at the little hairs on his lower belly. She rocks back and forth, pushing her endowments in front of him. Chris buries his face in her chest, wishing there was more time to rip her free from her bra. Again, she mumbles something he can’t hear and he smiles when she gasps as he latches onto her nipple, covered by the delicate lace. A loud sigh is pushed out of her as he thrusts up into her repeatedly. His large hand moves up her throat, squeezing gently before covering her mouth, the other continuing to hold her breast in place as he lathes and suckles her nipple, soaking the fabric.

Thalia shifts and drops her weight on him, pinning him to the bench and taking control. Her force and determination rattle him and his head thumps back against the wall. She leans forward, rubbing her clit against the base of his cock, pulling him in deeper.

Resting his head in the crook of her neck, he bites and sucks her flesh, anything to keep from making a sound. Bottomed out in this position, the pain of it so fucking good when she clutches his shoulders, rolling and twisting her hips to feel him right where she wants him. Chris drops his hands to her hips, guiding her into the rhythm they both need: long, slow strokes, her body rising all the way up until he almost slips free, then back down again. Her hips pick up speed until he swears under his breath.

“That’s it babe. Make yourself come all over my cock. So fucking good…”

She stills and looks down at him. Chris holds back a laugh and shakes his head. They both hear a rumble in reply, a series of small squeaks and a mirror rattling a few doors down. Her eyes open wide as he pulls her down against him, grinding her against his cock. The panting sounds of another couple fucking just a few feet away fill their space. Chris pulls Thalia’s mouth to his, whispering, “Ignore it. Come for me.” He kisses her with reckless abandon, trying to keep her in their moment.

The spell broken, he watches her teeter on the edge. She shakes her head, afraid she’s losing her momentum, but he wraps his hands behind her back, holding her heavy form and leaning her down towards the floor. Taking her offered nipple between his teeth, he clamps down with a tender bite and thrusts into her. She arches her back, pushing her chest to him. He shakes his head back and forth, his beard scraping her chest, pulling at the covered nipple, delighting at the small tear of fabric and her free flesh. He sucks harder, pushing into her as she holds tightly around his neck, biting into his sweater covered shoulder. The sounds of the other couple climaxing stirs him, turning him on even more than he imagined possible.

He can feel her pulsing around him, tightening and convulsing. Holding her tight, he pulls out and pushes in again, flicking his tongue over her exposed nipple, rolling it around. She bucks against him, her cries muffled into his sweater.

Getting a second wind, he stands tall, shifting her weight, resting one booted heel on the ground and one on the bench. She smiles at him lazily and nods her okay as he pumps into her faster, harder, pulling her down on his cock, her juices soaking them. He begins to unravel, pushing into her as fast as he can, spurting and filling the condom. Chris collapses against the wall and she leans against him, affectionately kissing him-

“Excuse me,” a pinched voice rings through the air. “You’ll need to exit the fitting rooms immediately. This is inappropriate behavior and you need to leave the premises before we call the police.”

Chris chokes on his laughter as Thalia’s eyes grow huge. He shakes his head, putting his finger to her lips. A commotion ensues down the hallway, and Chris quietly cleans them up with a t-shirt they purchased in another store, wadding it back up and putting it down in a bag. Thalia bites her lip to keep from laughing as they listen to two employees.

“When was the last time you checked the fitting rooms, Jessica? They’re a mess! And that couple was obviously fucking. Go get the the bleach spray and cleaners. You’re responsible!”

“Everyone was swiping up bargains, no one’s been back here to try on clothes.”

“No!” The older woman shouts. “They’ve been back here fucking! You’ll need to clean all the rooms.”

Dressed, hiding her guilty face, Thalia slides from the room unnoticed, items to be purchased in her hands. “Great bargains ladies,” she says when they turn to look at her. “Thank you for providing a wonderful shopping experience.”

A few minutes later, Chris meets her at the checkout counter with a few more items, including the leather skirt. “Don’t wanna forget this… All on my card, please,” he says to the clerk as he hands her the plastic. “Money well spent, don’t you think?” He winks at Thalia, playfully slapping her ass as she turns away from him, moving to wait for him at the door.

On the busy sidewalk, she wraps a scarf around his neck, shaking her head. “Is that off the little sex-list now? Exhibitionism, check! Voyeurism, check!”

“Oh, my God, Thalia! Were you as turned on by that woman’s whines as I was, that was fuckin’ hot!” His cheeks are still flushed from excitement.

She throws her head back and laughs, hitting against his chest. “Shit, what a fuckin’ perv you are!”

“Come on, how lucky was that? We coulda been caught, if it wasn’t for that couple. That was awesome.” He fist pumps the air while she shakes her head at him. “And you weren’t the person I kept hearing, it was her, wasn’t it? She kept talking, but-” Reading Thalia’s expression, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, yes. It’s off the list. I mean, not totally. Do we have a list? Like an official list, cuz there’s a few things we haven’t done yet, that I’d like to try, so-”

Laughing she motions for a cab. “Come on. Stacey got last minute tickets this afternoon and they went to see the Rockettes, so we have time to take our things back to the hotel. I could use a hot shower and clean up and-”

Opening the door for her when a cab pulls to the curb, Chris laughs. “A shower sounds good. I’ll join you,” he whispers in her ear as he pinches her ass while she crawls into the car.

******

“I’m really sorry that we’ll leave town before your daughter arrives, Chris. We were hoping to get to meet her,” Stacey smiles, resting her fork on the side of her plate. “I hope you don’t mind, but we picked up a few little things for her, as a gift. You said she liked sketching, and I found a little gift set with a sketch pad and pencils.”

Gulping his drink down, Chris rests his glass on the table. “You didn’t have to do that, that’s very kind of you Stacey.” He smiles hopefully at Thalia. “Maybe this summer, when Thalia visits, we can get out to Chicago. Avery’s always wanted to see Sue at Field Museum. She’s fascinated by archeology right now-” He laughs when Thalia mumbles, ‘I have no idea why,” and continues, “and I’ve been craving Portillo’s since the last time I was in Chicago, so-”

Everyone at the table jumps when Carlos Bareo thumps his fist down on the table. “You won’t come visit; she’s still with that other man, don’t fill your head with lies. Hombre, don’t you have the cajones to put a stop to this nonsense?”

Thalia shrieks in astonishment, “Dad, stop! We’re in public!” She looks around, grateful to see the quiet roar of the room drowns out her father’s outburst. From the side of her, she watches Chris grip his napkin, wadding it up in his first, but she’s too embarrassed to look at him.

“No, no I won’t,” he gestures wildly, his accent tired and thick. “I won’t ignore the elephant sitting in the middle of the table.” He shifts in his seat, looking sideways to his daughter, as if peering around the creature and pointing to Chris in the seat next to her. “He’s the one I’d pick for you, mija, a stable, hard-working man. A family man. Not someone with his head in the clouds and a stick up his ass.”

Thalia shouts, “Papá!” as Stacey places her hand on the man’s arm, calming him with his name, softly worded on her lips. “Carlos, it’s not for us to say.”

Rage rolls through her body. She hisses quietly. “Dad, it’s none of your damn business what I decide to do with my life. I have a good job, I make good money, I travel.” She avoids Chris’s stare. “I’m loved, and I’m happy. It’s not for you to decide if it’s right or wrong. You want me to be like Mom and just take off, leaving-”

Clearing his throat, Chris interrupts. “Carlos, I’ve gotten used to that elephant.” He gestures to the center of the table. “I’ll be the first to admit it’s not an ideal situation. I don’t like the idea of… of another man in Thalia’s life anymore than you do, but our ‘arrangement,’” he states, using air quotes, “allows her to live the life she wants. It lets me do what I need to do as well. I can’t just take off, and leave my daughter. So we have these stolen moments, like this holiday here with you both, and we can forget the outside world for a few days. And it’s enough. It’s enough till-”

“It’s not. It’s no good. You need to stop this,” Carlos rounds on Chris. “Marry her, and put an end to this. Take care of her.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Papá. I don’t need to get married to be cared for, or to have someone look after me-”

“Marry her,” Carlos demands.

Defeated, Chris folds his hands in his lap. “I’ve asked, Sir. I can’t make her-”

“Dammit,” Thalia pushes her chair back, stunned by this whole exchange and the anger filling her. “This isn’t 1952, with me in heels and pearls, needing to vacuum shit all day, waiting for a man to get home to make decisions. Fuck it, I’m out.” She stands. “Sorry, Stacey.” Turning to Chris, she drops her voice, “I’m really sorry. I just need to get some fresh air, alright? I’ll see you back at the hotel later.”

Chris watches her leave, unsure of what to do next. Lifting the napkin from his lap, he sighs deeply and lays it next to his plate.

“Son, I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” The older man clears his throat, followed by a hacking cough. He takes a drink and catches his breath. “I’m sick. She doesn’t know yet. I want more information before I tell her.” The man’s voice chokes. “I just want to know she’s in good hands.”

Somberly, Chris nods his head. “I know where to find her.” Reaching inside his suit coat, he extracts his wallet, leaving enough cash to cover the bill. “You raised an independent one… You should be proud of her, Sir. She’s in the top of her field, so many opportunities ahead of her. It’s not in me to tie her down, to hold her back.” He bows his head, images from the night before flooding his mind’s eye, tied to the bed, denying her orgasms. He rises from the table, hoping his blush and his memories aren’t written on his face for her parents to see. “This is the sacrifice I make, to love her. She’s right, it’s not for you to understand, but you have to leave her be.” He pats the old man’s shoulder and tilts his head towards her stepmother. “We’ll see you two at breakfast tomorrow, before we take you to the airport.”

****

A cup of hot chocolate thrust in her face, she looks over her shoulder as she takes it in her gloved hands. “How’d you find me?”

Walking around the bench, he motions with his cup to the open space beside her. She waves her arm to the side, inviting him to sit.

He looks to the grand building in front of them. “It’s New York.” He tilts his chin up. “You always said you wondered if the exhibits come to life.”

Thalia pushes against his shoulder, staring up at the Museum of Natural History. “Just a silly movie, I know it’s not real.”

“Maybe you just haven’t uncovered the right cursed item in your archeological finds,” he teases.

The couple sit in silence, watching the crowds meander down the streets, the horse drawn carriages weaving in and out of traffic before entering Central Park. The crisp night air sends a chill to her bones.

His soothing voice, raspy from the cold, breaks her reverie. The pain she hears in it cuts like a knife. “What is it you want? Why do we keep stepping around this? The pile of elephant shit gets too big to handle sometimes, Thalia… What do you want?”

She ponders his question in silence. Not that she hasn’t asked herself the same thing a dozen times. How the two men, such opposing personalities, have allowed this to continue for so long, is beyond her scope. In the cold, dark night, her shoulders sink. Her voice sounds small and child-like. “I want someone to tell me what to do, I’m tired of going back and forth. I don’t wanna hurt anyone, or get hurt. But I don’t wanna make the decision either. Someone always ends up hurt in whichever scenario I choose.” She turns on the seat to look at Chris. “I don’t wanna hurt you. If I was adult enough, strong enough, I’d walk away from you both. But instead, I want it all and I just want someone to give me a painless solution.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, stretching his legs in front of him. “Fine, you want a solution? Marry me. I know I asked before, but this time I’m saying it. I’m telling you. That’s what I want. Marry me. Stay here, in America. Raise Avery with me. We can move here, to the city. You could work there,” gesturing to the building, “see if it really happens, if they come alive at night.” Before dropping his hands, he pushes her hair from her face, tears stinging her cheeks in the cold. “Marry me. Pick me.”

She sniffles, turning her face in his hands to kiss his exposed palm. “It’s not that easy. It’s never been that easy.”

“Yes it is. Just walk away… I’m tired, Niña. You are too.” He chokes. “He… He is too. Gotta be… I know the University has offered you a spot next fall. They want you back in the states. I want you back, all mine. No more sharing, Thalia. You’re never gonna grow up as long as you keep playing this game.”

She rests her fists against his chest. “Threatening to walk away from me again, Evans?” Deflecting with humor, Jesus, Thalia, you honestly don’t deserve this man…

He chuckles. “Never works when I do. I always come running back, like a dog with my tail between my legs.”

She leans forward, her forehead resting on her fisted hands, her hair tickling his nose. “God, we’re so fucked up,” she chuckles.

“I meant it, Thalia. I’m not down on my knees. I don’t have the ring this time, but I mean it. I can give you a happy life. I know you have to go back to Paris, I know you’re contracted through the summer. But the teaching position is only the Fall semester while Lin-Hu is on maternity leave.” He rubs his hands together and tucks them under his folded arms. “Just promise me you’ll think about it?”

As his hands run over her back, caressing her and holding her close, she mumbles into his shirt, “I will. I’ll think about it. I promise. You’re too good to me, Evans, you really are.”

***

To keep with the timeline of the story, read the prologue stories, Goals and The Bet (written summer 2018) while waiting for the series premiere on January 2, 2019!

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

It’s Complicated

et 24 Its complicated may 24 2017.png

Chapter 24

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

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:  6000 IT’S LONG BUT IT WAS NECESSARY- SORRY!

Warnings:  : Language, Adult Situations, stepfamilies, food porn, drinking, NSFW, fingering, exhibitionism, angst, real life discussions

Summary: Thalia enjoys some time out alone with her stepmother, glad she didn’t have to choose between her suitors for Valentine’s Day, but missing them.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Tired from the long day of classes, the drive into the city, and a few errands, Thalia hides her yawn as she sits at the table. The two women pour over the menu.  The older blonde, polished and sophisticated, taps the table with her perfectly manicured nails.  Looking over the top of her reading glasses, she asks the young woman what she plans to order.

“Mmm… I can’t decide,”  Thalia admits.  “It all looks so good, my mouth is watering just reading the descriptions.”  She happily sighs.  “I think the fish with a baked potato and the house salad?  And their garlic bread is to die for!”

“Thalia, that’s a lot of food?  You really shouldn’t be eating all those carbs.  I mean, you look great, but…”  begins the older woman.

Thalia takes a deep breath, steeling herself as she carefully places the menu on the table.  She’s used to her stepmother acting this way, and she knows if they can get through the first hour without killing one another, they’ll end up having a great visit together.

Shaking her head slightly, she purrs.  “Stacey.  I’m never gonna be stick thin, like you.  I know my limitations and if I decide to indulge there’s always the gym tomorrow.  Besides.  I can’t eat too much tonight. Everyone knows tomorrow is half-price chocolate day!”  Smiling sweetly, she pats the woman’s hand.  “Thanks for always worrying about me, but I know my shape. Big and round.  And I’m learning to own it, and appreciate it.  I’m actually really healthy right now, Moms.”

The woman takes the younger woman’s hand and squeezes it.  “You do look great.  Really happy…”

She pauses their conversation as the waiter takes their order, appearing to be miffed they didn’t order the dinner special.  Thalia looks to her right and left and it’s an endless sea of couples with the steak dinner in front of them.

Picking up the conversation where it left off, her stepmother takes a sip of her wine before asking, “Would this have anything to do with the gentleman visitor at Christmas?”

Smiling when the waiter returns with the bread basket, Thalia takes a piece of the bread and smiles up at her mom secretly.  “Maybe, yea, a little.”  Pursing her lips together, she isn’t sure how much to give away.  “He’s… He’s really amazing.  So sweet and caring, and he…” She stops and shakes her head, realizing she’s talking about both men and almost hating how this sentence ends in her mind.  Cuz it’s fuckin’ true of them both, and for the thousandth time, she can’t believe she let this happen… Tearing off a piece of the bread, the warm cheese stretches between the two parts and she dips it in the olive oil before popping it in her mouth, chewing carefully.

“Thalia, spit it out.  What are you not telling me?” The woman prods.

“Fuck, Stacey.  It’s kind of a mess, but it’s also really wonderful.  And I think…” She props her elbow on the table and rubs her fingertips across her brow with exasperation.  “I think he loves me.” She shakes her head and laughs.  Both of them do, and she knows it, and it’s just a fucked up mess she’s created.  “We haven’t said it yet, but I think he loves me.  And not ‘in spite of’ my size, but partly because of it.”  Trying hard to control the grin on her face, she just can’t stop herself.  It is Valentine’s Day afterall…  “He’s really just… something else, ya know?”

Stacey stares in disbelief for a moment and then releases a happy squeal.  “Oh, my God, honey!  That’s so wonderful!  Do you love him back?  Is he cute?  Is he still in school?  Holy shit, I didn’t think you’d spill the goods before the food arrived,” she chuckles.  “It usually takes a pry-bar to get you to open up.  He must really be under your skin.”

Taking a drink of her wine, she tilts her head slightly to the side while dozens of images race through her mind of both Chris and Tom.  Her smile reaches all the way to her eyes and she feels she’s positively glowing in the candlelight.  Candles on the table.  Romance. Damn.  She leans forward and blows it out, the smell of smoke filling the air.  “In the best ways possible,” she hints.

Their salads arrive and Thalia picks off the tomatoes, laying them to the side.  The woman across from her raised her since she was nine and she adores her with all her heart, but she can’t bring herself to fully open up with all her sordid secrets.  Hell, she tries not to think about it herself.  Sometimes, she’s afraid if she opens up to someone, things are bound to topple over and smack her in the face. As if this is all some magical fairytale and as soon as she breathes a word about it, the bubble will burst. She doesn’t want to be judged – least of all in her own head, and she has a pretty good idea she’ll start doing that automatically if she shares the details of her secret little love triangle.

She tries her best to answer the questions without actually confessing anything.  Scoffing, she replies quickly.  “Yes, he is still in school,” grinning at her own little joke.  “Devilishly handsome.  Glasses.”  She tilts her head back, eyes closed and euphoric, and shakes her whole body happily. God, she’s such a nerd.  “He’s got the most adorable accent and he gets so excited about learning new things, he’s like a puppy sometimes, bouncing all over the place.”  In her mind she wonders again how two men so different can actually be so much alike…

“Thalia María Bareo!  You are in love with him!”  Stacey drops her fork and bounces with glee.  “I never thought I’d see the day, but you are head over heels for this guy.  Oh, man!  This is amazing, honey!  I’m so happy.”

Oh, fuck.  She’s right. Her step-mother is always right.  When the hell did that happen?

She quickly downs the rest of her wine and signals the waiter.  “Scotch on the rocks, please.”

She fends off a few more of Stacey’s questions, answering as obliquely as possible.  She doesn’t want to give her stepmother any details she can nail down.  Their conversation dies off as the food arrives.  Thalia turns her focus to her mother and asks the required questions about family and adopts an air of interest as Stacey talks about the convention she is attending in the city.  Her thoughts begin to drift to ‘kill me now, I’d never survive the business world’ when her phone begins to buzz, hopping all over the table.  ‘God Save the Queen’ chimes and Stacey looks confused as to the choice of song.

Wiping her mouth on her napkin, she lays it next to her plate.  “Stacey?  Can I?” She indicates she wants to check her phone and her stepmother frantically waves her approval, mouthing the words ‘is that him?’

“It’s a text.  He can’t hear you.”  She shakes her head at the woman’s flightiness. Thalia unlocks the screen to see a selfie of Tom, presumably laying on his bed, wearing the shirt she gave him and the book she found in an old shop lying on his chest.  The message reads I miss you, darling.  Have fun with your mother. Can we meet for tea and toast in the Commons in the morning?

She runs her fingers over her lips nervously, thinking of the timing and knowing she has to attend a history department meeting at eleven with Chris to take notes about the upcoming exhibit.  Who is she kidding?  She’s juggled them both this long…  Of course, Tom!  Can’t wait to see you SIR.

Good girl.  I can’t wait either.  I have something I wish to ask you.

Thalia’s heart jumps into her throat.  At least with Chris, she can see where his thinking goes.  He sometimes misses the domestic life, and tries to replicate his favorite parts of it with her…

But Tom?  She has no idea where his mind wanders off to sometimes. It’s like he’s truly foreign to her.  Some days it’s so frustrating to be with him because his British demeanor can be cold and seem harsh, when she knows that underneath it all, he’s just a teddy bear that wants to believe in love again, to have someone to love him.  Dear God, please don’t let me hurt him…  She has no clue what he’s thinking; what he might want to ask.  She finds it unnerving.

Finishing her drink, she pushes her plate away, her appetite lost.  Stacey reads her emotions accurately, and asks, “Honey, if you’re so crazy about him, why are you here with me and not with him?  It’s Valentine’s Day?”

Nodding, she turns her hands and examines her nails, smiling absently to the waiter as he carries away her plate.  “It is.  It’s Valentine’s Day and that’s exactly why I couldn’t see him today.  It’s complicated.”

#

Over the loud music and the roar of the revelers, Thalia yells at her stepmother.  “How the hell did you talk me into this?”

“I’m your ride home!  Now shut up and have another shot.  Live a little!”

Stacey turns back to her friends from the convention and Thalia considers calling a cab back to the hotel.  The group of older ladies were enjoying the Anti-Valentine’s Party atmosphere of the night club.  Although most of them were married, that didn’t stop them from flirting, accepting drinks or dancing with the scores of good looking men who stopped by their table.  The party scene had never been Thalia’s style, but she’d danced and was having fun.  However her responsibilities are too great and she’s exhausted from her long hours.  Sliding down from the barstool she reaches across the table to her stepmother to tell her she’s going to leave when a strong arm wraps around her waist.  A familiar scent fills her nose and a heat radiates through  her.  She tries to maintain a straight face.  Reaching around her, the solid brick wall of a man standing behind her slams another shot of the dark amber liquid down on the table.  Rubbing his cock against her curved ass, he growls in her ear, “Another.”

Picking up the tiny glass, she turns to face him.  She can’t hide her smile at the handsome face that floats before her, a sure sight for sore eyes in a sea of strangers.  Shooting it down quickly she hands it back to him with a wink. In her husky timbre she boldly says over the loud raucous crowd, “Four.”

With his head thrown back in laughter she pushes past him to the dance floor.  She can feel his eyes following every move, knowing her high heels add more of a swish to her ass than usual.  Realizing he desires her is so stimulating and builds her confidence. Over her shoulder she sees him visibly panting and trying to discretely adjust the already growing bulge in his pants.

Shaking her head she finds a spot in the middle of the crowded dance floor and begins to sway to the music.   As one thumping song blends into the next, he shimmies up behind her.  His grasp on her is seductive and as she moves the seam of her tight jeans pushes her panties between her aching lips, soaking up her flood.  Reaching over her head and behind them, she drapes her arm around his neck, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder.  Turning her head she yells in their close space.  “Chris! What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands reach all the way around her and rest on her belly pulling her back to him as they grind to a pulsing Latin beat.

“Stag night,” he yells in her ear.  “Some of my single friends thought they’d prey on heartbroken women.  Looks like they found some at your table.”  He nibbles on her ear and she lets him.  The movements are so sensual it’s like fucking in public.  As the crowd presses around them, his hands tease down her hips squeezing the tops of her thighs.  “Is one of those ladies your stepmom?”

“Shh… Don’t talk.  Keep doing that.”  She wants to lose herself in the music with him.  In public.  Like a goddamn real date on Valentine’s Day.  It’s like Cupid heard her wishes to be with one of her men; she pushes the thought away that maybe it’s meant to be a ‘sign’ that Chris was the one that appeared?

How could she ever hurt Tom?  How could she hurt Chris?  Her head pounds in a beating pulse and for one more night, she doesn’t want to have to come up with an answer.

His hands are rough on her body, tugging and pulling to the beat of the music, unknowingly lifting her from her negative thoughts.   His thick fingers grasp at her flimsy top and with each grope higher up her hips and sides, he lifts the silky red fabric until he can drag his fingers along the waist of her jeans.  Tickling at her belly button, he traces a path to the snap on her jeans.

Feeling her pupils dilate as another rush of wet releases between her legs she turns her face to his.  “What are you doing?   We can’t…” Her words come out as a rush of air, no real sound to them but the fire returned in his eyes lets her know she heard him.

“Look around, no one’s paying attention.  I can finger fuck you right here and no one would know.”

The sea of dancers swells around them and they are hidden in plain sight.  She can’t even see the group of Stacey’s friends and she doesn’t recognize a single face.  The ache in her body is intense.  Looking down she can see her nipples are hard, obviously peaking under the silk shirt, teased from the lace bra brushing against them.  “Aw fuck, Chris.  We can’t…”

Changing dance positions his other arm comes up over her shoulder and snakes over her breasts, pinching one of her peaks. “Fuck you,” she whispers.  “I already ache.”

“Let me make it better,” he offers quietly in return.

She leans back into his body, his cock throbbing and rubbing her ass.  If unclothed, he’d fit right into her.  No wonder he finds her heeled boots so damn sexy, she thinks.  We’re the perfect height.

“Niña, don’t think.”  His hands dip lower into her pants, the fabric relaxing and pulling away, allowing him access.  “You know if you want me to stop, you just have to tell me.  You’re so wet, I’m not even to your sweet pussy yet and I can feel your juices on my hand, our dance moves shifting your clothes, teasing you, spreading the wet.  The lace is soaked, baby girl.  So damn sexy.”

The dancers move and swirl around them, new pairings dividing off and others joining in.  Chris is her constant, pulling her to the edge with just his hands and his voice.  Her heart pounds in her chest.  Her head drops back against his shoulder and he bites her neck as he dips into her well, stroking the lace through her lips.  “Shit,” she moans.  Other party-goers jostle against them and his arm is bumped causing him to push deeper.  Not expecting the force, her ass pushes back against him and a gasp escapes her lips.  He keeps up the pretense of their dance as she melts in his arms.

Pulsating to the beat, Chris holds her tight and fucks her well.  “Thalia? Do you want me to stop?”  With a barely noticeable turn of her head, she breathes heavily against his skin.  “No.  No. I need this.  I need you.”

His hands are magic and she can’t say no.  His long fingers quickly make work of her as he whispers in her ear, encouraging her to let go, to relax.  “Come, come all over my hand and I’ll know it the whole drive home.”  His breath is hot and damp, and the smell of beer as he puffs against her skin seems to add to her own intoxication.  The music builds to a crescendo as she comes at his request, spilling over him and the dew seeping down her pants leg.

Removing his hand slowly, he wipes himself clean on the inside of her jeans, tugging her shirt back into place.  Keeping up their pretense of a dance, Chris holds her tightly so her limp form doesn’t collapse.  “Beautiful, so fucking beautiful.  Your mind, your body, your spirit, Thalia.”

Coming back to earth she can see Stacey’s blonde head bobbing up and down over the top of the other dancers, searching for her. Chris spins her quickly, her back to her mother and claims her with a kiss. “Let me take you home,” he begs.

Tucking her hair back she tries to clear her mind.  “No. We said ‘no Valentine’s Day’. This is pure coincidence; you got lucky I was here.  I’m staying with her at the hotel and I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.”  She pushes away from his massive chest, ignoring the pounding pain in her head.  “I gotta go.”

“Been a long time since I had a girl run off ‘cause her mother was looking for her,” he teases.

Thalia tugs at his shirt collar, catching a glimpse of his tattoo, one of her favorite quotes.  “Cradle robber,” she jokes, trying to make light of the situation.  What kind of magic spell did he just weave?  Bastard.

Yanking her close for a moment longer, he shakes his head in total disagreement.  “You’re all woman, and you’re mine.”

“Just remember, that makes YOU MINE too, so don’t you be flirting with any of these desperate old hags”

Fleetingly, he touches his fingertips to her lips and she smells the proof of her ownership. Pivoting on her heels to walk away, he smacks her on the ass.

When she reaches her table and gathers her coat, she looks around for him and realizes he’s gone.

#

The women decide it’s only three blocks back to the hotel so the walk in the cold would be easier than finding a cab.  Thalia mentions Uber and most of them look at her like she’s speaking an alien tongue, so she just falls back in the group.

The air is cold against her wet jeans and she fears the smell will be detected in the winter breeze. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” she whispers aloud, rubbing her knuckle across her lips like she does when deep in thought.

Stacey steps in next to her and links arms.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get out of my meetings today.  I can’t wait to see your new tattoo.  Glad you decided to go ahead and do it, for Amy’s memory.“  The blonde side steps some broken glass on the sidewalk.  “That was a fun night, baby girl!  I always wanna go out like that, but your father wants to sit at home.  I’m glad you came with us!”  She takes the end of Thalia’s pink scarf and wraps it tighter around her neck.  Thalia blanches at the use of her family’s nickname for her, having been so long since she’d actually heard family use it.  She palms her hand over her mouth and her stomach twists.

Baby girl.  Aw, fuck.  What have I done?  Stacey continues to prattle on, but Thalia hears none of it.  All she can think about is how she’s broken her own rule. Where did all her determination go?  She was the one who didn’t want either of them as part of her day, just to be fair to them both. She had wanted to prove to herself she could have fun without them. She shouldn’t have given in so easily, to Chris- letting him claim her like that, out in the open. But damn, the man is irresistible… She’s betrayed herself, dammit. And to top it all off she let him manipulate her thoughts and he fingered her in a goddamn public place where anyone could have seen them.  She feels sick about all the consequences if anyone from campus saw them.

“Hey, I lost ya.”  Stacey takes her room key out of her purse to gain access to the hotel lobby at the late hour.  “You okay?”

The women wait for the buzz of the door to let them in.  They all say their goodnights and head off in their individual directions, some staying by the warm fireplace to warm up and chat longer.

Thalia can feel the fakeness to her smile.  “Fine. Really. I think the evening just caught up to me and I’m dead on my feet.  I need some aspirin and to lie down.”

“Can do that, honey.”  Stacey replies leading them to wait with the group at the bank of elevators.  She leans in conspiratorially.  “Damn, I know you’re in love and all, but that man you were dancing with?  Hell, he was hot sex on a stick!  Yummy!”

“Stacey!”  ‘In love.’ Her stomach lurches at Stacey’s words.  Fuck.  She is.  With both of them, and her wanton public behavior tonight is such an insult to Tom and the privacy of their relationship… Jesus, what the hell am I doing?

“What? Just because I’ve been married to your father for sixteen years doesn’t mean I can’t look and appreciate the male form.  And believe me, he had a nice one.”  Stacey bumps her shoulder and giggles.

Girl stuff.  Thalia was never good at that.  Pulling herself together, she focuses on the now with her stepmother.   She giggles too and plays along.  “Yes, he did.  Solid too.”

“A man built like that?  He’s just right for a girl like you.  He could throw you around like a ragdoll,” Stacey smiles, her eyes bright from her slight inebriation.

“Oh my God.  Hello?  Boundaries.  You’re still my mother, ya know.”  Thalia laughs for real and shakes her head at the absurdity.  She wonders if Stacey will remember this conversation in the morning as she kicks off her heels in the elevator car.

“You need a man,” Stacey warrants, bending over to rub the ball of her foot.  “If men like that in clubs drool all over you, pick one.  And hell, I’ll stop worrying about you and food and your weight.  I’ve never had a man look at me like that before, honey.  Like he couldn’t wait to see you under all those clothes…” Other women from the club chime in their hummed agreement. The blonde tumbles a bit when the elevator stops at their floor. Righting herself she finishes with her audience. “If you can get a man like that one, take him and ride him to the altar and don’t let him go.”

Echoes of “hell yeahs” reach through the doors as they close and the silence to Thalia is deafening as they are alone and quiet for the first time all night.

Her demeanor changes and she sighs bitterly, really hoping her stepmother doesn’t remember her anger in the morning, just her words. “Dammit, Stacey, slow down.  Thank you for finally giving me permission to eat whatever the hell I want, that’s so kind of you…  But grasp your head around this one now: marriage isn’t in my cards.  At least not for a while…  I did not spend all this time and money on an education to give it up for a man and raise his babies.  I’m not ‘riding’ anyone anywhere right now, or for a long time for that matter.”

Her headache is growing worse by the minute and she just wants to get to the room and wash the club off her, the smell of smoke out of her hair.  She’s angry and she knows exactly why and Stacey just happened to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“Girl, you’re all grown up,” Stacey says as she slides the plastic card into the lock.  “You don’t need me to tell you what to do.  And I’m so proud of all the things you do… I just don’t want you to be lonely.  Find a good man, not a boy, and know the difference.  Someone who lets you be you and makes you want to be… well, more.

Stepping into the room, Stacey moves to her bed and flops down face first kicking her feet up in the air.  Thalia closes the door and leans against it, banging her head back and closing her eyes.  “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Pushing away from the door the quote from Chris’s tat swirls in her brain.  When you lose touch with your inner stillness you lose touch with yourself.  When you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world.

Tugging her fingers through her hair, she wonders if she even knows how to be herself without them anymore. It’s like being with them has opened a Pandora’s box, and now she doesn’t know how to close it again. All the new experiences, the self-discoveries. Even though it ties her brain into knots sometimes to deal with the secrecy and onslaught of a dozen different emotions, she wants this, needs this like air.

God, how far gone is she? Will there ever be a point that is too far?

#

When Thalia arrives to the student Commons for her meeting with Tom, she’s ten minutes late and gritting her teeth. She knows how much he values punctuality, but this morning, nothing much has gone her way, traffic was bad leaving the city, and she probably looks as frazzled as her mind is.

He’s sitting at the far corner, a little secluded, alternately fumbling with his glasses and rubbing his lips. Surreptitiously straightening her clothes and hair and wondering for the umpteenth time what he wants to talk about, Thalia walks over.

Her heart gives a guilty little lurch when she sees that he’s ordered her favorite morning treat – coffee and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese.

He looks up and his jaw tightens as he’s watching her approach.

Shit. She’s not sure she can handle a pissed-off Tom this morning, with the mix of emotions churning away in her gut and the almost sleepless night making her grumpy.

“Professor Hiddleston.”

She stops in front of the table, wondering what to say. He taps his watch and lifts an eyebrow, giving her that stern look that’s infuriating and sexy at the same time.

“You’re uncharacteristically late, Ms. Bareo.”

Ugh. No use making excuses. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, sir.”

His expression softens ever so slightly at the last word and he motions for her to have a seat.

Thalia tosses her bag in an empty seat and sits down, crossing her legs. Tom is wearing one of his hundred nearly identical sweaters today, and the soft burgundy fabric stretches invitingly over his muscles as he folds his arms.

With a swallow, Thalia shifts in her seat. She needs coffee to survive this.

To keep up the pretense, Tom goes through a few project-related things first while they work their way slowly through their breakfast. She keeps having flashbacks of Chris pressed against her on the dance floor, and of the conversation she had with her stepmother.

Why did this have to happen to her? All those years without a real man to catch her attention, and now she has two who couldn’t be more different but mean the world to her.

“Ms. Bareo?”

With a start, she realizes Tom has been waiting for an answer from her. Blushing, she takes a last fortifying sip of coffee.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes again.

He looks at her with narrowed eyes, but all of a sudden, his glare gives way to concern. Leaning forward, he lowers his tone. “Are you alright, darling? You look a bit out of it, to be frank.”

There it is again, the caring, kind side to him that not many people get to see, although he’s always politeness personified. She nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a bit of a rough night.”

“I hope your stepmother didn’t give you any trouble?”

“No, nothing like that. She and her friends dragged me into a club and we got in late. So I’m a bit hung over, to be honest.  I feel as if I’m over forty and they’re the party-hungry teenagers or something.  They were all laughing and ready to go this morning like it was nothing!”

Tom laughs his characteristic ehehe, but sobers up quickly. Now that the somewhat stern look is gone, she can see that he seems nervous beneath his mask. He keeps adjusting his glasses and pushing the rest of his food around on his plate.

Changing the subject, he asks, “Did you and your stepmother get your tattoos?”

Thalia caresses over the tender spot on her breast carefully. “Yea, I did.  Hurts like hell too.  But when the redness goes away, it’ll be beautiful.  Stacey claimed she couldn’t get out of her meetings, but I think she punked out at the last minute.”

Tom smiles warmly, but his fidgeting hands bely his usual confidence.

Why is he nervous when she’s the one who should be feeling like that? It only makes her even more anxious.

“Didn’t you want to talk to me about something?” she offers quietly, hoping to alleviate his anxiety.

He swallows hard and starts playing with his empty teacup, long fingers handling the delicate porcelain with utmost care. God, what those fingers can do. They’re just as lethal when they’re gentle as when they grab her hard enough to leave bruises. She wonders, if given the chance, would he have done the same at the club – driven her crazy with his nimble fingers, leave her panting and wanting more?

Probably so, and his words would have been filthier.

And she’d have loved every goddamn minute of it too.

Who the hell am I becoming?

She closes her eyes briefly and forces herself to focus.

When he speaks, his words are so low she has to lean forward to hear him.

“Would you be my sort-of date at the Alumni Gala next month?”

The napkin she’s been twisting slides from her fingers to the table.

“What?”

Tom runs a hand back through his hair. “Bloody hell, that came out all wrong. I’m sorry.”

He takes a breath and continues in a surer tone. “You know that my project is going to be honored, and I want you there by my side because you’ve played such an important role in it. Without your research, this wouldn’t have been possible.”

His blue eyes seek out hers, everything about his expression earnest and appealing. She can feel her pulse racing at the thought of accompanying him to the gala. He’ll probably wear a three-piece suit or tux and look way too handsome. But…

“Won’t I stick out like a sore thumb?” she questions, worrying her lip. “All the staff and dignitaries and VIP guests, and then plain, old, plump me.”

He narrows his eyes again, reaching out to her but stopping himself at the last moment and taking a gulp from his water glass instead.

“Nonsense, Thalia. It won’t be the first time in history that a grad student has attended the gala for some very valid reason.”  Looking around the Commons, it’s still rather quiet the morning after the holiday, and she sees now she isn’t the only dragging, hung over person on campus.

His voice drops and her gaze is drawn to his lovely angled face again. “Darling, there’s no way you could ever be ‘plain.’  You’re such a beautiful, charming creature.  Everyone will fall at your feet and want to listen to your musical voice.”

Blushing, she tries to read him and understand his uncertainty.  His gaze softens. “It’s perfectly alright for me to invite you. Nobody will think twice about it…and I’m pretty sure the sight of you in a gorgeous gown will make rational thought impossible for anyone, especially me, anyway.”

A flirtatious spark darkens his eyes, and she feels her resolve melt away.

“Please accept my invitation, oh fair and gracious lady,” Tom adds with a theatrical expression that has her suppress a giggle. “Have mercy on this poor lad who doesn’t want to face the crowd alone. I haven’t got the faintest idea how Americans handle such events.”

Feeling more herself now, she raises a brow at him. “So, you only want me there to save yourself the embarrassment of putting your foot in your British mouth?” she challenges.

Something in his expression shifts from one moment to the other. It’s an art he’s mastered, and it never fails to throw her off balance.

“Oh, I have a whole list of ideas how you could keep this British mouth of mine busy,” he half-growls in a low, deep voice that sends delicious shivers down her spine.

“Tom,” she hisses, “not here.”

She’s had enough with public displays of… lust this week.

A smirk curls his thin lips before he pretends to busy himself with a bite of now cold toast.

“Seriously, though,” he goes on, sending her a pleading puppy-dog look. “I’d love to have you by my side and sing your praises, maybe even steal a few hidden touches. You don’t necessarily have to stick to my side, though I’d love that. And it will look really good for you, academically speaking, that you’ve been invited and received some recognition.”

Thalia leans back in her chair and sighs. “You’re right, of course. As usual.”

He smiles. “So you’ll be my date?”

“I’ll be your guest,” she says, stressing the last word and automatically smiling back.

“Marvelous. Don’t worry too much about it, you’ll fit right in.”

“I doubt that,” she mutters more to herself than to him. Her eyes widen when she realizes something. “Oh my god, I don’t have anything to wear! What sort of gown do you think is expected?”

Tom runs an appreciative gaze over what little of her body is visible, and she feels it like a caress that warms her from the inside.

“I’m sure there are photos or something from previous events to get an idea. Just pick whatever catches your eye, you’re going to look more stunning than all the women there put together, no matter what you wear.”

Blushing furiously, she wants to say something, but Tom holds up a finger.

“And by the way, I’m paying for the dress. No, don’t even think of protesting. You’re doing me a huge favor and honor by accompanying me, and a gown for a gala dinner isn’t going to cost a couple of bucks. I insist.”

“But, but…” she splutters, only to be cut off again when he adds in a low, warning tone, “Are you going to be a good girl and do as I say, or do I need to pick out a dress for you myself?”

Well hell, that doesn’t leave her with much of a choice.

“Damn you, Professor, you aren’t playing fair,” she complains, crossing her arms.

“Stop pouting like this or I’ll have to drag you into the next best room and kiss the pout right off your lips.”

The sexy threat makes her breath hitch.

Damn, he knows just how to push her buttons.

“Yes, sir.”

The look in Tom’s eyes is full of promises.

“Glad we’ve got that settled then.  Choose something to show off your lovely legs.” He gestures to the meal. “Any more coffee or tea?”

Thalia huffs and shakes her head. Ever the gentleman, Tom rises when she does. He bends to retrieve his leather briefcase and uses the move to whisper into her ear.

“I can’t wait to see you bedazzle the crowd, my precious orchid. You’re going to make all the other wallflowers wither away.”

Click here for Chapter 25 Step Up

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

A Night at the Movies

ET ch 19 May 7 2017

Educating Thalia

Chapter 19

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

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: 3934

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, Dom Tom, sex in a public place, fingering, exhibitionism

Summary: Tom takes Thalia out on a date to the movies – and he has much more planned than just watching the screen!

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Tom approaches their meeting point in his car, anticipation making him drum his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s looking forward to spending some quality time with Thalia. Even though – or maybe because – they see each other every day at work, he’s been missing her.

It should probably bother him that he’s grown so attached to her, that he feels a little possessive pinch every time he sees her in someone else’s company – even if it’s just other students – but it doesn’t.

In the past, he used to overthink everything, and all that ever did for him was make him brood and steal his happiness. So for the past few years, he’s taken things at face value, has stopped questioning himself. His brain might be telling him that he’s inviting trouble by ‘dating’ Thalia, but his heart insists that it’s exactly the right thing.

“Shut up, brain,” Tom mutters under his breath, “just lose yourself in Shakespeare sonnets so my heart can get what it wants.”

He’s even considered going to the bar on the outskirts of town where Thalia works off and on. There’s a curious part inside him that wants to watch her in an environment completely different from campus. He has a feeling it brings out her tough side, the one that is closely linked to the sassiness she lets shine through the more he gets to know her.  He’s heard talk from students and faculty who have visited the bar about how she handles the tough guys and takes no shit, of how she somehow rises above all the drunken stupor, boisterous shouts, sullen drinking and rowdy games.

But Tom isn’t a bar guy at all, and it’s a ‘local’ bar, not designed for the college crowd. Something, a different voice at the back of his head, cautions him that it wouldn’t do him any good to stalk her like that. Perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps she needs a domain that’s exclusively hers, where she knows she isn’t watched by him and can be whoever she chooses to be.

He rounds the corner, slowing the car a little when the movie theater comes into view. For a moment, he wishes he could just pick her up at home, maybe have her invite him up for a cup of tea and some lazy kisses on the couch.

Turning right, he steers the silver Lexus into the parking lot.

There she is. Thalia is standing next to her cute little junky excuse for a car, her riotous curls tamed by a ridiculously long, pink scarf wrapped around her neck a dozen times and still hanging down to the hem of her knee-length skirt. Her coat and her skirt are black, so the splash of hot, feminine color is twice as striking from the distance. She’s stomping her bare legs in the cold, wearing her signature cowboy boots. Her hands are stuffed in her coat pockets, and she’s not watching the area for him but waiting with her head half-lowered.

When she hears the approaching car, she looks up, and he notices her thoughtful expression before a smile slowly transforms her face.

Tom parks a little away and gets out, shuddering once at the cold. He should’ve brought his own scarf. Then again, they weren’t planning on walking but on watching a special screening of Coriolanus, a stage play performed recently in London and now released worldwide for select theaters.

Pulling the hood of his coat tight around his neck, he ignores the fog on his glasses as he approaches. His lips stretch in an answering smile, forming laughter lines around his eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here, Miss Bareo,” he says with the lift of a brow. “Then again, I do know you’re a huge Shakespeare fan too.”

Her smile falters a little and she lifts a hand to tug on her orchid-pink enormity of a scarf.

“Who could resist the Bard – especially if such magnificent actors reenact one of his best plays?”

Shooting a glance left and right, Tom comes closer. He can’t help himself, he needs to touch her. There’s nobody to be seen anywhere near, and as the car park is at the back of the building, they’re in no danger of being discovered.

He leans closer and wraps her in his arms, inhaling her unique scent mixed with wool and biting winter cold.

Thalia takes a moment, then melts into his embrace, her arms coming up around his waist to press herself closer.

They remain like this for a precious moment while Tom resists the temptation to kiss her.

A gust of wind makes her shiver against him, and he rubs her back.

“Let’s go inside. We’re a bit early, but I can’t wait to feel warmer.”

She nods and they step away from each other, walking into the building. They’re close enough for their arms to touch, and Tom brushes a finger softly over her hand before putting a tiny bit more distance between them.

The next few minutes are spent exploring the place with all its Shakespeare-themed posters and paraphernalia, and then bickering goodnaturedly over what snacks to buy and what is the correct way to eat one’s popcorn. Tom insists on carrying their drinks and snacks, and he watches mesmerized as she unwraps those seemingly infinite layers of scarf and then loops the soft material around a hand so it’s finally small enough to stuff into a coat pocket.

He takes her to the hall, which is half empty. Their seats are at the very back. There are a few people right at the front, and judging from their animated talk they are Shakespeare enthusiasts. Several of the seats in the middle rows are occupied by younger and older couples who obviously had the same idea as Tom and want to share some privacy, probably not caring much for Coriolanus.

They settle down, Tom helping Thalia out of her coat because the place is surprisingly warm. She’s wearing a pink sweater underneath that is exactly the same shade as her scarf and stretches fetchingly across her ample breasts. He runs a hand over her shoulder and down her arm, briefly entangling their hands.

“Pretty. You don’t just smell like orchids, you look like them too.”

She raises her brows at him. “Ever the complementing gentleman, huh?”

“Why, of course.” He feigns shock, clutching his chest. “I couldn’t possibly not pay you a compliment about your outfit before we get down to business. About a million dead ancestors would roll over in their graves.”

That makes her giggle. “And what on earth do you mean with ‘getting down to business’, Professor?” she asks, her brows rising even higher.

He gives her his most innocent puppy-dog face. “Oh, just a general way of summarizing whatever may or may not happen during the next few hours.”

Now she’s narrowing her eyes at him, getting that sharp look of curiosity and intelligence that he loves so much.

“I thought we came here to watch a play?”

“Among other things,” he says airily and holds down a seat for her.

With an eye roll, she sits down, her skirt riding up to her thick thighs and making his hands itch to explore.

Tom takes a seat next to her and hands her the Coke. “Did you know that critics consider Coriolanus as the most opaque of Shakespeare’s tragic heroes? Compared with other grand works like Macbeth or King Lear, there’s hardly a revelation of his motives or a soliloquy. It makes him appear more like those ancient classical literature heroes like Odysseus or Achilles.”

Thalia cocks her head a little, listening intently. “Interesting. Wouldn’t that make him kind of difficult to sympathize with?”

“It does, yeah. Perhaps that’s why this play isn’t performed as much as others.”

“I heard there was a movie starring Ralph Fiennes that gave the story a modern twist?” Thalia asks, momentarily distracting him from lecture mode when she gulps a bit of her soda and licks a drop from her lips.

“Uh… yes. Yes, you’re right. A highly acclaimed actor and a stunning, quite provocative movie. Then again, today’s interpretation has earned a lot of praise too. There’s all that pride and militarism and Roman grandeur, but also so much subtle background story.”

They spend the next few minutes talking about the play and then veer to small talk, and something feels a little odd to Tom. Thalia seems distant, a bit subdued almost, although her smile – when she does smile – reaches her eyes.

Didn’t she mention she’d been with a friend? But that should have left her in a good mood.  He wonders why she isn’t as enthusiastic or flirty as he’d hoped?

Deciding to pull her out of her thoughts during another lull in conversation, Tom says, “You know, I’ve been in a couple of Shakespeare plays myself.”

That does catch her attention. She gapes at him, a handful of popcorn halted in mid-air.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He grins. “I swear, scout’s honor.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for an actor, Professor Hiddleston.” Wide-eyed, she grins back at him. “Tell me all about your acting career.”

With a sheepish smile, Tom rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not actual acting, just a bit of dabbling. It was for a college play both times, actually. I starred in Cymbeline and Othello. It was fun, once I’d died a thousand deaths of mortification.”

He’s interrupted by the lights going out and the sounds of people settling down for the movie.

For the next half an hour, they’re much too intrigued and enthralled by the play to talk much. They munch on their snacks, off and on elbowing each other or exchanging a glance or tugging on a sleeve when they want to share their delight.

When a shift of her body makes her skirt ride up higher, Tom remembers what had been his plan today.

Leaning over, he nuzzles her hair softly before taking her arm and draping it over the back of his seat so he can get closer and lean against it. She makes a content little sound, and after a moment, her head drops to his shoulder. It’s dark enough for them not to fear discovery.

Tom switches his popcorn to the other hand and rests his free hand on her knee. Thalia shoots him a glance but focuses on the shouting Roman general again when he simply keeps it in place.

He waits until she’s so immersed in the play that he will catch her off guard. Slowly, he lets his hand wander higher until he slinks it beneath the hem of her skirt and runs his nails over the inside of her thigh.

Thalia’s legs close, effectively trapping his hand between them.

“What are you doing?” she hisses out of the corner of a mouth, staring determinedly ahead.

The light is too low, but he bets she’s blushing.

“I think I’ve had enough popcorn. I’m hungry for a different kind of treat,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low and letting it drop to the deeper register that always works wonders with her.

He feels her shiver. When he wiggles his fingers against her skin, her legs open ever so slightly. It gives him enough room to slide his hand higher until his fingertips are brushing the crease where skin meets panties.

“Are you up for some naughty shenanigans, Miss Bareo?” he asks, leaning close enough to her ear that his breath fans warmly over her.

He sees her grip tighten on her popcorn bag before she draws in a deep breath.

“What kind of shenanigans did you have in mind, Professor Hiddleston?” she asks back in the same low tone.

“Let me surprise you, darling.”

A few seconds tick by, making him wonder again why she’s not as responsive to him today. But then she nods, and he licks his lips in anticipation.

“We’re in the last row, remember. Nobody can see us. And everyone’s either too busy making out or watching the play to notice anything out of order.  And you remember our safe word?”  Sexual encounters in a public place aren’t for everyone, and he wants her to know she has an out if she chooses.

She nods again.

“Are you a good girl, Thalia?” His voice is even lower and deeper now.

“Yes…sir.”

God, she remembered that. Tom feels himself grow harder and adjusts his position surreptitiously.

“Then you deserve a treat. Spread your legs wider, love.”

Thalia complies, her gaze never leaving the screen. He can hear her breath come a little faster.

Bending his wrist a bit, he runs his fingers softly over the front of her panties, stroking rhythmically without touching high enough to brush her clit. After a few strokes, the fabric goes damp.

Her popcorn bag wobbles in her now unsteady grip, so she sets it down in the seat next to her and puts her empty hand into her lap. It clenches into a fist when he moves his fingers higher and adds some pressure, rubbing over the hidden nub.

In the dim light, he can see her dig her teeth into her lower lip.

“Do you trust me, darling?”

“Yes.” Her voice is husky.

Tom leans closer still, speaking with his lips pressed against the shell of her ear.

“Then be a very good girl for me and take your panties off.”

“What?” It comes out as a mix between a soft shout and a startled squeak. From somewhere, a voice shushes them, and he can feel her muscles grow tense.

Tutting softly, he gives her clothed clit a pinch that makes her jerk and suck in her breath. Her eyes are on him now, wide and dark.

“Take them off. Now. And I’ll reward you.”

He removes his hand from under her skirt and shrugs out of his coat, draping it strategically over their laps. Moving with deliberate jerkiness, he knocks a chocolate bar down.

“Bend to pick this up and use it as a pretense.”

She holds his gaze for a moment, her breasts heaving with unsteady breaths.

“Hell, Tom, you’re a fucking menace,” she mutters darkly.

“And you love it,” he whispers back with a smirk, his cock twitching when she moves to obey his command.

Wriggling a little under the cover of the coat, Thalia slips her panties down and slowly lifts a foot at a time out of it while grabbing the wrapped candy.

“Hand them to me.”

Avoiding his gaze this time, she drops the wadded damp silk fabric into his waiting hand and he pockets it.

They settle down, watching the play for several minutes as if nothing happened.

Tom takes her hand, entwining their fingers and squeezing reassuringly. He can feel her shift, crossing and uncrossing her legs and fully aware of going commando in a movie theater.

“Have you ever had a quickie, Thalia?” he asks, taking care to keep his voice as low as possible. He brushes his leg against hers. “Some forbidden little tryst in the restroom or up against the wall in a dark corner?”

She sucks in another breath. “No.”

“Wrong answer. You should say ‘no, not yet’. How about I introduce you to the thrill of that one day?”

Her grip on his hand tightens like a vice.

“Would you like that? To let me pull you to a semi-secluded place and grind against you, plunging my tongue into your mouth and my fingers into your sopping cunt? Would you wrap your legs around me and let me take you so hard and fast you see stars? Make you feel so good that you’ve never wanted to scream more in your life but know you can’t? Would you let me fuck you so mercilessly that I’ll have to clamp my hand over your mouth and let you bite my fingers so nobody can hear you when you come all over my cock?”

He hears her mutter expletives in Spanish and English and can’t hold back a devilish smirk, although he’s enjoying this so much that his trousers are way too tight now.

“Does the thought of it make you wet?” he taunts softly. “Shall we verify that, love?”

Tom moves their joined hands beneath the coat and her skirt, brushing over the inside of her trembling thigh and inexorably closer to the Promised Land.

He touches her slick folds, their tangled fingers stroking and spreading the proof of her arousal. Biting back a groan of his own, he listens to her needy, soft whine. After a minute of stroking, her hips rise, her breath a harsh pant that only he is close enough to hear.

“More, darling? Want me to make you come right here and right now?”

“Fff…. god yes. I hate you for this, but… yes. Make me come. Please, Tom.”

“As you wish, darling.”

He tugs free of her grasp and moves her hand to her own thigh. “Dig your fingers in and hold on for the ride.”

Tom leans over her on the pretense of adjusting his coat over her, and it allows him more flexibility. At the same time when he slides two fingers into her soaking heat, he bends to capture her lips in a kiss.

He knows they’re not the only couple kissing at the moment, but nobody will be the wiser that he does it to swallow up the moans now rising from deep in her chest.

Without further teasing, he crooks his fingers up inside her to rub over the spot that will trigger her release. He rubs his thumb over her swollen nub and glides his tongue into her mouth, dancing with hers as she gasps, freezes and then clamps rhythmically around him.

While stifling her whimper and his own, he slows his movements to bring her down from her high.

Once she has stopped convulsing around him, he pulls out and settles somewhat painfully in his seat, his erection straining to have some fun too. He waits until she focuses hazily on him before he brings the slick digits to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Definitely tastier than the sweets they sell here,” he growls before stealing another breathless kiss from her.

Thalia slumps in her seat, so dazed she doesn’t even ask for her panties back.

“I think you’ve ruined Shakespeare for me,” she says amidst soft pants, and he can hear the reluctant grin in her husky voice. “I’ll never be able to talk about Coriolanus again without remembering this.”

“Likewise, darling,” he admits with a chuckle.  “And I have to present it once a semester in class.”

She catches him totally by surprise when her hand slides over his bulge and squeezes gently.

“Let me help you too?”

Tom presses her hand down, forcing himself not to buck into the more than welcome warmth so close to where he’s dying for her.

“Not here, darling. I need to be inside you, and I haven’t made you come nearly enough yet.”

He laces his fingers with hers, keeping their hands on his lap but out of the danger zone, not entirely sure that he’ll be able to control the monster he’s unleashed. Since Chicago, she’s a little more forward, more daring, and he loves it, but it also fills him with the weirdest wistful ache deep inside. For she isn’t his, as much as he wants to convince himself otherwise.  She’s like a wild creature who needs freedom, who shouldn’t be tamed, but could stand a little training.  As much as he wants her to himself, he reminds himself to be realistic. He can’t keep her forever.

That thought sits with him, a lump in his chest, and he can’t focus on the film before him, although the portrayal is amazing work. The rest of the play goes by in a blur, neither of them paying full attention or finishing the snacks, although his throat is parched with longing and he could guzzle two bottles of water right about now.

Tom rises as soon as the credits start rolling, tugging her out with him before people might take notice of who had occupied the last row.

They dump their stuff on a bench in the lobby and juggle their clothes, Tom taking it upon himself to wrap her in the never-ending loop of her scarf and nuzzling the softer than soft material that smells of her.

“Where would you like to go now?” he asks her. “I could rent us another hotel room and order take-away or room service?”

Something shifts in her face, which is still slightly flushed. She looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath.

They’re in a corner towards the back, alone for the moment. After checking left and right, Thalia takes his face in her hands. It’s an odd gesture, the tenderness of it jolting through him.

“Will…will you be mad if I decline?” she asks, her voice a little uncertain.

Tom feels something heavy settle on his chest and sinking lower into his gut.

There it is again, a small sign that something is off today.

He’d love to know why she’s reacting like this, but he knows it’s none of his business unless she wants to share it with him. So, he forces a smile onto his face, happy when it brings the spark back into her beautiful eyes.

“I have no right to be mad at you, Thalia,” he says. “Please don’t ever think you’re in any way obliged to spend time with me.”

She nods once, letting go of his face. He wants her hands back there, where they feel as if they belong. He wants her in his arms, in his bed, goddammit.

“Tom,” at the sound of his name he knows their little game is over for today.  “Don’t be that way. I love being with you, but I’m…tired. And I didn’t get much studying done this afternoon, because I was getting ready to see you.  This was a nice surprise for our ‘day off,’ but can we just go grab a quick cup of coffee? Maybe sit and talk for a bit? I’d really like that.”

Tom feels himself nodding like a loon, hears himself speak in a tone that grates on his nerves because the cheerfulness is all fake. “Sure, totally fine with me. There’s a great little bakery just around the corner?”

Her hand gently runs across the stubble on his chin as she teases, “You always know the best places to eat!”

He feigns a chuckle, and something in her expression tells him she’s seeing right through the farce.

Shit, he didn’t think it would be so difficult to face rejection from her. Not so soon, not like this when they’ve barely explored all the magnificent possibilities, but he feels like she’s leaving him behind.  Like something is weighing heavy on her beautiful mind.

Then again, he’s probably taking this far too seriously. Everyone has a bad day once in awhile. He shouldn’t read anything into this.

Pulling himself together, he leans in and kisses her on both cheeks, lips lingering a tad too close to her mouth.

“And I’ll share them all with you, love,” he says quietly, trying to mask the sinking feeling in his stomach. Buoyed when she links her arm around his, she pushes them out the door and onto the deserted sidewalk.

“Come on, Professor. Although I quite enjoyed the reasoning behind your clothing request, I’m freezing now. Let’s go!”

Click here to read Chapter 20 Disclosure

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

On the Pontoon

on the pontoon

On the Pontoon

Part 2 of Weekend Hideaway

An Emery & Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery find a little alone time during a large family gathering by sneaking off to check on the boat, down at the boat dock

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Adult Situations, Public Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex, Penetration

Word Count: 3013

Click here for Part One

“Chris, what if someone comes down here to check the boat?”

Chris removes his mouth from her neck, lifting himself up to look around.  “Kitten, there is no one on the boat dock. You already said the family is too busy getting drunk at the bar and listening to the band or back at the house, eating s’mores.” His blue eyes glisten in the light from the dock as he gazes down at her, pressed under him on the floor of her dad’s boat. “I can fuck you hard and fast if it will make you feel better?”

Emery chuckles, shoving the boat bumper away from her head.   “No, no.  I can do this.  Right? I’m an adult.  So why is my tummy jumping and I feel like a nervous school girl?”

Chris laughs when another boat passes through the cove and the bumper rolls back from the movement in the boat slip and hits her in the head again.  “Part of the fun is the excitement of getting caught,” he growls in her ear as he lies back beside her, grasping her hip.  “Relax.  We put the bag of empty beer cans in the path. If anyone comes down the dock, we’ll hear them knock into it.”

His mouth begins to work her over again, covering her neck and shoulders with wet kisses, designed to keep her fire going.  “God, I’ve missed you, kitten.  I need you.  Stay focused on me.  I got you.”

His voice, deep and calming, washes over her, lulling her into a sense of security.  She takes a deep breath, wishing she’d had a little more to drink earlier.   She remembers the bold feeling she had at the Christmas party they went to when she gave him a blowjob in the stairwell. But the idea of getting caught by his friends is totally different than the idea of someone in her family finding them.  She pushes the idea from her mind as he continues to whisper to her.  His words are puffs of warm air against her skin, fighting off the chill of the night air.  She becomes aware with each clutch of his big hand at her hip that he is gathering up the fabric of her maxi dress, exposing her legs to the cold.  She wraps her arms around his neck, cradling him close as his mouth finds the sweet spot just below her ear.  She rubs her hands over his new buzz cut, acquainting herself to the feel, rather ticklish against her palms.  She giggles and repeats the pattern over the top of his head as he begins to nibble her neck.

“Careful, mister. I can’t cover up with a turtleneck on the boat tomorrow,” she laughs.  “Damn you!” She admonishes him when he bites even harder.

“Sorry!  That one may leave a mark,” laughs Chris. “I really was just playing.”

“Uh- huh.  Likely story….”

“Maybe I should bite someplace less visible,” Chris springs quickly to slide down her body, settling between her legs.  He shouts out when his foot hits the swim ladder, creating a metal clanking sound that echoes on the dock and she laughs.

“You’re evil- taking pleasure in my pain…  Just for that, you’re gonna get it,” Chris taunts devilishly as he wraps his arm under her thigh, pulling her to him.  “I promised you’d like this haircut.  And you have to be quiet.  Sound carries across the water, you know.”

“Oh, cuz I’m so loud,” she giggles.

“Oh, honey, I’m gonna make you wanna scream my name.” His velveteen voice rumbles through her body as his hot breath hits against her thigh.  “Thank you for making this easy,” he graciously replies, untying the sides to her bikini bottoms and shoving them quickly into a pocket on his cargo shorts.

The boat rocks again as another moves through the cove, and they bounce in its wake.  Her leg rolls into the side of his face and he takes advantage by placing a slow open mouthed kiss on her inner thigh.  She squirms as he holds her tight.  “This is gonna be fun,” he teases as he looks up at her, triumph on his face.

“Got your energy back, did you?” she baits him, enjoying his caresses, loose enough now to play along.  She silently sends up a prayer that no one finds them.

“Mmmm…” he hums against her leg, tickling gently behind her knee.  He bends her leg up so he can kiss the same spot, knowing it drives her crazy.

“Fuck,” she whispers.  “You don’t play fair.”

Chris continues to move his mouth over the back of her knee, slowing sliding his lips up her inner thigh, nipping with his teeth as he moves along.  “No, baby, I don’t.”

They freeze momentarily when they hear voices and laughter on the dock, but the sound recedes and Chris returns to his task, moving his mouth leisurely from right inner thigh to left, biting and kissing, each a little harder than the next.  He looks up over her, where she has risen on her elbows to watch him, quietly swallowing the sounds she makes.  He winks at her before moving back down to brush his buzzed head against her thighs.

If she thought he was evil before she had no idea of the pleasure the soft bristles of his freshly shaved head would cause on her thighs as he slowly rubs the top of his head over her.  “Damn,” she hisses out, reaching to grasp the back of his neck.  She toys with his ear, gently massaging his earlobe and giggles when his pleasurable moan matches hers, echoing in her ears.

“I missed you, Em,” he whispers, reaching up inside the top of her low-cut dress, grasping her breast in his large, strong hand.  “I missed us,” he sighs.  He continues to tease her with his hand on her breast and his hair on her legs as she slowly begins to writhe beneath him, silently asking for more.  He pinches too hard on purpose, eliciting a squeak from her freshly licked lips glistening in the light of the moon.

Chris changes position, allowing his other hand to find her second pair of wet lips.  He gently runs his middle finger through her slick, smearing it from side to side.  He watches her with his dark lustful eyes as she holds her mouth closed to hold back any sound.  He turns his hand, twisting in and feeling her cunt already pulsing for him.  “I missed your wet pussy too,” he tells her, smiling at the blush he knows his words create on her cheeks.  “It’s so fucking beautiful, and I’m gonna eat it.”

“Shhh…,” she giggles, surprisingly aroused at his words.  He’s slowly been introducing her to things he likes that may push her comfort zone. Up till now, dirty talk hasn’t had an effect on her, but maybe she’s just missed hearing his voice in person rather than over the phone these last few weeks, but she knows this time his intimations have added to her already wet flood.

Twisting his thick finger in, he mimics the movements he plans to use soon.  Her velvet box has been lonely while he’s been away and he can feel how tight she is; how she needs him.  He’s so damned turned on how she waited for him without him even asking or requesting it, not even pleasing herself. He had no idea sweet, innocent women like Emery still existed in this world.  Chris smiles to himself, thinking how he can’t wait to wreck her in the best ways possible and claim him for his own, forever.  His cock hardens at the thought and he shifts slightly.  Making out on the hard floor of the boat isn’t ideal, but it seems to be the only space they could find free from her family.

Gently adding a second finger, Chris slowly stretches her as he thrusts in and out, pulling out her wet.  He moves in, nose first against her clit, holding her tight when she jolts, and laps at the dripping wet.  “You taste so good,” he murmurs against her, licking her again from top to bottom.  Tiny gasps of air escape her lungs as she bites back any noise she wishes to make.

“Fuck, baby,” she whispers, her Southern drawl filled with awe, “your tongue is magic.”

She brings her leg up and places it on the boat seat closest to her, providing her leverage to move with him.  She rocks against him as he fucks her with his tongue, moving to hold his head closer to her.  He moans quietly against her, throbbing against her clit, pushing her closer to the edge. His warm tongue slips between her folds and he slowly drags it up. She shivers and moans into the damp night air. His tongue continues to wash her slowly, over and over, until he finally brings the tip of his tongue to her pink button. She doesn’t know how much more she can take as his mouth wraps around her clit, sucking hard.  Her sharp intake of air doesn’t stop him as continues his assault, flicking his tongue repeatedly over the sensitive spot, and she bites down hard on her palm, while her breathing falters.  She squirms and whimpers but he doesn’t let up.

The boat rocks in the dock again as another boat moves through, carrying more revelers for the party at the lakefront bar.  The sound of music and laughter carries across the cove and smoke from a grill fills the night air. Chris watches her intently, smiling as the boat bumper rolls and hits her in the head again.  Her swollen clit throbs, aching for him, and he doesn’t want her to wait any longer.  Hell, he doesn’t wanna wait any longer.

With his own strength, he powerfully flips her over, grabbing the rounded boat bumper and putting it under her belly, beautifully tilting her ass up in the night air just for him.  He grins at her gasp of surprise, and she reaches back with one hand to grasp his.  “You okay?” he asks quietly.  The squeeze of her hand is the only response he needs and she lets go, reaching for the towel next her to hold tight to as he continues his play.  He rises and crawls between her spread legs, still sitting low so if anyone walked past the boat he couldn’t be seen in the dark.  He messages her tight ass, slowly spreading her cheeks.  “Soon, kitten, you know that, right?”

She’s lost in her heat and moans in pleasure, “Sure, baby, you can fuck my ass, but not tonight,” she giggles.

She holds in more sounds of squeaks and mewlings as he licks her pussy, and revels in the shudder she experiences when his tongue caresses the rim of her ass.  He can’t resist her anymore.  Her instant pleasure at such an intimate touch hit him hard.  He quickly unzips his pants, releasing himself just enough to roll on a condom. Chris places the tip of his hard cock at the entrance of her pussy and pushes in gently, holding back his desire to slam into his love.  Her walls expand around him, making room for his girth, welcoming him home.  Her sounds of pleasure are quieted as she hides her face in the crook of her elbow.  He uses the rounded surface of the boat bumper to roll her on and off his cock as he adds power to his thrusts.

His heavy breathing turns to quiet moans.  She smiles as his penetrations come faster and harder, she quietly moans for him, knowing he wants her noise, the noise she’s kept quiet for so long.  The sound that escapes her is so animalistic to her ears she surprises herself.  Her tits harden as they push into the floor of the boat with each thrust and she feels her pressure building.  She squeaks again at the pleasurable pain of the carpet burn on her chest, and he comes fast and strong to her sounds, pumping into her hard from behind.  Her whole body bounces with his force and her ass slams back onto his cock.

He rides his wave of pleasure, slowing his thrusts, but not letting them die out.  He pulls out and flips her over gently, shoving the boat bumper away.  Bringing her leg up under his arm he pushes into her gently, all the way in, to complete her own release.  He bounces her a few times, scooting her across the floor with his force.  She grabs the base of the captain’s chair and uses it help her to push back against him.  Her eyes gleam in the moonlight and lock on to his.  “Do it.  Make me come,” she whispers.

He pulls out and her hips rise to him before he pushes her back into the floor forcefully as the crest of her orgasm wracks through her body, the heat stinging them both as she comes for the first time in weeks. He pulls in and out, following the movement of her hips, guiding him to give her all she needs.  As her muscle contractions slow against him, he grabs the condom at his base and slowly pulls out, collapsing next to her.  He ties it off and throws it over the side of the boat, to be washed away by morning.

They lay in the dark, a mess of cum and sweat.  He wipes her clean with the towel and cleans himself.  “Still breathing, Miss Emery? Or did I kill you?” he chuckles as he pushes back her curly hair.

“Thoroughly fucked.  Thank you.  I needed that.  Welcome home, baby,” she giggles in response.

With a kiss on her forehead, he replies, “It’s good to be home.”

She sits up and pulls her dress over her head, a hint of the devil in her eyes. “What are you doing?” Chris asks, already knowing the answer as she stands at the back of the boat.  Her body is highlighted in the moonlight and the shadows follow her curves as she gracefully dives in.  He moves over to drop the swim ladder as she jumps out of the water like a mermaid- his own little Ariel, with her pretty red hair.  She pulls up on the ladder, her beautiful breasts exposed and kisses him before splashing him and swimming away.

“You’re a sticky mess too, you should dive in,” she offers.  “Water’s not so bad.”

“It was fucking cold in day light; everyone said it won’t warm up till July,” Chris says, not wanting to jump in the cold, dark water.

“Cleaner than the Boston Harbor,” she teases. “You swam in it before, and you said it was cold?”

“I don’t know about cleaner. I just saw a condom float by,” he jokes as he pulls up the hem of his shirt, removing it in one graceful pull.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” Emery says with love and admiration. “How’d I get so lucky?”

Watching from the water, her man stands on the swim deck of the boat, his chiseled abs and arms outlined by the moon behind him.  She follows her eyes to the taper of his waist and watches with delight as he unbuttons his jeans and slowly begins to slide them down his hips.

“Whoo! Baby take it-“

CRASH!

“What the fu-? Who left this here?” Preston Thomas, Emery’s father grabs the bag of empty beer cans and sets it aside. “Who’s that? Who’s down on my boat?”

Diving below the water, Emery swims into her uncle’s boat slip, out of sight.  Chris can’t help himself.  “We are, sir,” he calls out.  “It’s your daughter, I tried to stop her, but she insisted on skinny dipping. Can you believe that?”

“Christopher!” she shouts as both men chuckle.

“Son, she’s just like her mother…”

“DADDY!”

“Sir, I really didn’t need to know that…” Chris replies, blushing in the dark, trying to wipe that visual from his mind.

“You embarrass my baby, I’ll get you right back,” Preston admonishes his future son-in-law.

“Sorry, sir, you’re right.  Sorry, Em,” Chris replies to her smiling face peeking over the edge of the dock, grinning when she winks at him.

Preston checks the locks on the ski cabinet and puts away the dried life vests.  “There’s dry towels in the bench up front, and I think there’s still some beers in the cooler.  We’ll have to get fresh ice in the morning.”  He organizes a few other things, staying far enough back from Emery for the privacy she deserves.  “If you two head up to the bar before the band quits playing, you could probably catch a ride with the family back to the house.”

“Ok, thanks, Dad,” Emery says.  “Can you go now; I’m freezing?”

“’Night, darlin’; Chris,” he says, waving good-bye as he walks away, chuckling, taking the cans for recycling with him.

“Should we go back and have some s’mores?” she asks.

“Why don’t you come up here and we can have ‘s’more’ of somethin’ else?” Chris invites her coyly to join him back in the boat.

Pushing her wet hair back and laughing, Emery giggles. “Mmm… That sounds promising.”

Watching her execute one more dive under, her round ass bobbing up above the surface, Chris stands at the back of the boat with a towel and beer waiting.  She climbs the ladder, wringing the water from her hair.  Chris sits the beer down and holds the towel out of her reach, grabbing to kiss her first.  He quickly wraps her in the dry towel when catcalls are heard from across the cove.  Her teeth are chattering from the cold and he picks her up in his arms, carrying her over to the bench seating where he proceeds to warm her up again. And again.

Part Three: One Too Many

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

The Flight

the flight pap shot

The Flight

Actor Chris Evans shares a flight with an angry seat mate…

Chris Evans and OFC (Reader)

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, exhibitionism

Word Count: 2150

When I see my seat mate for the next several hours, I groan under my breath.  I ask him, “I thought you and Scott were switching seats?”

“No, he and Shanna started a new game on his tablet while we were waiting, and they decided to sit together,” he says.  “Are you okay with that?”

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to contain my frown.  “Just keep your big muscly arms off my arm rest, and don’t talk too much.  I’m tired.”  To accentuate my point, I yawn as I reach down to get gum and hand lotion out of my bag.  I offer him a piece, and he gladly accepts it.  He sees the small bottle of lotion in my lap and raises an eyebrow.  I ignore him.  I’m just not in the mood.  My bag doesn’t want to fit under the seat, so I give it a kick and I make it fit.

“Bad day?” he asks with a chuckle.

“My boyfriend and I had a fight this morning before saying goodbye,” I grumble.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, curiously.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.  I’d rather be grumpy and wallow for a while.”  I pull my headphones out of my pocket, watching him place the gum slowly in his mouth.  He turns to smirk at me, and I know he caught me looking.

“Asshole,” I remark.

He chuckles.

I pull the current copy of Sky Mall catalog out of the seat pocket in front of me, and turn on my headset.  I can see him playing with his phone, and true to his word, he does his best to keep to his side of the arm rest.  He laughs that I actually pay attention to the announcements from the flight attendant right before take-off.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

“Yea, I just hate to fly,” I say.  I smile when I think back to my first plane ride as a little girl.  I remember sitting with my mom and nearly crushing her hand.  I can see him watching me out of the corner of my eye, and I wipe the smile from my face.  I turn my attention back to the magazine, and pray silently that this flight seems faster than it actually is.

As flights go, it isn’t too bad.  He falls asleep shortly after take- off, avoiding small talk with me, and for this I am grateful.  In sleep, I can admire his beauty.  There really is no other word for him.  His dark eyelashes grace his pale cheeks, and the stubble is starting to grow back in from a recent smooth shave.  His scent is intoxicating, and I hate that it makes me feel things I don’t want to feel right now.  I don’t want to think these things about him.  His strong arms are folded across his chest, and I can admire the veining in his arms, for reasons…  I chuckle to myself as the attendant bumps my elbow with the beverage cart.  “Son of a bitch,” I whisper under my breath as I rub my elbow.

He stirs and says, sleepily, “Can ya get me a rum and Coke?” and then has the nerve to drift back to sleep.

While the attendant takes care of the family seated across the aisle, I reach under the seat in front of me and pull out my portfolio.  I plan to use the time to try to get a little work done, but I can already start to feel the need for sleep to take over.  It’s been a long week of travel, and I just want to get back home to my own bed.  I pull out my blanket too.

He wakes again when I sit his drink on the tray in front of him and he sleepily pulls two candy bars out of his bag and offers me one.  “Thanks,” I say, not wanting to be rude.

“I hate your blanket,” he grumbles.

I knew he would. The giant yellow symbol in the middle of a black field annoys the hell out of him.  I can almost feel his irritation.  That’s why I brought it along for the flight.  “Ya know, there are other comics besides Marvel…”

“Not good ones,” he scowls.

I feel him watching me as I put the strawberry scented lotion on my hands.  I hate the dried out feeling I get from the pressurized air in the cabin.   I roll my eyes when I hear a small groan escape his lips.  Great.  I just need lotion for my dry skin, and he’s getting turned on, watching me massage my own hands.  I don’t want him to think those things about me, goddammit.   I put the lotion in the seat next to me, and turn my attention back to my club soda.

He asks me a few questions and we make small talk.  I try to ignore him, but this time, he isn’t so easy to get rid of.  “What are you working on?”

“Just some editing that came in the other day.  The company wants to look at the manuscript my friend wrote.  Since I talked it up so much, they want me to baby it and carry it along.”

He raises his eyebrow.  “Is it any good?”

I smile.  He knows I work as an editor at a publishing company, but I don’t think he really understands what I do.  I laugh.  “I wouldn’t try to build my name at work if I didn’t think she didn’t deserve to be published.  She’s worked and trained her craft for years, and has really proven herself worthy of a published work.  I’ve been reading her work since the beginning and I’d like to be there when she hits big.”

His hand shakes his glass of rum and Coke, hitting the ice against the sides, causing it to clink.  He sits the glass down and looks at me seductively.  “She’s lucky to have you for a friend.”

I can see his hands starting to move across his tray, inching closer to mine, and I move my hands away, opening the file and placing it in front of me to begin reading.  Again, not wanting to be rude, I quietly answer.  “Thanks, but I’m the lucky one.  She’s a great friend. And this writing is very… inspirational.”

He looks at my quizzically as I try to hide my laughter at my loaded comment.  I pretend I don’t see him, and I begin to lose myself in my work, editing for spelling, grammar and inconsistencies in the story.  I check my phone and realize we have barely made it half way through the flight, and I sigh deeply.  The cabin is cold and the air makes me congested.  I feel my eyes getting heavy, so I put my pen down and close the manuscript.  I shift in the seat, trying to get more comfortable.  I close my eyes…

I wake when I feel his hand on my waist.  His hands are warm and soft.  I can smell strawberries.  He put the lotion on his hands?  His strong fingers inch across my belly, and he whispers my name.  I try not to acknowledge him, but I’m sure my breathing gives me away.  Damn him.  He gently kneads the soft spot on my belly that won’t tighten no matter how many sit-ups I do.  “That was interesting reading,” he says quietly.  “I’m wondering if it had the same effect on you that it’s had on me.”

I sigh.  I should have put it back in my bag.  He knows I’m awake now.  I should stop him, but I don’t want to.  I wanna know just how far he is willing to go.   I feel his fingers dip down below the waist of my leggings, sliding along the top of my panties.  I bite my lip to hold back a smile.  I shouldn’t let him do this…  He continues to run his fingers slowly down to my silky covered mound.   I want to turn and watch him, but I keep my eyes closed.

“You’re so warm,” he growls quietly against my neck, his scruff tickling me.  I jump, not knowing he was so close and he chuckles.  “I bet you’re hot and wet.”  His fingers nimbly shove the fabric to the side, slowly dipping his longest finger inside, no pretense at being gentle.   He is met with an already pooling wetness, infuriatingly caused simply by being near him.  I can hear his sigh and a change in his breathing as well.  I try not to gasp and draw attention to us.  “So perfect,” he barely breathes out against my ear.

“Shh… Shut up,” I respond, shaking my head.

He chuckles again.  Insufferable asshole.  I should have made him trade seats with Scott.  This is not what I want but I can’t bring myself to stop him or the way my body betrays me.  He shifts in his seat so his arm can have more freedom to move under the blanket.  And he uses that to his advantage, slowly sliding deep in and out, avoiding my clit.  He pulls the wet up with a hooked finger and slides it over my outer lips, pushing against them, tugging at my skin.   The wide span of his large hand allows his other fingers to caress against my thighs at the same time.  A jolt washes through me, and I choke back a groan.  My head drops to the left, resting against his, and he breaths against my neck.

He varies the rhythm to which he enters and pulls out, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough.  He leans forward, as though he dropped something on the floor, changing his position to enter me even deeper as he slides in a second finger.  My breath catches as I am once again caught unaware by his movements.  His digits remain deep as they continue to penetrate me, and scissor back and forth.  I can sense a swelling and feel myself dripping around him, worrying the seat under me might be getting wet.  I squeeze my walls around him and he begins to grind his palm against me.  His arm across my chest holds me in place as I thrust up, aching to finish.  A small squeak escapes from my lips and he murmurs, “Come for me.”

His velveteen voice adds to my need to release.  A few more thrusts of his middle finger along with his other fingers squeezing my outer lips, and I rise up for one push against his palm.  My orgasm breaks and I squeeze his fingers tight as I come all over his hand.  He slows up his movements, matching my breathing as I come back down, slowly sliding his fingers out and repositioning my now dripping panties.  He gently rubs his palm over my covered mound.  He slides his hand up slowly, and I can tell he is wiping my juices off on the inside of my leggings. His hand slides back across my belly as he removes his hands from under my clothes and he pulls his hand out from under the blanket.

From the corner of my eye, I can see him raise his hand to his mouth, and as I bite my lip from his additional tease, I watch as he licks away the remaining drops of my sweet cream.  He steals the blanket and wipes his hands, and I pray my scent is not overpowering in the plane cabin.

I can’t bring myself to look at him.  I try to hide my smile and pretend nothing happened.  He goes back to his phone, and I go back to my manuscript.  It is now full of post-it notes where he made notations as he was reading.  Fucker, I quietly chuckle.

My phone buzzes and I read the message on the screen:

ARE YOU STILL MAD AT ME? OR DID THAT CHANGE YOUR MIND? LOVE, C

I grin when I see him watching me out of the corner of my eye.  I text back:

I SAW THE FACE YOU MADE. FORGOT YOU HAD THE STRAWBERRY LOTION ON YOUR HANDS TOO, DIDN’T YOU?  I MIGHT STILL BE MAD. LET’S MEET IN THE BATHROOM AND SEE IF WE CAN RESOLVE ANY ISSUES. LOVE, ME

*****************

Notes: I hate the cover is a pap shot. But it was the only picture I could find that perfectly fit this story.  Please forgive me!  A special thanks to my best girl and beta  thewife101.  It seems like I wrote it for you, but I was needing some hand work at the time!   Thanks for your guidance!

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom