The Bet

The bet aug 12 2018.jpg

The Bet

Educating Thalia

Prologue 2018 pt 2

Collaboration by devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

Professors AU

Thalia holds Tom to his promise- whatever she wants for a WHOLE day since she won their World Cup bet!

Warnings: NSFW, language, fingering, oral sex, household chores, intercourse

Word Count 3556

This is an interim piece, catching up with Thalia Barreo and her life. Right now, she’s with Tom, but that doesn’t mean Chris is forgotten… Find out how the story ends in the sequel to Educating Thalia, coming soon!

If you don’t know the story of Thalia and Professor Tom, or how Professor Evans fits into all this, start at the beginning! Read Educating Thalia on WordPress.

Thalia is in heaven today—even if her imaginary halo keeps getting caught on her horns…

She won the World Cup bet with her boyfriend, Professor Tom Hiddleston, and she’s chosen this day to have him be at her beck and call. She wants to make good use of their time before he returns to his home for work. Their jobs keep them busy, she works in Paris while he still teaches literature at a small prestigious university in the countryside, near London. But they always have time for one another, and their summer holiday together was exactly what they both needed. Winning the bet was just an added bonus! Since this morning, she’s made him do all sorts of things, relishing the power she holds over her usually so dominant man.

It started with breakfast in bed. A full English breakfast, of course. Gotta put her British gentleman to proper use, after all. He managed to have it all ready at the same time, hot and tasty, and fed her bite after bite while Thalia returned the favor.

Then she decided some lazy lounging in bed was in order, and she ordered Tom to read to her in his ‘sexy professor voice’. That turned her on so much that she almost jumped his bones right then and there, but she held back. She has plans for her devoted manservant today!

“Now what, Mistress?” Tom gives her a mock half-bow and a radiant smile. He seems to be enjoying himself as much as she is, taking great care to be polite and fast but also sneak in little caresses.

Thalia stretches, relishing the way his eyes grow darker and hungry in an instant when it displays her curves. She’s still wrapped in her blanket whereas Tom dressed in dark jeans and a ratty, almost see-through T-shirt to prepare breakfast.

“Now you put those long, beautiful fingers to good use, Thomas,” she croons.

His eyes darken further, and the tip of his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“Oh, I can think of several uses for them,” he says with one of those squint-eyed winks of his.

Thalia feels a shiver of anticipation run down her spine but keeps herself in check. Not yet, Chica!

“So can I.” With a grin, she points to a flat, square box in a corner of the room. “Check what’s inside this one.”

Brows quirked, he gives her a long look, then shrugs and goes to get the box.

“Do you by chance have any naughty shenanigans planned, Thalia?”

Her grin widens. “Yes and no.”

Now looking confused, he opens the box, then shoots her a glance of complete bewilderment. He holds up a big, round wall clock, one of those where you can program a different time zone for a smaller clock integrated in the face.

“Perfect. Now be a darling,” she said, pronouncing it his English way, “and hang it on the wall for me. Right there, close to the desk.”

“You want me to…want me to…” Tom spluttered, and she giggles into her hand.

Oh yes, this is going to be such fun.

“Yes. There should be a hammer and nails in the other box I kept there.”

“But…” He stares at her, throat working, eyes blinking. “You know I’m a horrible handyman. I’ll end up getting a fist-sized hole in your wall or hitting my own hand. Or breaking your new clock.”

Tom has an adorably pleading expression on his face that makes her want to giggle again.

“You’ll do just fine. I won’t even mind a crooked clock because I’ll enjoy watching you.”

With an exasperated shake of his head, Tom sets the clock down on the desk and pads over to the second cardboard box she’d indicated, muttering, “Why did I ever agree to that bet?” under his breath.

“Wait.”

He half-turns. “Yes?”

“Strip first.”

The expression on his face is priceless and so comical it could’ve been taken right out of a children’s cartoon. He looks as if she asked him to take her to the moon in a private spaceship.

“What did you say?” he croaks, voice a little higher than usual.

Thalia sits back, crossing her arms and smirking gleefully. “I said, strip for me, Thomas.”

“I…” He blushes crimson, still looking confused as hell. “I thought I was supposed to hang the clock?”

“And you’ll do exactly that—but naked.”

“You’re out of your beautiful, crazy mind, woman!” He’s still blinking and blushing.

Thalia cocks a brow at him, trying her best to lose the humorous expression and glare at him imperiously. “Did you, or did you not, promise me you’d do anything I want for a whole day? Are you a sore loser? A coward?”

Tom’s chin comes up and his jaw firms with the challenge, just as she thought it would.

“You know I always keep my promises!”

“Well, then.” She waves her hand, dismissing it, motioning him to get on with it.

Mumbling expletives under his breath, Tom crosses his arms and shucks the T-shirt. “You’re quite the pervert, darling,” he grouses, one corner of his mouth twitching as if he is holding back a grin. “Are you living out your naughty handyman porn fantasies?”

It’s her turn to stare and huff. “Maybe?”

“Enjoy the show, then.”

With more enthusiasm now, Tom steps out of his jeans. Of course, he wears no boxers beneath, so Thalia gets to ogle him in all his mouth-watering, panty-soaking glory.

“I’m afraid I’m not hard enough to pound nails quite yet,” Tom quipped, “So I’d best use the real hammer.”

Leaving her gaping with his awful pun, she hears him snicker quietly to himself as he goes to retrieve the tools from the box.

“You keep up those terrible jokes, and you’ll be glad you seem to have a special and intimate relationship with that hammer… You don’t wanna lose it.”

He chuckles, turning to discreetly flip her off as he wipes his middle finger across his forehead.

God, he looks gorgeous like this. Unabashedly aroused, Thalia watches him bend and get what he needs. He saunters back to the desk and grabs the clock, and then goes to work without any more protests but still blushing. She knew he would play along, but she underestimated how sexy he would look doing something so mundane yet manly.

Fascinated, she drinks in the play of his muscles as they flex and bunch. His ass looks even sexier than usual when he stretches to try out the right spot for the clock, his calf and thigh muscles and his back muscles and biceps all making her hands itch to touch him.

Milking the situation for all its worth, she has him shift the position a little more left and right and up and down before she finally settles on a place where he’s supposed to hit the nail into the wall.

He’s, as suspected, rather clumsy with such a simple task and almost bangs his own thumb, but somehow, disaster is averted.

Deed accomplished, Tom turns around, and it takes all her willpower to keep her gaze on his face.

“Happy now, darling?”

“Very.” Smiling like the cat that got the cream, Thalia feasts her eyes on him.

“Now, I do believe one of my pantry cupboard doors needs a screw tightened. On we go, Mr. Fix it.”

Throwing his head back, Tom guffaws his signature ‘ehehehe’.

“You’re a minx. Not that I didn’t know that before.” He shoots her a look when she gets up to lead him into the kitchen, blanket still wrapped around her naked form. “A screw to be tightened, hm? Oh, I’m really good at screwing.”

He waggles his eyebrows and it’s her turn to laugh. With a groan, she punches his arm.

“Stop it with the puns. Your professor humor isn’t nearly as funny as you think.”

* * *

For the better part of an hour, Thalia makes her ‘slave’ do all sorts of tasks around the house, and to Tom’s credit, he never loses his sense of humor. Bowing and teasing, thinking up puns and making a real mess of even the easiest fixing jobs, he keeps her entertained.

Thalia makes sure she brushes by him to hand him things, leaning close to point out a mistake, oh so accidentally touched him when handing him tools he needs. He isn’t unaffected by it, oh no. With nothing to hide his body, his gradual arousal becomes obvious.

But even though this is her game, she’s affected as well. How could one not, when he’s a fantasy come true?

“I’m really glad you chose to become a professor and not a carpenter,” she muses with a grin when Tom uses the screwdriver all wrong for the umpteenth time. But oh, those veins in his arms pop nicely when he does that. And he’s worked up a fine sheen of sweat by now, tempting her to lick his glistening abs or draw her fingers over his sparse but lovely happy trail.

“Me too.” He gives her an exasperated look. “Now, unless you want to spend a whole week fixing what I bungled in an hour, you’d better think of something else I should do.”

With a snort, she nods.

“I think you need a wash…and I will join you.”

“Now you’re talking.” Wiggling his brows again, a gleam comes into Tom’s eyes as he steps closer.

Thalia holds up her hands, stopping his progress.

“Remember our first date years ago? When you invited me to the hotel and prepared a bath for me? Pampered me?”

Tom’s pupils dilate, but the smile he shows her is more love than lust, and it sends a spark of awareness through her. “I’ll never forget that day, Thalia. In fact, I haven’t forgotten a single moment ever shared with you, darling. If only you’d acknowledge what…”

She shakes her head and he shuts his mouth, breaking eye contact for a moment. Unspoken words hang between them, but neither of them seems ready to face the music.

“I’ll go get that bath ready,” Tom mutters and leaves.

Thalia swallows but refuses to wallow in thoughts. Today is supposed to be fun. They will battle their demons later.

And so she sips some left-over coffee and idly wanders around the small kitchen, ignoring the papers from her latest work offer, listening to Tom whistle while he prepares her bath.

“Ready whenever you are,” she hears him call after a while and walks towards his cheerful voice.

The scent of orchids drifts to her as she enters the bathroom. The tub might be a bit smaller than the one they shared in the hotel in America but she’s chosen this place because it’s at least big enough to accommodate her curves. Frothy lavender-colored foam greets her alongside the flowery bath bomb fragrance.

Tom is waiting for her with an outstretched hand, now crooking his finger to beckon her closer. As that day, he slowly undresses her, kneeling at her feet and pulling the fuzzy blanket away from her body. He presses tiny, teasing kisses along her thighs and belly. He nuzzles softly, inhales her in that way he has and sends her senses tingling.

“Let me pamper you, my magnificent warrior princess,” Tom whispers, reaching up and pulling her down for a kiss.

Their lips meet gently at first. Seeking, soothing. Then he slides his tongue in and takes over, just for a moment, just long enough to make her insides quiver before he withdraws and takes her hand.

He leads her to the tub where nice-smelling steam is rising temptingly. Before she can even squeak in surprise, he’s lifted her into his strong arms and lowered her safely into the water. God, she still loves it how easily Tom can handle her, and how much tenderness lurks beneath the strength.

With a contented sigh, Thalia scoots forward in the warm, scented bath water. Tom climbs in behind her and draws her close so that her back rests firmly against his chest and his thighs cradle hers.

For a few blissful moments, they stay like this, soaking in their togetherness, calming their ever-lurking arousal.

“Let me wash your hair?” It’s more of a question than a command, and to her that speaks volumes.

“Yes, please.”

With a small hum of satisfaction, Tom uses the detachable shower head to wet her hair, then grabs a shampoo bottle. As soon as he begins massaging her scalp and sifting his tapered fingers through her hair, she closes her eyes in bliss—then opens them in surprise when his voice filters through, low and deep and almost hypnotizing.

She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies,” he starts reciting the poem by Lord Byron, not stopping until he’s finished it.

Knowing they need to talk, it makes her emotional. The university hiring committee is waiting for her answer, but she can’t bring herself to broach the subject with him. Just not yet. She knows he won’t like it, but she’s asked them to find an opening for him too. But the opportunity is too good to pass up this time, especially if she wants further funding for research… Pressing her eyes closed tightly and telling herself it’s simply the shampoo making her eyes sting with tears, she loses herself in the moment.

Once Tom is done massaging, he washes her hair lovingly, then repeats the whole process with conditioner.

“More?” he asks softly, and she swallows past the lump in her throat and croaks out a “yes, sir” automatically, even though he is technically her ‘slave for the day’.

“My good girl. Let’s pamper you some more.”

Tom’s hands glide over her body, slick with body wash. Kneading and molding, washing and caressing, leaving no inch of her untouched. With torturous slowness, they make their way up her thighs and skim to the insides, grazing the sensitive skin with only the fingertips and blunt nails, scratching ever so slightly to make Thalia shiver.

“More?” he asks again, and this time she can only nod.

One hand wanders back to anchor itself on her hip, a firm grip that will probably leave a faint bruise and stakes a claim as well as keeps her in place. His other hand is as gentle as can be, drifting between her thighs and seeking. Then finding unerringly as his fingers slide through her folds, slick despite the water and despite her attempt to control herself.

The digits part her folds, stroking and rubbing softly until she bucks into his touch with a soft pleading moan.

“More?”

“Y-yes, please.”

Tom’s teeth scrape over the nape of her neck at the same time as his fingers apply more pressure. Thalia is torn between arching into his touch to finally persuading him to slide his fingers inside and rubbing back against the erection growing firmer against her ass now.

Tom bites her a little harder, at the tender spot where neck and shoulder meet. His fingers, in sharp contrast to his mouth, remain gentle. Elusive even as she tries to wiggle her hips. They skirt past her swollen nub, stroke her slick lips, delve below to the first knuckle only to withdraw and leave her clenching on emptiness.

“Tom, please.”

“How do you beg for it, my precious warrior princess?” His voice is a growly purr, she can’t even find words for how it sounds and what it does to her.

“Please, sir.”

With a low sound of approval, Tom hooks a foot around her leg and spreads her thighs further apart. His mouth continues its ravenous assault on her neck and shoulders, nipping and licking and sucking, and finally his fingers lose some of their teasing gentleness.

He crooks his digit to slide lower and deeper while grinding his palm against her clit, applying just enough pressure.

“Come now, like this, or you won’t get to come for a long time yet.” She hears his order before he tugs on her earlobe with his teeth, and the words trigger an automatic reaction.

It takes only a few more flicks of his wrist and slicks of his tongue for her to clamp tightly around his finger and moan out her release.

“One down, more to come,” she hears Tom murmur through the haze still surrounding her, and he even keeps a straight face despite another groan-worthy pun.

Thalia has barely blinked herself alive again when she’s being moved effortlessly again. The next second, there’s water splashing everywhere and her butt hits the cool edge of the tub.

“Tom, wha-?”

Her protest dies in another moan when Tom scoots her forward and kneels between her thighs to nip his way along them to Promised Land.

“Will you come for me again?” He gazes up at her from between her legs, eyes ablaze with hunger and intense focus, so close to her folds that she can feel his breath.

“Yes. God, yes.”

The fire in his eyes seems to burn brighter before he lowers his face and begins to lap at her. It starts out with little kitten licks, flutters of the tip of his tongue, then longer sweeps as if he’s cherishing an ice cream cone. When her fingers wind into his damp hair and hold on for dear life, Tom delves in for real.

Her whimpers and gasps echo in the bathroom as he drives her higher and higher, even adding the tiniest nips to her swollen lips and little sucks to her needy bundle of nerves. He snakes that unfairly long tongue into her, then drives it up and circles and circles with maddening precision until Thalia comes apart for him a second time.

Panting, she needs a moment to recover, and she knows she’s just made some more memories she’ll never forget. When she can focus on Tom again, he’s licking her essence from his lips, one hand holding her steady while the other is almost reflexively curled around his shaft, stroking.

Fuck, that’s hotter than it should be.

“God, I could get used to this,” she says half to herself, and he quirks his infuriating brows.

“Just imagine how often I could ‘pamper’ you if we spent the rest of our lives together.”

For a moment, he looks as shocked at his remark as she feels. But the next moment, he leans forward to give one of her furled nipples a hearty suck before glancing up.

“Bedroom?” he asks.

“Bedroom.”

She didn’t even intend to get to the naughty part of this day so fast but it feels so right that she doesn’t want to change a thing. There’s always the afternoon and evening for more ways to make him pay his debt. And they’ll talk tomorrow. Or the next day… There’s still time before he goes back to work, still time before she has to answer the teams’ inquiry.

Tom rises to his glorious height, water sluicing over his pecs and abs. He gets out of the tub first, then helps her and rubs her dry with a towel before giving himself the same treatment with obvious haste.

Once more, Thalia is being lifted into his arms, and this time he nearly stumbles because she kisses him with all the fierce longing inside her. God knows how he does it, but he doesn’t break the passionate lip-lock or dump them both on the floor when he stumbles to the bedroom.

She lands on the mattress with a bounce and can barely draw in a breath of anticipation before Tom crawls over her. Letting her feel the weight of his body on hers, he runs the tip of his nose along her throat, jaw and cheek, breathing her in.

“I just want to…I just want to love you right now. No kinky business. Okay, darling?”

Thalia lifts a leg to wind it around his hip and make him settle in the cradle of her hips.

“Okay.”

How did he know that she’s been longing for exactly this? Even she didn’t know it until he uttered the words just now!

Tom backs away a little, kissing her pebbled nipples and brushing his mouth back up to seal it over hers in another heart-melting kiss.

He brings his hands up one by one, linking his fingers with hers and drawing them up to rest on the pillow. For a moment, they stare into each other’s eyes.

Then he angles his pelvis, tightens his grip on her fingers, and slides into her with a slow thrust that has him sinking deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.

Her moan mingles with Tom’s low groan, and she feels him shudder once.

They move in sync, her body rising to meet each of his thrusts, his breath mixing with hers when he kisses her again and again until he’s everywhere and everything.

Another shift makes him hit that magical spot inside her, and Thalia clenches around him, causing him to whimper and lock his jaw.

“Now.”

She holds his gaze. “Now.”

And when he increases his speed and keeps brushing over the place that makes her see stars, she comes for the third time, triggering his own release.

“I should definitely lose bets more often,” he wheezes a few moments later, his chuckle as weak as her sated grin.

If you don’t know the story of Thalia and Professor Tom, or how Professor Evans fits into all this, start at the beginning. Read Educating Thalia on WordPress.

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

 

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Birthday Sweets

birthday sweets june 13 2018.jpg

Birthday Sweets

an Emery&Chris story

by avenger-nerd-mom

On a secluded boat dock, Chris and Emery celebrate his 37th birthday together

Warnings: NSFW, language, cunnilingus, anal fingering, intercourse

Word Count 2781

June 2018

Humming a little tune, Chris clears up their trash, throwing the items back in the picnic basket. Looking at his watch, he gets a little concerned, wondering what’s keeping Emery so long. Tossing the bread crumbs in the lake he watches as small fish swarm around, trying to get their fill. He smiles when he hears her steps pounding down the dock. Turning to watch her, his heart fills with pride at her beauty and grace, hidden under a flirty summer sundress, and criss-crossed tan lines on her shoulders. His face lights up. “Why didn’t you just go behind the tree?” he teases.

She stops dead in her tracks, hand on her hip, the other hiding behind her back. “Because, I’m a lady,” she quotes, “that’s why!”

Falling forward gently from his squatting position, he lands on his knees, resting his fists on his thighs. He effects the same accent from one of their favorite Disney movies, and asks, “What’s hiding behind your back?”

She giggles. Returning her voice to her casual Southern drawl, she replies, “Well, I know you said you didn’t want cake until all the family comes down this weekend, so-” Emery swings her arm around, presenting a small gift bag, “here’s a little something till then.”

She steps forward, kicking off her sandals and handing it to him, before carefully sitting on the edge of the plaid blanket. He peers down into the bag and lets out a whoop of excitement. “From Leopold’s?” He asks, pulling out a travel container of ice cream.

She grins, happily nodding and pulling out two spoons from her pocket. She’d arranged for his favorite flavors to be packaged up from their favorite shop in Savannah to make the journey without him even knowing. “There’s more up in the cabin. This is the rum cake one.”

Pulling the lid off carefully, he licks the smear of melted cream stuck to the top. “You really are the best birthday party planner ever, Em. How’d I get so lucky to find you?”

She shrugs her shoulders as he rocks back again, landing on his butt and crossing his legs ‘indian-style’ to sit on the dock. “We have had a good day, haven’t we? Sleeping in, hiking, swimming-”

“Getting sunburned-”

“We’ll put more aloe on later,” she says, dipping her spoon in the small cup when he passes it to her. “I kept telling you to put on more sunscreen.”

He points his spoon to the water, pointing out where a fish  jumped out above the surface. She nods, acknowledging she saw it. “Just more proof you’ll make a great mom someday. You’ve had plenty of practice with me.” She bristles at his comment. “I know, I know. You’re not my mother,” he chuckles, bumping her shoulder. “But you are good at taking care of people, making them feel special.” He waves his hand wildly. “All this… I feel so loved.”

She scoots forward, dropping her legs over the edge of the dock. “Because you are.”

“I am, and I feel it every day. I am really lucky to have you.” He holds the cup to her again, and she takes another spoonful. He watches as she slowly licks the spoon, savoring the flavor before pulling it off with her tongue. “Still can’t believe you rented out the whole damn place; it’s awesome.”

“Well, you were fussing on me to be more extravagant and relax about money. I didn’t want anything for myself, so spending it on you seemed logical. Besides, it’s not like I really rented out the whole place. Another couple was supposed to be here, but the owner said Saturday when I talked to her they canceled, and no one else was booked. She said it’s ‘cause of the draught, and the water is too low for boats to get back up in here.” Emery reaches for another spoonful of ice cream. She yelps when a fish nibbles her toe, and she kicks her feet like crazy to scare them away. “That’s when I told the lady not to rent out the other cabins, and we settled on a price.” She swipes away a dragonfly buzzing around her head.

“When I told you to spend money, I didn’t mean on me. But I like we enjoy this together. It’s good we like the same outdoorsy things.”

She bites her lip to hide her smile. Turning towards him, she lays her spoon down, finished with the ice cream. She raises her eyebrow. “I like doing other kinds of outdoor things with you as well.”

Chris laughs, the sound bouncing off the water, and echoing back. “Oh, really?” He sets down the finished ice cream cup. “What did you have in mind?”

Emery grabs his ankle and untucks his feet, pulling his leg out straight as she begins to climb up his body. He leans back on his elbows, watching her prowl. She pauses, tugging on the hem of his shorts. “These pants are ridiculous,” she says.

“Scott picked them out,” he smiles.

She shakes her head. “Ya know, I knew from the first night we met, I liked you. Wanna know why?” He nods and she continues. “One of the first things you said to me, that got you in trouble, was when you quoted dating advice from your brother. I thought, ‘that’s a guy that loves his family no matter what’ and I knew we’d get along. But, uh,” she runs her hands over the buttons on his shirt, “don’t take fashion advice from your gay brother either.”

“I thought I looked good? You complained I looked too much like a ‘dude bro’ the other day at lunch?” He smiles, watching her hands as she pushes against his chest, flattening him to the dock.

She rolls her eyes, resting her body on his belly and sitting up. He places his hands on her thigh, her skin warm from the summer sun. “That restaurant was too fancy for you to be wearing workout gear and a frat-boy ball cap… And yes, you do look good right now.” She reaches down and scratches his scruffy chin. “Like ‘Harvard Hottie’ grew up and became a professor. I like it.” She moans softly as his hands grace up her legs, higher and higher.

“Em!” In total disbelief, he asks, “Did you leave something back at the cabin?”

“Yup!” She pops the letter ‘p,’ lifting her skirt and flashing him, showing off she’s already wet.

His hands slide under her, lifting her from his chest. “I really like this new, playful, horny as hell, wife I have. I should turn thirty-seven all the time,” he growls, bringing her forward.

She scoots her knees along, following his lead, and he watches her excited smile grow. The fading sunlight casts a warm glow as it drifts through the trees. He wants to freeze time, to make every moment count. He kneads her ass, pulling at the soft flesh. Pushing her higher, she lifts her knees over his shoulders one at a time, her feet resting on his biceps and toes curling under his arms. Wrapping his hands over her thighs, he spreads her succulent pink lips. “Is this present just for me?”

He kisses her thigh on the left, as she murmurs her approval. Blowing out cool air across her exposed sex, he moves across to kiss her on the right. He lifts his head, running the tip of his nose against the delicate skin of her inner thighs. Her skin rises into goosebumps despite the humid air.

“You still hungry?” she asks, voice husky and skittish with anticipation.

“I believe I am.” He paws at her with his strong hands, bringing them together to meet, pushing his thumbs against her clit as she gasps. Forcing her down, her ass rests on his clavicles while his tongue dips in the sweet well. With a languorous lick from front to back, he grips her thighs firmly. Holding her tight so she can’t squirm away, he repeats the action again and again. Her sweet juice floods his tongue, replacing the faint flavoring of the ice cream treat. “So lickable,” he moans quietly, probing gently with his tongue.

Leaning back with her hands grabbing his pecs, she grinds herself against his mouth and chin. He knows the beard is an added sensual bonus. Peeling his eyes open, he sees nothing but the setting sun, low in the sky, shades of pink and purple. His attentions bring forth quiet pants and cries from his lovely wife, and the sound causes a tightening in his pants. “Louder, Kitten, there’s no one around to hear you.”

“Mmmhm,” Emery moans, breathing hard and gripping the sides of his ribcage. Her manicured nails scrape his shirt and he wished there was less clothing between them.

Slowly blinking his eyes closed, his tongue laps through her again. Tasting her inner core, his nose grazes her clit. She jumps in his arms, leaning forward and pushing his head away from the sensitive spot. “Baby,” he chuckles, opening his mouth wider for a soothing lick, easing the sensitive spot.

Wanting to thoroughly please her, he closes his mouth sloppily over her lips, teasing with his tongue. Imitating a French kiss, he explores her delicious pussy. His beard is wet with her dew and he swallows the flood, wondering how long she’ll last.

Gently she reaches down, caressing the top of his head, running her hands through his hair. “You’re gonna make me come.” Massaging his scalp, she lifts his head, pushing him deeper into the wet pool, barely able to breathe.

Chris’s hands grip her ass, squeezing and pulling her close. Her hands at the back of his head, tug and pull his hair, moving his head back and forth. His tongue flicks in and out, caressing against her clit and against the side of her swollen lips. She falls forward, supporting herself with one hand while the other still plays in his hair. Her shift brings her closer to his mouth and lifts her ass into the air. His hands clench the rounded bubble, pulling her cheeks apart as his tongue continues to work. Trapped under her, his movement is limited. But it’s the best place to be! Her sounds grow louder as she rides his face, grinding in a circular sway. Gathering her slick, he wets his thumb and brushes across her taint at the same time his lips gently suction over her clit. Tenderly, he tortures her with his mouth, sucking and pulling an orgasm from her as he teases her pulsing asshole with his thumb.

Seduced by the added pressure, her tiny cries grow louder. Leaning forward on both elbows, her pussy pulls away. Lifting his head, he keeps their contact as she calls out, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Her legs spread wider and his thumb eases in, up to his knuckle. The release of fluids is too much to swallow, but he laps up what he can as she continues to ride his face. She pushes her ass against his palm, his thumb gliding in deeper and his lips slide free from her dripping cunt. “Fuck me, now,” she purrs, laughing at her command.

His beard is liberally coated with her runoff and his thumb remains trapped inside her hole. Crawling out from under her, he quickly swipes his face against the plaid picnic blanket. “We really should camp more often,” he chuckles. He slowly rolls his hand around, twisting out his thumb, watching the tiny hole close back up. He playfully nips his teeth across her tight ass, giving it a smack for good measure. Rolling to his side, seeing her stance, his stomach tightens.

Her beautiful backside is in the air, and she’s positioned her legs back together. Her spine arches and she’s resting forward, collapsed on her arms. The flowered sundress is bunched around her waist and one of the straps hangs down her arm. Glistening in the setting sun, her ripe juice runs down her inner thighs. “Don’t move,” he growls, unbuckling his belt quickly and pulling his pants down to his knees. With a few quick pumps of his hand, he’s hard and ready. Crawling towards her, he leans forward, running his tongue up her thigh and catching a drop of her sweet release. He positions himself behind her, guiding his hard cock through the wet mess.

“Chris, don’t play, come on and fuck me,” she says, reaching over her shoulder and twisting her hair up, off her neck.

He can see beads of sweat laced along her neckline, and he bends over her, blowing a cooling breath across the back of her neck and shoulders as he slips his thick head between her lips. The walls of her pussy hug his cock, sucking him in, molding around him. Made for each other. A perfect fit. “What a gift,” he sighs as he pushes deeper, bottoming out. He stills while she shifts her weight, bunching the blanket up under her knees. He looks around, having forgotten they’re outside, on a boat dock in a deserted campground. Fireflies have begun to zoom around as the sky turns to dusk and tree frogs begin their nightly sounds. “Do you see this, Em? It’s beautiful.”

She giggles, lifting her head up to look around, and back at him. “It is; we should fuck outside more often.” Her mirth rings out and she begins to slide off and on his cock.

Chris guides her, one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder, pulling her into him. The sound of their skin slapping together and her whines each time he thrusts into her, expelling her breath, fills the night. As their lovemaking continues, he senses her frustration, knowing her so well. His knees are killing him on the hard, wooden surface, but neither of them are quitters. He slides his hand from her shoulder, grasping at her breast. Working his fingers under the dress neckline, he pulls down, exposing her, pinching and fondling the tight peak. He begins to whisper words of encouragement, his other hand sliding between her legs. Emery rocks back into him, spreading her legs, presenting her clit as he wraps his fingertips around the small bundle of nerves. Her whines grow, each being pushed from her body. “Fuck me, Evans,” she demands into the night.

He chuckles again. “So tense, Kitten. We got this. Relax, baby. Relax.”

Her slick pussy works his cock to perfection, holding him snug and he can feel his own climax building. She changes positions again and he smiles when her hand joins his, pressing over her hood as his hand swirls quickly around her clit.

He drops his other hand to the dock to support them as she begs him to go faster. He thrusts harder and deeper, tilting into her, hitting her soft walls, buried with each stroke. Giving as much as she’s taking, her body slows as her orgasm begins and she begs, “Don’t stop. Too perfect.”  

Pounding in and out, each stroke now takes him out of her body,  bouncing across her rim before sliding back in. Hard and fast. Strong and deep. The pulsing of her cunt around him is tight and her noises echo in his ears, bouncing from the trees and water. His unstoppable force rises, and he is helpless against its’ tide. Lost in her own orgasm, he joins her, the feeling so intense, his cries match hers. Filled with his seed, their lovemaking, she falls forward on the dock, holding his wrist and pulling him down with her. He collapses over her, careful not to drop his full weight. Her body still trembles under his as she falls back to reality. “Happy Birthday,” she sings out, light and airy.

He kisses the back of her neck, wondering if this is it. Did they just start a life? Thirty-seven and he still feels he’s failed, not being a father yet. Not giving her what she wants most; their child.

“You’re thinking too loudly. It would be a great birthday gift, no doubt, but don’t stress on it.” She lifts her shoulder and he rolls off. She turns to face him. “Shhh… Stop thinking,” she says as she caresses across his forehead. “It’s fuckin’ hot out here,” she states.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s a long walk to the shower house.”

“Are you suggesting we skinny-dip, dear husband?” She lifts her head, resting her chin on her palm. With her other hand, she begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Sounds like a good plan,” he agrees, reaching across to unzip her dress. “Another present to unwrap… More birthday sweets!”

Read more about Emery and Chris in their novella, Georgia on My Mind, and their story collections

Copyright © 2018 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved.

Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Private Dancer

private dancer june 5 2018.jpg

Private Dancer

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris has a late night encounter

Warnings: NSFW, public nudity, dom/sub tendencies, anal fingering, denied orgasm, talk of bondage

Word Count: 3884

July 2018

Head back against the wall,Chris slouches in the old metal chair, too tired and achy to move. He waves goodbye to the others, leaving for the night, and swipes his hand out to the side, hoping his grasp will reach the water bottle in the chair next to him.

“Go home, man, it’s enough for one day,” a voice calls out.

“Yea, yea, I know,” he guffaws, the tiredness seeped in his vocal chords. “I might run through it again.”

The bottle pressed to his lips, the water is cool as it runs down the back of his throat, refreshing. Just when he thinks he can’t take the heat, the air conditioning in the worn down building kicks on, causing the windows to rattle. He takes another swallow, running the back of his arm across his forehead, chilling his skin as the sweat collects in the hairs on his arms.

“Too fuckin’ old for this, Evans,” he mutters to himself.

He downs the rest of the water quickly, grunting in pain as he leans forward to untie his shoes. He lazily pulls one off and it clunks to the scuffed floors. The lights click off overhead and he calls out, “Hey! I’m still in here!”

Static screeches through the stereo system and a familiar guitar riff fills the room. A spot light shines down from above on a form in the center of the room, a curvy figure outlined in the shadows as her hips sway to the first beat. He bites back a smile as her heels click on the floor, executing a perfect spin before falling to her knees, crawling towards him. On the prowl, she keeps to the cadence of the song, a seductress he’s never seen before.

Her stance wide, hips sashaying from side to side, she taps the rhythm and stomps in perfect syncopation. A halo of curls swirl around her, a wave of red, blazing fire, hiding her face. Unable to see her expressions, he wants to watch her feet, the sound clear and crisp, in strict, guarded movements. But his eyes are drawn to the sweet jiggle of her ass in the high cut booty shorts and her strained nipples against the tight t-shirt, cut and knotted between her firm breasts. Her hands run over her body, wanting and needing, the music pulsing through her, creating a heated sexual energy in the room.

Every move is practiced and fluid, almost effortless. Yet even in the cold room, he can see sweat collecting on her lower back, at the waist of the form fitting shorts. She’s working hard, and has his attention. Resting back in the chair, he palms over his hardening cock, turned on by this show, just for him. His private dancer.

He aches to touch her. Realizing he can glimpse her backside in the mirror behind her, he enjoys fruitfully all the bouncing muscles rolling under the athletic strain of her performance. As she stomps, reaching forward gracefully, he wonders how he hadn’t noticed the cane on the floor before. The way she grips the core causes him to groan quietly, shifting uncomfortably now in his seat. His tired aches are forgotten as she crawls across the floor some more, sliding along on knee pads. With a final click of the long staff against the hardwood floor, the music ends as mysteriously as it began.

He jumps from his seat, in wild applause as she stays bowed before him, breathing heavily and slightly panting. Padding forward in his socks, he swoops his hand under her waist and swings her up to her feet. Still hidden under the mass of hair, he pushes it back from her face, her blue eyes shining bright. “Holy fuck, that was awesome! The sexiest thing I’ve ever-”

Her mouth closes over his, swallowing his words, a hard, forced kiss, teeth gnashing against teeth. His arms pull her tight, his body flush against hers. Heat. Adrenaline. Pure sex appeal. His hands roam over her lusty ass, down the backs of her thighs as he tries to get closer, to crawl into her as she pulls and tugs his plump lips between her teeth, her tongue diving into the far reaches of his mouth. Clawing at his hair, holding him close, her leg slides up his, wrapping behind his thigh, holding him even closer. His hard cock twitches, grinding against her barely clothed body.

With a satiated sigh, she pulls away, an almost shy smile creeping across her face. “Fuck, that was sexy,” she whispers.

Her throaty twang reaches to his dick, causing another jerk, pushing into her. Holding her ass closely, his hands creep under the fabric cupping her rounded cheeks. She’s so wet, already primed. He begins to lower his wife to the hardwood floor, ready to take her here and now.

“Evans, you aren’t doing me on the hardwood floor,” Emery laughs, fighting against him to remain standing.

He looks around quickly. “There’s dance mats.”

In a quick spin, she extricates herself from his hold, “There’s also three cameras from different angles filming the dance, and your reaction.”

He grabs her hand, spinning her close to him, sliding his hand from her knee up her thigh, gripping her waist as he thrusts against her. “This is my reaction.”

“I know; I saw,” she giggles. “Thank god you didn’t whip it out and keep stroking.”

Chris looks around, seeing for the first time the tiny red glow from a camera light. “Let’s just turn off the damn cameras?”

“How about we drag our achy, sore bodies to the hotel room I booked across the street?”

“You did not?” He incredulously intones.

“I did too,” she smiles wildly, gliding and tapping away from him, just out of his reach. She runs around, turning off the cameras and tucking them under her arms while he puts his street shoes on. “Shontae just said to lock up. She’ll be back in an hour or so to close up for the night.”

He takes the cameras from her hands, catching her fingers in his grasp and brushing his thumb over her sparkling wedding ring. “Shontae. She helped throw this together? I didn’t know you could still tap.” He remembers now pictures around her parents’ home of various dance recitals and years as a cheerleader. He chuckles as she lowers herself into the metal chair. “All the bruises, and aching muscles? That wasn’t from working out with Don at Drive495?” He’d hated knowing while he was running scripts and warming up for evenings on Broadway, that she was often getting in afternoon workouts with his pal, Sebastian Stan. He didn’t care she’d lost fifteen pounds, and enjoyed the routine. Jealousies run deep…

“Oh, no, I was still working out with Don and Seb,” she replies, running her hands down her sculpted abs, “but Shontea came into the city once a week to meet me at a studio, and she and another trainer worked with me to get this little surprise ready for you.” She lazily points to a bag in the corner while sliding off the knee pads. “Can you bring me my shoes? I’ll walk across the street dressed like a hooker, but I’m not ruining my taps.”

She hugs the heels to her chest and he chuckles, scooting his feet across the floor to get her bag. He groans, reaching to pick it up. Crossing the room again, he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to pull his tired, pained body up out of the chair if he sits again, so he leans against the wall, watching her slide on a pair of athletic sandals. “How long you been working on this surprise?”

Her brow furrows, as she presses her hands to her thighs, pushing herself to stand up. She winces. From her bag, she pulls out a water bottle and aspirin, offering him some as well.

“Last fall? When you started dancing again? After some classes last fall in Atlanta, I realized my body could do it, so I came up with this crazy plan last December.” She tilts her head back, swallowing the little pills, massaging the nape of her neck. She raises her eyebrow. “The room has a giant jet tub…” Changing back to the subject of dance, she continues. “I thought it would be a fun surprise. Give me something to do while we were in New York…” her voice trails off as she places her hand in his.

He throws her bag over his shoulder, leading her to the door. Pulling it closed, he makes sure it locks and they slowly walk down the stairs to the street below, each hiding the muffled “ooffs” of muscle aches and pains. “Too damn old,” he whispers again.

“Speak for yourself, I’m in my prime,” she chuckles, nearly stumbling into him when he stops on the step.

“You just keep getting better with age,” Chris admits, throwing his arm around her neck as they step out of the building, onto the sidewalk. “You really do look like a hooker, very Julia Roberts, Pretty Woman.”

“Thanks,” she says, tucking into his side and looking down the walk for observers. With a quick kiss on his lips, she shakes out her hair, untamed and free. No cars coming, they jog across the road quickly. “This place is probably used to it,” she chuckles, pulling open the door to the older city hotel.

“Right? It would be my luck to get caught by a photographer right about now, though. Hidden on a back page in the Boston Herald… ‘Hometown Hero Up to Old Tricks.’” He laughs, following her through the lobby, just a step behind to watch her ass. The clerk nods, a blush reaching the younger man’s cheeks. Chris tries his best to hide his scowl. Jealousies run deep…

“Caught with hookers here before, honey?” She teases, shaking her head disapprovingly at him. Goosing her as they wait for the elevator to arrive, she turns away from him, shaking her head and pushing away his hands.

“Not hookers, but…” He decides it’s best to let the sentence trail of when she raises her eyebrow higher than he thought humanly possible.

When the box opens, he advances towards her and she gracefully steps back. It clicks in his head she’d been carrying herself well, proud and confident, for the last few months. Finally growing into the role as a celebrity icon herself. Working out and dancing had been good for her, primal and empowering. The doors close and he pushes her against the wall. Rolling her eyes, she reaches around him, and punches in the number for the top floor. With her back to the wall, his hands grip her waist, his thumb caressing over her exposed belly button. He delights in the catch of her breath, the tiny goosebumps that bubble across her skin. Looking down on her petite, svelte figure, he beams with pride. “What is this anyway?” he teases, his hands ghosting up her muscled form, tugging at the knotted fabric between her breasts.

Her eyes drop to his hands, and he fumbles momentarily before the fabric falls free, exposing her breasts. Keeping her blocked from any surveillance, his hands cup the heavy globes, squeezing the warm flesh, feeling her nipples pebble under the caress of his palms.

“You better fuck me good tonight, Evans,” she warns, her voice heavy and rich.

The door buzzes and opens. She tugs the fabric together, clutching it to her chest, barely covering herself and walks around him.

He covers his face in his hands, chuckling, running out of the elevator to follow her down the hall. “You say that like you’ve been disappointed lately-”

She turns to him, dropping her hands, the ripped t-shirt falling open, only covering one of her breasts as the other half falls to her side. “Let’s just say we’ve both been too tired, and focused on the wrong things.”

“Ouch,” he whispers seeing a quick blaze of anger behind her eyes. He steps in front of her, hoping to keep his prize from view on security cams.

From a pocket on her bag, she pulls out a room key and slides it over the keypad, gaining access to the room. Blocking the door, her hand snakes out and grabs his belt buckle. “When we step through this door, for tonight, I want all this boring, ‘married life,’ ‘day to day’ chat to stop. I just wanna fuck, and forget the world tonight.”

Her eyes darken and her features are harsh under the poor lighting. Red curls billow around her angel face and she’s so beautiful, his love for her grows a bit more. In his silence, entranced by her prowess, she has begun to loosen his belt, slowly pulling it from the loops.  Visions and memories flood his mind, and he profoundly hears her words. With a moment’s hesitation, he bows his head, making a fast decision, her song choice still rolling through his head. He places his hand firmly around her wrist, stopping the tug of his belt. “Then I’ll damn well take care of my Kitten, my bride, no complaints?”

Emery’s hands drop to her side. Her smile grows, understanding his unspoken words. “Don’t get too carried away. Remember to strip me before you tie me up with that thing.” She smirks. “Unlike last time,” she murmurs under her breath.

Already challenging his authority. He grins, choking back his sigh. She’s too damn hard headed to really play his games, but they have their own fun. A freedom he’d never had before. Love and trust. The true key to happiness. Feeling his need rise, an inner beast raging inside him, he can’t remember the last time they truly had time to play.

Reading his mind, she whispers, “No one else is on this floor tonight, and we have late check out tomorrow. Now cut the bullshit, Evans. It’s like you’re stalling,” she taunts.

Reaching his hand over her shoulder, his eyes grow dark in an instant as a memory of her tied up once before skates through his thoughts. His fist pushes the door open. He steps towards her and she doesn’t budge. Testing him. “In. Strip. Slowly.”

He watches her entire presence change. She softens, ready to have her needs met at his command. She dutifully turns, her hips swishing from side to side, dropping the cut t-shirt to the floor as she strolls in. Chris flicks on the light switch, and two dim lamps in the room react, setting a mood. She doesn’t turn to look at him as she slides out of her sandals, leaving them beside the bed. He swipes his phone screen, calling up some music, her dance song of choice filling the air. The little shorts barely cover her ass, having ridden up between her cheeks as they ran across from the studio. As he watches her roll the second-skin fabric over her hips and down her legs, he undresses quickly as well. He can see she’s already wet, the clothing having been pressed into her sex. Faint tan lines mark across her back from different pool outings with all their nieces and nephews and trips to Georgia, to the lake house. He tries not to laugh at her white ass, blindingly pale, compared to the light tan.

“I’m still more tan than you,” she says quietly.

“How the fuck do you do that?” He asks, walking up to her quietly and running his hand down her spine. Her shoulders quake as a shiver runs over her. “Know my thoughts?”

“Magic.”

“Oh, I’ll show you ‘magic,’” he replies. “Bend over.” His hand presses against her back as she complies. “Rest your palms on the bed…. Beautiful. So beautiful.”

Her deep breathing fills his ears, tuned into her, the music merely to keep outside sounds filtered. Looping the belt together, he drags the worn leather over her alabaster skin. He can hear her exhale, and he repeats the path before drawing it in circles over her canvas. In his mind’s eye he sees the outcome, splattering his cum all over her backside. Tonight is raw, animalistic… He pushes the thoughts of creating a baby from his mind, wanting to see his seed wasted instead. When your wife says she wants to get fucked, and hands over the reins, you can do what you want. Chris grins at the thought. Tonight’s gonna be fun.

Admiring her ass, her taut skin, her legs pressed together. A small bruise on the back of her thigh, probably from a fall during a dance rehearsal. He can’t believe she’d been practicing for months, and he hadn’t even known. He’d believed her tales, slipping on ice on the subway steps, bumping into a desk at work. Her sprained wrist had kept a brace on her hand for weeks. Dancing. She’d been dancing to surprise him. “What a woman,” he praises. He tilts his chin up. “Spread.”

Her breathing is controlled as she slides her right leg out, rebalancing and distributing her weight evenly between her feet. His cock twitches, hardening, lifting and bobbing against his belly. He groans. Shifting closer to her, he leans forward, pressing himself across the divide of her rounded ass. He rubs the head of his shaft over her, slowly hissing out his own pleasure, smearing her with his pre-cum. He settles himself between her legs, stroking back and forth. Arching over her back, his hands fall forward to play with her freely swinging breasts. “Unmph,” she moans, wiggling back into him. Pushing against her, playing with her tits, it’s barely all he can take to not explode before they even begin. Last week? We had sex sometime last week, right? He pinches her peaked buds as he positions himself to line up with her rim. Dropping one end of the belt, he wraps it around her waist, gathering it in one hand, fisting it against her lower back. Her pussy is hot and wet, inviting him in, soaking the tip of his hard cock. She sighs again. He bites his lip to keep from laughing at her annoyance, letting go of her breast to swat her ass. “I say when,” he reminds her.

When? Now? Why the hell wait?

Waiting’s fun, he reminds himself. He slows his breathing, remembering when sex was fun, before it became rushed, fitting it in their schedules, trying again to create life.

He glides his finger through her wet, bringing it back to caress over her puckered hole. Her weight sags forward, melting into the floor. Her weakness, never would have imagined playing with her ass would be her weakness. Pulling up on the belt, he perfects her stance as he pushes his finger, teasing her tight rim. The small squeak she vocalizes makes him smile, and he can picture the delight on her face. Smoothing over the shiny pink surface, he holds the belt tighter around her waist before stimulating her asshole again. “Breathe deep, Kitten,” he reminds her, knowing she’s holding her breath. Seeing her relax, he takes advantage and pushes in up to his knuckle, feeling her silky smooth wall hold him in firmly. When she relaxes more, he slides out and pushes in again, completing the same action with his cock into her waiting cunt, dripping and ready. “Fuuuck,” he whines. “You feel so good baby.”

She cries out, almost squirming away from him, and he holds still a moment while her body adjusts to the stuffed feeling. “Damn tight,” she moans. Not accepting him tonight, her body constricts, forcing his finger out. Leaning over her again, he reaches for her torn shirt, and wipes his hand clean. Her legs are already shaky and her arms, extended in front of her with only her palms on the bed, are twitchy. He can feel her exhaustion, knows it in her muscles from her performance. Sliding his hand under her wild mane of hair, he grips her neck, increasing the pounding behind his thrusts in and and out of her sopping pussy. The smell of sex fills the air and her sweet nectar runs down her legs, squishing out with each forceable propulsion.

“Don’t be mean,” she whispers.

For her defiance, he yanks up on the belt, slamming her to him, in balls deep and holding her neck tighter. Still afraid to admit she likes it rough, he ponders. The sound of their skin slapping together drives him to pump faster, and harder, but with no stimulation to her clit or breasts, she can continue to pant in heat. Her whines grow as the elusive orgasm pains her, her breaths quick and sharp. Her fingers grip the edge of the bed. Chris wonders if she’ll let go, if she’ll defy him further and reach to stimulate herself. He feels his own pressure building as her legs begin to quake. He walks them forward a few steps closer to the bed, dropping his hand from her neck to her shoulder, gently pushing her down to rest her forearms against the bed, tipping her ass up a bit higher. Directly hitting her spot with each ram, her cries grow louder, breathy whines and moans. “Beg,” he commands.

She shakes her head ‘no,’ slowly. “No use,” she groans. “You won’t let me come.”

He chuckles, the tightening low in his belly, and he leans into her, sucked down into her wet flower, gripping and squeezing around him. The first pulse of his cum shoots through him and paints her deep inside. “Shhh-it,” he hisses, dropping the belt to the floor and pulling out to spill all over her back, just as he’d fantasized. It’s in her hair, shot too high, she’ll hate that. Tugging and twisting over the swollen veins of his cock, he pumps faster, watching the ropes of thick white cum splatter her skin. A few drops fall to the floor, but not a big mess. As the pulses die out and he stills in his hand, her form sinks. “Just wait, Kitten. Let me get you cleaned up.”  She nods, but doesn’t speak.

Warming the wash cloth under the sink water, he reaches over and turns on the jet tub, filling it with hot water. Returning quickly to her side, he wipes up the mess, whispering praises for her performance, on the dance floor and as his submissive toy for the evening. He watches her struggle to hold back her words as he picks her up and carries her to the tub. Sinking down in the hot water, it’s like she unfreezes and her words tumble out. “I asked you to fuck me, no, I told you too. What the hell was that, Jellybean?”

Playfully dunking her under the water, he adjusts the knobs for the jets. She emerges, wiping water from her face, spluttering.

“That was us, just getting started tonight, Kitten. I’m nowhere near finished with you yet. We have lots of lost time we need to make up for. I’m gonna call down to the front desk in the morning. We might just hide up here for the rest of the week, no cares, no responsibilities. All the fucking you want and need.”

Climbing over him as he settles into the water, she grips his cock in her hand, not even attempting to be gentle and says, “Sounds like the perfect summer plan to me!”

Read more about Emery and Chris in their novella, Georgia on My Mind, and their story collections

Author’s Note: Inspired by this AMAZING video, choreographed by Chloe Arnold, featuring the Syncopated Ladies. Emery could handle MOST of the routine, stopping at 1:57…

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

 

Score Another Goal

original score another goal less fuzzy question.jpg

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

by avenger-nerd-mom

After soccer practice, a single mom gets an eventful ride home…

NSFW, with my trademark fluff; “fluffy smut”

Word Count: 6737

“Just go talk to him.  You know he’s here every week, and he’s always watching you behind his shades.”

“Bullshit; he is not,” she blushes.  “He’s here to help his brother-in-law coach the team, and spend time with his nephews.  I’m not gonna butt in on that.”

“Speaking of ‘butts,’ look at his ass in those sweatpants, I mean damn,” says a third mother.

“I can’t, I’m too busy thinking about his thighs,” she laughs.

The sound must reach the field, because Chris looks up and waves at the group of moms.

“You really should talk to him,” says the brunette.

“Why me?” she asks.

“Well, first of all, you’re single.  I’m a lesbian, and Tamara’s married.  And if anyone of us needs to get laid soon, it’s you.”

She hides her face behind her hands.  “Shh… There are children around!  Someone will hear you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, if you don’t try to tap that soon, Carrie and I are considering asking him to join us.”  The brunette wiggles her eyebrows and the women dissolve into another fit of laughter.

***

Practice ends and she stays to help the head coach’s wife clean up snack.  Tommy’s dad had showed up and offered to take him to dinner and wanted to keep him for the night.  The two women discuss arrangements for the upcoming bake sale at school and generally catch up on details with one another’s busy lives.  She is surprised when the portly woman budges her arm as they clean up the empty juice pouches and announces,  “He can’t take his eyes off you.”

“Who?” she asks.

The woman tilts her head toward the field were Chris and his nephews and dog are running around laughing and chasing after the ball.

“You think so?  Someone else said that same thing about an hour ago.”

The coach’s wife looks inside the abandoned cleats for the owner’s name.  “These belong to Miles.  Why don’t you walk them out there?”

She shakes her head.  “Oh, really.  Y’all are being ridiculous.  He could have any pick of all the women in the world.  He wouldn’t want me.”

The older woman throws the shoes inside her big utility bag and throws it up onto her shoulder.  “You might wanna rethink that.  He was at the house the other night and asked about you…”  The woman’s words trail off as she walks away.

Her phone buzzes and she smiles towards her son’s teammates and calls goodbye to another family leaving.  She looks down at the silly photo her son sent from his favorite restaurant, helium balloons tied to his ears.  “God, he’ll be so hyped on sugar he won’t sleep tonight,” she mumbles as she walks to her car.

The days are shorter now and the streetlights flicker to life as it finally begins to get dark.  A minivan honks at her as it drives past and she waves goodbye to another family.  Chris’s laughter draws her attention back to the abandoned field.  His nephews and brother -in- law have left and he’s just enjoying time with his dog. The scene is reminiscent of the reunion video that recently went viral when he returned home from a long engagement overseas. She’s not a fangirl and doesn’t keep up with his happenings anymore, although she knows their mothers are still friendly at church.  But even she saw the video.

The whoop whoop of her keys echo against the trees and she sees Dodger jerk his head towards her.  His car must be the other in the lot, she thinks as she climbs into her vehicle.  She’d like to leave quickly and avoid a confrontation, although her friends put some positively sinful images into her mind.  Turning the ignition, cool air blows from the vents and a classic 80s song fills the tiny sedan.  But not the sound of the engine.  She turns off the music and tries again.  Nothing.  Something flashes on the dash and the ‘check engine’ light angrily fires back at her.  She hits her head back against the seat, watching him start to jog over to her car.

Sighing, she climbs out of the vehicle, reaching for her laptop bag in the back seat.  Closing and locking the door, she leans against the trunk until he’s in closer proximity.  She feebly calls out, “Hey, can I get a ride?”

His stride stops short.  He pulls off his baseball cap and runs his hands through his longer hair.   She’s known him their whole lives and realizes this may be the first time she’s seen him without product in it.  Her fingers itch, wondering if his hair is as soft as it once was… She blinks away the thought and shoves her hands down into her pockets, fighting the desire to flex them.

He puts the cap back on and removes his sunglasses now that the sun has disappeared over the tops of the trees.  He chuckles.   “Ah. This looks familiar.  I seem to recall a day I needed a ride home and you left me standing in the rain.”

She laughs at the memory.  “You were being a really jerk that day,” she recalls.  “Come on, Chris, ya can’t be serious.  You can’t leave me here in the dark, at night.”

Dodger trots over to her and sits at her feet, turning his head side to side between them.  She laughs at his floppy ears and pulls a hand out for him to sniff.

“JoJo, it’s not up to me.  His decision.  You’d be taking his seat in the car.”

Her stomach flip flops at the use of the old nickname he had for her.  She crouches down to the mutt.  He nuzzles into her neck and his whiskers tickle.  She giggles and looks up at Chris.  “Not sure, but I think your dog just got to first base.”

“Lucky boy.”

The look in his eyes is unmistakable.  A flicker of desire rises up in her belly.  She rises tall.  When she speaks she can’t deny the words sound sultry even to her ears.  “So, about that ride?”

“I can give you a ride, no problem,” he says, blushing at the implied sexual reference.  He nervously rubs the back of his neck.  Nodding towards the car, he asks, “What’s wrong with it?  Want me to take a look?”

She throws her head back and laughs.  Dodger jumps up, his paws on her waist, barking. “Your daddy is silly; he makes me laugh,” she sing-songs to the dog, grasping his white paws in her hands and moving in a silly dance before gently pushing him down.  “Chris, you know jack shit about auto mechanics.  You can help in two ways- call me a tow, or take me home.”

“Come on,” he motions, reaching out his hand to take her heavy bag.  She slides it off her shoulder, handing it to him and is instantly transported back to sophomore year, when he carried her bag to class every day.  She swears to herself she can even smell the cafeteria in the air.  “I’d never hear the end of it from Ma if she found out I left you in a dark parking lot.”

“How is your mom?  I haven’t seen her in a while,” she asks, following him to the politically incorrect gas guzzler he drives.

“Then you aren’t attending Mass,” he gathers from her comment.

She sighs.  “Oh?  You can’t see the scarlet ‘D’ on my chest?  Half the church threw a shit fit when I left Nathan…  Your mom was cool about it though.  I guess she remembered how difficult divorce can be when you’ve got kids to worry about.  Thankfully, I just have the one, not a houseful, like she did.”

He sucks in a breath, and hisses out.  “Yea, I don’t attend Mass much either.”  He tugs at the St. Christopher’s medallion rested against his tight pecs, pulling it out away from his neck and looking down at it before tucking it back into his t-shirt.  “Hard in this day and age to buy all that, sometimes…  Divorce doesn’t make you evil, JoJo.  You know that, right?  You did what you had to do…  Good to know Ma was supportive.”

Her arm burns from his brief touch as he reaches out to her in a physical display of solidarity.  He opens the back door and sets her bag on the floor.  “Dodger, up!” He commands.  The dog jumps up and turns a quick circle on a towel on the bench seat before laying down and curling his paw over his nose.  “Good boy,” Chris compliments, scratching behind the dog’s ears.

“So, uh, Nathan?”  Chris asks, opening the front door of the sleek black vehicle.  “Is the local gossip true?  I heard some of the parents talking about it…”

She moves between him and the door, climbing up into the leather seat.  “Yes, he got his secretary pregnant…  We co-parent fairly well, but I don’t give a fuck what he does in his private life anymore.  His mother came to the house to visit Tommy a few weeks back and said the woman realized if he cheated once, he’d probably do it again, so she called off their wedding.  I think the kid is about a eight months old now?  He’ll probably end up paying child support to her too.”

“Shit,” Chris murmurs.  “And I thought my relationships were kinda fucked up.  At least I don’t have moms and kids everywhere.”

His sadness hangs in the air, trapped inside with her when he closes the door.  She watches him walk around the front of the car, seeing only the upper half of his body, hidden under that ridiculous retro sweatshirt he often wears.  She shakes her head and a small smile graces her lips.

“What?” he asks, opening the driver’s side and peering in at her.

“Just thinking about that sweatshirt,” she blushes, moving a script out of the front seat for him as he lifts up into the seat.  “I nearly choked on my popcorn when I saw you wearing it in that movie.”  She pinches her lips together and on a whim, reaches out and caresses the well worn fabric between her fingers as he settles his arm over the center console. “You thought you were hot shit when you bought that thing.”

He nods, a faraway smile on his face as he rests his head back against the leather seat.  He turns his head and looks over his shoulder as puppy snores come from the back seat.  Chris himself lets out a puff of air.  “Of all my movies, you saw that one?”

“Not your best, but really a bit like you, I must say,” she laughs, laughing even harder when he flips her off.

“Get outta the car, you’re walking,” he teases, looking down to where her hand still rests on his arm.  “JoJo-”  His tone is full of long forgotten emotions.

Pulling her hand away, she quietly says, “Please, just take me home.”

He grunts and pushes a button on the dash to silently start the ignition.  He eases the car back, exiting the parking space before shifting into drive.  “Ok, fine, but I don’t know where home is…”

She gives him directions and he slowly enters into the moving traffic headed deeper into the suburbs.  “Pretty fancy neighborhood,” he clucks.

“Pretty damn good lawyer,” she states.  “I got to keep everything.  Even the boat.”  She turns to him with a grin.  “Wanna buy a boat?”

He laughs, “Aw, man, that bastard shoulda known better.”  He watches her from the corner of his eye as he maneuvers through the traffic.  “The men in your life have to learn lessons the hard way, huh?”

She ignores his veiled commentary.  “Chris?  What are you doing?  You just missed the turn.”

“Yes, Miss Fancy Pants Lawyer, we’re gonna get dinner first.  Text DeMineo’s and order whatever kind of pizza you want, and an order of garlic bread sticks.  And a calzone, pepperoni, extra cheese.  And don’t tell me you don’t have Sal’s number in your phone.  Everyone in the old neighborhood still does.”

“Chris, we don’t have time to drive all the way out there,” she says, already placing the order on her phone.

“Nathan’s got your son, and I bet you didn’t eat before the game, or you had some wimpy salad while he ate a kid’s meal.  I sure as hell haven’t eaten and my stomach feels in knots.  We can get it to go and take it back to my place; it’s closer.  I’ll call Bobby to check on your car and I’ll get you home, all before the late news starts.  I promise.”

“God, you’re still a bossy pain in the ass,” she swears under breath, looking out the window to hide her smile.

“Yea, and now I’ve got the money to use to get what I want.”

Quiet settles between them, and she ponders his words.  On the social ladder, her family had been a step up from his, and his mother had always kept the Evans’ kids on a short leash, tight curfews and a long list of chores before allowances were doled out.  If she only knew how many nights those kids snuck out the back window of the guest room over the garage.  She wipes her tongue over her teeth; hell, Lisa knew.  She always knew everything.  Chris probably told her.  She remembers the summer he cut grass to buy that ugly sweatshirt and how proud he was to wear it and give it to her.

It had broken her heart to give it back.

She’s shocked he still has it after all these years.  She rolls her head around her shoulders, trying to get the kinks out, wishing she’d remembered to set an appointment at the spa.  She needs to take a day off work; to find some time for herself.  She’d forgotten how to be anything more than a lawyer and a mother, and she felt like she wasn’t very good with either one right now.  Lost in her thoughts, she’s surprised when they pull up under the bright red lights at DeMineo’s.  “Does he still have the red and white checkered cloths?” she asks, her voice melancholy and full of memories from long ago.  “I haven’t been inside in years.”

“Wanna eat in tonight?” Chris asks, shifting the car to park.

“Nah, not really up for the noise, but thanks.  I’ll have to bring back Tommy sometime.  I bet he’d love it.”

“He would.  I know the kids love it here when we come with Carly and Ryan.  Sit tight.  I’ll be back in a minute.”

She nods.  Reaching over, she turns on the radio and turns it her favorite station, listening to local radio.  The announcer’s voice comes through loud and clear as the station switches over to play the late game.  She checks her watch quickly and realizes the time is later than she thought.  Reaching in her pocket, she pulls out a twenty dollar bill and places it in his glove box, just like she did when they were teens.  He’d always insist on paying, even when she knew he was scraping by, so she always found a way to pay him back.  Chris never said anything about it, but he had to have known it was her all those years.  She jolts at the weight on her shoulder, and chuckles when she realizes it’s just Dodger.  She wraps her arm over the top of his head and rubs the tender spot above his eyes.  “You have doggie breath,” she whispers.  “He’s lonely, isn’t he, Dodge?

The dog’s quiet whimper answers her question.

She rolls the car window down when he exists the little Italian eatery and approaches the car with a giant box and a bag precariously balanced on top.  He hands the items to her and scolds Dodger, telling him to get back in his spot.  The dog nuzzles her cheek again before doing as told.

Chris crawls back into his seat and they are back on the road, heading to his house.  “I already texted Bobby, and he’s gonna send one of his guys over to see if he can get it to start.  If not, they’ll tow it to the shop and look at it tomorrow.  He said he’d call later and let me know, and he could arrange a ride to work tomorrow if you need it.”  He shrugs.  “I’d say if the car is broken down, use it as an excuse to take the day off.  You look like the type of woman who works too hard; when was the last time you had a vacation, anyway?”

The box is warm in her lap and the smells from the bag are too enticing.  She reaches in for a breadstick.  She rolls the bag back down, tearing it in half and offering some to Chris.  He reaches across with his left hand and takes it from her.  “I’ll have you know, Tommy and I spent two weeks in Florida with my dad this summer, and really enjoyed time at both parks there- holy shit, I forgot how good these breadsticks were-” she giggles along with him, “-and went out to Cape Canaveral, did the space stuff, and spent a few days on the beach.  I can relax and have fun; I’m not always an uptight witch with a stick up my ass.  That’s just at work,” she explains.

“I never said that-”

“Chris, come on, I know what everyone says about me.  I know we don’t see each other a lot, but we still run in a lot of the same social circles.”

He licks his lip and doesn’t comment on the gossip.  “Other than the soccer field, when did we last see each other?”  Chris wonders aloud.

“Some wedding, I’m sure.  It seems like someone we know is always getting married.  I think you had a girlfriend with you, and she kept pulling you away from your pals.”

“Well, damn, that could have been any number of times then,” he scoffs.

“Always a groomsman, never a groom,” she teases.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he laments.

She eyes his sad profile and wishes she could take back her words.  She exhales quietly.  “Sorry; I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Nah, maybe I need to hear it; talk about it; get my shit together.”  He signals a right hand turn and takes the car down a quiet lane, not far from the old neighborhood.  “I had a lot of time to think while I was away.  South Africa is an interesting place, but, man, it was a long time to be gone. Almost too introspective for me.  Too many demons to deal with…”

He signals another turn down a shaded driveway and parks in front of the garage.  She looks out the large front window and realizes it’s the house he always liked, the one he always said he’d own one day.  “Your dream house,” she whispers.

“Yea, well…  I guess I made at least one or two dreams come true.  It’s kinda too big for me and the dog, but when it finally went up for sale, Tara helped me get it.”  He exits the car, jogging around the front and taking the items from her hands.  With his own full, he looks perplexed that he can’t be a gentleman and offer her a hand.  She shoos him back away from the car and steps down onto the pavement, reaching around to open the door for Dodger to bound out.  “Couldn’t give up on all my dreams, I guess,” he states matter of factly.  “I still haven’t given up on settling down one day.”

“Always the dreamer, Chris.  That’s actually an admirable quality,” she compliments, grabbing her bag from the back seat and taking the food sack into her hands.  “Lead the way,” she commands.

Dodger pounces past them both, trying to trap a cricket under his large paws.  Chris chuckles at his antics and whistles to him.  The dog snaps his attention to his master, and follows up the path to the front door.  Chris balances the box on his hip and types in a key code to unlock the door and dismantle the alarms.  “I like you’ve kept it very unassuming, like no one famous lives here.”

He nods his agreement, stepping aside to let her into the lit entryway.  “Straight on back and to the left,” he says, dropping his car keys and sunglasses on the little table by the door.

Walking past the open living room, she notices how the dark wood floors add a homey touch to the white space.  Family photos in black and white peer out from the shelves, loaded with books and memorabilia- Disney, Patriots and Marvel.  Walking into the dim kitchen, she finds the light switch and bathes the room in a warm glow.  The barnwood table is a wonderful accent piece, and she finds herself a bit jealous of any woman who could someday claim the space as ‘hers.’   The feeling stabs her in the gut.  “Whew,” she whistles out quietly.

“Sorry, what was that?”  Chris asks, stepping up behind her.

She looks to him, confused, her head starting to pound and she feels flushed.  “Um?” She licks her lips, taking the pizza box from his hand.  “Chris, I’m not hungry.  I don’t want pizza.”  She sets the box on the counter.  Her heart pounds in her ears and she can’t catch her breath.  Before she can really think it through, she throws herself against him, pressing her lips hungrily to his.  She flings her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, and grabbing and tugging at his shaggy hair, his hat falling to the floor.   After a moment of surprise, his arms slip around her waist, holding her tight, returning her kisses with the same fire and need.  Splitting apart briefly for air, she whispers, “I want you.”

His tongue darts between his teeth and washes over her full lips.  “Are you sure?  I guess we could work up an appetite?”  He bends over her and kisses again, pulling her lower lip between his, sinking his teeth down into the soft, familiar flesh.  “You taste the same, JoJo.”

“Fuuuck,” she hisses through her teeth.  “You’re good liar, but I’ll take it.”

He scratches his full beard along her jaw and down her neck.  “I remember everything about you, babe, I never forgot.”

Her head spins with his touch, his scent, and she knows she isn’t a high school girl anymore, fumbling around on the couch in his parents’ basement.  But damn, he can make her feel that way.  It’s her chance to see if all the ‘what ifs’ in her mind actually could be true.  One thing’s for sure, the beard is a nice, new touch.  And he uses it to his advantage, as he burrows into her neck.  “Been wanting to do this all night, since the damn dog beat me to it,” he whispers against her.  Scratching his beard along her delicate skin, his lush lips find the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“Damn you,” she sighs.  “You do remember.”  The burn against her neck stings and awakens feelings deep inside she’s long forgotten.  Chris always had that special touch, even as a teen, no other man has ever offered her.  He knows all her buttons; he helped her discover them.  They perfected them together.

She wonders what else he remembers as she digs her fingers into his biceps, his kisses harsh then soft, while she slides her hands over his collarbone.  She reaches between them and unzips his sweatshirt, pushing the worn fabric back from his sculpted shoulders. In her mind, he was always the muscled man she sees before her today, always her superhero ready to fight her battles.  He spins her around, pinning her against the table.  Leaning his upper body away from him, he pulls the jacket off, swiftly turning it inside out and dropping it to the floor.  She looks down, smiling at it puddled at their feet before lunging back to him, putting her lips to his.  One of his strong hands lifts under her ass, boosting her to sit on the table, while the other slides under the back of her shirt, spanning across her spine.  With a gentle nudge she falls into him, wrapping her legs around his waist.  A perfect fit, as always.  Chris holds himself steady, but she can feel how hard he’s growing, how desperate he is for her.

Like greedy kids, their mouths never part, and they share the same air.  Her hands move down the back of his arms, gripping at the tight muscles, pulling back to laugh at the removed tattoo.  “I told you it was stupid,” she reminds him, tracing her fingers over the faded marking.  His eyes watch her hands and he bites his lip, waiting impatiently to have hers again.  He pushes against the table, trying to hurry her up.  She doesn’t give, enjoying his skin, and the smooth sensation under her fingertips, adoring all the little freckles and scars she remembers, curious about the new ones.  Her hands snake under his heavy arms and wrap around his skinny waist, something she always teased him about, but secretly loved because it made him easier to hold on to…

No longer able to watch her hands as she scratches his lower back, he tilts his knuckle under her chin and turns her face back to his.  He raises his other hand up and runs both over her cheeks, his fingertips massaging along her hairline, gently pressing against her skull.  His blue eyes wash over her skin, his eyelashes long against his cheeks when his eyes drop to examine her mouth.  “Hmmm… I had forgotten one thing.  This scar on your lip,” he says, his thumb brushing across it, and pushing her lips in a sensual manner.  “You were so embarrassed with the stitches, and you’d yell at me every time I’d make you laugh and it would pull.”

“That was a lot of yelling,” she remembers, lifting the hem of his shirt and running her fingertips along the elastic waist of his sweatpants.  “You always knew how to make me laugh.”

Pressing hard into the muscle tissue, he sighs at her touch, tenderly kissing the tiny scar.

The lightest touch, like the wings of butterfly, sends chills through her body.  “What was that for?” she whispers.

He tilts his head.  “You wouldn’t have gotten it if Scott and I weren’t fighting over that baseball bat,” he chortles, shaking his head at the stupid memory.

“How is it you were always an idiot in one moment, and my hero in the next?”  She says, her hands dipping lower down his backside.

“Can I be your hero again?  Tonight?” Chris asks, trying to mask his boyish grin when she nods her consent.

Stepping back, Chris pulls her back into his arms, her legs still wrapped around his waist as he lowers himself to the floor, into a seated position.  Straddling him, she lifts her arms to hold the edge of the counter above and rocks her body against his, shifting her weight to free her legs and fold them back at his side.  She pulls off her sweatshirt and t-shirt, somewhat grateful for the lady-like lace inserts on the sports bra she put on when she changed clothes after work.  Chris whistles appreciatively, mumbling some throwback compliment to their high school days.  She briefly wonders if she’s been dressing just for him for weeks, hoping to be alone with him.  Avoiding the obvious answer, she reaches between them, subtly rubbing the back of her hand against her throbbing pussy, grasping the hem of his shirt and raising it above his head, chucking it in the pile.  Freed of the cotton barrier, his arms fold across her back and he brings her to him, leaning forward at the same time and nestling his full beard between her aching breasts.   His breath is warm and hot as he whispers his praises, “Always the perfect tits, JoJo; the stuff of fantasies.”

She arches into him, silently begging him to take her into his mouth.  It’s obvious he plans to torture her as he slides his nose up one valley, licking along the lacy edge of clothing.  His hands never stop roaming across the soft skin of her backside, climbing up and down her spine, her sides, and chuckling at the goosebumps he leaves in their wake.  His hands grasp under her ass and lift her, pushing her closer to his mouth, his breath hot and wet as he laps at her nipple through the fabric.  The bud reacts to his attention and she longs to free herself, but doesn’t want to rush his sinful tactics, lessons learned as a man, from the boy she loved.  Her fingers card through his hair, and she manipulates his head closer, and then pulls his hair, tugging him away, guiding his touch.  “Always were a tease,” he jokes as his fingers push under the tight elastic band of the athletic gear.  Finding it restrictive, he gives up, instead grabbing the fabric near her shoulders.  His fingertips dance over the top curve of her breasts, teasing her moments before yanking the fabric down, exposing her to the chilly evening air.  Her nipples bud and the flesh rises from the cold, a gasp of desire and awe escaping her.  His hands grope and fondle her full breasts, pushing them together and releasing them before whispering in her ear, “Tell me what you want, JoJo.”

A tiny whine releases from the back of her throat.  “What I’ve always wanted, Chris; I haven’t changed, I want your mouth on me, biting and sucking.  Please,” she begs, rising closer to him, giving herself to his mouth and shifting her weight across him to straddle his thigh.

He kisses her exposed skin, teasing in circles around her nipples, his own breathing heightened with need.  They begin to rock in a rhythm, their rhythm, one they wrote years ago.  She grinds herself against his thigh, the lace wisp of her thong pushing between her lips, the denim an added friction.  “We’re not on the plaid couch; no one’s gonna walk in on us,” he quietly goads her.  “You can have the real thing, not just my thigh,” he offers.

Tugging the long hair at the back of his neck, she rises up and pulls his head back, looking into his eyes.  “It worked then, and it works now.  I spend a lot of nights thinking about riding your thighs, Evans, so shut up and let me.”  She holds his head tightly in place and when he opens his mouth to speak, she shoves her nipple towards him.  She quietly coos when he bites down tenderly.  “It’s one way to shut you up,” she says, leaning into his affections as his tongue instantly knows what to do.   His hands hold tight to her hips and force her back down upon his leg, bending it slightly, raising and lowering her, listening to the echoing whimpers in the room.

His power is stronger, and his ability to hold her up is fueling her need.  She feels youthful and greedy, and wants all that he will give to her.  But she has a power now that she didn’t have before.  The ability to know what she wants and needs, and how to vocalize it- a power she didn’t have at seventeen.  “Chris, I want you to fuck me, to truly fuck me and show me what I’ve missed all these years,” she whispers, as his bites follow the curve of one breast to the top of the next.  His hands guide her hips as her thrusts pick up speed, and he cradles her, holding her tight to his leg as she rocks back and forth.  When his tongue teases around her taut nipple and he sucks her in between his teeth, continuing to bite and suck the sweet button, her cries grow strained and she stops moving, the orgasm building from deep inside, clenching, grasping at nothing.  Her need is unfulfilled and she’s insatiably left wanting more as a glimmer of sweat builds over them both.

“You come for me so beautifully, JoJo; you always did, my pet.”

His little name for her, words she hasn’t heard whispered in years and silently tears begin to the fall from her eyes, the emotions too much to bear.  She can’t believe she’s in his arms again, even if just for the night.  With a strength and confidence he didn’t have in his youth, he hastily flips her over onto her back, the tiles cold against her bare skin. Crouching back on his knees, Chris undoes her pants and pulls them from her body.  In one swift movement, her jeans and panties are gone, and she wiggles out of her sports bra under his watchful eyes as he quickly shimmies out of his sweatpants.  Resting on her elbows, still panting from before, she stares with wonder at his glorious cock, beautiful and more than she remembered it to be.  She leans on one side, grabbing him in one hand tenderly and motioning him to move closer.  His eyes watch hers, his own filled with mirth at her inspection as she runs her fingertips over the veiny ridges.  Lost in thought, relearning every line and indentation, she jumps when his fingers enter her, not even bothering with a tease.  “So wet, and slick; always ready for me.”

They might as well be hiding in the basement, snuggled under a blanket on the old couch as they caress one another, mutual hand jobs driving them to the edge.  His fingers pulse in and out, teasing over her puffy lips before diving back inside her hidden well.  Her fingers glide along his shaft, fingerpainting with his precum and enjoying the feel of him in her hands.  “You’re killing me, JoJo.  I wanna be inside you,” he whines.

With his free hand, he grabs at her wrist and releases his cock from her hand, and raises her arm above her head.  He pulls his other hand from between her legs and raises it to his lips, waving his hand under his nose to catch her scent before licking his fingers clean. “That’s sexy,” she murmurs as he climbs between her legs, nudging with his knee for her to spread them further apart.  He grasps her calf, leaning over her for a kiss as he slowly pushes into her.  She gasps at her tight hole expanding to accept him, filling her full.  He slides in again, deeper, sliding his sticky hand down her chest to fondle her resplendent breasts.  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers into her ear, nibbling her soft flesh.  She sighs peacefully when his cold medallion hits her chest and his beard tickles her neck.

“More,” she grunts, grabbing his ass with her free hand, and slapping it before pulling away again.

He flinches at her touch, pumping in and out again.  He pauses, pulling all the way out, brushing his dick across her opening, teasing her now.  “Sure you can take all this?”

“Willing to try,” she laughs as he pushes back into her, rocking against her again and again.  He lets go of her hand and holds his weight off her, pulling her other knee up and with his arms, pinning both of her legs to his sides.  Her arms wrap over his shoulders and she digs her fingernails into his back, biting at the Tolle quote on his collarbone.  Her body starts to hum with pleasure, finding her release quickly.  “God, I needed that,” she confesses.

He continues to buck against her, drawing out her orgasm as she convulses around him, her muscles sucking him inside, deeper and wetter.  The quiet sounds of their rapid breathing and their bodies slapping together fill their ears.  She can’t hold back her laughter and shakes against him when he starts fussing at Dodger to go away just as he spills inside her.  He collapses on top of her, his laughter and orgasm pushing her into the hard floor.  A tennis ball rolls into her view and she tosses it towards the living room, the dog bounding away after it, his nails clicking against the surface.

When Chris finally catches his breath, he apologizes and carefully slides out of her.  Her walls constrict and throb, wanting to be full again.  “What are you apologizing for?” she asks, as he begins to wipe her clean.

“I didn’t… Well, I didn’t invite you over here for that.  I mean, I was kinda hoping but…”  His voice trails off and his cheeks turn pink at his admission.  Rested on his side, still wiping at their mess, he kisses her shoulder.  “But really, JoJo, I was gonna pull out, and then the damn dog distracted me, and I’m really sorry, and-”

She mentally does the math, wondering when she last worried about birth control. She has no clue, since it’s been so long since she’s had sex.  Bells and whistles buzz inside her head, but he doesn’t need to know that at the moment.  She’ll just stop at the drug store tomorrow, within the time frame the doctor once told her about.  “Stop talking, Chris; I’m not worried, and… and you’re making a bigger mess.”  She wraps her hand around his wrist, looking down and laughing when she sees it’s his old sweatshirt he’s using to clean them.  She closes her eyes and rolls her head from side to side on the cold, hard floor.  “That sweat jacket’s always been good for that, babe, hasn’t it?” she reminisces.

He chuckles, his smile indicating he remembers that day long ago too.  “The couch was more comfortable,” he reminds her.

The front door of the house opens and slams shut, and Scott’s boisterous calls echo down the hallway.  She punches his arm, scrambling to pull her clothes over her body.  “I thought you said no one would walk in on us?” she hisses.

“Scott, FREEZE.  Do not make one more step.  I swear to God-”

“Dude, where are you?”

“I said STOP. Do not come into the kitchen!”

Quickly he rolls her to his chest, hiding her face from the room, depending on where Scott might be, covering her exposed ass with her t-shirt.

“Fuck, dude, all I see are legs, feet, clothes and that stupid ass sweatshirt.  Hey, pretty girl!”  Chris’s younger brother says.

“Hey, Scott,” she calls out.

There’s a moment of silence as he ponders something, and Dodger runs back into the room with his ball, bounding around the island and nuzzling the back of her head and she can’t help but laugh.  “I hate you,” she whispers into Chris’s neck.

“No, you don’t.  You love me,” he teases, pinching her ass and throwing the ball so Dodger will run away again.  “You always have.”

“I know that voice; why do I know that voice?” Scott asks.

“Scott, toss me some towels from the laundry room, and then go outside to start the campfire pit.  You can join us for dinner.”

“Oh my God!  JoJoGirl!  Is that you?”

“Hi, Scott,” she mumbles into Chris’s neck, embarrassed and amused at the same time.  “Get the fuck outta the kitchen so I can get dressed.”

“Oh my God; this is so exciting!”  He claps with glee and the towels drop to the floor next to them.  “You know, I’ve seen your ass before; I don’t know why you’re hiding it.”

“Get out!” Chris commands.

Scott leaves the kitchen area, mumbling about not being wanted, and Chris moves to a squat next to her.  He wraps her in the towel and picks her up in his arms, righting her to her feet.  “Go upstairs, second door on the left.  Just find something to wear for dinner and then I’ll send the idiot home, before we get sleep.”

“I thought you were taking me home.”

“I lied.  I trapped you here, and now I never want you to leave again.”

“Are you telling me you’re looking for a woman and a kid?  ‘Cause we’ve been looking for a man and a dog…”

“Hmmm…”  He hums.  “Tell me more about this boat you have.”

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

Boots

et ch 34 Boots june 28 2017

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

Chapter 34

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: 4233

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, bdsm, dominant personalities, sub, oral sex, condom use, intercourse

Summary:  A wild creature wakes Tom in the middle of the night…

Images found on Pinterest.  Gif created by avenger-nerd-mom on imgflip.com from those images

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

late night visit

Something has woken Tom up, but he isn’t quite sure what. Lying on his back with his head on his arms, he blinks into the dark with a slight frown. Was it a dream? A sound outside? Did he imagine a knock at his door in that groggy state of barely having been asleep for a few hours?

The second knock on the door is persistent and unmistakable.  It wasn’t some random outside noise.  Someone is at his front door.  Springing from the bed, Tom bangs his hip on the dresser and curses quietly as he exits the room. He jogs down the stairs quietly.  It’s well past midnight and he can only think of one person he’d want to be at his door at this ungodly time, but he doesn’t feel he could be that lucky.  His heart races, wondering if there’s some kind of trouble, or just a case of ‘wrong house’ by a local drunk.

Peering through the peephole on the door, he is elated to see Thalia standing on the other side.  Wearing a long coat, she has her hands shoved down in her pockets and her hair swept to the side in a loose knot.  Quickly unlocking the door, it flies open and he motions her in.  “Thalia, darling, what? What are you doing here so late?  Is everything okay?”  He caresses her arm tenderly, his eyes frantically scanning her face and hidden body for anything that might be amiss.

He looks down the street and doesn’t see her cute little junker car.  “Where’s your car?”

She brushes past him, her manicured nails scraping across his chest in his tight black V-neck t-shirt, eyeing his plaid pants.

“Sleep in pajamas, do you, Thomas?”

Thomas.  This is new.  So is showing up at his house.  She’s never been to his home before. He wasn’t even sure until now that she knew his address. His heart gives an excited flip in his chest.

Closing the door and flipping on the hallway lamp, he asks her again, “Are you okay?”

Dropping her bag by the side table, her eyes wander around the open layout of the entry way and adjoining living room, and her wild eyes lock on his.  “I got an Uber ride.  No one will know I’m here… I missed you. And I wanted to see how you live.”  She smiles up at him, stepping closer.  “Didn’t you miss me?”

Like a spring, his body responds to her words and he steps closer as well, closing the gap between them.  Her hands grab at the hem of his shirt and she reaches up on the toes of her well-worn cowboy boots.  “You leave me lonely at night.  Dreams, memories… my hands and my toys aren’t always enough.” His pulse starts hammering at the images that conjures up, but before he can even process them, she adds, “Tonight, I wanted you.”

Her lips press against his, hot and slick.  His mouth falls open and her tongue brushes against his before flicking against his teeth.  In her low rasp that wraps around his gut every time, she murmurs, “I hope you don’t mind…”

She moves away and pulls open the sash of her coat, revealing her naked form. Holy shit, she’s clad only in her boots. His cock twitches to life instantly, reacting to all those luscious curves so decadently on display. It takes his scrambled brain a moment to catch up with the rest of his body, his hands already reaching for her.

“Thalia…” He drags his eyes up from her ample bosom to her eyes, taking in the mischievous twinkle in them. “Good Lord, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Hands shaking a little, he grabs the coat lapels and moves the chilled fabric completely off her body.

“You must be freezing,” he worries, only now remembering how bitingly cold it is outside. Hell, his bare feet on the floor feel like ice chunks, so how bad must it be for her?

She grins at him, stepping willingly into his embrace and nuzzling his throat where his pulse is galloping even faster now.

“I kept myself warm with thoughts about you and what you would do to me…what I want to do to you.”

Fuck. Tom wraps her in his big, strong arms and hauls her close. Her body is indeed a bit cold, and he rubs his hands soothingly over her bare back. As if on its own volition, one hand wanders lower to knead a butt cheek, and she sighs against his neck before scraping her teeth over his collar bone.

He’s rock hard already, and it doesn’t help that she’s rubbing herself against him. With her in those trusty, oddly sexy boots and with him barefoot, she’s the perfect height, and the warmth of her pussy, already damp, brushes against his cock.

With a hiss, Tom draws back, but she gives him no chance to say anything. All reprimands and questions die in his throat when she claims his mouth again.

Dimly it registers in his brain how take-charge she is tonight, as if some wanton nymph’s spirit has entered her body in her sleep and lured her here. It’s a huge turn-on, although he’s not quite sure what’s expected of him.

As if she can read his thoughts, Thalia pulls back a fraction. She slicks her tongue over his lower lip, then sinks her teeth into it and tugs softly, the way he usually does to her. One of her hands reaches up to rub over the beginning night scruff on his jaw, and a spark lights her eyes at the feel of it.

“I want that stubble all over me tonight,” she demands, her face flushed and her body now warm. “I want to feel it against my breasts and across my belly. I want to have delicious beard burn on my thighs.”

Jesus freaking Christ, who is this tantalizingly confident woman and what has she done with his good little girl?

Maybe a bit of his confusion–mostly overpowered by raging desire–has shown on his face, or maybe she’s surprised by her own behavior, but for a moment, Thalia hesitates and her eyes grow wide and vulnerable.

“Tom?” She gnaws on her lip and he soothes her, stroking up her arm over her shoulders and neck before tugging her hair free of its band.

“Yes, darling?”

“Can we…can I…I need…”

She falters, and somehow, he understands. He knows just what she feels and needs. This loneliness, this longing she’s mentioned, it’s inside his heart too, and he’d do anything to lessen it.

“You want me to hand over the reins to you, my beautiful hothouse orchid? Is that what my woman wants tonight, hm?”

He deliberately doesn’t call her ‘my girl’, and what’s said between the lines makes her eyes go dark again. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and her spine straightens as one of his hands on the small of her back pulls her close again.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be yours for the night.” Tom gives her a slow, almost predatory smile that is at odds with his words, and he feels her shiver in delight.

Wondering how far she’ll take her little jab at being a domme, he steps back and lets her go.

“Where and how do you want me?”

Thalia seems to grow two inches taller with the control he’s placed in her hands.

“Where’s your room?”

He jerks his head up towards the left, feeling himself grow even harder at the prospect of what’s to come.

“Take me upstairs.”

He turns and leads the way, repressing the urge to take her hand because it would somehow ruin the moment.

Once they’re in the bedroom, his hand hesitates over the light switch. She makes the decision for him, hitting the switch and letting him drink her in.

God, she’s magnificent. He wants her beneath him, around him, wants to lose himself inside her very being. But he orders himself to hold back and let her play out her fantasy tonight. He’s always known she has a wilder side hidden away, and it’s thrilling to watch it flicker to life.

Thalia bridges the short distance between them. She grabs his t-shirt and pulls it up, leaving his chest bare for her to touch. Her fingers trace over his pecs, circling his nipples and making him bite back a moan. They wander lower, her fingertips skimming over his abs and Adonis belt, slipping beneath the elastic of his pajamas without touching him where he wants her most.

For a second, her gaze stops in its reverent study of his body to scan the room. It slides over the bare furniture, over all the books lying everywhere, his glasses on the nightstand; over the bed and to the chair in front of his book-laden desk.

Tom nearly stumbles when she pushes him backwards with her palms on his chest and another mischievous gleam in her eyes. Obediently, he walks back until the back of his knees knocks against the chair. He sits down in his usual way, his legs spread a mile wide. His eyes never leave hers while a smirk lifts his lips.

“Are you gonna try some rodeo ridin’, cowgirl?” he asks, attempting his best imitation of an American drawl.

A startled laugh escapes her before she pulls herself together and presses a hand against his mouth. “Shsh,” she silences him, and he feels his cock twitch at her assertiveness.

“Maybe later,” she says, stepping so close that there’s barely an inch between his face and her round belly. “If you’re really good to me.”

He’s so turned on by now he can’t even smirk anymore. He wants more, needs all of her, in any way she’s willing to let him have her.

“Kiss me, Thomas,” she demands huskily, one hand cupping the back of his head and pushing him close so his lips touch her stomach.

All too happily, Tom obliges. He takes his time, remembering her whisker burn comment and brushing his chin and jaw over the soft skin of her belly while he kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Her fingers spear into the short hair at his nape, tugging a little to move his head up, down, left and right. Tom shifts in the chair, longing for a taste of her breasts or of her pussy, so close and shiny with desire. He can smell her arousal, and it’s going straight to his head and his cock.

“May I touch you?” he asks, his voice a low growl that has her shivering again.

“Yes. But don’t stop kissing me.” Her voice is breathless, but she manages to hold onto the slightly commanding tone she’s never used with him before.

Hungry for more, Tom scoots to the edge of the chair and places one hand at her waist while the other moves up to mold her large breast. Thalia gasps and he moves his attention to her pebbled nipple while he opens his mouth to make the kisses all over her stomach wetter. Using his teeth and his tongue along with his lips, he torments her by moving lower but never crossing the invisible border to pay attention to her quivering center.

His hand on her waist moves lower and back so he can fondle her butt. His fingers dive into the crease between her cheeks, stroking ever so softly while he dips his tongue into her belly button. With a whimper, her grip on his hair tightens to the point of pain, but it only heightens his arousal.

When a long finger dips to circle her most private place, she yanks his head lower. Tom takes the hint eagerly and strokes his tongue over her glistening lips to lap at her, dive into her like a starving man.

“Slowly. Go slooooow,” she demands, her words drawn-out moans with not as much determination behind them as a true domme would show it.

Tom changes his attention on her pussy to long, languid drags of his tongue over all of her, spreading her juices around but never quite touching her engorged clit. He rubs his jaw against her inner thigh, giving her the prickly friction she’s asked for and making her moan some more.

He loses all track of time. God, he could sit here all night, eating her out, listening to all those different sounds she makes when he adds tentative sucks on her outer and inner lips to his slow, thorough licks.

“More. Make me come.”

Her command strikes him like lightning, and he can feel himself leak precum, his painfully erect cock begging for attention.

His other hand joins the one on her ass so he can hold her close and open, and he finally goes for her clit. He sucks the throbbing bundle of nerves into his mouth and tortures it with his tongue and then gently with his teeth until she comes, half sobbing, half screaming his name.

Her thighs are trembling, and she has both hands fisted in his hair, making his scalp tingle. It’s a miracle she’s still standing upright.

Tom’s ability to think rationally is going out the window. He has half a mind to turn the tables, haul her caveman-style over his shoulder and have his way with her in the bed–but he uses his last ounce of self-control to indulge her.

Returning to slow, caressing licks, he eases her down from her climax and waits for her to step back or give him another order.

Her voice is even rougher when she moves her hands from his head to his shoulders and pushes him gently to say, “Now sit back and enjoy.”

As soon as his back hits the wood, Thalia sinks to her knees between his spread legs, and his cock twitches in anticipation. She pulls at his waistband and he lifts his hips so she can slide the pajama bottoms over his butt and down his legs before removing them. He watches with burning desire, a healthy dose of admiration and a tiny hint of amusement as she places his hands on the armrests and curls his fingers around them.

“Keep your hands there. Don’t move.”

“Yes, mistress,” he replies, two words he hasn’t spoken in years, since that one time he tried being a sub.

Thalia freezes, her eyes shooting up from his needy cock to his face, her pupils blown as wide as his must be. The oddest expression crosses her face, something like a secretive, purely feminine smile that has a decidedly wild edge to it and stokes the fire inside him.

Mesmerized, Tom stares at the transformation, but the expression is gone a moment later. Her long lashes sweep down, hiding her intense gaze from him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she orders, but there’s a tremble in her voice. “I want you to watch me.”

Licking his lips and sucking in a fortifying breath, Tom braces himself. But he still isn’t prepared for her hot, wet mouth engulfing him and sinking down as far as she can go.

“Fuck, Thalia,” he curses, feeling for a panicky moment like a teenager who’s about to blow his load before things have even started. He hasn’t expected her to go straight for the gold, and he’s clenching his jaw so tightly it hurts.

She hums around him, which only makes matters worse. Only when her hands settle on his thighs and push down does he realize that he’s arched up to shove himself even deeper into her oh so welcoming mouth.

Using all his willpower, he lets her hold him down and keeps a white-knuckled grip on the armrest. Thalia starts bobbing up and down on his shaft once he’s settled down. She alternates between taking him deep and sucking only his tip, reducing him to a panting, groaning mess.

Enraptured, he watches her drive him to the brink while one of her hands leaves his thigh to slink between her legs and touch herself. Fucking hell, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen anything hotter than her sucking him off while pleasuring herself, a whimper off and on traveling straight through his cock to tighten his balls.

Just when he wants to break the silence and tell her he’s too damn close, she stops and lets him slide out with a wet pop. She stands up on wobbly legs, and before he can stop himself, he drags her close. He grabs the hand she’s had between her own legs and sucks her glistening fingers into her mouth, watching her eyes roll back.

With his other hand he fumbles behind him, reaching into the desk drawer for a condom. Taking it from him, she rolls it over him slowly as her hands tenderly caress his aching sac.

When she straddles him instead of punishing him for taking the initiative, he needs to pull in desperate drags of air so he won’t lose it.

“Ride me, cowgirl,” he growls, and for the moment, Thalia seems to have forgotten she’s the one in charge. Automatically, she scoots into position. Tom lines himself up with one hand, wrapping his other hand around the back of her neck to pull her in for a scorching kiss. He slides his tongue into her mouth at the same time he pushes up into her heat. She’s so slick he glides in easily until he bumps against her cervix, and both of them moan in unison.

Tom holds himself still, and he’s astonished he manages to do so.

Thalia’s eyes flutter open, and for a moment, they stay like this, connected and lost in each other. Then she begins to move, and his last bit of resolve flies out the window. Her hips rise and fall, circle and writhe. She grinds herself down on him with keening whimpers which tear through his self-control and make him want to pound into her like an animal.

He buries his face against her chest, kissing and panting and cursing, praying for her to climax soon because he can’t hold on long. When she clenches repeatedly around him and then goes utterly still on a choked sound, Tom grits his teeth and rides out her orgasm through sheer force of will.

He grabs her hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises.

“Get up, turn around and straddle me again,” he urges her, hardly recognizing his own voice and caring not one bit whether she wants her control back or not.

Thalia moves as if in a trance, doing exactly as he says. It takes her a moment to find the right position with her back pressed to his chest, but then she’s back on his lap and takes him in until her gorgeous ass rests against his balls. A squeak and then a drawn-out moan let him know that she’s never experienced it like this before, with him hitting angles inside her that are enough to drive her up, up, up again.

This time when she comes, he follows right behind, with a shout that echoes in the nightly stillness.

He disentangles them after some moments and rises with her in his arms. Quickly, he strides to the bed, once again carrying her as if she weighs next to nothing. She rests her head against his shoulder until he sets her down on sheets, sweaty and sated with an almost serene look on her beautifully flushed face. Before he joins her on the bed, he kisses her calves and takes her boots off.

“Goddammit, darling, that was mind blowing. I feel as if some sort of succubus decided to haunt me tonight.” He scoots up and pulls her close.

She chuckles sleepily against his chest while he brushes his hands through her unruly tresses and spreads out her hair over his arm and the pillow.

“Yeah… I have half a mind to buy you a pair of cowboy boots and a trenchcoat so you can return the favor one day.”

It’s his turn to chuckle. She snuggles into his hold, and Tom kisses her temple and forces himself not to think about if and when she will get up and leave.

#

The next morning, she is still in his bed when he returns from his run.  The air felt like springtime, or maybe that was just the light residual feeling Thalia’s shocking visit left inside him.  Laying on the couch in the study, he relishes in the small sounds she makes in his house as she gets ready to start her day.  He can’t concentrate on the words of the paper he holds in front of him, nor hide his grin at her bounding down the stairs.

“Tom?” she calls, sounding again like his little girl.  “Where are you?”

“Down the hall, in the den,” he offers by way of direction.

He watches her enter the room and he swears the sunlight coming in the windows shines brighter at her presence.  She smiles warmly to him, wearing her own tight fitting jeans and the t-shirt he was wearing the night before.  Stretched tightly over her voluptuous chest, he can’t help but tease.  “A prize from your conquest?” he taunts.

“Damn right. I earned it.”  Her fingers drag over the spines of the books on the shelves, turning to him with a wicked smile.  “Don’t you agree, Thomas?”

He chuckles loudly, crooking his elbow and resting his head on his arm. “I don’t know what devil got into you last night, darling, but feel free to take advantage of me any time you wish.”  Laughter fills his voice and he can’t remember being so contented in a long while.

He’s had partners in recent years, but Thalia is the closest he’s ever come to a relationship in a while.  Her presence in his solitary space instantly changes things, and he knows this is the reason he’s kept her at arm’s length.  He doesn’t know if his heart can take the pain again. As she flips through a volume she’s pulled off the shelf, he’s reminded of a childhood tale and realizes she’s the beauty to tame the beast. Maybe it’s time to show her he’s ready to commit.  Looking around the dark room, it could use some feminine touches.

Tom is broken from his reverie when she plops in the chair closest to his head.  She runs her fingers through his wet hair and kisses his forehead gently.  “I’m going to New York tomorrow for that interview” she sighs.  “I don’t know if I want the job though, it just seems soul-sucking,” she complains.

“Welcome to the real world,” he laughs, reaching out to tangle his fingers in her hair.  He wants to tell her not to go, but New York is closer than the phone interviews she’s had recently with museums in Paris, Rome and Sydney.  ”The day after the interview? You’ll be back in time for your spa appointment?”

“I hate the idea of spending my morning in a spa.  That’s just not me, you know what I mean?”

He loves her no-nonsense style and casual look for the office.  She always looks more professional than the other student assistants and her name has popped up more than once for different campus openings in the fall.  Cocking his head, he asks, “What about your work for the history department?  Will you have time for that as well when you return?”

He hears the book drop to the floor, but can’t see her from her position behind him.  She sighs deeply and her voice is far away when she shares,  “That’s over.  It, uh, ended last week.  My… help… isn’t needed anymore, I guess.”

Twisting a bit on the couch, he can’t read the faraway look in her eyes as she stares out the window.  She smiles at a bird bouncing along the window ledge, and pulls her attention back to him.  Stroking his damp curls, she suggests, “Can’t we just skip the Gala, dress up anyway but fuck here on this couch instead?”  She wiggles her eyebrows lasciviously at him.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through both of them.  “I love the way you think, darling.”  His arm, crooked around the back of her neck, pulls her closer as she leans in for a kiss and she gently plays with the collar of his shirt.

kiss 1.gif

Pulling back with his lip between her teeth, she tenderly bites down.  “My ride will be here soon; I’ll see at the drama department meeting at three this afternoon.”  He nods with a smile while she tugs his tie.  “Wear our tie instead,” she says with a hint of command in her voice.

“Anything for you, dear.  And if I wear my glasses too, will that have you in a wet mess all evening?”

With another quick peck on the lips, she rises with a laugh, pulling a jacket from her bag to complete the look.  “You know me too well,” she teases.  Tom starts to shift, but she stops him.  “You don’t have class till this afternoon; stay.  I can show myself out.”

Tom watches her sashay away, the swing of her hips in her boots just right to make a grown man want to cry, and he knows the room gets darker when she leaves.

Click here for Chapter 35 Gala

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

Prize

et ch 32 prize june 21 2017.jpg

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

Chapter 32

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 3272

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

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

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

images found on Pinterest

Scrabble image created by avenger-nerd-mom

waking up in cabin.gif

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here for Chapter 33 Choose

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

Just Desserts

et Ch 28 Just Desserts June 7 2017

Chapter 28

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: 5553

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, BOOKS! (that’s porn), control, dominance, submission, food play, shower sex, biting, spanking, fingering, rimming, anal play, condom use, intercourse, discussion of physical abuse and BDSM, aftercare

Summary:  Thalia takes on a new role in her relationship with Chris and things move to whole new level, which leads to a serious talk.

Cover images found on Pinterest

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

“I knew I’d find you here.”  She’s a vision of loveliness, perched on the old- fashioned leather couch. Pouring through a book on the side table her elbows rest on the arm of the couch and her satin covered ass is in the air, posing on all fours.  Her “fuck me” high heels rest on the leather and she’s wearing his tie, done in a perfect Windsor knot at her lovely neck.  She doesn’t even pay attention to him but the little grin on her face widens and she shifts her hips from side to side.  He places the dessert trays on the coffee table and moves around to face her.  Playfully he rests his cock in the crease of the book. “Need me to point out a word for you?”

He pulls away quickly as she slams the book shut and giggles.  “Oh, my God, that is such a ‘guy’ thing to do,’ she scoffs.

Grabbing her chin in his hand he pushes his thumb roughly across her plump lips.  Her eyes turn serious and a heat of indignation flares behind them.  Chris honestly can’t decide between letting her have freedom of control or watching her push back while he controls her.  Mulling it over, he pulls down on her lip, but she keeps her teeth closed tightly.  Her breathing is controlled and her eyes challenge him.  Tugging down on the blue silk at her neck, her mouth pops open and he pushes his thumb inside.  He wants to laugh when her tongue retreats and she doesn’t play his game.

When he speaks again his voice is low and laced with sex. “You know this position has advantages from both ends…”  Moving closer, holding her stiffly he repeats the same caress with the velvety tip of his cock. With his other hand he runs his touch down her back and gives her plump cheek a quick slap.  Her sweet petals open in a gasp and she licks her tongue over his head. “That’s my girl,” he praises.

Head back, he breathes deeply recognizing the smell of orchids in the air.  He jumps when she nips lightly with her teeth.  Looking down on her, her wild hair falls over her shoulders and her dark eyes show a hint of playfulness.  He steps away, gripping her chin tighter.  “Alright, Miss.  I understand.  Where would you like me?”

Dropping his hands, he folds them neatly in front of him, hiding his cock from her sight.

Confusion passes across her face and bewildered she sits back on the couch.  She looks to the food and back to him and he can almost see her brilliant mind working, thinking on something she’s never really pondered before.

Blushing, she quietly speaks.  “Jesus, Chris, I don’t know.  I’ve never…” She waves her hands in the air as if reaching for words.  “Initiated play before.  I just-”

“Miss.”  His tone stops her and she looks to him for guidance.  His gaze warms as he looks over her body and his cock jumps behind his hand.  He wants her to see the power she has on him, to feel it, to use it.  And in his heart he knows he’s never given that to anyone before.  She truly is special.  “Thalia, what do you want?  I said that tonight you are mine, but that also makes me yours.  Anything;  just ask- no. Just tell me.”

Dropping her eyes, her hand flies to her mouth and she plays with her lip like she does sometimes when she is lost deep in thought.  His heart skips that he knows this about her; he knows some of her quirks.  “Tell me what you want me to do,” he repeats.

Truly at a loss, she says quietly, “I guess you can start by sitting here by me and sharing these treats with me.”

“You guess?”

Closing her eyes in an effort not to roll them, she tries again.  “Chris, sit here by me and feed me a bite of the damn cheesecake.”

Biting back his laughter and her slipped profanity, he walks around the table to the other side and sits on the floor at her feet.  His position is chosen on purpose and with a quick look to her Chris is aware she understands the significance.  The cheesecake is cut into small pieces and he lifts it to her as she leans forward to accept it from him.  Placing it into her mouth her tongue brushes his finger briefly and he isn’t sure if the moan she makes is for their contact or her favorite dessert.

Removing a pillow from the couch, he places it under him and moves one of the trays of sweets and fruits to place it next to her.  Turning, he wraps one of his arms around her leg and leans into her plump calve, resting his chin on her knee.  “Ready for more, Miss?”

She whispers, “I’m not sure if I like that,”  Louder she finishes her sentence, “but I will take more cheesecake.”  He feeds her a larger bite this time, while she reaches over and picks up a piece of his favorite chocolate cake and feeds him. He likes that she knows little things about him too.

They continue feeding each other and he massages her leg.  When she loosens and becomes more comfortable Thalia kicks off the high heels and spreads her legs, resting the other on the edge of the table.  Chris focuses his attention on the growing wet spot on her satin panties and her smell is unmistakable.  In her relaxed state, if she knows or cares, she doesn’t say a word.

“This is quite an amazing collection; have you read them all?”  Thalia asks, lovingly tracing her finger over the gold filigree on the cover of the book next to her.

Forgetting she’s in charge, his large hand slides up her inner thigh and massages her flesh.  “My grandfather passed away right before I moved in.  This was his collection; his handmade shelves.  It seemed pointless to have a dining room, so I put the space to better use.”  He looks around the old-fashioned library style den with wall to wall books.  “Actually, pretty much everything was Pappo’s.

“You can keep touching me if you tell me more about you.  What made you like history so much?”  The tenderness in her words tug at his heart and he opens to her, telling stories he hasn’t told in a long time, things he needs to remember to share with his daughter one day.  At some point in their discourse, her foot had lifted from the floor and was actually placed tenderly on his shaft, rolling her heel back and forth.

When silence falls, she whispers into the night, “Chris, I think you’re hungry for more dessert.” She falters, building her nerve.  “You may remove my clothing now.  But keep the tie where it is.”

#

In the early morning hours he wakes to go to the bathroom. His neck pops and creaks as he rises from the bed, pulling the covers up around her.  Running his hand over his beard, he realizes he’s head over heels for this girl.  This woman…  He tenderly caresses through her curls before wrapping his robe around himself.  He uses the bathroom down the hall for privacy and pads quietly down the stairs to the kitchen for a glass of milk.

Resting against the counter images flash through his mind: eating her out just as sweetly as they’d devoured the cheesecake;  Thalia riding on top of him, using the back of the couch for leverage; still not letting him come, her beautiful breasts in his face, him using the tie to hold her; leaning her over the arm of the couch, pounding her from behind until she cried out his name.  Chasing her up the stairs to his bedroom and falling asleep in each other’s arms…  With each orgasm she had, she became more bold in her requests and she thrived in her mission.  Three.  Their favorite number and he was still resting on the edge.  If he wasn’t sure his release at her creation would be the perfect undoing, he’d jack off himself right now.  Hearing noise from upstairs, he sets the dirty glass in the sink and climbs the steps.

The bed is empty and the shower is running.  Tapping on the door, he remembers his role and inquires, “Miss?  May I come in?”

The door falls open and she laughs, “It’s your house.  You’re still King of the castle.”

Princess pops in his head but he doesn’t want to go there.  The steam envelopes him as he steps inside, dropping the robe to the floor.  The smell of orchids is overwhelming and he finds contents of her big bag spread all over the counter.  Chris doesn’t want to know if she always goes out at night prepared to not return home.

The words escape before he can stop himself.  Bracing against the counter, he asks, “How come you’re always available for overnight dates when I wanna see you?  When do-”

The curtain shrieks along the bar as she slides it back.  “Don’t.  I’m in my ‘Chris bubble’ right now.  My school bubble floats over here.” She randomly points in the air, letting the curtain fall open and he can see in the mirror reflection the water running over her curves and valleys.  “I have a work bubble over here,” she moves her hands again pointing at other ‘bubbles.’  “Family bubbles, friend bubbles and ‘Other.’”  Her eyes plead with him.  “I keep them all separate.  If you wanna do this, let’s talk about it later.  I’m not demanding that of you,” referencing their play.  “But I care about you, and if you really want this conversation, I wanna do it right.”

His fist is so clenched he has nail marks in his palm when he releases it.  “You’re right. ‘Chris bubble,’ huh?  How’d you get so smart?” he asks moving to her outreached hand.  Clasping it, he steps over the edge of the tub to join her.  “Speaking of bubbles, wanna bath instead?” he asks.

“Not big enough, babe,” she admits with a blush.  “But that’s okay. I’ve already figured out the benefits of this ledge,” she teases with a wink as he pulls her close.  Reaching down she picks up the pink shampoo container with glitter and a cartoon princess on the front.  “This could lead to a lot of questions if I didn’t know your story.”

Grabbing it from her hand and clutching it to his chest between them, he huffs, “I’ll have you know, this is mine.  It is my favorite.”  One handed, he pops the top and a bubblegum scent escapes.  He snaps it shut quickly. “Damn, I never realized before that stinks.” Reaching around the curtain, he tosses it onto the floor.  While she twists her hair back and ties it on itself into a bun he regains his composure.  In that position her tit presents itself to him perfectly and he latches onto it for a sweet suckle, while pinching the other till she moans.  His tongue lathes over the pretty pink ink marked on her skin in memory of her friend.  “Simply beautiful.”   With his deep timbred voice he asks, “And Miss, just how exactly do you plan to use that ledge?  What would you like me to do?”

The depths of her dark chocolate eyes positively gleam with desire.  She nervously runs her thumb across her pink lips while her other hand plays with the beads of water clinging to his chest hairs. Her hesitation is endearing.

“Say it, Thalia.  What?”

Scoffing, she takes in a deep breath and strengthens.  “I really like that you’re strong enough to support me, Chris.  It’s a goddamn turn on.  I’d really like you to fuck me against this shower wall so hard, the tiles crack, and catch me if I fall.”

Pulling his lips back in over his teeth he bites down and hides his smile, a huff of air escaping through his nose.  She turns her body away from him, pushing her breasts to the tile wall and folding her arms above her head.  Her ass pushes out and brushes against his hip.  “Fuuuck, Miss. Ask and you shall receive.”

Taking her orchid scented soap, he lathers it on his hands and covers suds all over her body.  His hands run over her curves and love handles, soothing and cleaning every inch. Tracing over the pattern of stretch marks on her hip, he bends to kiss them tenderly.  Her quiet mewls and pants echo against the tiles. The increased soap slick allows hims to massage roughly into her shoulders, wiping away her tension.  Massaging down over her back, he takes his sweet time washing over her ass, taking the shower head to rinse away the bubbles simply to soap her up again.  Squeezing and pulling at her skin, he smacks it, loving the rippling bounce of her flesh.

“Again,” comes the muffled sound of her voice, her head resting in the crook of her elbow.

He smacks the other cheek, a bit harder than the first.  “Thalia, do you like that?”

“Yes, sir.” She replies.  “Sometimes.”

Sir.  That’s new.   His blood begins to boil but he stamps the thought down.   His jealousy is still felt in his harsh touch as he kneads over her ass and her cries of pleasure grow louder.  Plucking her skin, he watches it spring back into place.  Her peach-shaped ass is perfect and he longs to bite from it.  Washing away the soap, he kneels behind her and caresses along her divide.  Her sounds heighten and she moans louder as he separates her cheeks and swipes his tongue across her freshly cleaned plane.  “Oh, fuck,” she cries out as her legs shake.  “Chris, I-”

“Shh, Niña.  I’ll stop if you tell me to.”  His fingers reach up between her legs, meeting with her wet juices before he even dives into the prize.  Thrusting in and out of her dripping cunt, he swipes through with his tongue again across her pretty pink hole.  “But something tells me you don’t really want me to stop.”  His voice is low and quiet and full of lust.  He continues to plunge into her slick pussy, pushing her against the wall, but he rests his head against the side of the her thigh.  “Hey, look down at me…” Their eyes meet and her visible hunger is greater than her fear.  “Thalia, I mean it, if you say ‘stop,’ I will. But I promise, literally, you’re in good hands.  If I hadn’t studied you and learned enough about you over the last several weeks, I wouldn’t even offer this to you.  But, really, sweetheart, you have such a luscious peachy ass, so juicy and round, I really just have to have a taste.”  Flicking his thumb over her clit, the shivers ripple through her body as she moans, nodding yes.

“I want what you want.  I’ve just… never, and it’s-”

“It’s whatever two people want, Thalia.  This is just us, you and me.  There’s no taboo when two people agree.  No damn safewords, just tell me no and I’ll stop.”

Dropping her hand she pets the side of his cheek, scratching her fingertips through his scruff.  “I trust you.  I’m yours.”  Placing her fingers to his lips she makes a kissy sound and presses against him, delivering her kiss.

Impaling her a few more times with his fingers, he slides out and licks them clean, moaning at her taste.  “You taste tangy and sweet, delicious.”  His other hand teases across her hole gently applying pressure with his thumb, but not seeking to gain entry.  He turns the heat up on the water splashing down over them, resting the nozzle at the top of her curve so it sweeps down over her ass cheeks in tiny little rivers.  As his hands become more desperate over her flesh, her body arches against the tile wall and her ass is pushed towards him as she slides her feet apart a bit more, opening herself to him, giving herself.  A lovely gift indeed.

Pushing against her tight hole again her head hangs down and her heavy pants and moans fill the shower, echoing in his ears and causing his cock to jump and spring to life.  He wishes he could see her face, read her, share this with her in a more connected sense.  As if she hear his thoughts, she brings one arm behind her and caresses over the top of his buzzed head and tugs at his earlobe.

Ignoring the pain in his knees Chris divides her cheeks again and watches her anal ridges pulse.  She jumps when he washes over her with his tongue flat and wide. His beard brushes over her sensitive skin.  She keens loudly and he supports her buckling legs.  “Oh, hell, again,” she whines.  “Please.”

“My pleasure,” he announces before he dives forward again, his heart pounding in his chest.   Virgin.  First time.  His cock aches to be inside her knowing he’s too much for a first time tonight, but he can enjoy teasing her, warming her up to the idea.  His tongue continues to bathe over her as she balances and adjusts, her breathy gasps giving away her building heat.  With a last flick of his tongue over her taint, he brings his mouth back to her virgin hole, placing an open mouthed kiss, with a gentle push of his tongue.  Instinctively, she pushes back, her cries loud and desirous.  “Chris, fuck, yea.”  She grasps the top of his head, but there’s no hair to pull on and he silently curses the decision for a buzz cut as he so intimately kisses her again.

This time, his tongue penetrates briefly into the tight spot before she pushes him out.  Using his thumb for another try, he rubs over her while he gently nibbles the flesh around her delicate ass hole.  Sitting back on his heels and shifting his weight, he tugs himself a few times just to relieve his pressure and realizes she’s squeezing and pinching at her breast and she’s carrying herself to the edge.  “This time, baby, when I push in, you have to push back.  You’ll feel it; you’ll know what to do.  You’re doing great, Thalia.”

“But if I push out?”  Her voice is slightly tense, voicing an unspoken concern.

“No, baby, it’ll be fine, I promise.”  He knows he can’t promise that, but he wants to keep her calm as he caresses over her asshole again.

She groans and nods her head, trusting him, her legs still trembling.  She really can’t take much more.  With his thumb he circles tenderly around her ridges once aain before pushing against her puckered flesh.  Thalia whimpers but complies with his instructions and he sinks into her tight cavern to his knuckle, holding still before her body pushes him away.  “Ow, oh fuck, that was…”

Freezing, Chris caresses her cheeks, kissing sweetly on her tender flesh.  “Do you want me to stop, Thalia?”

“No. No.  Oh, fuck, Chris.  That felt so… different. Good going in, but not so great coming out…”

“Practice makes perfect, right?  If you want me to stop, just say so.”  Reacting quickly, he does it again, patting at her leg and whispering what a good girl she is, encouraging her.  Recognizing his good fortune of being her first he tenderly cares for her as he pushes with more strength. Her cries don’t falter and come in repetitions as her space opens and accepts him.

“Yes, yes, uhh-huh,” she repeats as his thumb slides all the way in and he holds momentarily giving her time to acclimate to the foreign feel. Pulling out carefully, he rises to catch her as her legs buckle and he holds her by pushing their bodies against the wall.

“Hey, beautiful.  I’ve got you.  You’re alright.”  He loses himself in her hazy eyes and craves making her feel that way again.

Driven by desire, over her shoulder her mouth hungrily seeks his.  He greedily accepts her kisses, their tongues dancing together as her cries are captured in his mouth.

Separating their lips, she presses her temple to his.  “No more, not tonight.  But you can finish fucking me and you get to come.  There’s a condom there, on the corner.”

While he washes his hands carefully and they rinse with the mouthwash on the ledge, he keeps his body pressed to hers.  She still trembles in her weakened state.  The water’s growing colder and it’s time to finish what she started hours before when they entered the house.

Sliding the condom on, he snaps it into place and adjusts it before positioning himself behind her, caging her against the wall with his powerful body.  Without a sound she folds her arms over her head anew, grabbing one wrist and raising her foot to perch on the shower ledge.  “This right here, I love his,” he growls in her ear, the wet tendrils of curls tickling his nose as he grabs her hips and pulls her back onto his cock.  He guides her to take a step backwards and her bottom tilts perfectly for him to curve into her waiting pussy.  “You’re so ready and hot.  You’re fuckin’ on fire, Thalia.  I love how your juice heats me.”  With his hands gripping her tightly, he digs into her flesh, sure to leave a mark.  He forcefully sinks into her over and over, each thrust deeper than the one before. He loves watching her ass bump against him when he’s in to the hilt, the way her skin rolls with each reaming.  “God, I could watch your ass all day, Niña.  It’s beautiful how it bounces against me.”

When he feels the blood rushing to his cock, he prepares for their finish.  Leaning over her, he runs one hand tenderly up her spine, watching goosebumps swell over her dark skin.  Placing his hand on her shoulder, he’s able to force her in a downward motion on his cock and his grunts increase as he powers into her.  Their sounds echo together in the shower and the noise fills the quiet house. Her fingers above flex and he uses the other hand to hold her in place, knowing she aches to tease her clit.  So he takes back control as her walls squeeze around him and he can feel her pressure build as she starts to come, her cries louder, unable to catch her breath..

Through her release Thalia becomes soft under him, more pliable as the muscles in her back relax and she loosens to take more of his pounding, her hand turning in his to lace between his fingers.  Strong and gentle, willing to bend her will to meet his, both sharing power in a delicate balance.  The cerebral thought of their togetherness is what does him in as he tips over the edge and he pulses streams of his come into the thin condom separating them.

Her walls still constrict around him, milking him and pulling all of the seed from him as he falls against her back, holding her up and supporting them both.  He peppers her soft skin with kisses feeling the water turn cold as she shivers in his arms.  Kissing the crook of her neck, he pulls out and tells her, “Stay, Miss, let me get you warm.”  Turning the water off, he steps out of the shower, discarding the condom and reaching for his robe and fluffy towels.  The air in the bathroom is still warm and steamy but it won’t last long.

Stepping back into the shower, Chris dries her off, gently lifting her legs and patting between them gingerly taking care not to hurt her tender parts   He dries her back and her mid section, lifting each rounded globe and drying carefully, playfully tweaking her nipples before wrapping a towel around her and tucking it in over her enticing breasts  Her arms are still above her head as he dries one, then the other.  His eyes darken and heat rises in his belly.

“Thalia, open your eyes.”  She follows his directive and she can see what he sees.  The dark marks on her arm, a large hand print wrapped around her bicep.  “I didn’t do that, and the punk in the hallway the other day had you by the other arm.  Does he hurt you?”

Her eyes drop and she shakes her head.  “No, it’s not like that.” Tears fill her eyes.  “It’s different, but he would never hurt me, just like I know you wouldn’t.”

The tears have him concerned and he turns her in his arms, holding her close.  Resting her head under his chin, her body still shakes in his arms.  He tangles his fingers in her curls and massages against her scalp.  He should have given her more time to come down from her euphoric high, but his concern for her overpowered him.  “Honey, if he doesn’t hurt you, then why are you crying?”

She scoffs and sniffs back her tears, “I guess it’s my damned Catholic school training, but shouldn’t there be something wrong in finding pleasure in the pain? I just feel like it’s so fuckin’ messed up, you know?”

Leaning back, he looks into her beautiful face and his mind whirls.  She’s not just talking about him.  What the fuck is she in to?  What does the other bastard have her do for him?  Stomach churning, he helps her put on the robe and ties it loosely around her.  “Walk to the door and wait for me there.”

Drying off quickly, he cloaks the towel around his tapered waist, running the other towel over his buzzed head.

“Did you just dry your hair?” she laughs, wiping her nose and a tear that escaped.  “You’re ridiculous.”

He walks to her, slipping on the wet tile and she reaches out to him.  “I told you not to throw your back out.  How am I supposed to explain that to the paramedics?”

“Using humor again as a defense now.  Nice… You’re not changing the topic this time, Thalia.”  Sweeping her into his arms basket style, he carries her over to the bed, setting her down gently.  He rests at her feet, putting a pillow under his knees.  “Thank God you’re worth it, cause you are hell on my knees…”  He wipes away a tear and reaches behind her to pull the knot loose from her hair.  It tumbles around her in waves, a tangled mess.  From the dresser by his bed he hands her another pink bottle and a large toothed comb.

“Shit.  I’ll say it again, and it’s not meant to be creepy, but detangler by your bed?  You are a really good dad,” she giggles.

“I take care of the people important to me.  Now what’s this all about?  Tell me, Thalia.  Because honestly, right now I wanna beat the shit out of whoever makes you feel this way.”

The detangler works like magic and she slowly works the comb through her hair, relaxing her.  Chris leans forward and crosses his arms on her thighs, resting his head and turning to watch her as she works.  “There’s no one to beat up.  It’s all in my head and that’s why it’s so fuckin’ scary.”

“Are you hurt?  Have I hurt you?  You said pain.  I’m a little confused. What are you talking about?”

She sighs and drops her head, embarrassed.  “Chris, it’s just all so damn confusing and too much, especially without telling you things I don’t want you to know about me.”

“So you like some kinky stuff, it’s not a bad thing,” he reminds her, gently caressing her exposed leg.  “I just prefer you do those things with me, that’s all.  You’re mine, remember?”

“Yes, I’m yours,” she smiles. and sighs  “Except when I’m not.”

His heart feels stomped on.  But he remembers, he does seem to get more of her nights than the other man, and he wonders again if she’s seeing someone who is married.  Brushing it aside, he asks again.  “What do you mean about the pain?”

“I don’t know.  It just all seems odd to me and maybe I’m too young to get it, but why do some spankings feel so good, why do I let myself be told what to do, why do I like bossing you around so much?”  Resting the comb in her lap, she laughs, rubbing over the top of his head and scratching behind his ear.  “It just doesn’t make sense and seem right to me when I lay down at night and truly let myself think about it.  I’m a smart, intelligent woman.  I can do things on my own.  So why am I letting a man control me?”

“Shit. Ok?”  Chris rises to sit in the middle of the bd, resting against the headboard.  He pats his chest and indicates for her to crawl into his space.  Enveloping his arms around her, she snuggles next to him.  “You want the psychology of it?  Every three semesters, I teach History of Sex.  You should sign up for it in the fall.  Very popular class,” he jokes.  “Niña, like I said earlier, it’s whatever two people choose.  What’s right for you and me might be wrong for you and someone else.  It’s all about the care and respect two people share.”  He kisses the top of her head and sweeps her hair back looping his fingers through the curls.  She lifts her leg, resting it on across his Adonis to feel closer to him and he pulls her thigh, resting her leg in a better spot, hugging it to him.  “As for why you like it?  It doesn’t make you dark and twisted, or dirty, sweetheart.  Think about your day.  You live alone. You take care of yourself.  You’re far from your beloved family back in Chicago.  Your brain moves a hundred miles an hour all day long as you move from class to class, and prep your work for the class you TA.  You’ve got your research with the British ‘arse;’ your work at the bar; you’ve got a few friends you make time for; somehow you juggle two boyfriends and you work relentlessly sending out resumes to museums and dig sites in all corners of the world.” He pauses taking a deep breath.

“Fuck, I’m getting tired just thinking about all that, and then you come home and sleep and wake up the next day to do it all again.  Man, I’m a real shit head for pulling you in to work with the History Department.” He chuckles and she taps his chest, winding her fingers through the smattering of hair.

“So I’m always on the go.  Tell me something I don’t know,” she replies sarcastically, running her fingers over the raised skin where a famous quote is etched, his tat dark against his pale skin.

“Yea, and you do it all alone.  Maybe I get a few hours every few days to make sure you eat, or sleep, or get laid.  But you’re alone and you’re making all the decisions.  That’s tough; it’s a daunting task.  And it’s amazing you do that; it’s fuckin’ sexy, Thalia.  But when you find time to relax, to wind down, you just want someone else to take charge, tell you want to do.  It doesn’t make you any less powerful.  Ultimately, even in those type relationships the submissive partner is the driving force.  Even when I tell you what to do, you have the power to say no, and I wouldn’t really ask you to do anything I didn’t think you’d enjoy.  And when you power over me, it’s just so damn sexy.  And for me, when you do, I like watching the way you think, how you get flustered at first and then grow into it as a woman and let yourself take control.”

“It works because of trust,” she states simply.

“Trust and care, yeah.  I considered jacking off earlier, but I knew you cared enough, and I trusted you’d make my pain and suffering all night worth it.  And it sure fuckin’ was, Thalia.  You’re worth it.”

Sighing, she kisses along his ribcage.  “Thank you, Chris.  That does make me feel better.  I guess because I’m surrounded by people, I don’t realize I am alone a lot of the time.  It is nice when you take care of me.”

“Good; I like it too.  You better now?  Can we go back to sleep?”  He doesn’t want to think any more about the other bastard.  Getting her mind all twisted like that… The morning sun begins to break through the window and his voice is sleepy and lazy.  “No class tomorrow, but I need to put in some office hours.  What time do you need to get back?

“Well, I gotta go home and change and get my computer.  I don’t know.  Can we leave around eleven, maybe grab a bite to eat?”

“Perfect.  Sleep beautiful girl.”  Other words and thoughts float in his head but he chokes on them.

“Goodnight my man,” she whispers and the two quickly fall back asleep tired from their exploits in the early morning hours.

Click here to read Chapter 29 Warped Fairy Tales

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

Mine Tonight

ET ch 27 Mine tonight June 4 2017

Chapter 27

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: 4654

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, food porn, NSFW, nipple play, oral sex, face fuck, delayed gratification, edging, denied orgasm

Summary:  Chris takes Thalia on a date since their last meeting in public lead to a fight.  This time he intends to make it perfect.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

The next night, Chris can’t believe how beautiful she looks in the wrap style red dress with a simple gold chain at her neck.  The little pendant falls just so in her bountiful cleavage and he can’t wait to take a closer look at it later.  The heels honestly make her the same height as him, and he’s so honored to have her on his arm as the whole place seems to watch them walk to their table.  Her shoulders are back and her head is held high, but with his hand on the small of her back, he can feel her trembling, a total ball of nerves.  Holding her seat out for her, as she sits, he can’t help the small whistle of appreciation that escapes his lips.  “Christopher!  Behave yourself,” she admonishes him, her smile growing by the minute.

Pushing her chair in, he leans down over her shoulder, whispering in her ear.  “So does that dress have one or two ties holding it closed?”

“Stop it!” She blushes as she swats his arm.

Taking the seat closest to her, she eyes him warily.  “I believe it’s proper etiquette to sit across from the lady at dinner so you can admire her.  You’re in the wrong seat, sir.”

She halts her teasing when the waiter comes to take their drink orders.  Chris watches her bite her lip as his hand runs up her thigh, holding back his own laughter when she clamps her legs shut tight.

Pushing his hand away when the waiter leaves, she rises proper again.  “Chris, stop.  I mean,” she shakes her head and blushes.  “Chris.  I really don’t want you to stop, but,” she sighs and scrunches her face up the way she sometimes does when she doesn’t want to say what she needs to say that Chris finds so adorable.

“When you do that, and scrunch your nose and pout out your lips, it’s adorable,” Chris tells her.

Blushing, the pink rose brings out her freckles and he leans back in his seat, placing his hands on the table.  “What did you want to tell me, Niña?

She tilts her head back and pushes her hair from her face.  This is going to be a long night if he can’t stop his thoughts or his hands.  “Babe, I rarely get taken on ‘fancy’ dates like this.”  She gestures to the menu, “I don’t even know what half this stuff is; it’s exciting and makes me feel special.  I want to enjoy it.  I’ve worked in restaurants before.” Her hand rests on his, laying on the table.  “The staff always knows when the woman is getting groped under the table; I don’t want to be that gi- that woman tonight.  Please.”  She licks her lips nervously waiting for his response.

Nodding his head, he takes a drink of water with his free hand.  With his other, he turns it slowly and slides his fingers to entwine with hers.  “I understand; tonight is about you.” Reaching across he tucks her hair behind her ear and says, “Anything you want, just ask.  But I can’t control my thoughts and when I get you home with me tonight, you’re all mine.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she grins.

Scouring the menu, they both make their decisions and laugh at the combination of fruits and vegetables in the salad.  She tears off a small bite of the seasoned garlic bread and her absolute joy is heavenly.  “Carbs,” she whispers.  “Oh, my God…”

“What are talking about?”  Laughing as he dips his bread in the olive oil.  “So we don’t ‘date’ but we eat together a lot.  I’ve seen you eat pizza, pancakes and hamburgers and those-”

“You know, as an adult male, those are really unhealthy food options.  I should feed you better,” she giggles.  “A Puerto Rican girl this size? She can cook!  Arroz con gandules…. Oh, as cold as it’s been I should fix asopao.  No. No, you’re Italian, I should make pastelón!  You’ll never want regular lasagna again.”

Her eyes gleam and dance, her accent growing thick as the foreign words fall from her lips.  “Yes to all of it, whatever you want, considering I have no idea what any of that is, but I love hearing you say it.   Growing up, did your family visit Puerto Rico?”

Thalia tells him her adventures as a child visiting her father’s family and running through the fields of sugarcane with her cousins who still lived on the island. She pauses long enough for the waiter to serve their meals and she turns her questions to him, asking about his travels and journeys as a historian.  Through discussion they even discover at one point they had both been swimming in the caves at Grand Cenote on the Yucatan peninsula within days of one another and had been to many ‘off the map’ historic stops, leaving them to wonder if they had crossed paths years before, when Thalia was still an undergrad.

The conversation flows freely and lightly.  Chris watches in awe as he can see her brain jump from one topic to the next and she shares so many random facts about the places they’ve both seen, things he didn’t even know.  Her skin glows in the candle light on the table and as she relaxes, her posture falls a bit, allowing the front of her dress to gape just enough to provide him with a lovely view.  Occasionally she rubs her leg against his and smiles innocently.  But the damn little lick of her lip lets him know she knows exactly what she’s doing.

When the meal winds down, Chris wipes his mouth on his napkin and lays it next to his plate.  “So Miss Teaching Assistant; what’s my grade?  Did I pass our first date?  You’re not still mad at me like the other night?  I wasn’t sure who to worry more about- you killing me or Jim?”

A quick pink rises up her chest and across her cheeks.  “Sorry about that little display.  Oh, but thank you by the way for the heater; you didn’t have to do that; you never answered my text? And I really hate presents, just so you know.” Tilting her head from side to side, she rubs her lips together.  “I was having a really bad day, but you know about that?  You reported the creep?  I heard about that…”  Her eyes drop briefly and the shade of pink grows darker.  “I spoke in anger, and I said things I didn’t me-”

Putting his hand over hers, “Thalia, you were right.  You’re too amazing to keep hidden away.  I should be taking you out, enjoying things with you.  And I sure as hell hope I’ve never made you feel the way you said.  If I did, I’m so, so sorry, and I will do everything I can to fix it. If I’ve ever made you feel not important or special to me-” Stopping himself he sighs.  He scoffs.  “Wanna hear something funny?  Everyone knew how crazy I was about my wife.   Oh, I know girls took my class just to get a look at me, and there were jokes about trading favors for As, but none of that was true.  Thalia, you are the first woman to catch my eye since my divorce.”  He grasps her hands and moves closer to her, looking into her dark eyes.  “I wanna make sure you hear this… When I make a commitment, I’m there.  I’m all in.  I may have sown a few wild oats after the divorce; I’d been with the same woman since I was twenty- two.  But revenge sex wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and at my age now, I grew tired of it.  I hadn’t been with anyone in nearly five months till you came along.  You are important to me. And too bad, there will be more gifts because I like getting little things for people I care about.  It’s no different than you making me dinner or bringing me breakfast on days we work together.”  He winks at her, removing his glasses and putting them in his coat pocket.  “And if I haven’t said it before, or made you feel it, shame on me.  I’d like to make that up to you tonight, if you’ll let me.”

Her eyes are wide with his confession and he wonders what she thinks. As he’s been talking her mouth has slowly dropped open, breathing as though she can’t get enough air and her hands are warm in his.  “Yes, Chris, I’d like that.  Very much.” Dropping her eyes, she blushes and says quietly, “You’re important to me too.  I like the time we share together.  It’s… different.”

Briefly he wonders if she means ‘different’ as in how the other man in her life treats her,or ‘different’ in general to past experiences.  For a split second, he considers asking her. But this isn’t the time or place and secretly he prides himself on keeping his jealousy to himself.  He has to make himself look good and doesn’t want to tip his hand, and show her how damn envious he really is.  “I like hearing that Thalia… I hope you don’t mind, but I have other plans for us tonight and I’d like-”

“No dessert?  Chris, you can’t take a fat girl to a fancy restaurant like this and not have dessert,” she laughs, tugging on his arm playfully.

“You’re not fat, dammit, and I know you’re saying that now as a joke, but I really wish you wouldn’t.”  His hand brushes against her thigh under the table and he feels her tremble as her breath catches and he moves closer to her.  Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, his fingers drag gently through her long tresses and her tongue flicks out to lick her lips in desire. “I like when you tremble at my touch, Niña.  It shows me you’re mine and you want me.  Every man in this room has their eyes on you; they want you.”  Leaning in the smell of sweet orchids on her skin fills his nose and heightens his senses.  “They are jealous of me and envision things we might do, and wish it was them.  And the women are envious of your beautiful hair and glowing skin.  You look positively radiant tonight darling.  Red is definitely your color.”

Tears rim her eyes and she blinks them away.  “I’m beautiful to you, Chris.  Thank you, but not everyone else sees me that way.”

He wonders again about her other companion and slowly pushes his chair back, signaling to the waiter.  “I’m sure someone does,” his tone hardens for a moment.  To the waiter, he simply hands over his credit card and asks for the rest of their meal to be boxed up.  Another server arrives to carry things away.  “I have a special treat planned for later, Niña.  You’ll get more than one type of sweet treat later, I promise.”

Giggling she shakes her head and pushes her chair back.  Chris rises as she does and she excuses herself to the ladies room.  Eyeing her as she saunters away, he worships the sway of her hips, the form fitting dress showing off every curve.

#

Driving back into town, holding hands tightly in her lap, she watches the city pass through the window.  Taking his eyes from the road, he views her strong profile and his heart flips.  Turning to him, she winks at catching his gaze.  “Where are we?  I don’t recognize this part of town.”

“I wanted to be away from campus; found a duplex housing unit that had a playground for Avery.”

“Oh,” she whispers quietly.  “So we’re going back to your house?”

Sensing her hesitancy, he provides an out.  “We don’t have to; we can go back to your place… Or we can get a hotel?”

“No. No hotels.”  She fidgets in her seat, looking out the window as she gathers her thoughts.  In her quiet husky tone she admits, “It just feels really… intimate.  That’s your home, with your daughter.  Are you sure?”

Raising their hands to his lips, he turns the car down the dark road and gently kisses the back of her hand.  Sighing happily, he tells her.  “I appreciate your concern, Thalia, but I‘m a grown man.  I wouldn’t bring you here if I didn’t want you to be a part of my life, whatever part of it you want.  Avery’s not here, of course, and to be honest, I haven’t decided yet about you two meeting.  She’d love you, and no one can help but fall in love with her. It’s just-”

“If she’s half as amazing as her dad, I’m sure I would adore her.  Babe, you don’t have to explain it to me.” Her eyes glisten in the dark.  “Kid of divorce.  I get it.  It takes a special person to take on additional baggage.  Some days I feel like just a kid myself…” Her voice changes.  “And no child should be subjected to growing attached to new people who appear in their lives just as suddenly as they leave.  You’ll know when and if it’s right for us to meet…”

In the driveway, he places the car in park.  “Thalia Bareo, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t handle.  You’re so giving and flexible, and you-”

Her giggles stop him and he starts laughing too.  “And you have a very filthy mind, and I adore that.”

Reaching over to her in the dark he wraps his fingers in her thick mass of curls and she doesn’t even wait for him to pull her close.  Their lips collide in the middle, meeting over the damn center console.  Her hands grip his tie and yanks him to her as their mouths open and their tongues caress against one another and she releases a lusty sigh. “Been waiting on you all night to do that; took you long enough,” she teases.

His hands reach into her warm winter coat and he pulls away at the top of her dress, groping at her full breast under the satin and lace.  Loudly she moans against his mouth and his cock stirs.  God, he wants her.  He wastes no time and pushes her back, leaning over the center divide between them to rest against her as he kneads at the tender flesh peeking out of her bra.  Shoving the fabric aside he exposes one of her dark nipples to the cold air and pinches it between his fingers. Greedy, his kisses grow with intensity as he alternates between kissing her deeply and nipping at her swollen lips.  While their mouths reacquaint with one another, Thalia loosens his tie and makes haste with the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt.

Cold from the winter air her hands dart across his skin in feather light touches, running her fingertips through the soft scattering of hair on his chest.  Sliding his mouth down over her jawline, he licks a stripe of wet along her exposed graceful neck before nibbling back up to her ear.  She tilts her head back against the cold glass window and she finds her words again.  “We’re not fourteen and you’re gonna hurt yourself there, big boy,” she teases as her hands slide down to rest on his waist, his hard cock pressing into her belly.  “And it’s cold as hell out here. I’m assuming your bed is warmer?”

Climbing off her, he collapses into his seat.  “I knew I should have asked for the mini-van in the divorce,” he chuckles, squeezing her fingertips.

She simply rolls her eyes.  “I’m a lady, kind sir.  I don’t shag in a vehicle,” she teases with the mocked air of royalty.

“Fine, Princess.  Stay seated, let me help you.  The driveway is slick.”  Looking over to her beautifully aroused body he reaches across and pulls her dress back in place over her exposed breasts.  “Wrap back up.  It’s cold, and I don’t want you getting sick.”

Getting out of the car and watching for ice himself, he mumbles aloud.  “‘I don’t want you getting sick.’  Hell, I’m not her father. That’s just weird, Chris, get it together.”

A sound makes him look at her through the front window and he sees her hiding behind her hand, her eyes wide.  He raises his arms to shrug a silent question and slips on the ice, catching himself on the grill of the car.  “Fuck,” he mutters. “Good going. Throw out your back like on old man before you can even get her in bed, Jesus fuckin’-”

Reaching for her door handle, he laughs when he opens it and she has a small pair of flats sitting in her lap.  “Is that why your purse is so big? You had shoes in there?  Or is it like a closet door to Narnia,” he teases.

Spinning around on her ample bottom, her skirt hikes up, exposing her bare thigh as she swings her feet out to the ground.   His eyes follow along the long stretch of her leg as she quickly removes her heels and replaces them with the flats.  “A Narnia reference, really? I would have gone with Hermione’s handbag myself.”

“Who?” he laughs but loses his attention when she runs her hand down her leg to put on the other slipper.  Damn.  The image of her hands caressing over her dark skin makes him hard.  He’s been holding his thoughts in all evening and now he can allow them to run free. A release of sorts…

“The heels go back on later,” he says gruffly, thankful for the long winter wool coat hiding his growing bulge. “Were you laughing at me?”

Nodding her head vigorously her curls shake rapidly.  “I was! I could hear you talking to yourself, you fool.” She blushes and her smile grins from ear to ear. “Its sweet you worry about me but please, dear God, don’t throw out your back,” she giggles again, hiding behind her hand.

Blushing, he whispers, “Damn. You weren’t supposed to hear all that.”

He holds his arm out to her and she rises carefully, making sure the surface isn’t slick.  Out of the car, he kisses her again, inhaling her warm breath and then blowing it back out to see the bubble of condensation released into the winter night air.  Reaching for the left overs in the back seat, he then holds his arm to her, crooked at the elbow for her to link hers in his.  “If we fall, I’m grabbing for the steaks and you have to fend for yourself,” she tells him and they both nearly fall on the patch of ice when they throw their heads back in laughter.

Walking up the front sidewalk, he’s focused on their steps, so they don’t get hurt. She makes him feel young and vibrant, and he almost wishes they were dressed better for an impromptu snowball fight.  The idea makes him smile, picturing the two of them rolling around in the snow, trying to shove it down each other’s shirts and going inside later for a hot shower to warm up and-

“What the hell!”   He’s startled by the cold against his cheek and neck.

“You squeal like a girl!”  Laughing, she drops his arm and moves quickly ahead, more snow from the bushes in her gloved  hands.  “Chicago, babe.  I know how to pack a snowball.”  She throws it and hits him squarely in the chest.

“Fuck!” He shouts stalking towards her as she grabs the porch rail and moves away from him. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we will dress for a proper fight, and I will show you how a Boston boy makes snowballs.”

“Boston boys are all talk,” she taunts him brushing the snow from his coat while he unlocks the front door.

Her playful smile tugs at his heart but he doesn’t want to let his guard down now.

The door unlocked, he quickly snakes his free hand around her waist, pulling her close.  “Lucky for you we’re all action too,” he says, kicking the door open and walking her backwards over the threshold.  Closing it against the cold air, he tosses the bag of food on the floor and spins her, pinning her back against the wooden door.

“Oh, really? Next thing you know, you’ll be trying to tell me Fenway’s better than Wrigley,” she taunts, her breathing already labored as he pulls at the buttons on her coat and rocks his body against hers, his mouth devouring her neck.

He bites roughly and she sucks in the air deeply, but no sound is released. Her head falls to the side, silent approval of his force and he bites again, his hands finally inside her coat.  He growls against her skin, “I’m going to forget you said that.  I’m going to make you forget everything tonight. You’re mine tonight, Thalia, do you understand me?”

“All yours, babe.” The smile is evident in her voice.

His lips continue to lick and suck her neck, but he doesn’t leave any marks.  Not yet.  His hands rub firmly over the front of her body and he grabs the lapels of her coat, pulling her close and away from the door.  Quickly he yanks it off of her and then removes his as her hands grasp at his tie- the tie she gave him, and tugs at the other buttons on his shirt. Pulling harder than intended, she gasps when one little disk flies off and her mouth forms a perfectly round “oh.”

“Oh, baby, that’s so beautiful when your mouth does that.” He runs his fingertip across her glossed lips as she pushes his shirt back over his shoulders, and down his arms.  Her tongue teases the rough pad of skin and he dips his finger inside her mouth.  Her eyes instantaneously darken and the heated sound she makes is very primal, hitting Chris in his gut.  Her lips wrap around his finger and her tongue strokes the length.  One hand still claws at his bicep, but the other takes hold of his hand at her mouth.  Gripping his wrist tightly, she slides his hand in and out, a promise of what’s to happen.

Chris can’t take it.  His voice is dark and deep.  “Fuuuck… On your knees.  Do it again.”

Stepping back slightly, he makes room for her, staring in disbelief as she tugs free the ties from her dress and it falls open to reveal a cream colored satin lingerie set with black lace.  The outline of her new tattoo peeks above the lace and he can’t wait to feast his eyes and lips upon the ink stain on her skin.  She shimmies out of the covering and drops to her knees, grabbing for his belt buckle and pulling on it roughly.  “Beautiful, Thalia. Fucking beautiful,” he sighs as her manicured nails tease at his bulge hidden in his dress slacks.

His head drops forward to watch her as she tugs free the belt from his waist.  He shrugs the shirt from his shoulders, pulling it loose from the waist of his pants.  When she she tilts her head  back and their eyes connect he is lost in their chocolate depths.  Dark and husky she asks, “Can I touch you?”

Asking permission.  Fuck, that’s so hot.  He simply grunts in response, at a loss for words.

Slowly her hand slides the zipper down, feathering her fingers along the exposed fabric of his boxer briefs.  Uncontrollably he jumps at the attention and his cock throbs for more of her touch.  He just wants to tell her to hurry up, but she deserves the right to some control as well.  She’s so damn good at it.  His precome seeps through the elastic waistband as her hand reaches in his pants and cups under his balls,the fabric rough against his tight skin. Lifting up from her knees, she brings her mouth to his covered cock and blows warmly across him.

Weakened by the open mouthed kisses she places on the cotton fabric, he clutches his hands at his side, bracing himself not to rush her.  Her breath hot, her nose brushes from his base to the tip.  Tucking her fingers in the waist of his pants, she pulls both garments down tugging over the curve of his toned ass.  As he pops free his hard shaft springs into her face and she instantly takes it into her mouth, pushing his pants down his long legs.  Her lips tease just his head and he falls forward reaching out to the closed door to catch himself. Tantalizingly her tongue swirls around the swollen tip as she taps his leg to step out of the clothing.  Caressing her hands up the backs of his legs she squeezes and pulls his ass cheeks and his heightened breaths fill the air.  “So fucking good, Niña.”

She begins to take skillful measures with her tongue and teeth, skimming over his veiny ridges as she sucks him into her mouth.  His free hand grasps her hair and pulls it tight and she stops, understanding the unspoken command.  Stretched, her mouth still holds him.  The longer he makes her wait he can feel her salivating, her mouth literally watering for him.

“Do you want it?” he asks gruffly, tugging her hair.

Her teeth clamp on him, but not too rough and her muffled sound is affirmative.  Releasing her pressure, he wraps her hair tighter around his hand and grasps the back of her head, holding her still as he begins to face fuck her, reaching the back of her throat and she takes every inch.  Her eyes watering, he slows as her hands slide around the front of his thighs and her thumbs push against his taint. His moans fill the air and his sac tightens.  The caresses of her hands and mouth are just perfect and he’d love nothing more than to shoot his load into her mouth.  Loosening the grip on the back of her head, her hands continue kneading him and slip around to gently hold his balls, rolling them between her fingers. The other hand grasps his shaft, adding a sinful stroking motion to coincide with the sliding of her hot pink lips.

The vision below him is heaven and he’s so close to coming.  His hand wraps over the top of hers and he aids with the pulling and tugging, adding extra force.  The feeling wells up from his toes but he holds back, not wanting the sensation to end.  Tilting her head up her eyes are full of lust as he watches her glide across his cock again.

Thalia pulls off with an echoing smack.  Still stroking him, eyes connected with his, her smile grows wide and devilish.  Her hands still and she rises up to a standing position, confined in the space between him and the door.  She wipes the spit from her lips and flicks her tongue out quickly.

Chris can’t believe it.  She’s carried him to the brink and stopped…  He chuckles and bites his lip, continuing to pump on his own.  Thalia leans her ass against the door, reaching through the pile of clothes for her discarded heels.  She lifts one leg and slides a shoe on as he had requested, then repeats the same with the other, running her hands up her curvy legs, stopping at the top of her thick thighs to adjust her panties.

“I’d stop that if I were you.  I didn’t say you could come yet,” she declares as she walks out from under his arm, the confident clicking of her shoes against the hardwood floors.  His silk tie is in her hand and trailing the floor behind her.  “You promised dessert.  Where’s the kitchen?”

Pure evil.  Pure sass. Pure Thalia.

Click here to read Chapter 28 Just Desserts

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

 

 

 

 

Yes, Sir

et ch 26 yes sir may 31 2017

Chapter 26

Educating Thalia

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: 3209

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

Summary: Tom has some serious words with Thalia before both of them get carried away during work hours.

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

Tom walks around the meeting room, handing back the research notations to the team of students and faculty preparing for an interim trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon.  He stops at Thalia’s table and sets her paper down, waiting for her to look up at him through her long lashes.

“I’m afraid your notes, though well researched, weren’t quite up to your usual high standards, Ms. Bareo,” he says and sees her eyes go wide.

They widen even more when she sees his notation on the front page.

“I’d like to have a word with you after our meeting,” he adds quietly before continuing his round.

When the meeting is adjourned, he watches her buy time on the pretense of spilling her bag’s contents and painstakingly collecting the items. Her white camisole under her pale blue blazer falls forward, giving him a peek at paradise and his cock twitches at the view.  When the last student has left, she makes her way to the front of the meeting table, smiling.

Tom abandons all pretense of studying his calendar and sits back with folded arms, glancing out the windowed room to the hallway.

“Have you got into any trouble lately, Thalia?”

She raises her brows. “None that I know of. Unless you count the trouble you and I get into, Professor.”

Tom struggles not to grin at her saucy remark, adjusting his glasses and glaring at her instead.

Her teasing smile vanishes, replaced by confusion.

“No. I- I don’t know what you mean?”

“It was brought to my notice that the despicable frat boy who’s been bothering you before gave you hell again.” He clenches his jaw, feeling quite a murderous tendency inside him when it comes to that dipshit coming anywhere near his Thalia.

Understanding dawns on her face, quickly replaced by annoyance.

“Oh, that. It’s nothing.” She waves it away. “He was just being his usual asshole self.”

Tom leans forward. “Did he hurt you?”

Thalia shakes her head and fumbles with her bag’s strap. “Seriously, it’s not worth talking about. I don’t even remember it.”

“Don’t say that. He’s been overstepping his bloody boundary way too many times now. And Professor Evans told me the boy harassed some other girl too, though he paid for that.”

Thalia starts squirming, and he can’t help wondering whether there’s more, whether that idiot has done something serious to her and she doesn’t share it with him because she’s afraid he might cause a scene.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve done something…protected you.”

She huffs. “Oh for God’s sake, cool down. Nothing much happened. And I don’t need you hovering protectively over me like a clucking mother hen, Tom. Just because you’ve taken control of certain aspects of my life, it doesn’t give you the right to meddle with everything or think I need your advice all the time.”

She’s talking herself into a frenzy, her Latina temperament boiling over.

“I can take care of myself, I’m a big girl. Sorry to destroy your illusions, but this is the wrong era for playing the knight in shining armor.”

Tom flinches as if she’s slapped him, and her expression grows chagrined.

“Shit, that came out all wrong. I’m sorry… But, seriously, just…”

Tom holds up his hands, which stops her mid-sentence. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He knew this would get her all worked up, but he can’t help it. The thought of her being hurt in some way is a ball of pain in his gut. Icy terror and fiery fury all at once. If he could, he’d punch that wanker in his tiny dick.

With a sigh, he looks at her and tries again. “I know all that, Thalia.” His voice is laced with frustration, so he takes another deep breath. Walking to the window, he looks out into the hallway, watching faculty and staff walk by; controlling his pent up rage.  He isn’t angry at her, only upset that everything is so twisted and complicated.

“I’m well aware of the fact you’re no meek damsel in distress who needs rescuing. I know you value your independence. But even strong women can use some support sometimes, don’t you think? It wouldn’t have hurt to tell me, because…” He glances left and right and leans closer. “We’re together, didn’t we agree on that?  Am I not allowed to worry for my girl’s safety? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Her features soften and she sighs as well.

“He’s not worth all this attention and trouble,” she insists. “Boys like him don’t listen to professorly sermons, and they don’t really change. I can handle him, don’t worry.”

A tiny smile trembles on her full lips, and some of the tension leaves him. “Your ‘girl,’ huh?  Thank you for caring.”

He smiles back, although it feels a bit stiff. “How about enrolling in a self-defense class?” he asks, hating it how pleading his tone sounds now. “To feel safer? It’s not just him I’m worried about. You return home late, you’re in a place full of drunkards and people looking for a fight.”

“You’re entirely too worried about things, Tom. It’ll all be fine. And don’t forget where I come from. I know how to kick a man in his balls and land a mean punch. I grew up in a pretty rough area where the girls can fight as well as the boys.”

He nods, moving to rest against the meeting table, accepting defeat for now because he hates it when she’s upset with him.

She stands there in silence, looking at him and away.

“So… You’re still working with Professor Evans too?”

Thalia raises a brow. Her tone is frosty when she says, “Yes. Occasionally, as requested by the department, just for a few more weeks.  Got any objections, Professor?”

As a matter of fact, he can think of several objections, but he presses his lips together and keeps them in. With the belligerent mood she’s in, she won’t take his comments lightly.

Why does it bother him so much that she’s spending time with his colleague? It’s only work, for heck’s sake, and it’s great experience for her. And it would probably look better for them because then he isn’t monopolizing her and arousing suspicion. Yet…

“Oh, he just doesn’t strike me as the kind of company you should or would keep,” he can’t help himself from commenting coolly, realizing with a start that he’s feeling jealous.

She rolls her eyes, knowing how much it gets him.

“Seriously? Because he doesn’t have a Double First from Cambridge or what?”

Before he can react, she gets in his face. “You know what, I think our much-touted American rudeness is rubbing off on you, Professor. That remark is a bit below the belt. Professor Evans’s work for the college is as important as yours, and it’s an honor to assist him.”

She straightens up and whirls to go after shooting daggers at him one last time.

Tom jumps up from the table and grabs her wrist as she walks past, stopping her.

“Thalia, wait.”

When she glowers at him, he runs a hand back through his hair.

“I’m sorry. I meant no offense. And I have no right to tell you who to work with or not.”

Again, she doesn’t hold her grudge long. Tom makes sure they’re alone before running a finger down her cheek and throat.

“Forgive me, darling?”

She heaves a sigh of exaggerated exasperation. “Yes, sir.”

The glint is back in her eyes, and he slides his fingers down her wrist and palm, tangling them with hers for a moment before stepping away.

“Will you tell me the next time that worthless excuse for a student harasses you?”

Thalia studies him for a long time, and he wishes he could see what’s going on in her brilliant brain. She’s so proud of looking after herself all alone, of being strong. Now more so than ever. But he knows there’s vulnerability beneath the surface, and that deep down she likes to be cared for as well.

“Maybe I will,” she answers with a small smile before extracting her hand and walking out into the hallway.

#

Tom watches her walk away, her ample hips swaying. She’s not wearing a skirt today but slate-grey jeans and ankle-high boots with just the right amount of heel.  While he’s grown overly fond of her wearing skirts – and not only because of the easy access – he can’t help appreciating the way the denim stretches and molds itself to her hourglass figure.

He rubs the back of his neck, trying to get his thoughts in order and his libido in check…but it’s a hopeless case, as happens so often these days.

“Oh, sod it,” he mutters to himself.

In a few quick strides he’s out of the room and half-runs along the corridor to catch up with Thalia.

He makes sure they’re alone before grabbing her arm and dragging her with him to the right. Throwing open the door to a small storeroom, he yanks her inside. With his hand still around her bicep, he slams her up against the door.

Eyes wide, she stares at him. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” his voice is already deep and gravelly, something that happens almost automatically around her because she’s got him so worked up. “Stealing the kiss I’ve been craving all day.”

Tom teases her with his tongue first, long, leisurely licks up her throat and over her parted lips. He nips, taking his time to refamiliarize himself with her taste. When she moans ever so softly, he gives in and slants his mouth over hers.

It’s no gentle kiss, but he doesn’t want gentleness right now. They devour each other, Thalia giving as good as she’s taking, her free hand fisting in the now slightly longer hair on top of his head.

He reaches up and removes her hand, slapping it against the door by her head. With his body flush against hers and his tongue working its magic, he holds her trapped.

It feels like a lifetime later when he finally breaks the kiss to haul in some air.

“Jesus, Thalia, what you do to me…” He pants, trying to catch his breath, feeling her breasts rise and fall against his and begging for his touch.

He licks his lips to savor her flavor, as if he could keep her essence with him for a bit longer like this, to carry him through the day.

“Beneath the skin of my English reserve, there lurks another man. Someone a little wilder, with animal instincts and unfulfilled desires. You bring out that alter ego, and I still haven’t figured out whether it’s a good or bad thing.”

He leans his forehead against hers, trying to rein in his rampant desire. They’re in a public space on campus, for God’s sake, and he can’t seem to be able to keep it in his pants, as if he’s a hormonal teenager.

When he lets his hand slide higher to entwine his fingers with hers, she squeezes them.

“You have the same effect on me,” she confesses, sounding as desperate as he feels.

“You…you make me want things I shouldn’t. Long for things I never even considered before.”

With a soft groan, Tom kisses her again, tugging on her lower lip while grinding against her.

He closes his eyes for a moment in another attempt to control himself.

“You and I, we haven’t been able to spend enough time with each other lately.  I have that damn meeting with the local historical society tonight.” Gazing into her lust-filled eyes, he searches for the right words. “How about we meet tomorrow?  You’ve certainly been sassy enough to warrant punishment.”

She shudders against him, but her eyes cloud over with an emotion he can’t really place. “I’m sorry.” She worries her lip. “I’ve got a study group meeting tomorrow night, one I really need because I haven’t been giving my Museum Collections class as much attention as I should have.  I’ve missed the last two study groups because I was helping you… with things,” she smiles wickedly.

Damn. Disappointment digs into his ribs and tightens his jaw.

“Are you sure you aren’t just trying to avoid another lesson in delayed gratification?” he tries to keep his tone light, but fails.

Thalia frowns. “Really, Tom, I can’t tomorrow.  I’m slacking in that class; the professor knows it and I need that grade for the internships I’ve applied for.”

He glowers at her, knowing she’s right, but he doesn’t have to like it.  He tightens the grip on her arm. “Haven’t I told you that I’m Professor Hiddleston to you when we’re here?”

Her brows rise. “Even when you’re rubbing your erection against me and driving me out of my mind?”

“Especially then,” he growls, taking her mouth in a greedy kiss that has their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance.

When they come up for a breath, she says in a low, mock-meek tone, “Yes, Professor. I’m sorry I wasn’t a good girl and that I don’t have time for you tomorrow.”

The heated darkness in her eyes is a sharp contrast to her voice, amping up his arousal. He narrows his eyes, focuses on the way her pulse flutters in her throat.

“Well, in that case, there’s no time like now.” He leans in and rakes his teeth over her pulse point, making her buck against him.

“Can you be quiet, darling?”

“Yes.” Her answer comes out as a needy gasp. His mouth moves lower, suckling at her skin, but her voice makes him pause. “Professor Hiddleston?”

Fuck, it’s hot to hear her say it in this tone. “Yes?”

“Don’t be gentle.”

His head snaps up and he stares at her intently. “Is that what you want today?”

With deliberate slowness, he lets go of her fingers and trails his hand down her arm and over her clavicle to her throat. His long fingers encircle it, his thumb stroking rhythmically. He doesn’t exert any pressure, but the sight of his hand there and her submissiveness in this moment are a huge turn-on.

“Tell me what you want,” he commands softly. “Do you want me to bite you and leave a mark for everyone to see? To turn you around and take you from behind while you desperately yearn for some friction against your throbbing clit?”

With his fingers around her throat, he can feel her swallow convulsively, her pulse racing.

He leans closer and sinks his teeth into her earlobe before whispering, “Or do you want me to use you to get off? Make you kneel and take all of my cock inside your naughty mouth?”

Thalia shudders and moans. “Anything. I…you…just do something I won’t expect. I need you. I need this.”

It’s his turn to moan. “Fuck, you’re so sexy when you let yourself go a little,” he grinds out. “I wish we had time to play, but this is too risky.”

With a frustrated sigh, he glides his hand down over her breasts, pinching a nipple through the clothes and longing to suck it until she writhes and whimpers.

Burying his head in the crook of her neck to lick and kiss, he lets his hand wander lower. Deftly he opens the button and zip of her pants. Instead of sliding them down, he dives beneath the waistband of her panties and strokes over her folds.

“Mmm, so wet and hot for me. It’s such a fucking turn-on how ready you always are for me.”

He rubs with painful slowness, his movements hindered by her clothes. “Tell me you want my fingers inside you. Tell me.”

“Yes, please, sir,” she begs, her words ending on a half-strangled moan when he seeks out her bud and rubs it in tight, little circles.

Tom tightens his grip on her arm, knowing it will leave bruises. “Tell. Me.”

Her head is thrashing from side to side while she struggles to hold her body still.

“I need your fingers inside me. Please. I want them so deep I’ll be able to feel them for hours. I want to come all around them as if they were your cock.”

Christ, she’s killing him. He can’t remember her so eager, but maybe he’s just imagining things because he’s aching for her so badly.

Kicking her legs open wider, he wriggles his hand deeper into her underwear and slides through her slickness.

“I’m not sure you’ve been good enough to deserve to come,” he grits out between clenched teeth when he feels how soaked she is. “But I’ll make an exception today and give you what you want.”

She sucks in her breath when he presses two fingers inside instead of starting out with only one. Pumping them in and out as best as the position allows it, he moves to kiss her roughly.

“Come for me, Thalia,” he urges in a deep growl. “Think of my tongue buried in your luscious cunt or of my teeth around a nipple to give you that intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain.”

Her keening sound and her rhythmic clenching tell him she’s close. He crooks his fingers, finding the spot that will undo her.

His hand moves from her arm to clamp his fingers over her mouth and muffle her sounds.

“Bite me. Bite down and let go. Come for me, my beautiful girl.”

With a sound close to a sob, she obeys. He feels her teeth dig into his palm at the same time as her body convulses and she grips his digits inside her tighter than ever.

Holy mother of God, it’s a miracle he isn’t shooting his load; it’s so unbelievably sexy.

Tom keeps his hands where they are until she’s ridden out her climax and tries to focus blearily on him.

When she reaches out for him and claims a kiss, he lets her, wishing he could have his fill now.

They move apart reluctantly, catching their breath. He’s so hard he doesn’t think he can walk.

“You should go,” he says softly.

“But…” She stares at his tented jeans, licking her lips and making his cock twitch. One hand grabs his blue cable-knit sweater. To steady herself? To pull him closer and make him lose his last working brain cells?

It’s so damn hard to resist. But Tom has to pull himself together, to at least pretend he hasn’t lost control. “No ‘but’. Go.” His tone is commanding but not unkind.

He swipes his tongue over his drenched fingers, sending a silent prayer of thanks upwards that they haven’t been caught in flagrante.

“God, we shouldn’t be doing this,” he says, shaking his head as if it could clear the haze of want.  “Go now. I need a moment.”

Thalia nods, her face flushed. She drops her hand from his chest, fixes her jeans and the rest of her clothes and opens the door to leave. Two steps out, she half-turns back towards him.

“Thank you, sir.”

Click here for Chapter 27 Mine Tonight

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

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

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