Served Hot

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Served Hot

Being Thalia

Chapter 31

By devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job in Madrid as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

WARNING: HEAT ALERT!! HOT HOT HOT

Word Count: 2117

Summary: Thalia and Tom enjoy early morning treats.

Previous Chapter, All Tied Up

November 2021

Thalia wakes up to warmth and instinctively snuggles close before opening her eyes. But wait, there’s nobody to cuddle with–the warmth comes from sunshine streaming through a window. She blinks to clear her sight and looks around, momentarily disoriented. Then it all comes back: she’s in Tom’s apartment. Back in England after years, and so much has changed.

Thalia sits up, tugging the sheet around her as she’s slept naked in Tom’s strong arms. He brought her here yesterday because today they’ll take another major step forward. It’s time to meet his parents.

Her hands grip the sheet tighter, twisting it in a bout of anxiety. She spoke to his mother, Diana, several days ago because Tom wanted her properly introduced. That resulted in an invitation by the well-spoken, surprisingly kind woman on the phone. So here they are, ready to face the family. She shouldn’t be so nervous. If this woman raised a person as amazing as Tom, and if his stories about Diana Hiddleston are anything to go by, she must be lovely to meet. Patting her plump thigh, Thalia certainly isn’t ashamed about herself or about their relationship…but it’s bound to be weird at first. How much does his mom know, and how happy is she about it?

Deciding that worrying won’t get her anywhere, Thalia gets out of bed. She needs coffee, pronto. A side of Tom wouldn’t hurt either, if he’s back from his diabolical early-morning run. She shrugs into the oversized T-shirt and panties that should have been–and were, for a few minutes before Tom practically devoured her–her sleeping clothes. Her cheeks heat at the memory of how he claimed he wanted to christen every room and every surface of the apartment with her, starting in the bathroom and the bedroom.

Trying hopelessly to untangle her curls with her fingers, she decides that looking presentable will just have to wait until after the coffee. Tugging the hem of the t-shirt down, Thalia walks down the stairs, following her nose. God, that smell is heavenly, a mix of eggs and bacon and coffee. Her stomach gives an audible rumble–but it isn’t the scent of breakfast food that has her mouth watering a moment later when she steps into the kitchen. It’s the sight of the man doing the cooking.

Hot damn, it should be illegal to look so sexy at this time of the day, doing something so mundane. Hoping she isn’t actually drooling, Thalia feasts her eyes on Tom standing at the counter, tapping his foot while he chops some fruit. He’s dressed in black jeans and a white button-down shirt with its sleeves rolled up. A black apron tied at the back makes the outfit complete and gives her all sorts of dirty ravish-the-cook fantasies she didn’t even know she harbored. The jeans are pulled tight around his delectable ass and she battles the urge to just walk over, sink to her knees and bite one of those perfect butt cheeks.

Her blush intensifies, and Tom notices her presence right at that instant.

“Hey.” His whole face lights up, at least as brightly as the sunlight through the kitchen window that gives his hair a ginger tinge. He quirks his left eyebrow, pausing to read her shirt. Wiping his hands on the apron, he grins. “Good morning, beautiful. Did the smells lure you down at last?”

With a nod and a muttered ‘good morning,’ she tries to slink past him towards the coffee machine. She should’ve remembered the goddamn wingspan on this man. With one long arm darting out, he intercepts her path and hauls her close so he can press a quick but possessive kiss to her pouting mouth. Then he nuzzles her hair and inhales before giving her a playful shove.

“You get your caffeine fix, then sit down and wait.” Tom wags an admonishing finger when she frowns, ready to protest. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to lift a finger because I’ve decided your first morning in my apartment warrants something special. So let me pamper you and treat you to the magic of a full English breakfast, served hot.”

Definitely ‘served hot,’ Thalia thinks to herself as she grabs a mug. Looking over her shoulder at him, her insides warm before even having the heated beverage. Damn, he’s so hot. She turns to the coffee pot and fills it with the scalding brown, aromatic liquid. All too happy to watch Tom putter about, looking so at home in the kitchen and somehow moving with graceful purpose despite those long limbs, she plunks herself down on one of the bar stools. “Do you always fix coffee, or is this just for me?” she asks before blowing her lips over the top of the steaming cup.

Tom momentarily loses his focus when the T-shirt rides up to reveal most of her thighs alongside a peek of panties. His tongue flicks out to lick his lips but then he gives himself a shake and averts his eyes. “For you, darling. Everything is for you. Always.”

Grinning, Thalia sips her coffee and watches on as her personal chef for the day puts his finishing touches to the meal. She can see fried eggs- sunny side up-, crisp bacon dripping with fat, sausages, something that looks suspiciously like baked beans and grilled tomatoes. And are those pancakes? Tom darts around to get the toast on plates, then arranges the just-cut fruits–strawberries and green apple and banana–artfully on a separate plate. It’s colorful and fragrant and she wants to bask in it all, in this sense of domestic bliss she could really get used to.

Feeling herself get wet at the surprising eroticism of Tom as a too-sexy-to-be-real houseman, Thalia presses her thighs together, wiggling precariously on the barstool. She watches his peachy bum as he bends to retrieve a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, then has to stifle a moan at the way his back muscles entice her when he stretches a bit to get glasses out of the top pantry cupboard. Suddenly, she’s ravenous–but not for food. Tom has barely set the glasses down on the counter to pour them some cold juice before she’s up from the stool. Crossing over to him, Thalia makes up her mind.

“Tom?”

“Hm, love?” He half-turns–and freezes when she pulls her T-shirt off without further ado, leaving her only in her panties. She sees his hand shake as he sets the bottle down with a clink and turns fully.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing my gratitude for breakfast,” she says with a saucy smile, tossing her hair and making Tom blink.

“B-but we haven’t even eaten it yet.” Thalia can see how much effort it takes him to maintain eye contact, his gaze slipping lower to her naked breasts for a fraction of a second.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve decided I don’t want breakfast now,” she waves his protest aside and steps close enough to fumble with the apron’s tie at the back, making sure her boobs brush all over his torso as she slides her arms around him.

“You don’t?” He sounds so confused, like a flummoxed school boy totally out of his depth, and she wants to laugh, but she’s too turned on to appreciate the humor of the situation.

“I don’t,” she affirms. “I want you instead.”

When she lets her hand wander down to squeeze an ass cheek, Tom groans. And he doesn’t stop her when she finally unties the apron and tosses it on the counter. She slides her hands around his slim hips to the front and makes him hiss when she drags her blunt nails down his crotch. Something twitches with interest beneath her touch, hardening. Thalia glances up at him and makes a show of licking her lips.

“So hungry,” she whispers seductively, which only makes him groan even louder. Staring down at her, his mouth parted, Tom watches as she runs her palm up and down, applying more and more pressure and friction. At a particularly firm squeeze, he hisses and closes his eyes for a moment. A ‘please’ slips from him.

“Please stop or please go on?” she asks, fluttering her lashes at him when he seeks her gaze. His pupils are blown and his breath is coming faster, and seeing him so at her mercy makes her slicker between her legs.

“Please, Thalia, go on.” It’s a husky plea that does things to her.

In the power of the moment, she doesn’t miss his address of her given name, rather than one of his titles, nicknames, for her. Gathering a heady sense of authority from Tom’s willingness to bend to her needs, Thalia leans up to peck him on the lips, denying him a real kiss. Determined, she slides lower until she’s kneeling on the tiles, their coolness such a contrast to how hot she feels. Deftly, she unhooks Tom’s black belt and then unzips him, careful of his erection. Hooking her fingers into the waistband, she pulls both the jeans and the boxers–which he’s probably only wearing because he’s planning a family visit–down his thighs, trapping them around his knees. Tom automatically tries to widen his stance, licking his lips again at the sight of her kneeling.

Thalia runs the tip of her nose over the hardening length, inhales the scent of clean male musk and Tom’s soap. She nuzzles, runs gentle lips over him as his foreskin slowly pulls back to reveal more. When she laps at the first bead of precum offered to her, Tom’s groan is even more heartfelt and rough. She glimpses him bracing himself on the counter behind him, knuckles white as he grips the edge. This new sign of him surrendering to the moment, to the pleasure she can bring him, spurs her on and also makes her wetter.

Emboldened, Thalia gives him one firm stroke, then anchors her hands on his thighs, thrilled at the quivering, tensed muscles beneath her fingers. They’ve done quite some catching up in the past few weeks but it’s been a long time since she’s done this. She’s almost forgotten what a heady sense of power it gives her, and how beautiful Tom’s cock is up close. Taking her time, she licks and caresses him with her lips, gives him a suckle or a fimer suck off and on. The intention is to please him, but it gives her pleasure in return as she rediscovers this treat. Every so often, she’ll scrape her teeth gently along his length, dip her tongue into the slit or glide her mouth lower to his balls. But she takes her time, drinking in his hisses and gasps, the occasional growly moan, bitten-off curse, pleading use of her name. And he doesn’t remove his hands from the counter to steer her or direct the pace, just holds on and attempts to keep his eyes open so he can watch her kneel for him.

At last, when she’s so aroused she has an idea how on edge Tom must be, Thalia sucks him off in earnest. She lowers her mouth to take as much of him inside as she can, hollows her cheeks and sets a rhythm that has Tom whimpering. God, how she wants to move one hand between her thighs and rub herself to completion while she makes him come. But this is for him, a thank you in many ways. And so Thalia flattens her tongue against the vein running along the underside of Tom’s cock and dips her head that tiny bit further until her gag reflex kicks in. And then she moans around Tom’s rigid length, and the vibrations set him off.

Thalia feels his release hit the back of her throat, and she swallows and swallows as Tom’s body jerks, half-twists to the side while his hands fist in her hair at the last moment. She holds still until he’s finished, gives him some tender, cleaning kitten licks before shuffling back a bit. There’s barely time to take a breath before Tom has hauled her to her feet and crushed her to him, panting into her hair and swaying side to side with her a bit. He loosens his hold to peer at her, brow raised as if to silently ask what’s gotten into her.

With a naughty grin, she gives him a wink. “Well, you said you wanna christen every room in the apartment. Looks like you can put a check mark behind the kitchen.”

After a peck on his cheek, she wriggles out of his embrace, puts her T-shirt back on and saunters to the dining table.

“Now, weren’t you about to serve me breakfast?”

Click here to Chapter 32, Ready?

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

All Tied Up

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All Tied Up

Being Thalia

Chapter 30

By avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job in Madrid as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Word Count: 1105

Summary: Thalia finds another- very sexy- way to cling to her independence.

Previous Chapter, Déjà Vu

Thalia can barely unlock the door, with Tom’s hands fumbling under her dress, his crotch nestled up against her backside. “Can you wait two more minutes? There are cameras in the hallways,” she hisses quietly. Not that she really wants him to stop, but she’d rather not get busted for inappropriate behavior at work. Shaking her head slightly, the irony is not lost on her.

She’s at her place of business, getting ready to fuck the man she used to work for- her college professor- in her office.

Guess the tables have turned.

He looks up and down the long hallway. Burrowing his face in the crook of her neck, he nips his teeth at her exposed shoulder. “And no lights. No one will know I’m trying to get your knickers down before we’re even through the door.”

Distracted, she drops the key. “Shit,” she mumbles.

Tom bends to retrieve it, his other hand sliding up her thick thigh as she grabs the key from him, finally opening the door. Holding tightly to the door knob, she wags her finger at him. “My desk is all laid out for next week’s budget meetings.” Dropping her hands to his solid chest, she runs her hands up his tight form before slowly undoing his tie. “Don’t even think of clearing it off in a mad dash.”

tie by painfulbliss

He solemnly crosses his finger over her chest, his fingertips dragging over the top of her exposed cleavage. Thalia holds her breath, feeling her skin rise in goosebumps at his slightest touch.

“I promise. I’m thinking of fucking you right off, against the wall, love. I can’t even wait ten seconds to cross the room to the desk.”

A rush of heat slams between her legs, his words, his hands, his mouth, causing her to melt down quickly. He pushes her through the door, banging it against the wall. Something in the dark room crashes to the floor. Moonlight casts shadows around them, but she can’t tell what’s broken – not that she gives a shit at the moment. She hastily kicks the door closed with her foot, pulling at the buckle of his dress pants.

Unbuttoning his pants, her shawl falls down her arm. Hit with sudden inspiration, a sinful thought fills her mind. Lifting her head, she keeps her face firm. “No.”

Surprised, Tom chuckles, “No?”

Air is sucked from his lungs as Thalia moves quickly, tugging his pants down and forcing him to sit on a nearby chair.

“You said I’d get my turn.” Flicking her wrap over her arm, she hitches her dress up, planting herself on his lap. Wet and ready, her slick panties caress over his exposed hardness while she pushes his shoulders back, his arms over the top of the chair. Staring into his eyes, she holds back a devious grin. Leaning forward, trapping the lace shawl between them, she brushes her chest against his, whispering in his ear, “It seems like it’s a perfect time for me to tie you up.”

Licking his ear lobe, she grinds down on him, reaching around his shoulders and tying the wrap behind him.

Nuzzling his nose in her hair, growing harder against her heat, Tom pleads, “Fuck me.”

Instinctively, Thalia wants to obey. He’s using that deep, growly voice that promises the wickedest things imaginable, the words sounding even dirtier in his posh accent. But no-

She’s doing this her way.

“That’s the plan.” Lifting from him, her mouth crashes into his. She scrambles to move her skirt out of the way, drawing her underwear to the side and sinking down onto his stiff, thick cock. “Oh, sweetness,” she mutters, pulling off his lip.

Their kisses chase one after the other, Tom pinned to the chair under her weight as she pushes down on him, grinding closer to their release. His arms useless, Thalia plants her feet firmly on the floor. Laying her hands on his shoulders she pulls off him, before slowly impaling herself again. A moan escapes her lips, while he holds his breath tightly. Sounds from the party filter through the building, hiding their groans and whimpers from the intoxicated revelers. With a quick boost up, Thalia repeats the motions, bringing Tom right to the edge. His long legs tighten under hers, his breath quickens in his chest as his eyes dilate, turning black with lust.

“Kiss me while I pour into you, Mistress. Take me as yours,” he pants, barely able to hold back.

“Uh, uh.” She shakes her head ‘no.’ Thalia rises again, leaving his tip barely in, swaying her hips side to side, before sheathing him once again. The force rocks the chair, but the two stay balanced. She can feel the strength rising up from his feet, an unstoppable force. Her mouth hovers above his, breathing in his air, brushing her nose against his, inhaling his scent, before hungrily claiming his mouth.   

So connected, her velvet walls grip him tightly, each surging pulse of his release filling her as her own orgasm crests. Yanking his hair, she tilts Tom’s head back, latching her lips over the exposed area of skin, under his earlobe. The scruff on his jawline scratches her cheek as she bites and marks him, staining his skin with her lipstick. He gives a full-body shiver, his head dropping even further back in surrender. She slumps against him, equally sated.

It takes him a while to lift up his face and blink at her.

“Oh, Jesus.” His breath is hot against her skin. “Am I still alive? Did you kill us? What a way to die!” He chuckles. “Now, give me your mouth, love.”

“Not because you tell me to-” She meets his need, her lips parting, accepting his tongue to tangle with hers. Breathy, she finishes her sentence, “Because I want to.”

“Giving yourself to me makes you no less independent, darling.” He cocks his eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes. “No more so than being tied to this chair makes me unable to move my arms. I’m trapped here because you wish it so.” To prove it, he twists his torso and gives a yank with his arms, freeing himself.

Kissing the tip of his nose, she rises off him, her wobbly legs making her collapse to the floor. “Are you saying I need to work on my knots?”

“I’m saying everything I do is for you, your wishes, needs and desires.” Sliding off the chair and landing next to her, Tom hands her shawl back. Pulling his shirt down, covering himself, he wraps his arm over her shoulder. “We can learn together, Thalia.”

Click here for Chapter 31, Served Hot

Image found on Pinterest

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Surrender

ch 28 Surrender april 10 2019

Surrender

Being Thalia

Chapter 28

By devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job in Madrid as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Images found on Pinterest

Word Count: 2875

Summary: Surprises aren’t over for Thalia yet, as Tom takes their relationship another step further.

Previous Chapter, Not Yet

Tom blinks his eyes open, needing a moment to orient himself. He’s lying on his back next to Thalia, an arm flung out across her heaving body, his barely opened pants digging into him uncomfortably. With a contented sigh, he shifts so he can glance at his lady love, all sprawled out and covered in a fine sheen on sweat that makes her curvy limbs glow in the combination of illumination and moonlight. He wants to lick her skin, sink his teeth into the plump flesh and claim what’s finally his again. But first, breathing properly would be nice.

“Need a moment,” comes Thalia’s murmur as she cracks open a lid to squint at him.

“Yup, me too,” he admits, groaning a bit when his body wakes back to life and he wishes he was ten years younger. Resigned, he half-climbs over her to stand and wriggle out of his rumpled clothes.

One-eyed, she watches him, a hand idly stroking her belly in a move she likely isn’t aware of. Looking for a place to set down his clothes, Tom discovers a wooden rack to one wall. His gaze lands on her pretty scarf, the one he gifted her as a thanks for the tour at the museum, two months ago. He runs his fingers over the soft fabric, inhaling her scent. Rustling alerts him to Thalia stretching languidly and sitting up to fluff at her tangled curls. She’s the embodiment of a thoroughly fucked woman, and somehow that only serves to arouse him anew.

“God, it’s a miracle I can move,” she mumbles. “I feel as if all my limbs have liquefied. As if I’m floating. Right now, you could probably make me do anything and I’d just mindlessly comply.”

Tom’s brows shoot up at that admission, and suddenly he has an idea.

“Is that so?” Making his decision, he grabs the scarf, running it between his hands and waiting until Thalia’s eyes pick up the motion.

“Mhm.”

“Well, then I intend to take full advantage of that. Who knows when I’ll ever have you so pliant again?”

She chuckles, mumbling in a half-daze, “That’s probably true.”

He steps close, runs his free hand down her neck, shoulder and arm, tangles his fingers with hers. She lets him, as malleable as she just claimed. With a secretive grin, Tom sits next to her and drops a kiss to her clavicle. Then he pulls at their linked fingers and moves her arm behind her back, changing his position so he’s half behind her.

“You are becoming entirely too bratty, Miss Bareo,” he intones in the sternest voice he can manage with half his brain cells still in post-coital bliss. “Mouthing off and disobeying my orders and trying to flip the tables.” He tuts, using her moment of surprise to drop the scarf onto the bed and grab her other hand. Once he’s moved that arm behind her back too, he shackles both wrists in his large hand, squeezing firm enough to make her jerk.

“Tom? What are you on about?” Her voice sounds less hazy now.

Leaning forward, he buries his face in her hair and inhales, flooding himself with the mingled fragrances of her shampoo, vestiges of salt water from a dip in the ocean, arousal and her own unique smell. Then he kisses her shoulder, drags his teeth across the skin.

“I’m going to do what I should’ve done some time ago. Reacquaint you with how lovely it can be to submit to me, surrender control.”

He grasps the scarf again, loops it suggestively over her wrist without actually tying her yet. Thalia stiffens, attempts to turn her head and get a good look at him through her riotous curls.

“Tom, I’m not the girl I used to be. I’m not at your beck and call anymore, or at anyone else’s. True submission…it just doesn’t come that easy to me now.”

“I know.” He soothes her with another kiss, a nuzzle, caressing her with the fabric before looping it around her wrists once more, still not pulling tight. “But I also know that you’re no ordinary woman. You’re not black or white, good or bad, sub or domme. Like me, you are all of that and more, can be anything and anyone you want when it comes to such matters. And darling,” he adds, his voice now a purr of dirty promise, “I’m your lover, your man. I deserve the chance to cater to your every need. And I can sense that deep down, this IS what you need. Let go, for tonight. Let me care for you this way and gift me with your trust.”

He can feel some of the stiffness melt out of her, then hears her long exhale, almost a sigh of surrender. “We’ll give it a try,” she says at last, and he smiles widely against her damp skin. Kissing her again, he opens his mouth and sucks to mark her. He can feel her squirm but she doesn’t move away.

Slowly, he tightens the loops, then uses the scarf to thoroughly bind her hands. Slipping a finger beneath the fabric, he checks to make sure her circulation isn’t cut off. Then he rubs his hands up and down her arms, satisfaction making him hum low in his throat when it raises goose bumps.

His gaze lands on the mirror opposite the bed and he has another idea when a memory resurfaces. Using his strength to his advantage, he moves Thalia up onto her knees so she’s now positioned with her body facing the rectangle of reflective glass.

“Stay like this. Don’t move.” He uses his dominant voice, pleased when she doesn’t sass him.

Although he doesn’t want to leave the tied, tempting woman in the bed, he makes himself get up and pad across the room. Hitting all the light switches, he watches as everything becomes more visible and hears her gasp when she sees herself in the mirror. It is indeed a sight worth of gasps, and he can feel himself harden. With her arms tied, her bountiful breasts are pushed up and out, begging to be loved by him.

“I’d love to blindfold you, make your submission complete,” he says as he walks back and clambers onto the mattress. “But not this time. Tonight, you’ll watch. And you’ll see how stunning you are when you let yourself go.”

When her breath hitches, but he doesn’t get a ‘yes’ for an answer, he leans in closer, embracing her. Skin to skin, simply breathing together for a few moments. He slides one hand higher and rests it on her breastbone, he can feel her heart beat faster.

“Thalia, giving in now, to me, like this, doesn’t mean you’re taking a step back. I know you’ve earned your freedom and the right to be your own boss. I know how strong you are–how could I not? And I admire that strength, that stubborn streak, that oh-so sexy sass. You’re way too intelligent and self-aware to think that submitting is a sign of weakness. So why the hesitation?”

He feels her collect herself, her fingers unclenching so that they brush against his stomach.

“I don’t know. You’re right. It’s just…I haven’t done this in quite a while. My body hasn’t forgotten how much I loved this. If you touched me, you’d find me wet. But…it’s my head that doesn’t want to catch up.”

Tom grasps her chin and turns her head, meeting her gaze. “Then let me silence those voices in your head. Hand it all over. I know what to do with it, with you. I can make it so you don’t have to think, to decide, to control. You think too much. Let me take care of you, do this for you.”

After a few seconds, she nods. “Yes. Please.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Sealing the deal with a kiss that starts out gentle and loving only to morph into fiercely possessive heat, he changes position.

“Watch. Watch and relax, let me take care of you.”

Making sure that she won’t lose her balance in her tied state, he spreads her thighs, shifts her up some so that she can dig her fingers into a pillow if she wants to. Then he stretches out on his stomach in front of her, sending a smoldering glance up.

“You can be as loud as you want. No one can hear us here. But you don’t get to say what I do. Let go, and keep watching.”

Not waiting for a reaction because he expects her to obey his command, Tom dips his head. He strokes his mouth over every inch of her inner thigh, using his teeth and tongue and lips to seduce her right out of her skin. Then he repeats the same on her other thigh, before he finally gives her an open-mouthed kiss on her glistening pussy. Thalia moans, and he snaps his eyes up to make sure she’s still looking. She is, and it doesn’t surprise him. He remembers how years ago, they discussed kinks and she showed such an interest in people who have a fetish for sex in front of a mirror.

Giving it his all, Tom shifts his weight onto one elbow so he can use his other hand. He slides a finger inside as he continues to lick and suck on her swollen clit, and Thalia’s moans turn into something more animalistic, uninhibited. Her body half bows back, her fingers clawing at the pillow as she struggles to keep her balance, as she battles with the need to tug his head closer. When she comes at last, it’s on a wordless scream that will haunt his memories. He continues to lap up her offering, then scrambles to his knees to wipe her juices off his mouth and beard. With a hand at the nape of her neck, he brings her in for a kiss and breathes with her, for her.

“Was that so difficult?” he asks softly after he’s broken the kiss, doing his best to ignore his rock-hard cock wanting attention. Thalia shakes her head, hair flying everywhere. With a satisfied smirk, Tom brushes his nose against hers. “Good. And remember, we have a deal: you can make me submit some day in the future.”

Before she can react to that, he rises and sits down behind her to untie her. With soothing rubs, he helps her get feeling back into her arms, then kisses each of her fingertips.

“Do you think you can put weight on your arms or do you need some more time?” he asks, care taking over for a moment so that he doesn’t just order her.

“Yes.”

“Perfect. On your hands and knees, Miss Bareo. I’m not nearly done with you yet and you’ve got some more watching to do.” The commanding tone is back and she reacts on instinct even though he bets her body is now even more languid than after the first orgasm.

“Fuck, how I love this view,” he mutters to himself when she gets into position. Raising his arm, he lets his palm smack into one glorious ass cheek, watching it jiggle as she sucks in her breath on a hiss. Tom spanks the other cheek too before palming the globes and stroking away the sting. On an impulse, he leans down and runs his tongue down between the rounded cheeks, remembering something else she’s told him. When he circles her most secret place, Thalia curses a blue streak, pushing back at him.

“Stay still,” he snaps, and to her credit, she freezes immediately after clenching her hands in the sheets.

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“Good girl.” As a reward, he gives her another thorough, probing lick that has her whimpering. “Oh, the things I could do to you…” He sighs out, longing. Then he glides his fingers through her slick folds and strokes his cock. Once, twice…he can’t stand more or he’ll explode too soon.

“I’m going to take you now,” he whispers harshly, emphasizing the promise with a nip to the nape of her neck that sends a shiver down her spine. “And if you move even once to control the speed or depth, I swear I’ll stop. I’ll just get myself off and make you watch instead. Understood?”

“Yes-yes-yes.” It’s a breathless litany, a tad too impatient to sound actually submissive. But it’ll have to do because if he can’t bury himself inside his love right this very moment, he’ll surely die.

And so he grabs her hips and angles himself just so, thrusting home with one drawn-out stroke that has both of them groaning in unison. Once he’s nestled so deep he doesn’t know where she ends and he begins, Tom slips a hand up and over her back. He presses down firmly enough for Thalia to get the signal to lower her torso until she’s barely leaning on her elbows. Then he wraps his hand around her throat, finger by finger so she’s hyper-aware of it. Will she let him get this far? Even with her past and with so much time between her last submission? Tom waits with bated breath, not moving inside her even though it’s torture. He doesn’t squeeze, simply keeps his fingers loosely collared around her neck until she’s taken two shaky breaths and remains perfectly still.

“Thalia, oh Thalia. My love. My perfect one. So strong. So fucking strong.” With a reverent whisper, he removes his hand. Bracing it beside her shoulder on the bed, he pulls almost all the way out of her before beginning to thrust in earnest. His body is half folded across hers as he sets up a punishing pace because he knows he won’t last long.

tom

When she flutters and clenches around him, her voice rising, Tom slows for a moment. He loops an arm around her upper body and tugs her up so she’s all but sitting on his lap, on her knees in front of him.

“Look,” he gasps out, then grinds his teeth against his impending climax. “Look how well I can take care of you when you let me.” Sliding his hand down, he molds one of her bouncing boobs and pinches the peaked nipple between his fingers as her pussy clenches and grips him like a vice. “Now don’t you dare take your eyes off us.”

He sneaks his other hand from her ample waist between her legs, watching her as she in turn watches him in the mirror while he circles her clit and fucks into her from behind. And then his orgasm hits him so hard he sees only blinding white. This time, he’s the one screaming, and then he can feel Thalia come right with him with a choked sound that’s almost a sob.

Limp in his arms, he topples her over, landing on his back. Still hard, he thrusts into her again, from below. She whimpers, the sound slightly painful. Rolling Thalia to her side, he slides from her warmth, already wanting to go again. The sheen of sweat on her shoulder calls to him and he rolls closer, flicking his tongue over her warm, soft skin.

She grabs his hand, tucking it between her breasts, more sweat between the sweet valley. She wiggles her legs, getting comfortable, hitting against his solid thighs. He slides his leg between hers and pulls her close. Tom swears he can hear her purr, but he bites back the laughter that wells up deep in his chest.

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“Permission to speak, Sir?”

Even without seeing her face, he can hear the mirth, the pleasure in her voice.

“Granted,” he replies, trying to keep serious.

Extracting herself from his grasp, she rolls over, tangled in the sheets, to face him.

Her eyes search his face, her hand caressing his scruffy cheek. “I’m not an innocent girl anymore, I don’t know that I ever was-” She lays a finger across his lips when he begins to protest. “I’m hard-headed, hard to handle, and full of fire. You’ve always known that… Only two people I’ve loved ever knew how to deal with me. Three, I guess. Dad, too. He encouraged me to sass back.” She chuckles. “Didn’t want me to be weak, like his sisters. Wanted me to be strong enough, so I wouldn’t end up like my mother.”

Thalia reaches for his hand on her hip and brings it to her lips, kissing it tenderly. “It’s difficult for me to let my mind go, to let someone else be in control. But you’ve always known that too.” She lowers their hands, pressing them against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “It’s not weakness, I have to keep telling myself that. It’s trust. Trust that I know you’ll always care for me. Strength. Strength to know when I need to let go and let someone else take care of me.”

“Oh, sweet Thalia,” Tom sighs, reaching to wipe the tears falling from her eyes. “You’re so strong. You always have been, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. Lean on me. Lean on me, love.”

Click here to read Chapter 29, Déjà Vu

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Whatever You Need

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Whatever You Need

Being Thalia

Chapter 23

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job in Madrid as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Word Count: 3052

Summary: Tom and Thalia’s reunion continues…

*****THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW****

Previous Chapter, Beg For It

The taunts of his handyman skills still hang in the air as Thalia turns on the bed, falling onto her palms, with her ass towards him.

“Darling, not to complain… well, you’re still overdressed.” Thankful her position blocks her view, Tom pushes his hands against the table, hoisting himself up, his bones popping and creaking. Tilting his head right and left, he stretches out the stiff muscles in his neck, held awkwardly for so long as he was going down on his woman.

His.

Feeling the tightening in his shorts again, he quickly slips out of them and walks to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she calls out.

“Condoms,” he answers, rifling through his shaving kit. Mumbling under his breath, he adds, “Although I’m sure there’s some in the little sex kit in your purse.”

“Like that, do you?” She looks up and their eyes connect in the bathroom mirror. “Go pick out something we’d enjoy.”

“You are a bad girl,” he belly-laughs as he pulls the strip of condoms from the bottom of the bag.

“Me? You’re the one with, what? Like six condoms in your hand.”

“You’re not going anywhere until we use all of them,” he proclaims, dropping a pile of towels on the bed near her folded hands. “And you’re still dressed.”

“Then do something about it, Thomas,” she says, hissing out his name.

Smacking her ass, he looks her over, trying to figure out the lovely fashion. It’s not her usual style with a tie at the waist. “Completely stunning, I hate to ruin it… But if I can’t figure it out soon enough, I’m just going to rip it from your body.”

Gasping at the thought, he sees she’s already dripping between her legs. She’ll be wanting him to hurry up. His cock twitches, and he leans over her, rubbing himself against the slick running down her thigh. He bends to lick it, circling his tongue over the small bite mark from his previous play.

“Zipper’s at the neck,” she whispers.

His hand slides up her spine, gently forcing her down on to her elbows. Draping her wild, curly mane over her shoulder, his long fingers find the tiny zipper and pull down. Leaning over her full figure, pressing his cock between her thighs, he reassures her with tiny kisses down her back as he exposes her skin. “So beautiful, Thalia. All of you; all mine.” She moans appreciatively, accepting his words, as her hands grip and release the bedding, reminding him of a kitten pawing in contentment. “Are you happy, darling? You’ve made me so happy.”

Estoy contenta,” she replies, rocking back into him.

Unable to resist the temptation, he grabs her hip, thrusting his hard cock between her legs, rubbing himself against her and smearing her juices. So wet, he easily slides inside her and she hisses again, moving away from him. “Uh, uh. Nope,” she scolds.

“Three seconds of pure heaven,” he mutters, quickly rolling the condom on, stroking his shaft and securing it into place. “I’ve waited too damn long for this. Your arse; damn, love, you have no idea how I’ve dreamed of this,” he praises, plunging himself into her center, dress still bunched around her waist.

“Fuck,” she cries out, twisting the sheets in her hands, taking his assault.

As if no time has passed, they fall into their rhythm together. Tom bucks forward as she rocks on and off his cock, stretching her, filling her. Her tight walls pulse around him, pulling him in deeper each time. Fumbling with her bra, he finally rips the fabric, pulling the blasted thing out of his way, freeing her breasts. As he continues to pound into her from behind, he reaches around her sides, wrapping himself around her, hugging her tightly and clutching the swinging globes, rolling the peaked nipples between his fingers. Her sounds echo in his ears as the crescendo rises, sounds of a woman, not afraid if anyone knows they’re fucking like animals in his hotel room. No need to keep secrets anymore. He finds his own sounds mimicking hers, an auditory delight.

“Shit, darling, so good,” he sighs, feeling her fingertips drag along his shaft with each thrust. “What are you doing?”

Rocking forward, tilting her ass a little higher in the air, she sighs. “Just needed a little more… playing with my clit.”

“Fucking hell,” he pants, her words already stitching across his memory, forever ingrained. “That’s hot as fuck. Let me help.”

“No! Don’t change anything,” she breathes heavily. “So close.”

Chuckling, a light sweat across his brow, he holds to the rhythm, careful not to change a thing for his lady love as she drives herself closer to her release. He smacks her ass. “Come for me, darling. I beg you. Spill all over me, pinch it. Rub it. Whatever you need.” Lunging himself forward, he pushes against her secret spot, biting at her shoulder as he feels the change in her before she does. “Let go, Thalia, let go. I’ve got you. Always.”

He continues his thrusts as her hands falter and her legs quake. She stills momentarily, before falling to the bed, twisting onto her back and pulling him down on top of her. Grabbing between them, she strokes his cock, guiding it inside. “Do it again, come for me now, Tom.”

He smiles down at her, tenderly kissing her forehead, covered in a sheen of sweat, tiny curls stuck to her skin. “Anything for you, darling. Your wish is my command.” Grabbing her knee, kneading her fleshy thigh, loving the feel of a real woman in his arms, he pins her leg to his side. Shifting forward, he raises his foot up, planting it on the bed near her hip, lunging forward, pinning her to the bed. With each push, she scoots across the bed, till her head nearly hangs over the other side. Lifting her head, she smiles at him and their eyes lock. A million thoughts pass between them wordlessly as he spills into her, filling the condom as she comes again, gripping his ass, her fingernails cutting into him. He relishes the pain, proof of passion he hasn’t felt in ages, the ache inside finally filled as he empties himself into the only woman he’s ever loved.

Hours later, two more used condoms lie twisted and knotted on the floor by the bed. Tom’s grin has locked his jaw and he rubs it, trying to loosen the joint as his other hand twists in her hair. Or maybe it’s not his smiling, but the action it’s had, licking her pretty pussy, or sucking her glorious nipples. Either way, it’s a forgotten pain, one he’ll gladly get used to again.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, turning her head, digging her chin between his ribs and dragging her fingers through the faint trail of blond hairs on his belly.

“I haven’t fucked like that in ages,” he blurts out. Abashedly, he admits, “I can’t remember the last time I licked a cunt, and never one as good as yours.”

Thalia lifts her head to look at him. “You and your fiancé never-”

He tilts his head, resting it back against the headboard. Shaking back and forth, he shares. “Said it wasn’t cleanly; it just wasn’t something we did-”

“You love eating pussy!” She lifts her head, staring at him incredulously. “You were going to marry a woman who wouldn’t let you go down on her?”

Tom bristles, feeling a need to defend his jilted ex. “Thalia, there’s just some things we shouldn’t-”

“No. No. There’s too many things we never said. From this point on, if this is gonna work, we don’t keep secrets. Right now, we’re in a bubble. We’re gonna talk about things that are damn painful, and neither of us can get mad about it, or jealous. Can you do that, Tom? Not get jealous? Not punch walls?” She pulls herself out from under the blanket, sitting cross legged on the bed next to him. Grabbing a pillow, she hugs it to her chest. “I beg you, Thomas. We need to talk about things. Get it out now, leave it behind us in this room so we can move on.” She shrugs. “And if we can’t leave it behind, can’t not get jealous, then we leave each other alone, for good.”

Reading her face, an icy sneer hides behind her eyes, almost challenging. She doesn’t think he can do it. Fine. He’ll cut his heart out, put it on a platter and serve it up. Prove to her he’s man enough to take it. “Yes, yes, Thalia, I was going into a marriage of convenience, filled with dutiful sex, but no passion.”

“That sounds boring as hell… Tell me about her. Sabrina. How did you two meet?”

Tom shrugs, running his hand down his chest, and pulling the sheet higher up over his belly. “We were childhood friends. Our parents knew one another, and we were always thrown into social situations. I knew she’d had a crush on me when we were teens, but she was a bit sheepish and boring.” He looks up at the ceiling, unable to avoid Thalia’s watchful brown eyes. “I wanted adventure, something wild and untamed…” He twists his fingers in the sheets. “I eventually found it, and ruined it, as you know, because of my own bloody jealousy. Insecurities.” He looks at her, but she’s examining a tear in her stockings, the only article of clothing still on her body. “I was left damaged, and honestly didn’t want to love again. I was punishing myself, in more ways than one. When we ran into one another at a theater production in the West End, she just made things simple. I’m not proud of it; I behaved badly. I’ve left her with a mess to fix, and I do need to get back to London to take care of expenses.” He scoffs. “Cancelling a wedding is almost as expensive as having one.”

Thalia taps her foot against his thigh, pulling off the ruined nylon. “Did you love her?”

Raising his eyebrow, he nods. “I did, I do. More as a friend, a confidant…” He swallows hard. “I think… Well, it sickens me to say it out loud, but I think I settled with her, because in some ways, she reminded me of you. We could talk about the same books and theater, challenge each others ideas on politics. Fit in with the social set. Good box seats at Wimbledon with her family connections… On paper, she’s equal to you in many aspects except where it mattered most, true love, affection, wild abandon. She wouldn’t be the type to lie in bed, eating pizza and watching FIFA.” Reaching across, he lifts under Thalia’s chin, bringing her eyes to his. “No one could ever replace you.”

“So you settled?” She nods, leaning back from his hold. “I don’t know if I’m honored or sad…”

“Well, circumstances somehow found you back here, in my bed. You never settled?”

He doesn’t really want to know her story, knowing it includes Evans, but if getting it out now means they never have to talk about it again, he’d rather rip the band aid off all at once.

“Can you do this? Can you listen and I talk, and it not be an issue?” she asks, placing her hand on his knee with a gentle squeeze.

“I beg you to be honest with me, love, or you’re right, we’ll never get past it.”

She rubs her lips together, thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t have been settling, for me. It would have been right, in so many ways.” Her voice drops. “The ring was beautiful, and I even wore it awhile, but after saying no three times, he never asked again.” She stares at her bare hand, running her thumb over the spot where a ring once sat. His heart chills, hearing she almost married the man. Had she done it, actually walked down the aisle, he may very well have needed to kill himself, simply to end the pain.

She shakes her head, continuing. “I wanted more, adventure, far away places. After traveling a time or two long distance with a kid, it quickly became clear it would be one thing I’d have to leave out…” Tilting her head, she continues. “I was selfish, kept looking for the next challenge, searching museum openings and dig opportunities. Can’t really do that if kids are in tow.” She looks up. “But I’m really happy here. I love Madrid, so many opportunities and archaeology sites are easy to get to throughout Europe; I haven’t done a job search in nearly a year.”

Tom nods, clearing his throat. “And you… you and Evans-”

“Good friends. But he’s got a new life now, getting married soon, to the mother of his newborn son. She’s not too fond of me, but knows we talk occasionally.” She tilts her head, sighing. “Once or twice a week.” She shrugs. “If I’m being honest, we talk pretty regularly, it’s almost as helpful as therapy.” At his glance, she scoffs. “Yes, I go to therapy now…” She wipes a stray hair off her cheek. “I might be going to the States in a few weeks. He’s asked to me to cover his class the two weeks they’ll be gone after the wedding. I can’t, I can’t go see that,” she swallows hard, avoiding Tom’s watching eyes, “but I’d like to meet his son, see his daughter. I like to find little trinkets in the market to send Avery. She’s practically a teenager now. God, she’s so funny, such a dry wit; really keeps you on your toes-”

So Evans is out of the picture? Tom holds the thought, saving his triumphant gloat for later. “And the man at the museum, on the steps the other night? From what I overheard, he seems to think he has a claim on you?”

Thalia rolls her eyes, tugging her fingers through her hair. “That was a one time thing, and a mistake. I think I got my message through loud and clear.”

“Thalia, if he gives you any grief, you let me know and we’ll-”

“Tom, you aren’t my protector,” she warns. “I can take care of myself. I had it under control.” She winks. “I can be very controlling and domineering when I need to be.”

He steeples his fingers and folds them over his chest, absently scratching the little hairs between his pecs. “Mistress, your domme persona could use a little work,” he teases. “And the purse full of toys?” Fuck. He knows he doesn’t really want to know the answer to that.

She laughs, looking to the abandoned bag on the couch. “All mine, things I bought myself. I kind of, well, see when I was young and impressionable, I dated an older guy. He was like a god, on a pedestal.” Tom blushes at her description, dropping his eyes, and wondering where she’s taking this. “Sexy as fuck. All the girls at school thought he would be kinky. Something about his accent? The way he always carried himself so formally. And he was, a little bit, but always so patient with me, when I’d ask questions or want to try something new. Every day I pinched myself that he chose me, when he had scores of undergrads, skinny and shiny, throwing themselves at him.” She smiles up at him. “He gave me confidence, helped mold me into the woman I am today. He taught me about high society, which fork to use and all that, but from him I also learned not to be afraid of things, to keep an open mind.” Tucking the pillow under her chin, she finishes. “I really owe him a lot.”

“It sounds like you do… This man, older, wiser, incredibly good looking?” He grabs the pillow, chuckling when she attempts to swat him with it. “He helped you discover some kinks?”

She nods, biting her lip. “There’s things I’ve tried that I like, things I didn’t, things I have yet to try.”

“Really, like what?” he asks, intrigued. He detests knowing she’s shared things with him, another man, his sworn enemy, but he is curious about her sexual awakening.

“Play with my ass, smack it, lick it; I’ll love you forever.” She throws her head back and laughs at the look on his face. “But don’t you think about trying to get in there. You’re too big, honey.” She holds her hands two feet apart and he doubles over in laughter, blushing. She bites her lip, reading his expression. “Things I’d like to try? A spreader bar, between my feet, maybe ropes? Pushed over the edge of a desk. Never tried that bit of extra. I have a desk kink, no idea why?” She laughs.

The image clouding his brain may never be washed away, Thalia over his desk, in his home office, legs spread wide. His cock twitches, and the words fly out before he thinks. “With a ball gag in that pretty little mouth of yours? Hell, yes, fuckin’ right!”

No puedo hablar cosas sexuales si lo tengo en mi boca,” she whispers, crawling over him.

“Hell, you’re right, you need to be able to say all the sexy things. Only my cock in your mouth,” he agrees, pulling down on her lip with his thumb as she grinds against him. “Hey!” He shouts when she climbs off him, getting down from the bed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m starving. Need sustenance if we’re using up the other condoms!”

Stunned that he’s come this far after he’d nearly despaired, Tom watches his woman pad across the room in all her naked glory. He pinches himself, smothering a small yelp when it stings. So he’s not dreaming. She’s really invaded his hotel room, clouded his senses, reclaimed him in all the best ways. But Tom has learned his lesson; he won’t be too eager, won’t take things for granted. There’s still so much to be said and done.

Content to look his fill as she’s puttering about to get them a midnight snack ready, he wonders what other matters need to be cleared before Thalia will truly let him in again.

Click here to read Chapter 24, Second Chances

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Beg For It

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Beg For It

Being Thalia

Chapter 22

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job in Madrid as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Word Count: 4065

Summary: Tom’s past greets him at the door.

*****THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW****

Previous Chapter, Digging into the Past

Two nights later, Tom sulks in his room, attempting to focus on a book he found at the market that afternoon. Hearing the unexpected knock on the door to his room, Tom pulls back the book cover, closing it between the pages and laying it down on the table. The thunder rumbles the sky again as the rain beats against the windows. He murmurs his imminent arrival and runs his fingers through his hair, biting his tongue when he stubs his toe on the edge of the bed. Awkwardly perched in the middle of the room, it’s nearly unavoidable.

           When the knock echoes again, he calls out louder, “On my way!” Scratching his eyebrow in frustration, he looks around the unkempt room. He shrugs, barely opening the door, unprepared to let anyone see his untidiness. He sucks in his breath at her figure, her back to the door, admiring the architectural trimmings in the hall.

She turns when the door opens wider and smiles. “Surprise.”

“Thalia. I wasn’t expecting you-“

“That’s what makes it a surprise, Thomas.” She laughs as she steps forward.

“I just meant… Well you seem…” He stutters, floundering for his words. A thought is just out of reach, something he’s missing…

“The great Tom Hiddleston, at a loss for words?” Thalia teases as she brushes past him, pushing her way into the room, dropping an oversized bag at his feet.

“Well, truth be told, right now, you look like the ghost of an old dream I once had, a wonderful memory.” The coat is shorter, fire engine red, and she’s not in her country boots, but the look of determination is the same. He knows Thalia plans to take what she wants. And he’s ready for it. Desperate for it. His cock begins to stir and he’s thankful for the long shirt-tail hiding the evidence. “A vision of days gone by, of my sweet warrior princess.”

She turns on her heel to face him, like a goddess outlined among the books filing the walls of the room. Thalia ignores his comment. “I’m not surprised you chose this room. It’s almost pedantic. Always the intellect…” She tugs on the belt holding her raincoat tied closed. “I’m not a princess now, Thomas. I’ve worked my way up, earned my title. I’m a professor.”

Thomas. He remembers few occasions when she would call him by his full name, and again his cock twitches.

His eyebrow arches and he understands the stakes as she opens her coat, revealing a vintage polka dot dress. It clings to every curve, dipping low between her ample cleavage and barely covering the tops of her thighs, the lace trim of her hosiery showing, possibly the clip of a garter belt. Sweet and sin, all rolled into one. She lets the coat fall to the floor. He closes his gaping mouth quickly, hoping he doesn’t look like a stunned fish as she spins away, walking towards the shelves. “Stay there.” She commands without looking at him. “I ordered dinner. It’ll be here any moment.”

Watching her wide hips sway hypnotically, his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. He’s never wanted to lick the bottom of a woman’s shoes before, but something tells him if she asked tonight, he’d say yes. He’d gladly lick the bottom of those red-soled heels…

The woman before him is no longer the girl he once loved. She’s more exotic, worldly, powerful. She sometimes played at being a domme, but now he wonders where her travels may have taken her, what knowledge she has collected along the way… This woman, he needs to know. He feels it in his lungs, needing her like the air he breathes.

Dismissed, he stands quietly fidgeting with his hands, perching his glasses up higher on his nose to watch as she graces her hands thoughtfully over the spines of the tomes. Many of them are in languages he can’t even pretend to understand. He’d love to discuss them with her, for her to pull a novel, maybe by Cervantes or García Lorca, from the shelf and listen to her Spanish tongue wash the words over him.

When there’s a knock, she doesn’t react, pulling down a book and reading the back. He grins to himself and shuffles to the door. The delivery man in a yellow rain poncho stands with a large silver foiled packet and a tall, thin paper sack in his hands. Tom swings the door open widely and motions for him to put them on the coffee table, in front of the couch.

“The wallet’s in my purse,” she purrs.

Leaving the delivery to be set up, Tom walks back to her bag, picking it up and cringing at the wet puddle underneath. Pulling the handles apart, he looks down inside, thankful he hadn’t blindly reached in and attempted to pull out the wallet. He might have grabbed a vibrator instead. Or a bottle of lube, or one of many other untoward items resting on top of her wallet. He clears his throat, taking out the clutch. The man murmurs the total quietly. Walking to the couch, Tom counts out the Euros, dropping her bag on the modern furniture piece. The delivery man accepts the payment and handsome tip, smiling to Thalia and winking at Tom before exiting quickly.

“Dinner for two?” Tom presents, waving his arm out and drawing her attention to his delivery.

Over her shoulder, disinterested in the food, her shoulder drops and a wicked smile graces her painted red lips. “No clothes. I want you to have dinner with me naked.”

His eyes widen at her request. “But that’s just ridicu-.” Shit. He’d commanded it of her before, on their first true date when he’d pampered her in the hotel, all those years before. She’s not just teasing him, she’s letting him know she hasn’t forgotten a moment of their life together either. Their souls are tied as one. Blushing, he laughs out, soft puffs of air. “Eh, eh, eh.” He shakes his head. “Got me there, love.”

She turns and presses her back against one of the shelf supports, crossing one leg over the other and digging the toe of her heel into the floor. He watches her take a deep breath as she spreads her hands out to her sides, gripping the edges of the shelves. As he slowly unbuttons his wrinkled white shirt, he can’t help his nerves. He’s tried his best to keep in shape, but he’s older now, in his forties. He can’t stop the insecurities flitting through his mind, and his eyes are nearly blinded by shame, as tears well behind them. What if she’d felt that way before? That she wasn’t beautiful enough? She’d been brave, so brave not to hide, to share her voluptuous body with him, with so little coaxing…

A hitch in her breath clears his head and he notices the small, nearly imperceptible wiggle of her legs, crossing over one another. Bloody hell, she’s starting without him. He’d love to call her on it, but tonight she holds the reins. She’s the Professor and he’s simply Thomas. Whoever she needs him to be…

He pulls the shirt off, biting his tongue in frustration when his hand seems to get stuck in the sleeve. It was worth it to watch her crack a smile before her visage hardened again. He quickly unbuttons his pants, pushing them down to his ankles, lifting one foot out and stepping on the fallen leg, pushing the gathered fabric down, to free the other one. In his gray, faded boxer briefs, he’d have been better prepared if he’d known he was going to be the object of a seduction.

Leaning forward from the bookshelf, she nods her approval. Her breasts push forward while she arches her back, resting her ass back in place. Thalia raises her head up. “I can’t reach that book; the one I want. Can you get it for me?”

Holding back, eager to pounce across the room, her voice causes him to ache.

“Which one?”

“The blue leather, with the gold lettering, Romancero Gitano by Federico García Lorca.” He nods. “I’ve actually been looking for older copies, for a study of the Gypsy people, a project for the museum.”

He tilts his head, contemplating dropping to his knees to crawl across the floor to her. Frankly, the idea of the hardwood floors scraping across his old joints stops him. He pulls himself up tall, sucking in his gut a little as he strides towards her. Eyes locked on her face, he doesn’t miss as she visually eats him up, from head to toe, eyes lingering a moment too long on the tattered fabric which barely keeps him covered.

The book in question is directly above her head, and the only way for him to reach it is to stand right in front of her. Even at his tall stature, he can’t reach the edition without lifting onto his tiptoes, brushing his bare chest against her full body. Grasping the tome in his fingers, he slowly pulls it down, pushing his body against hers, whispering, “Oops.”

She runs her tongue over her teeth and smirks.

Stepping back, he can see her quickened breaths, her nipples peaking under the fabric of her sinfully tight dress.

Not knowing, or caring, if she has rules, he speaks out of turn. “You smell wonderful. The smell of orchids always remind me of you.” Retreating another step, he curtsies low and presents the book up to her.

“Thank you, Thomas,” she murmurs quietly, taking the volume from his outstretched hand.

“Will you read to me while we eat?” he inquires submissively.

Thalia dips her head, moving around him to the couch. She perches on the edge of the seat, slowly crossing her legs, allowing Tom a view of her uncovered pussy, already wet and wanting. Thumbing through the book, she ignores the food, chooses a passage and begins reading. Taking his cue, as her manservant for the evening, he walks towards the table, grabbing a pillow from the bed. He tosses it down to the floor before kneeling by the coffee table. He hides his chuckle when he realizes his hard cock rests perfectly on the polished surface, tented under the straining fabric. With a shake of his head, he begins pulling out various containers of foods, labeled in script he can barely read. Identifying the desserts, he leaves those for later, but begins to peel back the covers as Thalia’s lyrical, throaty vocal inflections fill the room. He chuckles at the seemingly American food, the concept reminding him of loaded potatoes. Thalia looks up from her reading, eyeing his personal accessory added to the table and rolling her eyes, a crooked smile gracing her lips.

“Best take out in town, from a little bar called Gandario. They’re tablas; yes, I know they look like potato skins, but there’s thick toasted bread on the bottom.” She points to the tin of what appears to be french fries, loaded with meats and small containers of dip. “Here in Madrid, they’re called patatas, not fries. One is chicken, el pollo, and the other is pork loin, el solomillo. I didn’t know what sauces you might like, so between the two plates, there’s nearly 12 different ones you can try.”

“If it tastes half as wonderful as it smells, I’m sure I’m in for a treat.”

She blushes when his eyes land on the apex of her crossed legs as he speaks and she scoots around on the couch, leaning forward to grab a potato piece with a chunk of chicken before dipping it into a green sauce. “If we were eating in the restaurant, their plates are designed to hold the sauces. If you ordered four, that would determine the size of your plate. If you ordered six, it would have six little dipping wells for the sauces.” He watches as she chews slowly, before licking the cream from her fingers and leaning forward for another piece. “Eat,” she tells him, grabbing a piece of the pork loin. “You’ll need your energy.”

Straightfaced, she resumes her reading as the pair eat with their fingers, delighting in the sinfully good foods. Spellbound, he listens to her words, the poetry telling of the sadness felt by the gypsies of the Andalusian culture, living on the margins of society, oppressed by the government of the early nineteen hundreds. As she reads, and they eat, he stops and asks her questions, words he’s unfamiliar with, and they discuss the metaphors found in the ballads. He’s surprised to recognize phrases in songs of the region that he’s heard on his travels and holidays in Spain over the years. Tom’s eyes well with tears as she reads ‘Muerto de Amor,’ the story of a young gypsy who dies of sadness from a broken heart.

Reaching over the table, he places his hand on hers, rested on the book, holding the page open as she reads. Choking back his tears, he whispers, “Thalia. I always thought that was something people said, ‘to die of a broken heart.’ I didn’t know it was true, it was real, till I walked out on you. I died three years ago; I beg you to let me live again.”
Her dark eyes fill with tears, and she tosses her head back, looking up to the ceiling. She chuckles softly, sniffling back her emotions. “Beg,” she repeats softly. “Dying was a choice. Yours. You left.” Her chest heaves, holding back the pain in her voice, little stabs to his own heart. “But you broke me… shattered my heart. Killed me… Dying would have been easier…” She swallows, tilting her head back and shaking out her hair, regaining her confidence. Looking him boldly in the eye, she repeats, “Beg.”

Wiping his hands on a napkin, he turns away from the table, dropping to his hands and crawling around the table. Pushing it out of the way, he buries his head in her lap, tears beginning to wrack his body as he cradles himself in the little warmth she provides. Despite her hesitation, he lets the tears flow, all the pent up sadness and anger he’s felt over the years. Even if she can only give him this, he feels his spirit healing again.

Not knowing when, he realizes her body has curved over his, her hands running through his hair as she whispers in Spanish, comforting him and telling him everything will be okay. He can feel her own body heave with emotion and he moves his head back and forth, trying to pull away, to stop her pain. Wanting to comfort her. She holds tight, not letting him go from her grasp, and he becomes aware he’s nudged up the hem of her skirt. He continues to move his head side to side, his beard scratching the tops of her thighs, covered in nylons and lace. The sensation seems to slowly dawn on her and she shifts, spreading her legs, pulling his hair, pushing him between her thighs. “Don’t stop,” she moans.

Strengthened, he lavishes small kisses over her olive skin. Running his hands up her sides, he grips her hips tightly in his grasp, pulling her to the edge of the couch. From the corner of his eye, he can see her raise one heeled foot, resting it on the edge of the table. “Let me make you forget all the pain, and bring back all the good we had together, Thalia.” He nibbles at her leg, snapping the top of her thigh highs between his teeth. “We were always so damn good together. Let me show you.” She squirms from his caresses, unaccustomed to his beard between her legs. Truth be told, a beard he grew purely out of lack of care for personal hygiene because he was so devastated by the loss of her. A loss they suffered because of his own doing. “Thalia, I beg you to forgive me for leaving.”

He bites higher on her thigh, first the right and then the left.

“I beg you to forgive me for anything I ever said in anger.”

He washes his tongue over her dimpled flesh, feeling the tight, defined muscles under her full figure.

“I beg you to forget all the hurt I’ve caused.”

He bites again, higher, leaving little marks, his claim on each thigh. His eyes land on the prize, her lips pink and swollen, already throbbing and demanding his attention. Her sweet scent lures him closer, his mouth watering for a taste. Brushing roughly against her skin, he marks her with his beard, little abrasions already forming on her skin. He feels her, tense in his hands, holding back, reining in her emotions, her responses.

“I beg you to let me love you again. I won’t hurt you this time, Thalia. I promise.”

A quiet sob from her throat echoes from the book shelves in the room.

“I’m so hungry, Thalia. Thirsty. Your nectar is what I need to soothe my soul. I’m parched, dry without it… Still a dying man. Save me, I beg of you. Let me have it, darling” he whispers, his breath hot across her mound, his tongue aching to touch between her folds.

Her body unwinds, relaxing finally in his hands and her legs fall open wider. “It’s yours,” she moans quietly.

Swiftly, Tom raises her feet, lifting them to his shoulders, the heels of her pointed shoes digging into his sinewy tendons. A delightful, twisted pain as he lifts her ass from the couch, latching his mouth over her dripping pussy. Sucking intently, he tugs her lips, pulling with his mouth before loosening his hold to slide his tongue through the length of her slit.

“Oh my, fuck,” she breathes out, gripping the edge of the couch.

Tom’s cock is hard against his thigh, twitching with desire. Ignoring his physical needs, he gives to her, washing his tongue over her lips, diving between them into the depth. Losing himself as he drowns in her, lapping her up, literally devouring her. So much wet, welcoming him home. Yes, he’s home, this is where he should be. With Thalia. Between her legs. Forever.

He snickers at the thought, his breath tickling her and she wiggles from his grasp, falling back to the couch, her feet dropping to the floor as she kicks off her heels. “What’s so funny, Thomas?” She asks, roughly pulling his hair, lifting his head.

“Just the laughter of a foolish, old man, realizing he had everything.” His tongue darts out and flicks across her swollen clit. He bites his lip at her response, her eyes wide. “I don’t intend to waste it this time, darling. I beg you to take me back.”

“Mm, hmm,” she hums, eyes rolling back, as he swirls the tip of his finger around the rim of her tight cunt.

He watches as her body contracts, a small gush of wet rolling out between her lips. Wiping it up with his finger, he pushes his long digit inside, curling it to hit her spot. Remembering every inch of her body… Her hands tighten in his hair, pushing his face back to her soaking pussy. Closing his mouth over the tender pearl, he slides his finger in and out, adding another while his beard adds to her pleasure. “Damn, you’re good,” she whines. “Love the beard.” She giggles, gripping his hair tighter. “Not sure about the hair.”

He shakes his head, brushing the curls from side to side, tickling her thighs. Pulling a plump lip between his, he sucks the tasty flesh. “More to grab,” he reminds her.

Lifting her foot to his lap, she presses against his cock, the shiny nylons teasing his sensitive skin. “Other things I prefer to grab,” she taunts, pressing her heel into the head of his rock-hard cock.

Flicking his tongue across her slit again, he pushes it into the tight space his fingers occupy and she sighs deeply. Releasing his mouth from her sweetness, he promises, “There’s time for that later, Mistress.”

The title comes to him as naturally as all the other delicious filth he usually whispered to her. Today, she IS his mistress. And she’s more than that. She holds his life, his joy, in her hands and he doesn’t even consider hesitating.

“Good boy, Thomas,” she praises, dragging her toe up his chest, and pushing him backwards with her foot. “I’m not hearing enough begging though…”

Scissorings his fingers, he watches the pulsing of her pink walls gripping his fingers, glistening with their shine. “Mistress, I beg you to let me push you over the edge. I need to feel you, dripping over my fingers, flooding my mouth. Remind me what a real woman wants; can take…”

Curling his long fingers, he forcefully pushes her walls, proud when her head falls to the side, in a trance. “That’s my girl,” he whispers. “Just relax.”

It registers dimly that he’s called her both ‘mistress’ and ‘my girl’ and she hasn’t protested. And that’s exactly it, that’s the magic of this new Thalia and what she causes in him. They can be so good together, like this. Top and bottom and everything in between, dom and sub and all imaginable bliss contained in one odd but beautiful arrangement.

Tenderly, he squeezes her foot with his other hand, lifting it for a quick kiss to the tops of her toes before gently placing it on the floor. Rising up on his knees, he crawls closer, using the hand to spread her legs wider. Her dress is bunched up around her waist, showing wet spots, evidence of their lovemaking. He’ll worry about the couch cushion later. Inhaling deeply, her scent fortifies him, makes him stronger. Diving forward, his ripe, pink lips wrap around her tight bundle of nerves. His hands work to loosen her, one kneading her thigh while the other caresses the smoothest spot, deep inside. She’s growing wetter and he takes it all as she drenches him, her hands pulling him closer, smothering him as his nose grinds against her mound.

Gracias, salveme Díos,” she moans, rising off the couch and thrashing against him.

He takes it all, licking it up, sucking her clean, his mouth never leaving her pussy till she finally pushes him away. She has the control after all, for the evening.

Rocking back on his heels and slowing pulling his fingers out, he lovingly pats her punished mound. Closing her legs, she effectively pushes his hands away from her sensitive center.

“What now, my sweet warrior Professor?” He laughs, wiping her essence from his beard, licking the side of his lip.

Leaning forward, she tugs the whiskers on his chin, pulling him to her and firmly planting her lips on his in a hard, rewarding kiss. “Don’t ever call me that again,” she giggles, pulling back lightly. “I can be your professor, or a warrior princess, but not both at the same time.”

With a small “eheheh,” he pulls her off the couch, into his arms, tangling his tongue with hers again, covering her sweet face with kisses. He likes that she’s not squeamish about tasting her own juices, and doesn’t complain about his tiny licks, spreading her mess all over. “God, I’ve missed this, more than I knew.”

She nods, understanding unspoken words. “Missed you too, darling,” she murmurs, grinding her ass against his crotch.

Thrusting up, he bounces her in his lap. “You’re overdressed.”

She holds his face in her hands. “You’re not in charge,” she warns with a sly smile.

Bowing his head, he replies, “Yes, Mistress. I beg for you to use me at your will. Any clocks you need hung up? Cabinet doors to fix?”

“You know damn well the landlord had to come fix the doors later that week,” she says, tugging her fingers through his curly hair. “Not as good at screwing things as you thought, I guess,” she teases as she pulls away from him, running to the unmade bed.

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” He laughs, chasing after her.

“Your hammer work was good…” She laughs, crawling up on the bed, wiggling her ass. “Always a good pounding. Why don’t you come over and remind me how good you are at it?”

Click here to read Chapter 23, Whatever You Need

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

A Fine Gentleman

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A Fine Gentleman

an Emery&Chris fanfic

by avenger-nerd-mom

Word Count: 4632

Warning: LEMON- oral sex, fingering, adult content, jealousy, pregnancy, language

Summary: Tired and worn out, Chris and Emery still manage to enjoy their limo ride after the Oscars.

*special thanks to TheWife101 for the photo edit*

Click here to read the first part of this story, Surprises Ahead

February 2019

The flash of lights blind and shouts echo in Emery’s ears. Fortunately the walk out after the awards show is shorter than the red carpet walk going into the Dolby Theater. Emery moves along quickly, not stopping to sign autographs or pose for quick selfies as her handsome husband ushers her along with speed. When the limo comes into view, she wobbles on her low sling-back heels, unable to hide her smile. She tugs the sleeve of Chris’s form fitting tux, and points. “Is that Henry?”  

Chris can’t hide his smile either. “You surprised?” He waves to the crowd, and they turn, allowing assembled press to snap a few more candid photos. Putting his hand on the small of her back, he gently pushes her forward. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Don’t we have to attend any after parties?” She asks, turning to wave at the group of adoring fans.

“Oh, I’m sure the studio execs won’t be happy, but I told them we had safety concerns, you needed rest and since I worked so hard,” he rolls his eyes, joking that presenting was a challenge. “I’d rather get away and relax instead. You need outta those shoes.”  

Looping her arm in his, she continues towards the car, patting the arm of his velvet suit. “Thanks. I appreciate when you get all ‘Papa Bear’ and watch over us.” Her free hand curves under her protruding belly. “You’re gonna make a great dad.”

“I hope so, Kitten,” he sighs, a hint of uncertainty and exhaustion in his voice.

The crowd is so loud, no one can hear their private conversation. Henry, Chris’s driver for events in LA, steps forward to take over protection as she turns and blows kisses to the crowd, shouting her appreciation and love as well to all his fans as he waves in return. Chris opens the car door and settles her in as Henry walks around the front of the car, readying the door for Chris. When her door closes, she kicks off her heels before settling the dress around her.

“Hey, beautiful.” Chris’s smooth baritone fills the car, warm and calm as the door closes, shutting out the roaring crowd.

“Hey, handsome!” As though it’s been hours, not mere seconds since they were last together. “Look at you, in a tux! You always get so dressed up to go pick up your dates?” She playfully tugs on his tie, unraveling it before letting it fall against his chest. Chris wraps his arms around her, finally relaxing in her hold.

He pulls back and his blue eyes wash over her face, and in the passing light of other cars, she can see his love. He caresses her red hair back, tangling his fingers in the cascade of curls over her shoulder. “Red,” he scoffs, before his lips tenderly land on hers. “Who’d have thought I’d fall for a redhead.” Having been apart for weeks, and still catching up the last few days together, the kisses increase with intensity quickly and a quiet moan escapes her lips as his hand glides down her exposed thigh and back up. Emery grips the lapels of his jacket, pushing him back against the seat as the limo speeds down the highway to their destination, wherever that might be.

“I missed you,” she breathes heavily.

He chuckles, “You saw me this morning.”

“It was too long ago,” she whispers. Her hand slides down from his neck and edges along the line of shiny buttons of his pressed shirt, following down to the waist of his pants.

“I missed you too,” he moans quietly against her ear.

“Show me,” she whispers, feeling bold behind the tinted window. She pushes him back, rising up on the leather seat, dropping one bare foot to the space between his legs. Her hand curves over his covered cock and he thrusts against her palm.  

With one hand, Chris holds her hip to help balance her round belly, while the other hand glides around the back of her leg. He squeezes and cups her ass, her cheeks barely covered by the skimpy little satin undies under the designer gown. “You feel good,” he whispers against her throat, his mouth igniting small fires all across her flesh.

His beard causes a light burn to her skin but she doesn’t care, as she continues to caress him through his pants. She’s missed him, missed his touch and wants him to know she needs him badly. She lowers her body, her lips back to his while he continues to run his fingers over her ass and down the space between her legs.

“You’re so warm,” he growls between kisses. “I bet you’re hot and wet.” His fingers nimbly shove the fabric to the side. Seeking permission, he asks, “Can I see?”

“God, yes,” she pants, wanting to feel his touch.

Chris slowly dips his longest finger inside her, and is met with an already pooling wetness, caused simply by being near him. She can hear his sigh and a change in his breathing as well. “So perfect,” he barely breathes out against my ear.

“Shh… Shut up,” she responds, shaking her head back, her body already quaking in his arms. “You talk too much.”

He chuckles again. He shifts on the seat so his arm can have more freedom to move under her flowing dress. And he uses that to his advantage, slowly sliding deep in and out, avoiding her clit. He pulls the wet up with a hooked finger and slides it over her outer lips, pushing against them, tugging at her skin. “I want you so bad…” The wide span of his large hand allows his other fingers to caress against her thighs at the same time. A jolt washes through her, and she chokes back a groan. Her head drops forward, resting on his shoulder and he breathes against her neck, whispering sweet words of affection and temptation.

He varies the rhythm with which he enters and pulls out, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough. Pulling all the way out, he slaps her ass and she finally releases a guttural moan. He shifts them on the leather seat as the city lights flash in the window, laying her back. Chris pulls her dress higher up on her waist, exposing her rounded pregnant belly and opening her to him. He rests his thigh between her open legs, changing positions to enter even deeper as he slides in a second finger. His digits remain deep as they continue to penetrate her, scissoring back and forth.  

Emery grabs the sleeve of his jacket, gripping his arm as she bucks against his hand. His touch and the friction of the satin panties against her tender lips has her writhing beneath him. She never takes her eyes from his face, watching the range of emotions cross his visage. Looks of love and lust as he gives to her.

She feels herself dripping around him, worrying the designer gown might be getting wet. She naturally squeezes her walls on his fingers and he begins to grind his palm against her mound. His other hand cradles the back of her neck as she thrusts up, aching to finish. A small squeak escapes from her lips and he murmurs, “Come for me, sweetheart, don’t hold back.”

His deep, smoky voice adds to her need to release. A few more thrusts, along with his other fingers squeezing her outer lips, and she lifts up for one final push against his palm. Her orgasm breaks and she squeezes him tightly as she comes all over his hand. He slows up his movements, matching her breathing as she comes back down, slowly sliding his hand out and repositioning her now dripping panties. He gently rubs his palm over her covered mound.  

“Beautiful; simply beautiful,” he murmurs, picking her up and placing her in his lap. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”

Tears well in her eyes and she shakes her head, giggling. “Yea, fucking fantastic… That was just…,” she nuzzles in tight against his neck, holding him close as he caresses his hands over her still quaking body. “Exactly what I needed.” She kisses his neck tenderly, reaching up to wipe away the pooled tears. “Stupid pregnancy hormones. Oh, honey, I’ve missed you so much… Thank you.”

“Well you don’t have to thank-”

“Excuse me,” a voice comes in through the speakers. Emery blushes and hides her face in his blue velvet coat.

Chris eyes her with concern and replies, “What’s up, Henry?”

“Boss, just wanted to let you know we’re about fifteen minutes from our destination. Is she hungry?”

“Always,” Emery mumbles. “Burgers would be great!” She yells through the intercom.

Chris holds her close, hiding his smile in her hair. “Thanks, Henry.”

Righting them on the back seat again, he lifts her chin, reading the expression on her face. “He couldn’t hear us; you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Emery slides off his lap and reaches for napkins from the mini-bar. Stuffing them under her dress, he helps her delicately clean between her legs. “I know… It’s,” she sighs.  “Any of our assistants always know what’s going on, so it’s logical for him to think-”

“Yea, he’s gonna think that we did something. I’m in the backseat of a limo, after an awards show, with the hottest lady in town.” She frowns and he covers her hand with his, running his thumb over the sparkling diamond on her finger before giving a gentle squeeze. “He can think whatever the fuck he wants, but we’re the only ones that have to know…” Chris opens the mini fridge, and twisting the top off a beer, takes a drink before reaching in to offer a bottle of water to her. He looks down into her sweet face. “I make no apologies for how I feel about you, and for wanting to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Chris.” She scratches the scruff on his chin. “You’re right. It shouldn’t matter what we do. What matters is that it’s right for us, what we want.”

Putting his arm around her neck and tucking her back to his side, he sighs. “Besides, we’re married,” he chuckles, resting his hand on her plump belly.

She sighs happily, snuggling into his chest and reaching her arm under his coat to rest her hand on his waist. “Best decision I ever made,” she giggles.

He laughs, kissing the top of her head. “Are you sure? The other day you told me you weren’t even sure you liked me.” He teases, reminding her of their discussion about surprises,  caressing down the back of her arm. His tone drops. “And I saw you talking to Momoa.”

Emery chuckles. “Christopher Evans, are you seriously jealous?”

“You had your hands all up his pink velvet jacket, and he was rubbing your pregnant belly!” Chris practically shouts.

“God, that man is like a solid brick wall, I swear.” She can hardly bite back her laughter.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Indignance rings through his voice.

Emery blanches at the reference. “Ew, stop.” She swallows hard, just the words making her feel ill. “Chris, he saw I wasn’t feeling well and was just being friendly. He was telling me about how Lisa dealt with her morning sickness, and he gave me a peppermint he had in his pocket. I swear,” she crosses her fingers over her heart, “you are the only superhero for me.”

He’s still grumbling and complaining moments later, when the car comes to a stop and they lurch forward. Henry’s voice comes back through the intercom. “After I deliver you two, I’ll drive back out and get some food.”

“Don’t worry about it, Henry. We’ll order in. Thanks for getting us here safe, man. I can always count on you.” Chris reaches up to click off the intercom. “You know I’m not done with you tonight. Flirting with other men, DC men? You deserve to be punished for that…” He wiggles his eyebrow, laughing and shaking his head.

“I flirted with Rudd too, but that’s a given.” She smirks.

Chris playfully pinches her arm.

“What?” She rubs the spot on her arm. “You were looking at JLo’s ass. You can’t even deny that. Shit, you could bounce a quarter off it.” She awkwardly twists on the bench seat. “Think my ass will ever be tight again?”

Squeezing her back side, he says, “I have no complaints about your ass.” He shakes his head and points to the dark window in front of them, silently indicating to the driver. “If we order delivery, we don’t actually have to see anyone we know for a few days.”

Emery leans back against the seat. “I like the idea of being alone, just us. In another few months, we won’t have a lot of time for that.” She tilts her head, looking out the tinted windows to their location. “Where exactly have you whisked me away this time?”

Chris hands her the shoes, tangled at his feet. “Stay in the car till I come around; you’ll see.”

He exits the car and she takes another drink of her water, giggling at his jealousy. Like he has any worries. She’s not going anywhere, perfectly content with her crazy, happy life.

Muffled through the closed vehicle, she hears Chris talking to Henry, but can’t make out the words. She jumps when he places his hand on the window. “You’ve looked it all over, it’s safe, now go the hell away. I know you’re just watching out for us, but we don’t need chaperones,” he laughs, opening the door for her. “Emery?” He reaches his hand in, and she takes it, as he helps her gracefully out of the limo.

Chris laughs, his breath warm on his neck, holding her close as Henry drives away.

“Chris, what is this place? It’s beautiful.”

The secluded house sits behind a line of trees, a small Spanish- style stucco ranch. In the distance, Emery can hear waves crashing along the shore. The heavenly aroma of hibiscus blooms reach her nose, hanging from the pergola over the front entry. Bright lights shine behind the stained-glass front doors, but the rest of the house is dark.

“It’s ours for the next few days. A friend of mine, he’s out filming on location and he’s never here; he’s letting us use it.” He takes her hand, leading her up to the front porch. “I feel like this should be more dramatic, like I should carry you in, or something.”

She blushes, running her hand over her pregnant belly. “It’s okay, Chris, really. I wouldn’t want you to trip and drop us, or something.”

She follows him up the front steps, leaning on his shoulder as he opens the door and welcomes her in. The foyer is grand, with a large display of fresh flowers and her suitcases and his bags next to a set of winding stairs leading to the upper level. He dips his head, “Hey, I didn’t really get a chance to admire you in that dress… Turn so I can see you.”

She follows his direction and the train of the dress wraps around her feet. Slightly dizzy from the dramatic turn, she rests her palm on the marble table to balance herself. “Not my favorite part of the job,” she admits. “Actor’s wife. Getting all dressed up, like a child’s doll. This is-”

“Amazing. Stunning. Perfection.” Chris finishes her sentence. Taking his phone from an inner pocket on his suit coat, he reaches up and snaps a photo of the two of them together.

Emery giggles. “Yea. I can’t just pull it off. That’s gonna take a few minutes. Actually,” she looks down the front of her dress, “I’m taped and pinned in this thing. It’s not as sexy as you’d think.”

“Then we think very differently, cause you look sexy as hell.” In a quick motion, he moves in front of her, his warm, calloused hands reaching under the edges of the plunging v-neck gown. Sliding up, his thumbs press against her breast bone as his fingertips work their way under the moss green chiffon dress. The color looks amazing with her hair and the gauzy design looks something like a Roman Goddess would wear. His goddess. When his hands glide over her swollen breasts, her breath catches and he stops to circle his palms, her nipples pebbling under his command. His eyes follow his movement while she watches his hands, the veins in his wrists, her skin tightening into goosebumps when his cold cufflinks drag across her skin. His hands continue their worshipping ascent, pushing the cloth back as he nears her throat.

Exposed, her nipples harden in the cool air, tingling and tight, wanting more of his touch. Wanting his mouth. She wants his beautiful, lush lips on her, sucking her. “Chris, I-”

“Shhh…” He slowly pushes the straps down her shoulders, letting it fall from her arms. “Let me admire you…”

He steps forward, reaching around behind her back to find the small zipper between her shoulder blades. Her pregnant belly makes the reach further around than usual, but his lush velvet jacket pushes against her exposed breasts and she gasps. Pulling her arms free from her dress, she slides her hands between them, struggling with the buttons on his tuxedo coat. He leans closer, trapping her hands between them and whispers in her ear. “There’s time for that later. No rush, my dear, my sweet Kitten.”

Slowly, painfully, his hands slide the zipper down the back of her dress. As it opens over her rounded ass, it finally falls to the ground. Free of her confines, and save for the skimpy satin underwear, she stands before him, completely naked.

Chris steps back and sucks in his breath. “So beautiful… and all mine.” His hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her to him, stepping over the discarded gown. He looks down to the pile of green organza at their feet. “Stunning, but this is the way you should always be… naked.” He cocks his head, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful than you do right now, Em. Pregnancy is a good look for you.” He steps closer. He reaches his hands through her fiery red hair, tangling his fingers in the loose romantic coiff of curls and small plaits, pulling out pins and tossing them to the floor. She reaches up to help, but the look he shoots stops her. “So many pins,” he chuckles quietly, turning her around and bowing her head forward to unpin the back of her hair. She smiles, feeling it cascade down her back, tickling her shoulders. With her eyes raised, she watches them in a mirror across the entryway. She looks small and submissive next to his striking form, regal and gallant in his tux. Arranging the curls down her back, his hands brush over her skin, and she can see the wicked smile on his face, reflected in the mirror. He looks up and their eyes meet. “There she is… My girl. My Emery.” Possession. Pride.

He lifts her arm, twisting it to kiss the freckles on her shoulder. He runs his hand down her arm, pulling the Harry Winston bracelet off and tossing it on the table with a clink. “What’s that little smile on your face? You look like the cat who licked the cream.”

“Not yet,” she blushes, giggling and dropping her head. His eyes pop and he laughs as she’s embarrassed. “Shit; did I say that? Oh, God.” She rubs her forehead.

“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” he says wickedly.

She giggles, turning to face him, helping him to remove his cufflinks, and he tosses them, along with his watch, on the table as well.

He licks his lips before capturing her pretty mouth. Emery moans at his onslaught, loving the taste of the beer that clings to his tongue. She can feel his lips curve to a smug smile at her reaction. She tries to catch his bottom lip, but he keeps pulling away from her, teasing her. Instead, he captures hers, tugging and pulling it between his teeth, flicking his tongue across the tender flesh. He attacks her with his lips, teeth and tongue, using his hand to hold her sweet face in place. “I love the little moans and whines you make… Can you feel what you do to me?”

Emery sighs, murmuring against his mouth, his clothed cock hard against her thigh. His mouth continues to claim hers as his hands roam down her sides, caressing her heavy belly, reaching between her thighs. She instinctively moves her legs apart for Chris to better reach her inner folds. He drags his finger back and forth over the wet silk covering her mound. Gripping the elastic, he gives a little tug, jostling her against him. The brush of her bare breasts against the velvet lapels of his suit increases her desire, each touch feeding her fire. She pushes into him, wanting his caress. She’s already dripping, still wet from their play in the limo. She gasps when he pushes the fabric aside, sliding his finger into her sweet hole. He holds her up tightly with his other hand when her knees collapse. “Chris, please,” she moans. “I can’t… I can’t support myself.”

He chuckles, his breath hot in her hair as he whispers, “I’ve got you,” before nibbling at her earlobe.

“Take me to bed,” Emery whines. “I need you, I need this.”

“No rush, love,” he repeats, watching their reflection in the mirror.  

She can see little marks forming along her neck, from the repeated bitings she’s received, and watches Chris’s hand disappear inside her silk panties. His eyes connect with hers in their reflection and she sees the look of triumph cross his face as he slips in another finger, sinking deep inside her. He pumps in and out slowly, then rough, then slow again, his mouth biting at her shoulder. His other hand grasps her breast and rolls her taut nipple between his calloused fingers. “Oh, fuck, Chris. That’s it, that’s-”

She can’t finish her thoughts as the wave of another orgasm starts to pulse through her body and he pulls away from her.

“Chris!” she whimpers. “Don’t stop!”

He laughs, the sound echoing in the dark, empty foyer as he drops to his knees, pushing her against the marble table. Yanking her panties down her legs, Chris burrows his tongue into the spot recently vacated by his fingers and rapidly laps up her juice, fucking her with his mouth. His beard burns against her tender skin. Her cries and mewling increase as she pulls at his hair.

She looks down to her favorite sight. Chris Evans, her husband, on his knees, just for her. His hands grab her ass and guide her closer to him. Just a few quick flicks with his skilled muscle and she breaks, coming on his tongue, filling his mouth. Chris moans against her, his vibrations completing her. He slows, gently bathing her with his tongue now, as she slowly floats back to reality, sinking down into his waiting arms.

“Chris,” she sighs, sated and exhausted, “are you planning to kill me before we even get to the bedroom?”

Chuckling, he wraps his arm around her back and lifts behind her knees, “We’re just getting started,” he promises.

She curls her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t wear me out before we even begin,” she warns.

Even with her added baby weight, Chris scales the stairs quickly and confidently, flicking on the hall light at the top of the steps. He walks down the hall, peeking in various rooms.

She lifts her head and looks at him. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Shhh…” He bites her shoulder playfully. His tone teases, “I try to make this big, romantic gesture, and you’re making jokes.”

She kisses his cheek. “Would you have me any other way?”

“Perfect, just the way you are…” He finds the room he was searching for, and reaches in, turning on the lights. A muted glow fills in behind him as she kicks out her foot, stopping him from going through the door.

“Chris?” She breathes out slowly. “You’re overdressed for the occasion. Can you put me down please?”

Kissing her forehead, he complies with her request, sliding her body down against his. “Are you planning to remedy that?”

Reaching for the buttons on his coat, she undoes them one by one. Sliding her hands up over his chest, she glides the jacket from his shoulders, letting it land at their feet. She grabs the tie hanging loosely around his neck and lays it around hers, the ends resting atop the curve of her breasts. Emery looks up, his eyes on her hands. She tugs the ends, and drags her fingertips over her nipples, causing her to shiver as they peak at her own touch. He smiles down at her and rests his hands on her hips. “That could be fun later,” he taunts.

“Not long enough to hold me in place,” she laughs, speaking from experience. Her scent on his beard overwhelms her and she feels another rush of wetness between her legs. Stepping forward, she squints her eyes to undo the tiny button at his neck. “How the fuck did your large hands fasten this thing?” she grumbles. Finally getting it loose, she drives her hands down the row of buttons, popping each one loose and teasing over his skin with a light touch of her hands. She smiles when he sucks in his breath as she yanks the shirttail from the waist of his pants, undoing the final one.

“Speed it up, you’re killing me.” He sighs heavily.

“Not yet,” she winks. “‘No rush, love.’ Isn’t that what you said?”  She slowly runs her hands over his chiseled torso, admiring the way his pale skin moves under her touch, tracing over his new tat. Reaching up, skimming under the collar of the shirt, she pushes it down over his broad shoulders and lets it fall to the floor, landing on top of his jacket.

Helping her with the belt buckle, he chuckles when she slaps his hands away. “I should haul you over my lap and spank your ass; using my words against me.”

Freeing the snap on his pants, she breathes warmly against his chest. “I might like that.” She cocks her eyebrow and smiles wickedly as she carefully lowers to her knees in front of him.

“Saucy little thing, aren’t you?” His head drops back against the doorframe and he leans his upper body back, straining his hips forward for her touch.

Quickly she fumbles with his shoes and socks, moving them aside. With quick hands, Emery pulls the zipper down, her palm cupping under him. Gently she squeezes his balls and blows a hot breath across his covered cock. He clears his throat and shifts his hips, pushing himself against her hand. “‘Kitten?”

“Hmmm,” she hums absently, letting go and reaching up for the waistband of his pants. The back of her hand grazes the sensitive skin on his lower belly, earning a groan from him. The heat throbs between her legs at the animalistic, hungry sound. His momentary lack of control fires her up, knowing she makes him feel just as hot and needy. “Such a fine gentleman, letting me come first…” Clawing at the rich, dark fabric, she pushes his dress pants down the length of his legs, ready to suck on his thick, veiny cock. “No rush at all,” she murmurs before sucking him between her plump, red lips.

Click here to read Late Night Snack

If you want to know more about Emery and Chris, read the novella Georgia on My Mind, and their additional stories

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Haunted

ch 14 Haunted Feb 17 2019

Haunted

Being Thalia

Chapter 14

By devikafernando & avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Word Count 2077

Summary: Tom falls down a rabbit hole of forbidden memories.

This chapter contains sexual activities and reference to a near-rape experience.

Previous Chapter, Forbidden Fruit

July 2021

As his hands fly across the paper, Tom madly scribbles his forbidden thoughts of lost love and his mind wanders to happier days.

***

His head resting on Thalia’s plush thigh, Tom stretches on the huge king-size hotel bed in Paris, grateful for another stolen day with his girl.

They’ve slaked the fiercest of their thirst with a round of almost fierce love making already, Tom indulging in one of his favorite positions and urging Thalia to ride him, her glorious tits bouncing as he dug his fingers hard enough into her ample hips to leave faint bruises.

That was an hour ago, when he’d first arrived from the airport, finding her only wrapped in a sheet. He’d missed his girl, Thalia here in Paris, getting settled for her internship. Although only apart a few weeks, he wanted to make up for lost time. After their frenzied fuck, they’d followed up with the lazy cuddling he loves just as much. It strikes him how rarely they really get the chance to draw out the time with each other, to cuddle and talk or even take a nap nude before going for round two or three.

“Tom?”

The fingers combing through his short, slightly sweaty hair stop as Thalia speaks and jolts him from his indulgent haze.

“Yes, darling?”

He opens his eyes and shifts slightly so he can see her face better.

“Tell me more about kinks.”

Blinking, he shifts again so that he can roll onto his stomach and prop his chin on his hands. He reminds himself to keep his gaze on her face and not let it wander over her delectable body; she’s still naked, and has reached that stage when she forgets about any insecurities and is herself—and his.

“Where’s that question coming from now?”

There it is, that lovely blush that makes her freckles stand out more and that he always causes all over her curves when he licks and sucks and nips.

She bites her full lip but holds his gaze. “I may have read a romance novel last week that mentioned a foot fetish. A fetish is the same as a kink, right?”

He tries to look as innocent as possible. “And why do you ask ME that?”

Thalia prods his rib with a toe and he uses the opportunity to catch her foot and tickle her sole mercilessly until she’s a giggling, wheezing, writhing mess.

Scrambling up on the bed, Tom rearranges them so he can sit with his back against the high headboard and his naughty girl in his embrace, her back to his chest as she rests in the circle of his widespread legs.

Still a bit out of breath, she elaborates, “I know you’re much more experienced with all that…kinky stuff.”

He snorts softly and nips her earlobe, which makes her squirm and brush against him in all sorts of torturous ways.

“Up for some more educating, are you? Well, what sort of professor would I be if I got in the way of that? So, what do you want to know?”

“Anything. Everything.”

And so he tells her about stuff he’s read on the internet and even experienced first-hand or been told about by more daring friends.

He talks about weird fetishes like getting it on with teddy bears, being aroused by stuttering or even being attracted to dangerous criminals. When he mentions that some people get hot and bothered for statues, Thalia giggles. She gives him the once over and raises a brow, “I mean, you can hold a candle to Adonis. So if it’s that kind of statue, I can’t really fault people for having such a fetish.” Her other brow quirks too and he seems a mischievous gleam enter her eyes. “Although I do have to say that none of those classical statues come anywhere near to what you’re packing in real life.” She nudges her chin towards his crotch area.

Blushing but grinning, Tom lightly slaps her thigh, which makes her squirm. “I guess I should be flattered. Or worried that you’ve paid enough attention to that particular part of statue anatomy?”

They snicker before he continues. “Speaking of paying attention to bodies… Some people have a kink that isn’t all that weird. They get turned on by sex in front of a mirror.”

Thalia perks up at that. “And do you happen to know the name for that kink, Professor?”

Feeling a shiver dance across his spine at the thought of this particular kink that has sometimes called out to him too, Tom nods. “I do happen to know it, yes. It’s called Katoptronophilia as the Greek word for mirror is katoptron.”

Resting his chin on her shoulder and letting his hands wander idly over Thalia’s body to stroke until she’s very still and breathing carefully, he also mentions more normal or harmless things that can be kinks for some. Glasses, stockings, high heels, collars, food fetishes, exhibitionism…the list is long, and he loves her reactions and curiosity.

This is when he’s happiest, he thinks in a sudden moment of insight: when he’s got Thalia in his arms and they can talk and touch and be unashamedly themselves.

“Would you say you have a kink you aren’t even really aware of?” Thalia asks, her voice musing but also a tiny bit husky because she’s definitely noticed his caresses. “Or that you’re maybe hiding one from me?”

“I’m not hiding anything from you, love.” The words are out before he can think about them—and they’re true, even if he’s always been rather secretive in his life, lovers included.

Tom doesn’t have time to think about it because Thalia turns her head and kisses him. He pours his shock into the press of his lips against hers, slides his tongue deep until she whimpers softly and all but melts in his arms.

When they disentangle to breathe, she insists. “No, really. No kink that I should know of?”

“Well, we both know about your glasses kink,” he teases her, which makes her laugh and blush some more, squirming so her lush bottom grinds over his now very interested cock.

“Me? I can’t really think of anything subtle or hidden. A tea kink? Because I love watching a certain young woman prepare a proper English tea for me in the nude?”

There’s humor in his voice which has gone automatically to that lower, deeper register that she brings out in him, and it makes her giggle and swat his leg none too gentle.

“Be serious, Tom.”

“Oh, you want me serious? Is that what would make my girl happy?”

He grabs the wrist of the hand with which she just hit him and twists her arm back, gently enough not to hurt her but firm enough to make a point. He pulls it behind her back, then does the same with the other arm. Then he pulls her more firmly against his body so her crossed wrists are trapped between her spine and his chest.

A shiver courses through her, and when he drags his teeth over her shoulder, he hears a low moan.

Her position makes her unable to touch him or balance herself properly, and she’s at his mercy. It also thrusts her voluptuous breasts out more, and he’s tall enough to lean forward and take advantage of that.

One of his hands molds a heavy globe, kneading and pulling and rubbing his palm over her stiff nipple until she’s gasping. His other hand hooks one of her legs over his so that her thighs are spread even wider. He lets it glide over the inside of her thigh, dragging his blunt nails lightly over her skin and causing her to shudder again. Her body grows taut with anticipation when his fingers stray higher and he brushes his fingertips lightly over her swollen, slick lips.

“You’re wet,” he growls. “Is it all the talk about kink or is it me?”

“You.” It sounds breathy, hardening him further. “You know you always make me wet…Sir.”

“And that’s the way it should be.” Feeling an odd wave of possessiveness, Tom sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks to mark her, drawing another gasped moan from Thalia.

Something about the gasp makes Tom try to rein in his rampant desire and remember to take extra care of her. He’s seen her scars, knows that the memory of the near-rape is probably still on her mind sometimes. Drawing in a steadying breath, he loosens his hold on her a fraction. Sure, he’s just touched the evidence of her arousal, but what if her body is overtaking her mind and she’ll regret this later?

“Thalia, is this okay?” he asks earnestly. “I want your full consent. Are you fine with me restricting and dominating you like this or do you want me to tone it down a notch because of…well, you know.”

He doesn’t want to say the word, ruin the mood. It still makes him incandescent with rage and pain to think about what nearly happened. If life was a movie, he would be out getting his revenge and killing the sick bastard who hurt this beautiful creature.

Tom feels her curves move when she also hauls in a deep breath.

“This is fine. Please. I need it, need you.”

Thank heavens. He nuzzles her hair, then tightens his grip on her again.

“Think you can come for me, just from my hand on your beautiful, needy pussy?”

He can feel her hands flex useless against his abdomen and her thigh muscles twitch.

“Yes. Please. Make me.”

And so he does just that, touching her in earnest. He knows how she needs to be caressed, how to slide his fingertips over the sensitive area right next to her clit, how to draw tight circles and then let her hang for a bit by delving a finger in and pumping.

It doesn’t take long for her to quiver and clench around him, her body bucking so hard that he has to fling an arm around her middle and anchor her to himself.

With a keening whimper, Thalia comes, gushing over his hand while her back arches despite his firm hold.

Tom gentles his strokes, massaging some of her wetness in, bringing her down from the peak while peppering her neck with kisses.

“So precious. Mine.”

He releases her from his firm embrace and she moves languidly to turn around, but he sees determination in her wide, dark eyes.

When he fists her hair in his hand, she licks her lips and needs no further command. Kneeling between his legs, she closes one hand over his rigid length and bends forward for a first suck that has him grit his teeth.

When they lie in each other’s arms later, idly tracing circles on damp skin and synching their breathing, Thalia murmurs, “I think I’ve figured out one of your kinks.”

Tom somehow finds enough energy to lift his head an inch and glance at her. “Is that so? Care to enlighten me?”

She seeks his gaze, her teeth digging into her lower lip for a moment. “Being in control. Teaching me naughty things. Not just simply being a mild dom of sorts. It’s the educating aspect too, and being older than me and sort of getting to deprave me.”

Her choice of words makes Tom guffaw. “You were no Regency-era virginal maid to deprave, darling,” he protests among snickers.

“Gee, Tom. I didn’t get around THAT much,” she slaps his thigh playfully. “But you have to admit, you’ve taught me things, and you get off on that, knowing you were first.”

Her comment with its kernel of truth gives him pause. All said and done, that’s quite astute. Tom blinks at her, feeling a bit caught out. He wonders whether there’s a word for that too. And as the two of them drift into contented sleep, still entangled, he realizes something that makes him open his eyes wide again: He might still be doing all the educating, but in the end, he’s learning too. Learning how right she is for him, and he for her.

***

Folding the paper neatly, Tom vows to put it away, out of sight so Sabrina won’t find it. He wonders what to do with the box of old letters and keepsakes when they finally join households. He closes his eyes, whispering a prayer for strength and forgiveness, before reaching for his phone to return the call to his dear intended wife.

Click here for Chapter 15: Reaching Out

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Christmas in NYC

NYC dec 23 2018

Christmas in NYC

Being Thalia

Collaboration by avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 6888

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

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

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

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

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

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

NYC 2.gif

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve never taken her skiing-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marry her,” Carlos demands.

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

Christmas in Munich

munich dec 19 2018

Christmas in Munich

Being Thalia

Collaboration by devikafernando & avenger-nerd-mom

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

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

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

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

Thalia and Tom decide Christmas apart seems lonely and share their love of exploring new places and things, half a world away from where they first met.

Word Count: 4583

The curvy Latina stomps her feet against the cold and readjusts her scarf. Thalia Bareo glances out across the pedestrian precinct of Munich, covered in a thin layer of snow that makes the rather harsh angles and grandeur of the South-German architecture look softer, straight out of a fairy tale.

Any moment now, he’d be there. Tom.

Watching her breath dance in front of her, Thalia peers down the steps and tries to curb her anticipation. She came to Germany for an archaeological conference three days ago and spontaneously decided to stay a bit longer and do some sight-seeing as she’d never been here before. When she mentioned it to Tom during their last phone call, he immediately latched on to the opportunity.

“Darling, why don’t I pop over there and we’ll spend Christmas together, surrounded by gingerbread and snow and people speaking in words with 30 letters?”

She laughed it off at first, thinking he was joking. The idea of being alone at Christmas, in a foreign place, had her feeling down, but she didn’t want to pull him from his family obligations, so she tried to brush it off, saying she’d explore the market and the museums alone. Thalia found out soon enough that he was serious. He cajoled and pleaded, and finally let his voice go all low and deep.

“Just imagine all the ways in which I could keep you warm. All the naughty things I could do to you until you hear the bells chime and Santa knows that you’ve been a very, very good girl for your man.”

The ‘good girl’ echoing through the phone had sent shivers down her spine, so of course she’d said yes, and now here she is, waiting for Tom to arrive. His flight must have landed about an hour ago, and he would take first an S-Bahn and then an U-Bahn to reach the Marienplatz square in the heart of Munich with its old buildings and shopping opportunities.

Shivering from a gust of wind, Thalia studies the church tower across the square, then glances back at the stairs leading up from the subway station. A familiar head emerges, lowered so she can only glimpse half of the man’s face. He’s dressed in well-worn black pants and a tight-fitting, soft-looking sweater in burgundy red, gloved hands fumbling to button up a black pea coat. The shoulder strap of a black knapsack is visible as his only baggage.

“Tom.”

At her words, the newcomer lifts his head and sees her standing there, his handsome face breaking into a glorious smile so she thinks for one moment she can hear angels sing. Butterflies dance in her belly as she steps closer. Tom’s long legs take the remaining steps two at a time and then he’s in front of her and whispers her name.

She feels herself enveloped in a bear hug, hears Tom inhale deeply before he nuzzles her hair. Though she’s opted for her favorite pink scarf and woolen gloves in a matching color, she’s not wearing a hat, and so he buries his face in her curls. His big hands stroke over her back. One slides higher and beneath the scarf to grasp her neck, and the somehow gentle yet possessive pressure of his long fingers around her throat makes her shiver.

Tom uses the grip to tilt her head back, and then his lips are on hers. Claiming, not just kissing. He tastes minty, and she wonders dimly if he’s been using gum before or during the short flight from Heathrow to Munich. Their tongues tangle, and Thalia sighs into his mouth as she lets him have his way.

When he finally breaks the kiss, she buries her face against his soft coat, clinging to him for a moment longer. Noise filters in slowly, and she realizes that more people must have exited the subway because now there’s a crowd passing them by, and the guttural sounds of German interrupt the wintry calm.

“I missed you,” she wants to say, but Tom beats her to it, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear as he gives her one last squeeze.

He takes her hand, and Thalia lowers her gaze to see he’s wearing those wild-leather gloves that some men prefer over wool. They’re as black as his pants, and something about his elegant fingers in leather as he rakes his free hand through his hair and then down the buttons of his coat makes her tingle deep inside. God, that’s surprisingly hot. It gives her the unexpected urge to see him in driving gloves and a super-fast sports car, racing off with her into the night as she has to press her thighs together while she practically melts into the luxurious seats.

Whoa, down girl. They’re barely together for a minute and she’s hot for him. Dammit, he still does this to her. Always will?

His gloved thumb is absently stroking a sliver of exposed wrist and Thalia shivers. Tom mistakes it for cold, apparently, because he sets them walking.

“Now, let’s get going. I’ve been dying to really see Munich.”

Thalia walks along, knowing she’s smiling as brightly and enthusiastically as he is. She recalls that he mentioned on the phone that he’s once been to Bavaria’s capital before.

“When did you last visit Munich?” she inquires as they join the crowd.

There are people of all ages around them, half of them with their phones glued to their ears or in their hands, the other carrying a variety of shopping bags or jostling kids. It’s the day before Christmas, and apparently some Germans still haven’t gotten all their gift shopping done. Through the biting cold with a hint of snow, enticing seasonal smells reach her nostrils: baking spices, scented candles, resin and wood.

Tom lets their joined hands swing, and it’s such an innocently happy and ‘couple’ thing to do that it makes her heart ache. Resolutely, Thalia tells herself to focus on the here and now and listen to his answer.

“Hm, it feels like ages ago. I was in my mid-twenties when I visited the Oktoberfest with my parents. God, what an experience that was.”

He chuckles to himself, a far-away look in his eyes, and Thalia indulges in a bit of fantasy. What did he look like those days? More boyish, maybe with less pronounced cheekbones and even shorter or else slightly longer hair? She pictures him dressed in the traditional leather pants outfit, grinning in delight at the beer and sausages and huge pretzels, a mischievous gleam in his eyes and a flirting lilt to his accented voice when he made all the waitresses in the festival tents swoon. Or had he been as nerdy as in his later professor days, quietly observing, gathering information, helping his mom out in a gentlemanly way? Probably a mix of both, irresistible to all girls near and far…

Thalia makes herself snap back to the present when Tom squeezes her hand and nods to the right.

“This way, if my poor, runny nose doesn’t deceive me. I think I smell food!”

With a snicker, she follows his direction and sniffs the frosty air. Oh yes, that must be the smells from the famous Munich Christmas Market, called “Christkindlmarkt” in German.

They quicken their steps, Tom adjusting the strap of his bag while they feast their eyes on all the decoration. Strings of lights hang everywhere, but it’s only afternoon and they aren’t lighted yet. There are fir branches, wreaths, decor shaped like shooting stars, angels or Christmas stockings as far as the eye can see, mixed with snow-capped signboards and (not yet) illuminated letters.

“Wow.” Thalia looks her fill at everything, counting the many different stalls and tents, half-obscured by the milling crowd. Intermingled with the strolling, conversing locals are tourists, clearly identifiable by their exotic features and their wide eyes as well as gaping mouths.

She lets Tom pull her along as they make their way from stand to stand, lingering the longest over all the food. Gloves removed so they can taste what’s on offer, the two of them get swept away by the magic of the Christmas market. Tom—of course—tries to get people to talk and tell him more, though not all of them can speak enough English to make themselves understood. Thalia just drinks in the sights, smells and sounds, her gaze often riveted on the enthusiastic man by her side. They discover gingerbread in all imaginable and unimaginable shapes and flavors. Roasted and honey-glazed almonds. Steaming chestnuts. Fragrant fruit candy. Cookies cut into lovely shapes and sold in enormous quantities, called “Plätzchen”.

Tom falls in love with something called “Vanillekipferl,” crescent-shaped soft cookies with vanilla flavor, dusted liberally with icing sugar. He buys four packs of them and stuffs them in his bag before feeding one to Thalia.

“I’m going to need a plane of my own once we’re done here,” he jokes with a wink. “When I fly back home, I’ll weigh a ton in Christmas food that I’ve gobbled up and another ton in other food that I’ve bought to take home.”

Thalia pokes his flat belly, feeling the ridges of his abs even through coat and sweater. “Very likely,” she teases. “Your belly could jiggle like a bowl full of jelly, like Santa’s!”

He gives her a mock glare and devours another of the Vanillekipferl. Catching her by surprise, he rubs his icing-sugar-dusted index finger over her lips, then leans in and licks the white powder off in thorough little kitten licks that shouldn’t be so arousing. A last sweep with his tongue, then a kiss laced with sweetness.

“Mmm, they’re even tastier like this.”

She feels herself blush and strain towards him, longing for more intimacy while at the same time a bit shocked at his PDA. She still can’t believe they can be publicly open with their feelings for each other, though she technically graduated seven months before. And she revels in the feeling, leaning in to tease him. “Maybe I can sit on your lap later?”

Tom draws back, with his usual “eheheh” laugh and a gleeful gleam still in his eyes. “Oh, Warrior Princess, you just wait to see what I have in store for you. Lots of fun things for good little girls. But first, on to more culinary discoveries!”

With an indulgent shake of her head, she follows him, hiding her growing need for him, as he pounces on an assortment of cakes including something labeled “Stollen” and coated in yet more icing sugar. They wind their way through the stalls, washing down all the sampled Christmas delicacies with a mug of mulled wine that brings color to their faces and warmth to their frozen limbs. There’s a vendor focusing on baked apples with a dozen toppings, another one on handmade key tags.

To take a break from all the food, they check out the other offerings. There are all sorts of handicrafts on display, alongside artwork and souvenirs like stuffed toys, dolls in Bavarian get-ups, and winter clothes with sometimes funny motives. Candles in all sizes, shapes, colors and scents are available, as are postcards, booklets and brochures, knick knack for low prices like snow globes, and books in German. Figurines for Christmas cribs, ornaments for the Christmas tree, as well as spirits like herbal liquor in Christmassy bottles and gift boxes give way to yet more food.

“Oh, look at these!” Tom loops an arm around Thalia’s plump waist to draw her over to a stand dedicated solely to “Lebkuchenherzen”. They’re gingerbread hearts in various designs, ranging from barely coin-sized miniatures to enormous creations with elaborate writing that even a group of ten would have difficulty eating.

“We can…make them personal,” a buxom lady minding the stalls tells them in halting English after she’s listened to Tom whoop and coo over all the hearts.

“A personalized gingerbread heart?” Tom glances at Thalia. “Shall we get one for us?” Leaning closer and lowering his voice, he adds, “We could eat it as a nightly snack. You’re going to need all the energy you can get because I plan to have my way with you as many times as you’ll let me.”

Thalia swallows, her throat suddenly dry and her face flushed from more than the alcohol.

“Okay,” she croaks out.

And so they spend a few laughing minutes deciding on what symbols and colors they want as icing on the brown base of the plate-sized gingerbread heart. Tom insists on pink orchids, which pleases the woman. Thalia requests a book, which seems to be a bit more difficult. They end up also adding glasses in white and a little heart symbol in red.

“And you vill vant text also?” the vendor asks with a smile that clearly says she approves of these two young people in love, oblivious to how complicated things are between Thalia and Tom.

That, of course, leads to several more minutes of the two of them discussing a message. All of the Shakespeare quotes Tom would love are too long, and anything Thalia can think of would be too common. They at last settle for T & T, their initials—and begin to blush and splutter and choke when the woman asks whether they want two yellow wedding rings, as a good luck charm for their future.

“Just the letters, danke,” Tom insists and then pays for the personalized sweet treat that is wrapped lovingly.

The woman’s comment seems to have put both of them in an odd mood. They finish their stroll through the market in silence, Thalia’s hands stuffed in her pockets while Tom puts his gloves back on and carries their shopping as well as the gingerbread heart.

Evening approaches so fast that it’s as if someone has thrown a switch. The lights blink on all around them, and the magic catches them in its wake, dispersing the tension. They admire the giant, lavishly decorated Christmas tree in front of the old town hall, each of them snapping a quick pic before Tom sneaks in a selfie of them together with all the splendor in the background.

“Ready to wreck a hotel bed?” he asks close to her ear, and just like that, her need for him returns.

“Ready.”

* * *

Thalia awakes to a softly stroking hand at her belly and something hot and hard wedging itself between her ass cheeks. The hand moves higher to knead her breast, and she moans herself completely awake to memories of their love-making last night when they’d returned from the Marienplatz square to their cozy if overpriced hotel. It wasn’t just sex, after the first round of frantic, bitey, I’ll-rip-your-clothes-off, desperate-need-for-you tumble in the sheets that left them dizzy, covered in sweat and light bruises.

Their second round after nibbles on the delicious goodies from the Christmas market and a glass of wine was the way she remembers it between them, thorough and at times painfully tender – and hot as hell when Tom took her from behind, letting part of his weight settle on her in an oddly possessive way.

Smiling to herself and allowing herself a shiver when Tom’s busy fingers tug at her rapidly hardening nipples, Thalia murmurs a ‘good morning’. A bit of weak winter sunshine filters into the hotel room, which is still toasty warm and carries an undertone of Christmas sweets scent in the air.

“Merry Christmas morning, darling,” Tom purrs back, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

He’s spooning her from behind, as he did when they fell asleep in each other’s arms last night. A slight thrust of his hips rubs their naked bodies together, and she bites down on her lower lip to keep the needy moan in.

“How about we let traditions go to hell and open our gifts now?” Tom interrupts her decadent thoughts. “I have a mighty need to see you enjoying yours.”

Blindly, she reaches behind them to grab for his cock and give it a stroke.

“I see my gift is already unwrapped,” she jokes, feeling smug at the stuttered moan from the man pressing her so tightly against him. It’s followed by a somewhat choked chuckle as he wraps the fingers of his free hand around her wrist and pries her hand away.

“Not this particular gift, although I do think you should show it the same thorough attention you bestowed on that candy cane yesterday.”

She blushes, the thought of licking and sucking him arousing her further. But apparently, Tom has other plans. The bed dips and the sheets rustle as he shifts his weight and extracts herself from the warm depths. Thalia rolls onto her back and watches bemusedly as he strides buck naked to his bag on the baggage rack. Her throat goes dry as she stares at his muscles bunch and flex when he bends down and retrieves two small parcels covered in shiny silver wrapping paper. He brings them to bed, hopping on with the same boyish enthusiasm that gleams in his eyes.

“Frohe Weihnachten,” he wishes her haltingly, and she’s been in Munich long enough to understand that it means ‘Merry Christmas’ in German.

“Danke,” she thanks him with one of the few words she’s picked up during the conference, wondering what on earth he might’ve got her. Two gifts? Really?

Caught up in the same excitement, she hitches the sheet higher for a bit of modesty and opens the slightly heavier parcel first. Inside the box is a leather-bound notebook with an expensive-looking black pen tucked into it. When she opens the pages, she discovers that dried flowers have been worked into the parchment-like paper.

“Oh, it’s so pretty.” She lovingly runs her fingertips over the creamy texture, then realizes that even a faint floral perfume rises from the pages. “In fact, it’s too pretty to write in,” she adds.

Tom smiles, his own fingers tracing the paper. “Save it for some special words then.”

Does he want her to use it as a diary? Maybe to write down her thoughts and feelings regarding him?

Before she can give it more thought, he nudges the second gift closer to her. “I bet you’ll find this one just as pretty,” he says, and something in his tone catches her attention. There’s a different gleam in his eyes now, and she eyes the parcel a bit wearily. It looks to be from a different shop, despite the almost matching silver wrapping paper. There’s a big, red ribbon tied around it, a tiny silver Cupid angel pasted into the middle of the knot.

She fidgets with it, suddenly nervous and acutely aware of Tom’s bare body hovering close, his breath fanning her hair.

Inside the parcel lies Christmas-red fabric, looking buttery soft to the touch. She takes it out on a gasp, her eyes widening.

“Is that…?” Blinking, she studies the beautifully naughty lingerie.

There are three pieces, one looking like an almost sheer teddy in black with a bustier of red lace and a few wires that give it the style of a corset without actually squishing a woman’s torso to death. The fabric is indeed soft and almost weightless apart from the intricately patterned lacy bra cups. The thong matches the bra. Hardly more than a wisp of red lace, but cut wide enough to be comfortable, it looks as if a decisive tug of a man’s hand will rip it right in two. Black net stockings with a garter belt make the sexy outfit complete.

“That’s…that’s…” Thalia falters, knowing her face is almost as red as the garments.

“Pretty?” Tom’s voice has taken on that low, deep timbre it always slips into during sexytimes but when she finally dares to meet his gaze, there’s trepidation in his eyes. Does he hope she likes his gift, that she doesn’t think he’s overstepped his boundaries?

She swallows. “Yes. More than that. I don’t have words.”

The hesitation in his eyes clears and he smirks widely at her. “You won’t need words. Wear them for me, my Christmas vixen?”

It’s a plea and a command all rolled into one, and Thalia finds herself nodding. She should probably feel self-conscious in the face of such lingerie, but she doesn’t. Not when Tom clearly bought this with her curves in mind and when she knows with hundred percent certainty that he doesn’t want her body to be in any other shape. And so, still blushing but buoyed by his ravenous gaze, she grabs the garments and slides off the bed. Walking into the en suite bathroom, she allows herself a quick morning wash, then dries off and slides the lingerie on. The thong comes first. It’s almost too snug but doesn’t cut into her ample waist. Bless Tom for guessing her size correctly, though it does make her wonder how often he’s bought underwear for women before.

Not permitting herself the thought, Thalia rolls up the stockings and then wiggles into the teddy. It takes some contortions and sucking in her breath but it’s the right size as well. The bustier lifts up her barely covered breasts like an offering. She eyes herself in the mirror, blushing again. With her sleep-tousled hair a mane of wild curls, her face flushed and the lingerie on shameless display, she feels like a temptress. No, like a goddess who’s going to make all the men kneel. Powerful yet utterly feminine. With a soft sigh of anticipation, she affixes the garters and smooths her palms over the fabric that accentuates her curves rather than hiding them.

When she steps back into the room, Tom is sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers fidgeting. His mouth gapes open as he catches his first glimpse of her, and she hears him swear softly.

“Fucking hell, Thalia, you’re utterly gorgeous. You look like…an erotic dream. A fantasy come alive.”

His voice is hoarse and his pupils have dilated. Feeling a glow spread inside her, Thalia walks over, taking care to put a sway to her hips.

“Thank you for the gift, Tom. It’s such an ego boost.”

He holds her gaze and nods once, before she can feel his demeanor change. Snapping his fingers, he beckons her even closer.

“Now come here and let me worship you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trembling with anticipation and renewed arousal, Thalia approaches to stand between his spread legs, seeing his cock twitch and harden again. Tom’s large hands rest around her upper thighs as he pulls her flush against him and presses his face to her stomach. He nuzzles her over the fabric of the teddy, then sneaks his nose and tongue beneath the sheer fabric. He nips and kisses her belly, making her forget about all the stretch marks. When his mouth covers the lacy panties, she gives in and lets her first moan out.

His tongue travels over her covered folds, the fabric soft and thin enough to let her feel the wet heat and pressure of it. Tom continues to kiss, lick and suck at her through the thong, his fingers moving back to knead her ass cheeks and stroke between them. The tip of his nose nudges her hidden clit and Thalia whimpers.

Suddenly she feels herself being moved, Tom’s strong grip hauling her onto the bed. He kneels between her spread thighs, his fingers stroking over the tops of the stockings while his gaze eats her up. She’s burning, needs more, yet she can’t bring herself to plead with him to be faster. Not when he looks at her like this.

Finally, his gaze seeks hers. “Close your eyes. This gift is for me to treasure. It’s my turn to have my fill, and yours to let me do to you whatever I desire.”

She nods frantically, then remembers past orders and forces out a ‘yes.’ Tom reaches to the side and picks up the broad ribbon that tied her parcel together. He leans over to wrap it around her face like an impromptu blindfold, and Thalia shivers. It reminds her of his tie in Chicago and of how amazing it was to have her other senses heightened. This time, it turns her on even more because she’s providing visual stimulation to him while she’s totally in the dark.

Tom’s mouth claims hers and she gives herself over to him. Their tongues dance as she feels his body on top of hers. It’s tantalizing to know that he’s completely naked but makes no move to get her out of the probably sinfully expensive lingerie. His hands caress her body over the fabric, and when she arches in search of more, he presses her back down with his weight.

Then his mouth is everywhere, his teeth, his tongue. It explores every inch of her half-covered breast that is exposed, then wanders lower to torture her through lace and silk until he’s driving her out of her mind and she’s cursing under her breath.

At last, she feels Tom shift, taking some of his weight off her. His hands stroke up her thighs and his fingers dive beneath the thong to draw it to one side. And then nothing, just a waft of cool air on her swollen flesh.

“Please, please, please,” she hears herself beg, her hips bucking in a quest for contact, for much-needed friction.

“You are so fucking beautiful right now, like this,” comes Tom’s husky voice in a growl, startling her. “I’ll never forget this moment and how you offered yourself to me.”

Without warning, his mouth latches onto her dripping folds and feasts on her without mercy. Blind and seemingly existing only for Tom’s pleasure, she feels her climax hovering just out of reach, so intense she’s half-afraid of it. He brings her closer to the brink with the relentless expertise of a lover who knows exactly what she craves, and when two fingers slide deep inside to rub over that magical spot, Thalia comes with a wail that ends in a keening whimper.

She’s barely regained her senses when fumbling fingers tear the blindfold away and Tom’s searing gaze pierces hers.

“My wanton Christmas vixen,” he whispers.

At the same time as his mouth latches onto the side of her neck, he enters her with one single thrust, sinking deep despite his size because she’s so slick and ready.

Their moans mingle as he rolls his hips. His hands find hers and lift them above her head. Their fingers interlace and he presses them into the pillow as he speeds up his thrusts.

“Come again,” he chokes out. “Again, for me.”

When he angles his body and reaches even deeper inside her, Thalia bites her lip to stifle a scream. The fabric of the barely pushed-aside panties rubs over her clit, and combined with Tom’s thrusts, it’s enough to send her spiraling out of control again. At her first clenches around him, he loses his rhythm and groans as if dying. They come together and she’s sure it’s never been this intense before.

What feels like an eternity later, when she still can’t feel some of her limbs, Tom kisses her forehead and cuddles her close.

“Definitely the best Christmas gift I’ve ever given…and received,” he mutters.

Thalia smiles exhaustedly and thinks of the little parcel in her bag, containing a mug that says ‘I’m a professor – what’s your superpower?’ There’ll be time for that. For now, she wants to treasure this moment.

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

Grease Monkey

grease monkey aug 28 2018.jpg

Grease Monkey

*an Emery&Chris story*

by avenger-nerd-mom

It’s a hot Georgia summer, so Chris and Emery share an afternoon at home, enjoying the air conditioning and a fresh shower

Warnings: NSFW, fluffy smut, oral sex

Word Count: 2581

Get to know Emery and Chris in their novella Georgia on My Mind

August 2018

Walking towards the garage, Emery can hear her brother’s music pounding through the speaker system. It’s a wonder the neighbors haven’t complained. Moving closer to the open bay doors, Emery can’t take her eyes off her handsome man, laying under the car. Chris is tinkering around under the front chassis, tapping his foot to the 90s beat. The shirt sleeves are pushed up, exposing the tat of the Aries ram on his bicep, and the hem is twisted around his waist, exposing his side flank, a little beefy, slightly out of shape from a summer at rest. She’s not sure where she wants to nibble and lick first. She clears her throat.

“You look like something from a photo shoot,” she comments, walking in to set down a tray of drinks and sandwiches. The room is already getting too hot to stay outside long. “Do you even know what your doing?”

Grabbing the bumper, he pushes the creeper out from under the car and sits up with a smile. “Parker taught me how to tighten the thing.”

Her laughter echoes in the room. “The thing? Real technical term there… “ Her eyes rake over his muscular body again before letting out a whelp. “In a Cap shirt?” She fusses, handing him a glass of sweet iced tea.

Taking a long gulp, he hides his displeasure for the chilled Southern refreshment. Reaching for the little white fan laying next to him, he pulls the shirt away from his body, and aims it up. “It’s the one you got at the the Goodwill shop. Not one of the ‘good’ ones,” he chuckles, running his other hand over his beard, wiping away sweat from his upper lip. In the process, he gets grease on his cheek.

“Hmph,” she grumbles, walking over to offer her brother a glass, carrying the jug with her. Parker nods his thanks, gulping it down quickly and holding out for more. “It’s too hot out here. Y’all gonna be done soon?”

“God, I hope so,” Chris chuckles, wiping his greasy fingers on the tattered shirt.

Parker good naturedly flips him off. “Well, since you don’t know what you’re doing under there anyway, I guess we can call it a day. Besides I have to pick up Jonna Lee at six.” Smacking his lips from the last gulp of the second glass, he hands the empty mason jar back to his sister. “I better go get cleaned up.”

“Shave, little brother, you’re too skitchy.”

“Since when do you complain about ‘skitchy?” Chris asks, sneaking up behind and sweeping her off the ground, spinning her in a circle to face him. He gently sits his wife back down on her booted foot. He kisses the tip of her nose.

He smirks, hearing Parker mumble under his breath, “God, y’all are the most ‘married’ people I know…”

Chris raises his eyebrow. “You should be so lucky some day, kid.” He smiles back down on his wife. “Not everyone gets as lucky as me.” Leaning back, he looks at her boot. “What did the physical therapist say?”

“Good news,” she taps his chest, pushing herself away from his sweaty grasp. “God, you stink!” She wrinkles her nose. “Starting tomorrow, I can wear shoes a few hours a day, and try to walk as normal as possible.”

“I don’t have to carry you up the stairs each night, now?” He chuckles, reaching for her again as she steps away from his grasp.

“Oh no, I think that’s added to the marriage contract now. Every night. No matter what.” Her stomach blanches from the smell of grease and motor oil. “Really. It’s so hot in here, every smell is making me sick.” She looks at her phone. “If you’re gonna be out at her place by six, you better get flyin’,” she addresses Parker. “I’m goin’ back inside.”

She leaves the two men, fighting over the plate of sandwiches.

***

Standing at the sink in two shoes, she balances on her tender foot, as instructed by the therapist. The door clangs open and she can smell him the minute he enters the house. The August summer heat is getting to her, and his manly pheromones are driving her crazy, but the odor of grease and oil has got to go. “Don’t bring those smelly clothes in here,” she yells out. “Strip on the back porch, let ‘em air out. We’ll wash ‘em later.”

“Woman, you’re crazy,” he mumbles, but she hears the door close again. She shakes her head, wiping her hands on the hand embroidered dish towels her aunt gave her as a wedding gift. Emery turns down the heat on the crock pot. The roast smells amazing, rosemary and garlic filling the air. She laughs when Chris streaks through the kitchen, naked as a jaybird, yelling back over his shoulder, “Meet me upstairs in five minutes.”

She laughs, listening to his steady footsteps landing on each tread, the dogs chasing and nipping at his heels.

“Fuck, bring up some towels,” he yells down from above. “Didn’t know they weren’t put up!”

“Got it!” Emery finishes her glass of tea, popping a mint in her mouth. She sets the timer on the oven and walks over to grab a few towels from the laundry room. She loves their little house in Savannah, glad he decided they could keep it. They’d worked hard, building it into their dream, making long overdue renovations. The second garage hadn’t been necessary but Chris had enjoyed spending time with Parker and his friends, working on car projects over the summer. On her way through the living room, she reaches for the basket of laundry she’d folded earlier in the day. She likes that the house is peaceful and quiet, not constantly full of people, like visiting Boston. Savannah was theirs, their quiet place to relax and unwind.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she looks up, willing to face the challenge. Shifting the basket to her hip, she pulls on the railing, willing herself to walk slow and steady up the stairs in two shoes. Her ankle feels weak, unaccustomed to freedom from the boot. After ages, she finally reaches the top, dropping the basket by the door to the guest bath. She pulls out the towels for him, and enters their newly remodeled room, having moved her office downstairs earlier in the summer, before the boot was needed.

The upstairs is stuffy and she turns down the thermostat, hoping the house will cool off as the sun sets. She giggles, hearing his voice echo off the shower walls as he sings and raps the chorus of a song from the afternoon playlist. “Like raisin’ a teenager,” she chuckles, seeing the pile of clothes from his morning workout littered across the floor and finding a damp towel from his morning shower. She scratches her hairline, shaking her head. When she opens the bathroom door, a billow of hot steamy air assualts her, the car odors still hanging there. “More soap, I can still smell the car, ya grease monkey.” She flings the towel over the shower bar and yanks back the curtain. “Kiss?”

“A kiss? All you did was bring me a towel.” He grins. “I’m not sure that’s worthy of a kiss.”

She leans forward and licks her lip. “It is if you want me to kiss something else when you get out.”

“Yes, ma’am. Gimme some sugar,” he laughs, planting a wet kiss on her readied lips, water dripping from his nose onto her cheek. It had become their joke after he’d secretly teased all her aunts for using the decidedly Southern expression repeatedly during their annual reunion together.

“Some good sugar,” she chuckles, pulling away and closing the curtain. “Hurry up.” She steps over to the sink and removes her earrings, reaching for lotion on the open shelf.

Leaving the door open, she angles it so she can see him in the mirror from her vantage point as she readies herself. Gently, she removes her shoes and clothes. Standing in front of her dresser, she spritzes a bit of cologne on her wrists, reaching around and spraying her lower back. Feeling sticky from the Georgia heat, she towels off. Opening the drawer, Emery grabs underwear and quickly pulls them on before reaching for her newest tshirt, sliding the cool, fresh fabric over her skin. Tugging at the neck, it feels a little tight, but online shops aren’t always the best quality, she shrugs.

The water turns off and the metal rings of the shower curtain jingle as they slide back. Emery drops to her knees at the foot of the bed, waiting for him. Hands in her lap, she tries to twist her wedding band, but her fingers feel swollen. She tries to remember what she’d eaten earlier in the day that was so salty. In the mirror, she watches Chris dry off, running the towel around his thick thigh, resting his foot on the edge of the tub. He passes the towel roughly down his legs, drying his feet before switching positions and drying the other leg. “Privacy please,” he jokes, stepping over and closing the door.

She shakes her head. “Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes. She laughs a moment later, when he exits the room, towel wrapped around his waist, reminding her of one of his movie roles.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t know you were gonna be all ready.” He waves at her waiting position. “I thought it was just a quick hand job before dinner.”

Laughter bursts forth and she rocks back. “I’m a little hungry for something else.” She taps the edge of the bed. “Have a seat, I won’t be long.”

He cocks his eyebrow and walks over to sit, his knee brushing her shoulder. “Quick and bossy. NOT my favorite combination.”

They both share a laugh as her hands run up his legs, caressing along his inner thighs and under the towel. Emery digs her fingers into his skin, kneading and pulling at the warm flesh. His head drops forward and he places his hands on her shoulders, massaging her tight muscles. She moans, leaning forward and kissing the soft spot on the side of his knee. He drags one hand around the side of her neck to the front, giving a tender squeeze, while the other ghosts up the back of her neck, reaching up and pinching the hair clip, leaving her bright red hair to fall down around her shoulders. A scent of apples wafts across her nose, still using her drug store shampoo after all this time.

Her hands push higher, her thumbs reaching under his balls, fingers scraping over the tops of his thighs. Sliding her hands up, she pushes away the towel, running her hands over his adonis belt, not so defined with age, but still visible and sexy as hell. She scoots closer, crawling between his legs. Leaning forward, she sucks his head between her lips.

“Fuck, you’re not playing,” he whispers.

“Mmm-mm,” she hums, sinking her nails into his flesh, swallowing more of him. Pulling back she murmurs. “I need you to come quickly, baby.”

She dives back onto his cock, sucking and pulling with her mouth, sliding off and on, feeling his tension. Breathing deeply, ready to open her throat, the smell of gasoline and sweat fills her nose. “You still smell like a car.”

“You’re crazy, woman. I cleaned the undercarriage,” he chuckles, yelping when she pulls his leg hairs as she sucks him back into her mouth, nostrils flared and trying not to breath. “Honey, we can stop if it’s bothering you.”

She shakes her head, dragging him in deeper, feeling him in the back of her throat. His powerful scent is stronger than the nauseating car smell, and her desire grows. Wrapping her tiny hand around his shaft, she can control his thrusts, loving the sound of his raspy breaths.

She’s surprised when he pulls out, pushing her back to the floor. Predatorily he climbs over her, nipping at her hip, nuzzling his nose along the hem of her shirt. He pulls back and reads the shirt, before laughter wracks his body, pushing against her.

pats teacher perfect

“You are perfect. That shirt wins. You don’t need to buy anymore.” He tugs at it, lifting it away from her soft body. “But unless you want me to paint it, you need to take it off.”

Emery arches up as he pulls it over her head, freeing her ample breasts. He latches his mouth widely over one nipple, lowering her back to the ground, sucking and pulling at the round globe. She gasps, kicking up her leg and hitting him in the ass. Not paying attention, he moves his mouth, repeating the same on the other side. Hurting like hell, she tugs on his hair, lifting his head. “That hurts, honey, stop.”

Shocked, he flicks out his tongue and gently lathes over the swollen peak. “Sorry, babe, but you’ve got some wicked PMS this month. Smells, achy boobs, mood swings from hell…” Caressing down her body, he licks around her belly button and places a chaste kiss over her covered mound. “Let’s go to the drive in and get ice cream tonight, maybe sit on the beach?”

Taking her hands, he helps her back up into a sitting position, sitting back on the edge of the bed. “We don’t have to- Ok, well then,” he guffaws when her mouth wraps over the head of his cock pulling him in. “Ok. Finish me. I’m just a pawn in your game.” Chris drags in his breath. “Shit, it’s like your sucking chrome off a muffler, damn, Kitten.”

Emery doesn’t have any clue what that means, but she feels in her zone. His hands are in her hair, and she has a rhythm going. She just wants him to come, and quickly, satisfying him. She wants him to splash over her and collapse on top, feeling his weight cover her. A few more strokes is all it will take. The muscles in his legs tighten and his breaths become strained. His hands stop moving as he holds her head in place, lifting off the bed to fuck her mouth. Raising her hand up to cup his balls, he pulls out and shoots over her chest as she falls back to the floor. He follows her and continues to spurt over her, landing on her cheek and near her ear. Finished, he falls next to her, mewling like a kitten, pulling her close as she wraps her arms and legs around him.

They lay silent, for long minutes until the peace is broken by a paw scratching the door. Chris lifts his head and smiles. “You are first class, babe.” He raises his eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ve ever sucked me like that before, that much vigor. It was like… like you would die without it. That. That goes in the record books.”

She laughs, pushing his dead weight off her. “You say that every time… Clean me up. I gotta go check the roast.”

“No. I just wanna lay here and die now. Sleep till tomorrow.”

“Then we can’t get ice cream. I’m really craving a root beer float.”

“Dammit, you drive a hard bargain,” he says, reaching over for the towel to clean her up. “Wanna wrap up the roast and eat later? Head out to the beach and get ice cream first?”

Click here for the next Emery&Chris story, Two Lines

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

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