Christmas in NYC

NYC dec 23 2018

Christmas in NYC

Being Thalia

Collaboration by avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 6888

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve never taken her skiing-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marry her,” Carlos demands.

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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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

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

The Bet

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The Bet

Educating Thalia

Prologue 2018 pt 2

Collaboration by devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

Professors AU

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

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

Word Count 3556

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her grin widens. “Yes and no.”

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

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

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

Oh yes, this is going to be such fun.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

He half-turns. “Yes?”

“Strip first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I always keep my promises!”

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

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

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

“Enjoy the show, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy now, darling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

With a snort, she nods.

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

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

Thalia holds up her hands, stopping his progress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More?”

“Y-yes, please.”

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

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

“Tom, please.”

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

“Please, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tom, wha-?”

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

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

“Yes. God, yes.”

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

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

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

Fuck, that’s hotter than it should be.

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

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

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

“Bedroom?” he asks.

“Bedroom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now.”

She holds his gaze. “Now.”

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

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

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

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

 

Birthday Sweets

birthday sweets june 13 2018.jpg

Birthday Sweets

an Emery&Chris story

by avenger-nerd-mom

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

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

Word Count 2781

June 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Getting sunburned-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scott picked them out,” he smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here to read the next Emery&Chris story, Private Dancer

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

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

Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Private Dancer

private dancer june 5 2018.jpg

Private Dancer

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris has a late night encounter

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

Word Count: 3884

July 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did not?” He incredulously intones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Magic.”

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

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

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

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

When? Now? Why the hell wait?

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

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

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

“Don’t be mean,” she whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scroll down under author note for link to next story…

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

Click here to read the next Emery&Chris story, Sunday with Grand-dad

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

 

Score Another Goal

original score another goal less fuzzy question.jpg

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

by avenger-nerd-mom

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

NSFW, with my trademark fluff; “fluffy smut”

Word Count: 6737

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why me?” she asks.

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

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

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

***

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

“Who?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lucky boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had broken her heart to give it back.

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

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

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

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

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

The dog’s quiet whimper answers her question.

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

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

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

“I never said that-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ain’t that the truth,” he laments.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude, where are you?”

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

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

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

“Hey, Scott,” she calls out.

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God!  JoJoGirl!  Is that you?”

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

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

“Get out!” Chris commands.

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

“I thought you were taking me home.”

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

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

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

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

Boots

et ch 34 Boots june 28 2017

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @devikafernando & @avenger-nerd-mom

AU FICTION

Chapter 34

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

Word count: 4233

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

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

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

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

late night visit

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep in pajamas, do you, Thomas?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, darling?”

“Can we…can I…I need…”

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“Where and how do you want me?”

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

“Where’s your room?”

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

“Take me upstairs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More. Make me come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep your hands there. Don’t move.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kiss 1.gif

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

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

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

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

Click here for Chapter 35 Gala

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

Prize

et ch 32 prize june 21 2017.jpg

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

Chapter 32

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

Word count: 3272

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

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

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

images found on Pinterest

Scrabble image created by avenger-nerd-mom

waking up in cabin.gif

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here for Chapter 33 Choose

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

Just Desserts

et Ch 28 Just Desserts June 7 2017

Chapter 28

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

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

Word count: 5553

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

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

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Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You guess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it, Thalia.  What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here to read Chapter 29 Warped Fairy Tales

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