Served Hot

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Served Hot

Being Thalia

Chapter 31

By devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fan Fiction

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

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

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

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

WARNING: HEAT ALERT!! HOT HOT HOT

Word Count: 2117

Summary: Thalia and Tom enjoy early morning treats.

Previous Chapter, All Tied Up

November 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tom?”

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here to Chapter 32, Ready?

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

Surrender

ch 28 Surrender april 10 2019

Surrender

Being Thalia

Chapter 28

By devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fan Fiction

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

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

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

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

Images found on Pinterest

Word Count: 2875

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

Previous Chapter, Not Yet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

ch 28 gif

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

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

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

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

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

tom

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

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

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

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

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

ch 23 gif

“Permission to speak, Sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here to read Chapter 29, Déjà Vu

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

Beg For It

1552958032644.jpg

Beg For It

Being Thalia

Chapter 22

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 4065

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

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

Previous Chapter, Digging into the Past

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

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

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

“Thalia. I wasn’t expecting you-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which one?”

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

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

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

She runs her tongue over her teeth and smirks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here to read Chapter 23, Whatever You Need

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

A Fine Gentleman

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A Fine Gentleman

an Emery&Chris fanfic

by avenger-nerd-mom

Word Count: 4632

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

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

*special thanks to TheWife101 for the photo edit*

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

February 2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you,” she breathes heavily.

He chuckles, “You saw me this morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well you don’t have to thank-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris playfully pinches her arm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chris!” she whimpers. “Don’t stop!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click here to read Late Night Snack

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

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

 

Haunted

ch 14 Haunted Feb 17 2019

Haunted

Being Thalia

Chapter 14

By devikafernando & avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fan Fiction

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

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

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

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

Word Count 2077

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

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

Previous Chapter, Forbidden Fruit

July 2021

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

***

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

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

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

“Tom?”

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

“Yes, darling?”

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

“Tell me more about kinks.”

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

“Where’s that question coming from now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything. Everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be serious, Tom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Please. Make me.”

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

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

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

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

“So precious. Mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

Click here for Chapter 15: Reaching Out

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

Getaway

ch 8 getaway jan 27 2019

Getaway

Being Thalia

Chapter 8

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

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

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

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

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

Summary: Chris finds a way to help relieve Thalia’s after-work stress.

Previous Chapter, Family Matters

Word count 2578

2020, Spring Semester

Staring out the window, watching the waves hit the shore, the moonlight bouncing off the water, she growls. “I still can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Chris pulls back the bedspread with a flip of his wrist, decorator pillows flying through the air like popcorn. “I told you once I was gonna see you in a bikini on a beach, and I meant it. I can’t wait for tomorrow. I’ve already booked us for a boat trip and snorkeling and-”

“You can’t stop grinning, can you?” She asks, kicking off her heels.

“Oh, no,” he chuckles. “Put those back on, Professor.”

Blushing, she rolls her eyes. “Shut up.” Reaching under her hair, nearly six inches shorter than she wore in college, she grabs for the back of the large hoop earring and undoes it, tossing it on the dresser. In the mirror, she watches as Chris quickly removes all his clothes before flouncing down on the bed. She laughs, as she reaches across and removes the other earring, laying it next to the other, almost as large as the bangles she’d removed from her wrist. “You’re crazy if you think you’re gettin’ laid tonight. Avery is in the other room, right next door.”

Running her fingers through her hair, she pulls and tugs at the tame curls to free her mane.

“Jesus, fuck, that’s sexy,” Chris admires, patting the bed beside him. “So you’ll just have to be quiet.” He lifts his eyebrow, presenting his challenge to her. “You’ve been gone for five days. I could die.”

Seeing him lie naked on the bed, his dark hair trailing down his tight stomach, awakens her. As tired as she is, she thinks she can muster up some energy for some night-time recreational activities. She smiles. “You’re not gonna die.”

“It’s possible. The unused… junk… could back up into my brain, causing me to have a seizure of some kind and-”

Hitting him in the face with her shirt suffices as a way to shut him up.

He sniffs the silk blouse, fingering the delicate fabric. “Come on, Niña. It’s not like we haven’t had sex when she’s around.” He tilts his hide to the side. “And there’s a closet buffering the sound between the two rooms. Come on. Really. This is our special holiday, celebrating your doctorate, the opening of the museum here, and your amazing displays. We have ten days, just the three of us. ‘Ry and I spent the last two days at the pool since we stepped off the plane, while you’ve worked on the other side of the island. Babe, I’ve missed you.”

Sliding the lotion over her dark skin, she can’t deny the tightening in her belly, seeing him on the bed, his cock hardening as he speaks. “I need you too, Chris. Just let me-”

“DADDY!”

The scream echoes through the hotel suite. Chris closes his eyes and Thalia counts the seconds, to see if the young girl cries out again. She does, and Chris huffs as he climbs off the bed. “And that’s why we can’t have ‘daddy kink,” he grouses, exiting the room, pausing to kiss her cheek as he yanks back on a pair of sweatpants.

bringing sexy back

Thalia leans against the door frame, tired. She listens to him calm his daughter, making her promises to go to the beach the next day and snorkeling soon. As his voice grows quieter she slips into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. Removing her makeup and brushing her teeth, Chris still isn’t back from settling the child when she crawls into bed, quickly falling asleep, exhausted from last minute work at the island museum.

Sometime during the night, Thalia rises from her deep slumber as she feels his fingers delicately roaming across her back. He tugs up at the hem of her t-shirt and she lifts from the bed so he can pull it up. She smiles at his fair skin, practically glowing in the moonlight drifting in from the window. He continues his caresses and she quietly moans. “You can’t be serious?” She can feel his hard, heavy cock resting against her thigh.

He chuckles in her ear increasing the force of his touch across her back. This continues for some time, or not, she has no idea in her sleepy state. His body shifts on the bed and his agile fingers skim just under the waistband of her underwear. She moans again softly, warm from the wet beginning to pool between her legs, anticipating more from him. His strong, greedy hands smooth over the rounded curve of her ass and she slightly spreads her legs to allow him more access. He ghosts his fingers across her covered slit, applying just enough pressure to know she’s wet.

Thalia’s breath catches, wanting more. She wiggles and writhes, whispering her desire to roll over and remove her panties so he can take care of her. He ignores the words, giving her bum a slight tap and a gentle rub before running his hands back up her curved spine.

Chris leans across her, pressing his weight down on her as his lips tenderly kiss and bite her hip. He lightly adds a flick of his tongue, lapping like tiny flames, igniting her as more kisses are gifted across her silky skin, covering the whole of her back, slowly and precisely.

She whispers again, “Let me roll over and you can use your strong fingers… I want you to, I wanna feel you…”

The caresses from his soft full lips continue and he ignores her again.

“Honey, I wanna feel your hands inside me. I want you to finger fuck me.”

He chuckles against her neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps on her skin. Thalia knows in the dark he is smiling at her word choice. He thinks it’s funny when she talks dirty, when she tries so much to be adult-like and proper these days. “How quiet can you be, Professor?”

Her eyes flash dark, her pupils dilating so fast she can almost feel it. Fuckin’ hell, that is a sexy title. No wonder they both-

Breathing deeply, she tightens her fist, digging her nails into her palm. Stay in the present, stay in the present.

She looks back at him, over her shoulder and with her other hand, she mimics locking her lips and throwing away the key.

In a quick move, he pulls her panties down her legs and caresses his strong calloused hands over her bare ass. Bent over her, he takes a bite of the juicy peach and she jumps, trying to hold in her giggle. Her insides stir with anticipation, waiting for him to find the surprise she left for him, thinking he’d be to bed much earlier. Chris continues biting, licking and massaging, his hands sliding closer to her pretty pink hole. Grabbing and pulling her cheeks apart, he whistles, seeing the silver gem blocking his view. Smacking her ass, he grumbles, “So you’ll wear a diamond in your ass, but not on your finger?”

Reaching back, she playfully punches his thigh. He chuckles and nudges the back of her legs, signaling her to crawl onto her knees. “Any bitch can wear one on her finger. Only good girls like ‘em like this.” Thalia sasses, turning around on the bed to face the mirror.

“Only the best girls taste like this,” he praises, diving forward to flick his tongue across the plug. His beard teases and scratches her soft skin and she tries to crawl away, too sensitive. He grabs and pulls her back towards his mouth. “So sweet,” he murmurs, burying his face between her cheeks. As his tongue swirls around the silver base, she can feel it begin to dance as her holes contract and release to welcome him. She gasps when he rolls over onto his back, positioning his face under her as he grips her thick thighs dragging her pussy across his tongue.

His hands force her cunt forward and back over his open mouth and she feels her juices running down her legs, covering his beard, drowning him. He moans, the sound vibrating through her as he nips his teeth over her clit before lathing his skilled tongue over her whole slit, poking at the plug again. She bites her lip to keep silent, dropping down onto her elbows. Ass in the air as he eats her greedily, her breasts ache, pushing against the bed with each drag. Folding one arm under her, between her legs, she pats the top of his head, tugging at his messy hair. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, panting for air. “Gonna come so damn good…”

He chuckles, wrapping a strong arm over her waist, deliciously punishing himself with her weight on his face. Barely able to breathe, his nose grinds against her clit as he pushes her in a circular motion. She lifts her hand, pinching a tight pink nipple as her breaths come faster. The tingle builds in her toes and she tries to hold back, wanting the build to last. But the bastard reaches behind and begins to play with the pretty plug in her ass, twisting and pulling, and she’s done for… Exploding onto his face, he laps it up as her body quakes in his arms, and she falls forward, shifting her weight and severing the contact with his mouth.

Lost in a haze, she hears a door open and moments later, light from the bathroom filters into the room, the bed dipping down as he climbs onto the bed. He nuzzles against her cheek, whispering, “Better than room service.”

His beard smells like her sex, but his breath is minty fresh and tingles her skin as he kisses and bites her shoulders, rubbing his cock through her mess, lubricating himself. “Don’t I get a turn?” He grunts, pushing his head against her rim.

The drag of his balls over the anal plug stirs her. “Oh, fuck me,” she whines, spreading her legs apart for him, as he covers her mouth with his large paw, murmuring in her ear to be quiet.

“No, need noise,” she complains, chuckling at her incoherent phrases as she pushes back onto her knees, slamming herself onto his shaft.

They both sigh loudly and his hand slides around the front of her neck, squeezing gently, as she tilts her head back. Holding her like this, he plows into her deeply, pressing her pulse just enough to cut down her oxygen supply and her thoughts seem to melt away. Just the two of them. When he finally loosens his grip, her head falls forward. She takes in a deep breath, filling her lungs, her tits rising and she watches them in the mirror. With him, alone like this, she’s beautiful, a goddess, not so big compared to his beefy build. He grips her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh as he drives into her. Chris’s blue eyes meet hers and he winks, pursing his lips into a kissy face. She blushes, bowing her head.

Chris grabs her shoulder, pulling her up off her hands and presses her against the front of his body. His other hand reaches up and tweaks her nipple, pulling and tugging the tender peak. “Your body is so fuckin’ good to me, baby,” he growls in her ear before toppling them over backwards, his body cushioning her fall as he now thrusts up into her from below. “Lay it on me.”

He always makes her feel so good about her body; sexy. Balancing her feet on the bed, she grips his thighs and lifts up and down with his punishing pace. He wiggles them up into a sitting position and pushes forward on her shoulder. She brings her legs back and slides down on his cock, in the reverse cowgirl. Chris leans back on his elbows, his head to the side so he can watch her tits bounce and sway in the mirror. “So damn hot, mi Niña.”

Balanced up on one hand, she licks the fingertips of her other hand, drawing it down her chest, over her belly, pressing on her clit. She bucks at the cool touch against the molten lava she’s producing. He gets her so damn wet, every time.

Taking charge, she changes his pace. Slowing, she rolls her hips against his, the plug filling her ass, stretching, as she grinds her body with his. “You’re killing me,” he whispers, hitting his fist against her thigh. “Ride me faster.”

“Darling.” Perfectly clear in her mind, added to his command. Perfectly British.

She gasps, leaning forward and shaking her head.

Chris’s hand grabs her hip, caressing her thigh. “Sorry, babe. Did I hurt you?”

Breathing deeply, she shakes it off. “No, fine. It’s good, it’s good.”

Where the hell is this coming from? Why now? Get it together, Chica.

Closing her eyes tight, she shuts off her brain, sliding his shaft deep into her wetness. She hears the clip of the bottle lid for lube, the flowery scent filling her nose. “Aaahh,” she sighs as the cold liquid drips down her divide while she slides her hungry pussy off and on his pulsing cock. “Love seeing you swallow it up,” he moans, twisting the plug and pulling it out, watching it fall back into place.

Feeling full, she wells up, ready to tumble over the edge again. His laboured breathing lets her know he’s ready too. Looking down, the tight muscles in his thighs and calves prove he’s holding back, waiting for her. Her ass in his face is too much for him, fantasy number one of their holiday getaway, nearly marked off the list. “Take it out.”

She leans forward, feeling him smear the lube all around the tight hole, wiggling the stainless steel. With a gentle tug, he pulls up but his fingers slide off and the plug suctions back in… With both hands on her ass, he caresses the tender area, removing the jewel with a pop, the lube cooling as it slides inside the gape, slowly closing again as he fingers over the puckering flesh. Rocking back on his cock, she slides up, pushing down again as his digit slides inside, caressing her from within. His finger in her ass mimics her rhythm as she grinds down against him, grabbing his legs as she comes, her own shaking uncontrollably. Biting her lip, she holds in her need to cry out as he grunts, emptying himself deep within her walls. The light little twitches from his body allow her to extend her orgasm, his balls pushing against her clit, so good it’s almost painful. Slowing her roll, she milks him, every last drop, till he slowly slides out and they lie spent, their fluids mixed between them as it continues to drip out between her battered lips.

The last thing she remembers before falling asleep again is his confession of love for her, his breath whispered against her feet as they lay head to foot in the bed.

###

The next morning, she stares at the little pink case in her hand. She’s been so busy getting the island museum ready to open for the public, she’d forgotten to take her birth control pills for the last three days. Dropping the cheap plastic into the sink, when her knees give out, she presses her palms against the countertop, bracing herself and closing her eyes in prayer.

Click here for Chapter 9,  Going Places

Copyright © 2019 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

The bet aug 12 2018.jpg

The Bet

Educating Thalia

Prologue 2018 pt 2

Collaboration by devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

Professors AU

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

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

Word Count 3556

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her grin widens. “Yes and no.”

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

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

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

Oh yes, this is going to be such fun.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

He half-turns. “Yes?”

“Strip first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I always keep my promises!”

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

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

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

“Enjoy the show, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy now, darling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

With a snort, she nods.

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

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

Thalia holds up her hands, stopping his progress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More?”

“Y-yes, please.”

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

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

“Tom, please.”

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

“Please, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tom, wha-?”

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

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

“Yes. God, yes.”

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

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

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

Fuck, that’s hotter than it should be.

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

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

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

“Bedroom?” he asks.

“Bedroom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now.”

She holds his gaze. “Now.”

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

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

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

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

 

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.

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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

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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

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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