Chapter Twenty-Five #3
The wicked honor, of having her scent in my nostrils for the rest of the day excites me.
When my tongue begins to fuck her only then does she rock, ever so slightly forward to meet me.
I allow it, letting it distract her from my fingers edging closer to the rosebud.
I pull away only to spit on it and continue my assault, eating her pussy like a starved man while my middle finger rubs my spit on her puckered hole.
The breathy sigh sounds like a plea like she’s silently begging me to please, please, please make her come and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever encountered.
I shove my finger inside, wiggling it along with my tongue.
I pull away and spit again, shoving two fingers into her tight, swollen cunt with one hand and shove another finger into her ass, watching as she shakes, her walls tighten, alerting me to her impending orgasm but I want it on my cock, not my fingers.
The need to hear that gasp, that silent moan, that breathy sigh when I feel her break for me is as visceral as the need to fill her gorgeous little cunt with my seed.
I pull away completely to unfasten my belt and pants and in one swift motion, I tug her down, position myself at her entrance and sit her right on my hardened cock, the pressure from her pussy so hot, so tight, so fucking perfect I shudder and almost embarrass myself in my own delirium…
Three. Loud. Knocks.
GODFUCKINGDAMNIT.
I shove her off me, the loss of her weight and her warmth is felt in my soul and push her under my desk, right myself, then put her backpack with her and open the door. “Yes?”
“Professor Harrington. I was hoping you’d seen Raven?”
I motion for her to get out from under the desk so her fucking ward can see her.
“Perfect, isn’t she?” Damon grins devilishly. “Before your next class starts in…” He checks his watch, “Oh, ten minutes; Jonas will be at the funeral late and I had a last-minute appointment. I know she plans on going to the lake house, would you mind, seeing as how we're neighbors and all-"
I release an annoyed growl, “No, I wouldn’t mind .”
“Wonderful. Raven I’ll see you at home.” He winks and leaves us be.
While I want to absolutely abhor Damon Archer, the handsome prick just saved me and Raven from coming out of my office to a classroom full of gossiping fuckwits, and my job as well.
I turn to face her as I leave the door somewhat ajar while she fixes herself as best as she can.
She cups her pussy, eyes wide and so beautifully brown and my dick longs to be inside of her again.
I lick my lips, “The next time you choose to tease me in my classroom like the filthy, needy little slut you are, Siren, I suggest you leave them at home if you don’t want me to take them. ”
She grabs her backpack in haste and pushes past me, the scent of her shampoo fills my senses.
Hunt. Catch. Rut. Claim.
_____ _
Dr. Dick: 94732
Me: What’s this?
Dr. Dick: Just keep an eye on her.
Dr. Dick: Close up. Afar. Whatever.
I hang my head back, trying to relieve the tension between my shoulders, letting today’s stress roll backwards.
I get out of my car, take the few steps it takes to get to the door that leads into the mud room then the kitchen of my house.
My two story, five bedroom, four bath, and a study, too large for just me house.
I set my leather satchel down on the counter, the one I’d received as a gift from my former FBI partner.
It's old, worn and has been patched in a few places, telling me it should be retired. Yet I can’t let it go.
It’s a piece of me. My former life. Agent Harrington.
I sigh, kicking off my shoes, hanging up my sports coat and begin my ascension up the stairs that lead to the master bedroom, avoiding the closed doors filled with beds for guests I’ve never entertained.
Never bothered to.
After a quick shower, I change into something more comfortable, sweats, sweatshirt, socks, then head back down, not eager to grade anything.
Not even Raven’s debate which I usually reserve for Thursday or Friday evenings.
The usual comforting emptiness of my home has become louder, unnerving me.
For some reason, I do a quick sweep of my home, bottom to top and then back to the kitchen.
I heat up a few leftovers, chicken, sweet potatoes, and with a glass of red wine, I sit at my empty table that’s large enough to hold six.
Suddenly my chicken is grey, my favorite potatoes taste like ash and the only noise in my home is that fucking low hum of the refrigerator, taunting me.
When did my solitude become unbearable? I sit back in my chair, letting the flavor of the wine settle on my tongue before swallowing, swirling the liquid in my glass .
I know when.
I hate that I know when.
It’s when even in her silence, her home was still loud and livelier than this fucking crypt.
She was desperate to make memories, create new ones she could hang on her walls, books ready for her to annotate, to highlight, to tab.
There are knickknacks somewhere out in the world, ready to be purchased and placed amongst her shelves and her mantle, a house just waiting to be a home.
Whereas my home already had all those things, memories already attached, and yet, it was empty.
A mausoleum-in-waiting full of my haunted memories, awards, and pictures with presidents and old classmates I hadn’t spoken to in over a decade.
Unhappy and mildly irritated, as is my constant mood lately, I leave my seat, discard the rest of my dinner, rinse my plate and utensils, the only ones that are ever dirtied, leave it in the sink to dry and put on my running shoes.
I set the alarm before leaving my house, heading to the trails but my feet lead me elsewhere, padding along the frequented path to her home.
I punch in the code, jog through her garden, run up the few steps of her back porch that’s lit up by a light and also fairy lights, truly recognizing the changes, I spot her in a large circular hanging chair like the one in her library. Her face comes into focus.
Raven is sitting back, her knees up to her chest, a blanket around her, thick socks an RMU sweatshirt, thick black leggings, dark hair in a messy bun atop her head, escaped tendrils framing her face, a textbook balancing on her knees, highlighter in her hand.
She is the most divine thing I have ever seen.
The epitome of ethereal beauty in the soft glow of the soon-to-be setting sun, the lit twinkling lights, she arches a dark brow in question.
I clear my throat to rid the chunks of my heart that have climbed up. “Have you eaten?”
She nods once and I step closer to her, a moth to a flame, ready to burn in her fire.
She closes the textbook and places it on the table before her, the one separating us.
The one that makes it feel as though she’s an entire world away from me even though she’s probably only six feet from my grasp.
Her feet touch the floor, and she leans over to close her laptop.
It’s now that I’m certainly becoming more aware of my surroundings.
The new patio furniture, a grill – the promise of cookouts in the summer, the hanging chair meant to hold a pair of lovers.
“Well, I’m going to go on a run, and Damon doesn’t want me to leave you alone too long. Join me.”
She rolls those pretty eyes at me.
“Get your shoes on.”
Raven sighs, obviously annoyed by my intrusion on her lonely study session, but I am a man of my word.
She seems to ponder the choices she has; to either go with me willingly or face mine or Damon’s choice of consequences.
She sighs again, this time heavily and she stands, only to head inside, I follow to just the threshold of her house as she slips on her shoes, bending to tie the infamous black-and-white high-top sneakers that are worn down.
She slips her phone into her pocket and a pair of fingerless gloves.
We’re on the path that’s only illuminated by the setting sun, which we have about an hour left of daylight.
She stretches, bending over first to one leg then the other, lunging and then taking a deep breath.
Her stride is strong, keeping up with me until we get to a part of the trail that ascends, man-made natural stairs made of boulders and logs.
I reach the top before her, and I hide behind a large red maple tree, watching as she looks around.
She squints her eyes, trying to control her breathing.
She puts her hands on her knees and looks around, wiping a bit of sweat off her brow.
I’m interested in seeing if she’ll call out to me.
Her eyebrows bunch together, worry etching across her face and when a twig snaps under my weight, she tenses.
A doe being watched by a hunter. I step towards her more carefully, hyperaware of the little breaths escaping her, creating little puffs of fog.
I get right behind her, letting my own breath create a misty cloud. “Scared?”
I see the tremor run through her. At either being frightened or our close proximity, I’m not sure, but a surge of desire pulses through me, the feeling shaking me to my core.
“Do you want to run, Siren?” I let my finger trace down her arm.
“Archer made me aware you prefer kindness… I tried that, didn’t I? ”
She whips her head around, whiskey eyes snapping at mine.
“In the library… yesterday?” I remind her.
“Letting you turn in your little debates on paper? Do you think I would do this for anybody else? No, Siren, I wouldn’t.
I have shown you kindness when I am not a kind man.
But I don’t think you need kindness, not from me.
Others pity you, don’t they? Poor little weak, Raven.
So traumatized she can’t even speak. Tongueless . ” I whisper.