Chapter 6
CECE
I didn’t know what the hell came over me.
One minute I was thanking the guy for getting rid of the frat boys, and the next I was practically dry-humping him on his office couch like some kind of sex-starved maniac.
Which, to be fair, I kind of was. It had been a very long time since I’d been with anyone, but that didn’t excuse my impulsive behavior.
I stormed through the bar, my wet shirt clinging uncomfortably to my skin, feeling like every eye in the place was on me.
The shorter guy with glasses—Felix I assumed—gave me a concerned look as I passed, but I didn’t stop.
I needed air. I needed space. I needed to forget that the hottest kiss of my life had just ended with me being dismissed like a horny teenager.
Kid? He called me a kid?
I was twenty-three years old, had a child, and more life experience than most people twice my age. But sure, let’s go with “kid” because I happened to be enrolled in graduate school.
The humid South Carolina air hit me like a wall when I stepped outside, but it was nothing compared to the heat still coursing through my body.
My lips were still tingling. I could still taste him.
I would have fucked him. I could feel the dampness in my panties and it had nothing to do with the beer that spilled.
My body reacted to him without giving a second thought to caution or common sense. I almost never acted like that.
I pulled out my phone and ordered an Uber. Lucky for me, it was a college town and there were Ubers everywhere. I only had to wait four minutes. I wasn’t worried the guy was going to come running out after me. He made it pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with me.
I made it to my mother’s house fifteen minutes later.
Thankfully, mom was already in bed. I did not want to tell her what happened.
It was far too humiliating. I walked into my room and stripped out of the damp shirt.
It only took me a few seconds to pull on my pajamas.
I threw myself on my bed and replayed the whole horrific incident in my head.
I didn’t know if I should cry or laugh. Or die of humiliation.
There were so many swirling thoughts and conflicting emotions.
The man was something else. I didn’t have words for the effect he had on me. I didn’t believe in soulmates. I didn’t believe in love at first sight. But I was starting to believe in chemistry. Pheromones. It was scientific.
I had never personally experienced it, but because I was an academic, I dealt in facts. My roommate in college fucked her boyfriend within an hour of meeting him, and they’d been dating for three years and were still going strong. She said she just knew he was the one. Was that what this thing was?
No, because if that was the case, he wouldn’t have tossed me out on my ass. The guy acted like I had the plague. Like he needed to shower and get inoculated against the dirty college student. It had been downright insulting.
Maybe he’d had bad experiences with students in the past. That sucked.
I’d like to find the bitch that put such a sour taste in his mouth for college students.
She ruined what I was certain was a very good thing.
When I was kissing him, all my other problems faded and felt a million miles away.
He had been just what I needed. Ten minutes.
That’s all I would have needed. Ten minutes, a mind-blowing orgasm, and life would have been all good.
The dude was a little older than my usual attractions. There was just something about how commanding he was with the guys. I even got a little turned on when he barked at me to get out of his office. Was I into the alpha thing? That was new.
Maybe that was why I had been so dissatisfied with previous lovers. Not that there had been a lot, but the few I did take to bed were just eh . Yeah, I got off with a lot of work and prompting, but it wasn’t great. Five minutes with the asshole owner and I was practically panting.
That dude knew how to please. At least, I think he did.
I couldn’t say for certain because I had been left very unsatisfied.
And we didn’t get any farther than his mouth on my boobs, but it was more like the promise of what could have been.
And I knew it would have been damn good.
I felt his hard dick. Not well, but well enough to know he was large.
The thought of it made my core ache with need.
“Get it together, Cece,” I muttered. “You’re too old to get boy crazy.”
I couldn’t help but think about what would have happened if I hadn’t opened my big geek mouth about the Roman promise pendant.
It was exactly the wrong time. But it had just been there.
It had jumped out and demanded my attention.
If I could have kept my mouth shut, I would have been in my bed right now feeling nice and sated.
I closed my eyes and let myself drift back to the office.
I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of my pajama bottoms. The memory washed over me.
In my mind, I was back on that couch, straddling him, feeling the heat of his mouth on my skin.
I held on to the memory of his teeth scraping deliciously over my nipples.
My fingers found the slick evidence of how much he’d affected me. I was still soaked, still aching from being left hanging. I bit my lip as I touched myself, imagining it was his callused hands instead of mine. His thick fingers rubbing over my clit and dipping into my slick folds.
In my fantasy, he hadn’t pushed me away. Instead, those green eyes had burned into mine as his hands skimmed up my thighs, pushing my jeans down. I could almost feel the rough pads of his fingers as I circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, my breath hitching.
“God,” I whispered into the darkness, my hips moving against my hand.
I pictured him beneath me again, that cocky grin replaced by something hungry and desperate. The way his muscles had tensed when I ground against him. The growl that had rumbled from his chest when I tugged his hair.
My free hand found my breast, squeezing through the thin fabric of my pajama top. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more pressure, more heat. I pushed the fabric up and pinched my nipple, rolling it between my fingers the way he had with his tongue.
My breathing grew ragged as I worked myself higher, chasing the release he’d denied me. In my mind, he was whispering dirty things in my ear, telling me how good I felt, how much he wanted me. His voice was rough with need as he guided my hips against his hardness.
My fingers moved faster.
The fantasy shifted. Now we were still on that couch, but this time when I mentioned the pendant, he just smiled and pulled me down for another kiss.
I could almost feel the stretch of his fingers inside me, the way he’d curl them just right to hit that spot that made me see stars.
My own fingers weren’t enough, but they’d have to do.
My body tensed as the pressure built, every nerve ending alive with sensation. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out as the orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure rolling through me until I was left trembling and breathless.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my heart still racing.
The satisfaction was temporary at best. It was a poor substitute for what could have been.
My body still hummed with residual need, and I knew no amount of solo sessions would compare to what I’d felt in those few minutes with him.
“Pathetic,” I muttered, pulling my hand away and adjusting my clothes. Here I was, fantasizing about a man who’d literally kicked me out of his office. A man whose name I didn’t even know.
Speaking of old men I didn’t know, I needed to finish my research into my target.
Wasn’t that what spies called the people they were tasked with spying on?
My target. Dr. Grady Stone. The good professor could take a page out of the bar owner’s book.
Sex was immediately off the table once he found out I was a student, even though I still thought he overreacted.
I grabbed my phone and sat up in bed. I quickly typed in the professor’s name. When the results popped up, I frowned, confused. “What the hell?” I murmured.
Did I search for the wrong name? Like I inadvertently Googled The Library owner. Even though I knew I didn’t do that, it had to be because the picture of Grady Stone was the same guy I had just come thinking about.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
They were one and the same. He owns a bar and is a professor? My professor. My target.
I had just attempted to ride his hard cock while thrusting my tits in his face. The man had set my body on fire to the point I had to masturbate just to think straight again. How could I ever face him in class as his teaching assistant?
I had to spy on this guy after I did that? He was the guy Dean Carver thought was fucking his students?
Uh, hello. He freaked out the moment he realized I was a student.
That did not mesh with what Carver told me.
How weird. Lord knew the guy was hot enough to bed any coed on campus.
It didn’t make sense. What Dean Carver said and what I had experienced firsthand directly contradicted each other. What the hell was going on?
Was I compromised now? Should I tell the dean what happened or would that be unfair to the professor?
I was technically a student but he shut it down immediately.
I didn’t know what to believe. Maybe the dean was getting bad info.
Grady had been nothing but a gentleman. Or maybe I wasn’t young enough or skinny enough for the dude.
I decided not to say anything for now but I would keep an eye on him going forward. If he was the scumbag the dean said he was, I would tell her and not feel the least bit guilty.