Chapter 76
Davian
Write for Me
Sneaky Sneaky
Gold-Tiger
When I slid the emailed and printed prescription from one of my former medical school classmates across the counter to the man at the pharmacy and asked for the morning-after pill, he looked at me as if I had asked him for a box of drugs.
Too late, I remembered that I had been picking up medication for my daughter from him for years.
He seemed to remember as well, because with an “Of course, Professor Rydell,” he stepped into his back room toward the tall wall lined with a thousand drawers and began hurriedly studying the labels.
Great. I almost let the words “For my daughter” slip out.
Heat exploded in my face.
Swallowing, I looked down, suppressing the urge to clear my throat.
As inconspicuously as possible, I looked around, hoping no one I knew would walk in. In this damn small town, you ran into people everywhere.
With growing nervousness, I watched as the elderly pharmacist climbed up the ladder.
If he didn’t have that pill…
I was on the verge of running my hand over my face.
God, I was lucky to have access to this prescription pill through my contacts.
Catastrophic was an understatement for what I had done.
No matter how hard I tried to block it out, if it ever came to light that Quill and I had been intimate, people would see only one thing. A pedophile who abused his position of professional power to sleep with a woman the same age as his daughter.
I bit my lower lip, missing her, even though I had left the house only half an hour ago, not without watching her toss and turn in my bed as she slept, muttering in her sleep.
I would have loved to stay with her until noon today, would have loved to bury myself inside her again and again, to do things that would definitely cost me my job if they came to light.
But the damage was done. There was nothing that could make it worse, unless it came to light.
Whatever it was that we had, it was not meant to last, nor was I allowed to savor it so much.
An overwhelming shiver ran through me at the mere thought of her bare skin, of the feeling of being inside her, of snuggling up to her, knowing she would be there in the morning. Waking up with her on my chest.
This morning, drool had run from her mouth. God, even when she slept like a damn baby, I couldn’t help but stare at her, counting the freckles on and around her nose.
“Davian? Is that you?”
Startled, I spun around and stared at Monica, who immediately smiled at me, just as she always did, two grocery bags in her hand.
Like me, she didn’t start at Maplecrest until the afternoon on Mondays.
“Monica…”
Her expression immediately turned serious, and she looked over the counter at the pharmacist, who was busy searching through the shelves, before turning back to me.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I…”
“Is Quill okay?”
The pharmacist returned, looked at me, and I could swear I saw judgment in his overwhelmed expression.
Monica looked at the small box he was holding, but he slipped it into a bag just in time.
“That’ll be thirty dollars”, the man said, clearing his throat.
Monica looked at me, but I paid quickly and thanked him before turning back to her.
“Fever. She has a fever.”
Shit, what was I doing here?
The pharmacist was now looking at me with a truly judgmental expression.
For the first time, I thanked fate that more down-to-earth residents of this town, like this man, had nothing to do with the rich, so hopefully no rumors about my damn sex life would get around.
“Oh no, should I come over? I only have one lecture today.”
“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
I forced a smile, and luckily she left it at that, since she still had a few errands to run herself.
back to friends
sombr
I drove home, fed the dog – who wouldn’t leave me alone and was bouncing around me, wagging his tail – before I studied the package insert for this pill and eventually went upstairs with a glass of water and the box containing a single pill.
I paused in the doorway to my bedroom, staring at my bed.
She lay there, wearing only black panties that framed her lovely butt cheeks, her legs bent, her feet crossed in the air, dangling back and forth, while she rolled the end of a fountain pen between her teeth and looked down at the notebook in front of her with intense concentration.
The rays of the rising sun danced across her bare back.
I had never seen anything more beautiful.
The traces of my ink chaos marked her arms and the rest of her front, and the urge to also fill her back intoxicated me so much that my hardness returned.
The strand of hair that slipped out from behind her ear as she leaned forward to write didn’t help matters.
Neither did the fact that her tits hung freely, and her nipples rubbed against one of the sheets of paper as she wrote.
For fuck’s sake…
This was better than I had imagined.
Her hands full of letters, an ink mark on her cheek, coffee stains on her notes. That’s her. My muse.
Atrinus was already lurking inside me, craving her, but I wouldn’t unleash that hungry bastard on her if there was a chance he might get any stupid ideas.
She might have read Batteries of Ink, but she didn’t know what depraved lines I had written back then for book two. Few, yet devastating lines that were now safely locked away.
My gaze lingered on the white stuffed bear beneath her, or rather, between her breasts. She must have found him.
“What do you think this will be when it’s finished?”
I raised both eyebrows, stepped into the room, and she looked up, smirking as if she’d known all along that I’d been watching her.
“A chapter? What does it look like?”
I set the glass and the small box down on the dresser, walked over to her and didn’t hesitate to sink down onto the bed beside her and move on top of her, my knees beside her hips.
Carefully, I leaned toward her, inhaled her breathtaking scent, and pressed a kiss to her right shoulder.
“I’ve missed you, Feather,” I murmured against her skin, trying to process that she was really lying here. In my bed, beneath me. Written on, by me.
She paused for a moment, but then continued writing, and I kissed her again, this time at the highest point of her shoulder.
“And I’m jealous of the bear underneath you.”
“Would you like to lie there while I write?” she asked, amused, but her smile faded as I leaned further over her and brushed her hair aside so I could get a good look at her neck.
She kept writing, as if my presence didn’t bother her in the slightest.
Was she trying to play with me?
Do It For Me
Rosenfeld
My cock throbbed against my pants, intoxicated by the idea, while the last remnants of my sanity tried to break through. To fight Atrinus.
In vain. Atrinus knew exactly what he was doing. He had me in the palm of his hand. That wretched devil.
The damage was already done.
I pressed my lips to her throat, licked – with the tip of my tongue – over the ink stains I’d left there last night, kissed them, and I could feel her throat move up and down beneath my tongue as she swallowed.
She tried not to look up from her notebook.
Atrinus took that as a challenge.
I kissed my way up, pressed her earlobe between my lips, slowly increasing the pressure, until she sighed soundlessly, eliciting a satisfied smile from me.
“I want to lie on top of you while you write.” Another kiss behind her ear before I whispered on. “Be inside you.”
Her breath caught and she stopped writing.
With one hand, I unbuckled my belt, and God, it turned me on how she listened, how she immediately arched her back further, willing to welcome me inside her.
I pulled back, straightened up to slide my pants and boxers down, taking them off completely this time. Then I pulled her panties down to her thighs until her wet, glistening pussy lay exposed before me, before I leaned back down and positioned myself fully on top of her.
She sighed again, probably because she felt my full hardness pressing against the cleft of her butt.
Once more, I left tender kisses on her shoulders, slid higher, and whispered into her neck.
“Let’s play a game, Quill.”
“Mm…,” she sighed, dazed, tilting her head back for me.
“You get me. But only if you don’t stop writing.”
I slid back, continuing to kiss my way down her back.
“That’s not fair…,” she mumbled, completely absorbed in my kisses. “How am I supposed to…” I pressed myself against her and she froze, breathing in shakily. “Davian, that’s not fair…”
“You wanted to write, didn’t you?” Another kiss, right between her shoulder blades. “Show me what beautiful things you can write while I fuck this tight, warm pussy.”
I hovered over her, kissed my way down her spine, slid my cock toward her needy lips, brushing against them lightly, and Quill whimpered softly.
“The smallest stimuli are the best inspiration for erotic literature.”
An eloquent way of telling her that I had been constantly hard while writing my books, though she had probably already guessed as much the day she had discovered my book collection in the hallway.
When I felt her not move, I paused, shifted over her, and whispered into her ear.
“Come on, Feather. Write for me.”
She put the pen to paper but hesitated, trying to focus on something.
That wouldn’t win her the battle against my touch.
She began a line.
The snow turned the garden white…
“Oh, Feather… You can do better than that.”
She immediately started a new line.
Rose-colored petals danced through the air, as if spring were announcing its death, clinging to the hair of...
I pressed myself against her so that my cock nestled against her wet pussy, and she stopped writing, whimpering softly.
“Why are you stopping? Hmm?”
I pulled back.
She immediately continued writing, and I pressed myself back against her slick lips, began to rub against her gently, and let the lust take hold of me as I looked over her shoulders.
She wrote, but so haltingly that the sentence didn’t even make sense by the end.
A soft chuckle escaped my throat, and I paused, remaining pressed against her.
“Maybe you should try to write what you’re feeling.”