Dark Blue: Study in Seduction, Book 1 (10 page)

He spotted something behind her, bent down and picked it up. “You’ll need these.” He held out her knickers on the tip of his finger and—yes—amusement flickered across his eyes, the same as when she’d stammered her way through “The Imperfect Enjoyment “.

Bastard.

As he buttoned the collar and knotted his bow tie, she yanked up her knickers, feeling like one of the harlots on
Harris’s List
, having pleasured her gentleman. Even though she was the one who got her jollies, she was left empty—used up—in every way. What kind of man was this, to lay his hands on her, bring her to ecstasy and just cast her out?

He reached for his jacket and picked up her empty glass, as if he now wanted to clear away any trace of her, as if he was ashamed of what just happened She needed to be out of here in the fresh air. She snatched up her bag and headed for the door, but he got there first and closed his hand around hers.

“Carla, wait.”

She stared at him with what she hoped was cold indifference, yet inside, her heart thudded like a crazy thing. “What for?”

“Write me another essay for our next session. On the Brontës this time, and…” He lowered his head and caressed her mouth with his lips. “Don’t disappoint me.”

As she staggered down the stairs from his room, her senses reeled, her backside glowed, and her clit still throbbed from his twin assaults with palm and tongue. If that was what he did when she amazed him, what would happen if she disappointed him?

Chapter Nine

The demon was out of the box. Not just out a little—it had blown the casket apart and filled every corner of his world. Alex knew that knocking hell out of a ball on a squash court and half killing his friend would not get his demon back in at all.

“Bloody hell, Alex, you nearly took my head off.” Rana picked the ball out of the corner of the court and held it up as if it might explode in his hand.

Alex grimaced. “Sorry.”

Rana threw the ball back to him. “Don’t be. It’s great to see your squash finally improving, even if I am likely to lose my balls as well as my head.”

Alex prepared to serve. “I just got lucky. You’ve beaten me nine times out of ten this year. Statistics said it was my turn.”

“Makes up for all the times you’ve left me trailing in your wake on our runs. That’s match point to you.”

Alex slammed the ball against the tin, leaving Rana flailing. He shook hands with his friend just as the court lights cut out and plunged them into semidarkness.

“Shower and a pint?” asked Rana, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Why not?”

Alex turned the shower jet to max, needles of water pummelling his skin. Ever since Carla had left his room, Alex hadn’t been able to banish her from his mind. He’d tried to back away, tried to push her away even though after he’d touched her—after he’d disciplined her—he’d wanted to soothe her so much and she’d taken what he’d given her bravely. Had he gone too far? Had he overestimated how much she could take from him, the same way he did in class? Had it been too much?

She’d lasted longer than he’d expected, even though he’d expected her to try hard before she’d given in. The sight of her perfect bottom bent over his desk, her delicate rose of a pussy exposed to him, had driven him to the edge. He’d never forget her soft flesh quivering as she’d wriggled and writhed to avoid his chastising hand. Yes, he’d been harsh, but he’d wanted to see how long it took to unravel her exterior bravado and crack that delicate-looking yet strong shell.

And while he’d enjoyed spanking her, he’d loved giving her the pleasure afterwards far more. Kissing her, licking her and feeling her come hard against his fingers had been so exquisite, he’d almost come himself. Of course, he’d wanted to fuck her, and he knew she wanted him to do it, and he’d only held back by a huge effort of will. He wanted to wait, for her to go away and actively choose if she really wanted to come back, if what she really wanted
was
him and what he could offer.

He turned the shower to cold to damp down his erection, knotted a towel around his waist and walked back into the locker area. Rana joined him as he tugged on his jeans and pulled a T-shirt roughly over his head.

Rana’s eyes were amused. “The match is over, Alex. You can relax now, yet you still look as if you’re ready to beat the crap out of me.”

“It’s just adrenaline. I’ve had a busy week. Don’t rush yourself, mate. I’ll finish getting changed and go and get the drinks in.”

The bar at the university sports club buzzed as usual, as the prelude to a soccer match attracted a knot of students and dons around the massive TV screen. Rana joined him at a table in the corner where Alex had a half pint of lager waiting.

“You said you’d had a hard week. Anything you want to talk about?” asked Rana.

“Not really.”

“Are you all right? Nothing you can share? Or, at least, no one you can share?”

He forced a smile, half regretting agreeing to a drink. He might have expected his sharp-minded friend to guess that he wasn’t himself. “Not really,” he said.

“Ah. So it
is
a woman.”

Alex stared at his glass.

“That bad, eh?”

“I don’t know yet. It hasn’t got that far,” Alex replied. Liar, he thought. He’d only got as far as smacking Carla’s arse and going down on her. Only been a whisper away from screwing her over the desk in his college room. Only got as far as thinking about her all the time. Oh yes, not
that
far.

“So it’s a woman, and she’s obviously got to you, so what’s next? You’re single, and I’m assuming she is. She
is
, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she’s single.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it? She must be something pretty special for you to be this buzzed about her.”

“Oh, she’s special,” he shot back, not even having to think about it for a heartbeat.

Rana blew out a breath. “Wow. That was emphatic. So you’re both available. I really don’t see the problem unless…”

A swirl of panic stirred in Alex’s gut. Rana was a good friend; they’d moved up through the academic ranks together, from postdoc to junior fellows and now to senior levels in their respective fields. Rana knew most things about him, but naturally, they’d hardly be likely to discuss their kink preferences. He wasn’t ashamed per se of being into S&M, and if asked directly by Rana, he’d freely admit that the kink turned him on. His colleague was about as open-minded as you could get; however, there were some barriers you just didn’t cross. That Alex didn’t cross.

Until now.

“Fuck it, Alex. She’s not one of your students? I hope not. I really hope not. If she is, you have to end it now, mate, for everyone’s sake.”

Alex squirmed. He couldn’t lie, not to Rana, and he couldn’t bring himself to give a straight answer either. “You might be my oldest friend, but if you pursue this conversation, I’m going to have to get up and walk out of here.”

Rana stared at him, then shook his head slowly. “End it now, before somebody finds out or the girl tells her friends or one of the staff. Your career isn’t worth throwing away over some lovesick undergraduate.”

“She’s not a girl, she’s not lovesick, and as for my career… I’ll decide what it’s fucking worth and not worth.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Alex could have bitten off his tongue. What the fuck was he doing, speaking to his best mate like that? Was this what his passion for Carla Jonas had driven him to? Or was this the result of a much deeper problem—one that had begun years before with another woman who was supposed to be in his care? Another woman he’d dominated and eventually left in pieces in the wake of his ambition.

Rana held up his palms. “Okay. I can see I’ve touched a raw nerve. I should mind my own business.”

A raw nerve.
Yes, that was Carla. She was a part of him he couldn’t ignore, tormenting him with an ache he didn’t even want to ignore, and Rana would definitely not understand. How could he? A regular family man who’d probably never done anything he’d truly regretted or was ashamed of.

“No. I’m sorry, Rana. It’s just… It’s not what you think. I mean, it is, but things aren’t that simple.”

“With you, they never are. You have to do what you think is right, and I won’t ask any more questions—but be very careful. This can only damage you and her, whoever she is.”

They finished their drinks, Rana changing the subject to the soccer matches previewed on the big screen. Alex could barely concentrate. It was too late. He’d already damaged Carla, and the spanking he’d dealt out was nothing to do with it. It was the toying with her, pushing her away—then weakening again and inviting her back for more—that had already hurt her.

Yet he still wasn’t going to step back from the abyss. He was in too deep already for that.

Oh yes, she’s special
. He hadn’t even had to think to answer Rana’s question, because he already knew that she was different from any other woman he’d ever known. She was more than special; she was unique. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever got close to in his entire life, and not only physically. She had the kind of womanly figure he loved, with generous breasts, a slim waist and a bottom that, God help him, begged to be spanked.

To call her pretty would be to do her a massive injustice. Among a college full of bright young things, most of them obsessed with their looks, Carla seemed totally unaware of her beauty and as a result shone like a beacon.

He could see her now, the honey-blond hair lightly brushing her shoulders, her eyes, green in some lights, shining with earnest enthusiasm for her subject.

Carla had suffered in the way no woman her age should have done, but it had made her decide what really mattered in life and to go for her dreams.

She was so brave, so scared of trying out her desires and so willing to do it anyway. He’d led her into that dangerous, dark place, and he should be damned for it. But being damned was so sweet, he didn’t think he could stop.

Chapter Ten

“Carla, are you okay?”

Emma looked at Carla as if she were the creature from the black lagoon as they sat in the student centre the morning after her one-to-one with Alex. Somehow she had made it to the cinema the previous evening. She remembered stumbling down the stairs, gripping the oak banister for support and emerging into the evening sun in the quad, blinking against the light, her lips still salty with tears.

Emma sipped her espresso and grimaced. “You didn’t seem to think much of the film last night.”

“No… It was okay, I suppose. Horror’s not really my thing.”

“It makes me laugh. My cousin’s a Foley artist at Pinewood, and after he told us about hacking up watermelons, I can’t take any of this stuff seriously.”

“I think I spent most of the evening with my eyes closed.”

“I noticed and so did Michael.”

Even if the movie had been the most gripping story ever made, Carla wouldn’t have been able to take in a word. The gory scenes had at least given her the chance to zone out and replay her encounter with Alex over and again. She’d fidgeted as she’d tried to get into a comfortable position, and her rational mind—not that any of it was left—and her emotions had St Vitus’s dance. What she should have done was pleaded a headache and gone back to the hostel, but she hadn’t even had the presence of mind to make up an excuse.

This morning when she’d examined her bottom in the mirror—which she wasn’t in the habit of doing—it had sported a couple of bluish marks created by Alex’s hand. It was nothing to the mark he’d left on her heart and soul.

“You do know that Michael has the hots for you, Mrs. Jonas,” said Emma.

She wished Emma hadn’t called her that. It reminded her that she was a sensible widow, when last night she’d surrendered to the reckless, demanding ingénue that lurked beneath the surface since she’d met Alex Lemaitre. She’d practically begged him to punish her, and yet…he’d admitted he’d been checking the time, as if he’d preplanned to have her there before the clock chimed. Could he have been planning the whole thing since he received her essay, or was it just a coincidence?

She twitched in her seat.

“So, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, and I know Michael likes me, or I thought he did. He said he might drop something in my pigeonhole.”

Emma giggled. “That’s a euphemism if ever I heard one.”

She summoned up a smile. “Well, nothing has appeared in my pigeonhole yet, metaphorically or literally. I’m not sure what to do about him. He’s a nice guy, but he’s far too young.”

After lectures, Carla went back to the hostel and lay on her bed facedown, the way she had last night after the cinema. To her shame, she’d already pleasured herself by replaying the scenario, longing to be stripped naked again by Alex’s austere gaze and ruthless hand and be soothed by the honey of his tongue and fingers.

The soreness had already faded. The aftermath, the tender kissing and licking of her wounds, was still raw in her memory. She struggled to make sense of her encounter with Alex. The emotions were too powerful and heady, and all of them had been tasted at once. There was guilt and shame at having provoked him into spanking her and at having whimpered and enjoyed it. There was lust, so overwhelming that she locked her thighs together right now. There was fear too, partly of what Alex might have in store for her on their next meeting, but even worse, that he might have nothing in store for her at all.