Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls #1) (10 page)

I continue sucking and pulling on him, the ache in my pussy spiking every time I slide my mouth down his shaft.

He’s so tight I think he’s about to come in my mouth. Maybe he was, because he grabs me firmly by both shoulders and pulls me to my feet.

He kisses me hungrily, backing us up until we reach the dining table behind us. His hands are all over me and he’s kissing my neck, my chest—the bra goes flying—my breasts, my stomach.

He yanks down my panties, grabs me around the hips, and sets me on the edge of the table. Spreading my thighs open his mouth dives into the lips of my aching sex.

I gasp and arch my back, falling back on my elbows.

He’s licking and sucking me so eagerly the room starts to tilt. He reaches up and rubs my stomach and aching breasts. I fall all the way back, helpless to do more than hang on to his biceps as he laps me into a heated stupor.

I’m aching to feel him inside me. “I want you,” I say.

He’s working my clit so furiously I don’t think I can hang on much longer. I’m throbbing so strongly I can’t believe I haven’t gone over, yet I’m climbing even higher. I want his hard cock in me so badly.

“I need you now. Please.”

He grabs my hips firmly with both hands, licking me harder, demanding I climax. He thrusts two fingers inside me and I comply, crying out as my orgasm shatters me again and again, my heels shaking as my body is consumed with pleasure.

I grab onto his hair, clutching him against me as his tongue skates over my pulsing clit. My body convulses repeatedly until at last I release him and sink back, my legs dangling helplessly over the side of the table.

Well, hello to you too,
I think. I’m panting, trying to catch my breath, barely aware of my surroundings.

He grabs my wrists and pulls me up. He’s standing now and his jeans are off—when did he manage that?—and I get a glimpse of his hard cock—when the hell did he put a condom on??—before he lifts me and starts to carry me.

“You still want me?” he whispers thickly.

“Yes,” I breathe. My legs are wrapped around his waist and I’m pressing myself against his erection, wishing he were inside me already.

He grabs my ass with both hands and angles my hips. I feel the tip of his cock just at my entrance, then he presses me down and I slide all the way down his shaft.

I moan, clinging to him, his cock inside me as he’s still carrying me. As soon as we’re on the carpeted floor of the living room, we sink to the floor, his strong arms keeping me in position so we stay connected.

I lie back and he’s soon on top of me, riding me. My pussy is full of him and doesn’t seem to know if it’s tingling and coming down from the high of an orgasm or aching and building toward another. Two more thrusts and it’s clear. I open myself wider, hungry for him.

“Oh yes. Take me.”

He presses his mouth on mine, our tongues eager for each other. He runs his hand down my neck and to my breast, squeezing as he continues to ride me. I hang on to his shoulders and back, which are as firm and tense as his cock. I feel him building to his release and I’m riding the wave with him. The harder his cock gets, the higher I go.

“Fuck me hard, Shane.”

And he does. He’s gripping me and pounding me vigorously. I cry out and lights burst behind my closed lids as we come together. His thrusts are erratic as he fills me, my walls pumping out every last drop. I cry out, gently biting his firm shoulder as I contract repeatedly, legs trembling.

At last we relax, our sweat-soaked bodies loosely wrapped around each other.

I look at him and give him what I’m sure is a dopey smile. This high is going to last awhile. He chuckles and gives me a kiss before rolling off me and collapsing onto his back.

My stomach and breasts feel cold with his absence, but he pulls me to him until my chest and stomach are pressed against his side. Still panting, I rest my head on his shoulder and heavily throw one knee over his leg.

“That was so much better than waiting until after dinner,” I say.

He laughs and I smile, weakly hugging his chest. My whole body is limp.

The oven timer starts to buzz. He groans and I look up at him. He looks at me a second too, clearly not ready to leave my side yet. He leans down to give me a kiss.

With the timer buzzing in the background, he deepens the kiss, taking all I willingly give him for another full minute before finally giving up and walking his naked ass into the kitchen to turn off the timer.

“Don’t burn anything important,” I call after him.

After a delicious dinner, which we ate outside again, we moved indoors to talk on the couch. At first we simply sat next to each other, but we’ve since rearranged. My head’s in his lap and he’s gently playing with my hair. We’re fully dressed again, but my legs are outstretched and my bare feet are resting on the arm of the couch.

Our conversation has circled around to the books he lent me just a few days ago. That afternoon in his office feels like a million years ago, instead of only two days.

“Have you had a chance to look at them yet?” he asks easily.

I’ve been too busy seducing and fucking my professor,
I think, but I answer with a simple, “No.”

He smiles, unconcerned. He looks about as relaxed as I feel. “The second one I gave you is my favorite.”

“What do you like so much about it?”

He watches his hand as he runs his fingers through my long hair, from root to tip and back again.

“The author’s arguments are very clear and well-grounded, from a philosophical viewpoint. So there’s that. But, I find it comforting as a human being. Even after I lost my faith as a teen...”

“You used to believe in God?”

He nods. “My parents don’t attend church, except for holidays sometimes. My grandparents are pretty religious. Baptist. But yes, I believed when I was younger, until... I just couldn’t any more. It really doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. But I still wanted to be a good person. I had this notion, thanks to my grandfather, that atheists were evil deviants.” Shane gives me an amused smile. “He doesn’t get out much.”

I laugh.

“But I was young and still held by some of the ideas I’d grown up with. Then I discovered this book and there, in one volume, was a logical basis for nurturing the great values in ourselves. Generosity. Compassion. Mercy. Honesty...”

A shadow falls briefly over his countenance and he glances at me. I wonder if he’s thinking it’s not terribly honest to be sleeping with one of his students.

“I do try to be honest,” he says. He looks away and sighs. I feel a twinge of guilt. Not for breaking the rules, I’m over that. But for causing him this kind of discomfort. “Anyway,” he says, lighter now, “that book helped me understand why those virtues are so valuable, and it was my first introduction to philosophy.”

He glances at me and smiles broadly. “I was hooked.”

I smile and lightly rub my fingertips along his forearm, which is resting on my stomach. He’s a pretty godly atheist, if you ask me, but I don’t say so.

Instead I continue lightly rubbing his arm and he continues stroking my hair. I ask him about his schooling and he tells me about his years here at Hartman—which he loved—and his stint earning his masters at Tufts University in Massachusetts—which he decidedly did not.

“It was a great program,” he says, “but the winters there
.
Ugh. Longest two winters of my life.”

“Not what you’re used to?” I ask, realizing I don’t even know where he’s from.

“Ugh, no,” he says, making a disgusted face. “I grew up in Arizona, so I’m used to sun and plenty of it. I don’t know how people can stand living with so many gray skies. It was depressing. I could physically feel it weighing on me.”

If all goes well, I’ll be spending a few winters in Massachusetts myself. I wonder how I’ll feel about all the snow. I want to go to Harvard so badly, though, I’d live in an igloo to do it, if I had to.

“When I started looking at doctoral programs,” Shane continues, “my advisor really wanted me to apply to Princeton. They’re the best and it would’ve been an honor to get in but...” he makes that disgusted face again, “the
snow
.”

“You’re a blue sky boy, huh?”

“Definitely. Coming back to Hartman was perfect for me. This may sound weird, but I missed Hartman and central California the whole time I was back east. I could live here the rest of my life and be happy. And their doctoral program is top notch.”

I smile up at him. His face has this glow, like he’s living his dream. There’s something about getting a glimpse of his dreams that makes me feel closer to him.

We rest in comfortable silence for a while, then I say, “Okay. One thing on your bucket list. Go.”

He chuckles at me. “I don’t know if I can pick just one.”

“That’s the rule.”

“What rule?”

“The rule I made up just now.”

He laughs. “Hmmm. Okay. Actually, I guess it’s not that hard to tell you my top choice. I’ve always wanted to go snorkeling.”

“Oooh, that’s a good one. I love snorkeling. You’ve never been?”

He shakes his head. “No. One day.”

As I caress his arm, he turns his hand palm up so his fingers can trail along the underside of my arm.

“Your turn,” he says.

“Hmm... I don’t know.” His hand is lightly caressing my side now. It’s hard to think with him distracting me like this. My hand advances up his forearm, along his bicep, and to his shoulder. God, I love how he feels.

“No getting out of it,” he says grinning, moving his hand to my stomach. “It was your question.”

“Um...” What were we talking about? “Oh,” I say. Top of my list. “I want to sleep under the stars.”

“I’ve done that before,” he says. “It’s pretty cool.”

I bring my fingertips back down his arm and to his hand, which is gently rubbing my stomach.

“Or shower in a waterfall,” I add.

“You said only one.”

“Well,” I say, slowly rolling over and climbing onto his lap. “It’s kind of one.”

“How do you figure?” He runs both his hands up my thighs and under the fabric of my skirt.

“They’re both outdoorsy things, so they count as one. I could shower under the waterfall then sleep under the stars. And don’t you dare say that’s a logical fallacy.”

He laughs then looks at me tenderly. My heart dances around in my chest.

“No,” he says quietly, “I wouldn’t dare.”

“You know,” I say, my heart pounding a bit. “I did a Google search of my own. On you.”

He raises his eyebrows, his hands firm against my ass. “Looking into my seedy criminal background, huh?”

I smile and shake my head. “No. Your name.”

“I thought you didn’t need to Google ‘Brook’,” he teases.

“Shane is a variant of Sean,” I say kissing his nose, “which is a variant of John,” I say kissing his cheek, “which means God is gracious.” I kiss his mouth. A soft, lingering kiss where we each draw in a deep breath. His hands travel up my back and he pulls me into a firm embrace. I feel him growing against me.

I pull back and he smiles at me. “Well, that was gracious.”

I slide my hand across his shoulder and down to his chest, running my hand over first one pec, then the other. I can’t stop touching his chest.

“You are without a doubt the sexiest philosophy professor I’ve ever seen,” I say. “Sexiest professor of
any
class actually. It seems like you should be teaching... I don’t know...
modeling
or something.”

He laughs. “Philosophy isn’t sexy?”

I think about his blazer. “Baby, you make everything sexy.”

He smiles, but it fades. I recognize this look. I shouldn’t have reminded him he’s my professor. Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut?

Our gaze locks and our hands still. “You know,” he says quietly, “some schools would look the other way with a situation like this, but not Hartman. And they’re right not to. When professors misuse their power, it’s the students who end up abused and victimized.”

“Do you think you’re abusing and victimizing me?”

Frowning, he takes a moment to answer. “I hope not.”

“I don’t think you are,” I say softly.

“But would you realize it if I were?”

I climb off his lap but stay curled next to him, taking his hand in mine and looking him in the eye. “Listen, what are the problems students face when they date a professor? They might need a letter of recommendation and feel they have to trade sexual favors to get it, right? Or they might feel their grades are at stake. You’re not even in my department. No offense, but this is a rinky dink class I’m taking to clear my humanities requirement.”

“Rinky dink!”

I have to laugh at his mortified expression. “It’s nothing against the discipline, obviously. I have a lot of respect for the field.” I put my hand on his chest to emphasize my point. “I’m interested in it and that’s why I took the class. But, I’m sorry to tell you, Mr. I’m So Much More Powerful Than You, you’re totally not. Sucking your cock doesn’t really affect my future as a microbiologist.”

He looks shocked by that last comment for a second, then laughs. “Yeah, well, if we get caught it might affect your future. Mine too, for that matter.”

Then I realize I’m not just gambling with my future here. I’m asking him to gamble with his. He definitely has more to lose than I do.

Maybe I’m being unfair. I lay my head on his arm, no longer smiling. “So...” I say, “Do you want to stop?”

Looking me in the eye, he absently rubs his fingertips on my stomach. “Want? No. I don’t want to stop. Even though there is no doubt in my mind this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done and I know we may live to regret it... No. What I want is to be right here with you, right now. And tomorrow. And the next day. And for as many days as I can get until it all comes crashing down.”

“You’re such a cute little catastrophist,” I say, giving him a kiss. “All we have to do is not get caught.”

He smiles, but a frown immediately chases it away, as if a new thought has brought on a fresh worry.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s just that... so many times victims go along willingly. Only once they’re out of a bad situation do they realize what it really was.”

I exhale forcefully. “For the love of god, stop calling me a victim!”

“I’m not!” he says.

“Aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just...
worried
about it. What if that’s what’s happening and neither one of us realizes it?”

“Shane,” I say firmly, looking him in the eye. “You are not victimizing me.” He seems to be desperately hanging on my every word. “I
want
to be here,” I continue, “and if I didn’t I’d have
zero
problem walking out that door. Seriously. You’re sweet and have a good heart and I like that about you but you have
got
to stop talking like this. I mean, do you see me as less than you?”

“No! God. You’re brilliant and amazing and when I forget about the fact that I’m your professor, you’re just
you.
Gorgeous, intelligent, sexy you. When I forget, you’re more like... my peer.”

“Now
that’s
better! ‘Peer’ is a word I can get behind.”

He smiles, drawing me closer. “I’d like to get behind
you.”

I smile. I like the sound of that
.

“You fantastic woman, you,” he adds, smiling.

I would tell him to stop flattering me, but I like it.

“Fantastic woman,” I say with a sensual pull in my voice. “That’s another one I approve of.”

He pulls me into one of his amazing kisses. The kind I feel all over my body.

But the place I feel it most, is in my heart.