Lost in Light (8 page)

“Yes, you’re like Christian,” I blurted.

In response to his puzzled frown I explained, “You know, Christian Grey in Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Instantly his brow smoothed and his eyes sparkled as he burst into hearty laughter.

“No, Miss Parker, I am
not
like Christian Grey. I’m not a bored multi-millionaire with a dark and tortured past,” he said through his laughter. “I simply enjoy making your body sing,” he added in a low and serious tone that made the heat pooled low in my belly flare back into a raging inferno, my mouth suddenly dry. Reflexively moistening my lips in nervous arousal I couldn’t help the hitch in my breath at his visibly hungry gaze, his eyes watching the movement of my tongue.

“Did you enjoy what I did to you?” he asked, stepping closer to me, his movement causing a fresh surge of anxious excitement to race through my veins.

Again I was forced to consider my unexpected reaction to the spanking he had given me. It had been shocking and painful but it was the sound of his hand striking my flesh that had the greater effect on me. Now that it was over, the pain was dissolving into a deep warmth in my skin that somehow felt so right.

And there was no denying the thoroughly soaked state of my underwear. My cheeks burned furiously at the thought of what he had done to me.

“Well?” he prompted, the dark and heated look in his eyes telling me that he already knew the answer.

“Yes,” I whispered, unable to maintain eye contact.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said softly into the silence. The touch of his warm fingers under my chin made the air whoosh out of me as electricity seemed to arc between us. Tilting my chin upwards he drew my widened eyes up to meet his own. “Your reaction was perfectly natural, and quite exquisite,” he added, the last spoken almost in reverence.

Again his words made my stomach flutter in unexpected excitement, my lips forming a silent “Oh!” Yet there was that niggling uncertainty at the back of my mind. Was my reaction so normal? I wasn’t sure.

My doubt must have shown on my face because moments later he asked, “What’s troubling you?”

“I-I’m not sure what to think. I mean, is it normal for someone to react like this? Does it mean I’m a sick pervert because I liked what you did?” I asked, my eyes glued to the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

“Miss Parker… Rachel, I can assure you that there was nothing abnormal about the way your body responded to me. Pervert is such a subjective word, and one that I generally avoid using because of that fact,” he said, smiling gently. “A pervert is simply someone who is kinkier than you. Yes, to some, you might seem like a pervert for having enjoyed me giving you a thorough spanking, but to someone else in the scene you’re still just an innocent.”

“The scene?”

“It’s just another term for the BDSM lifestyle,” he shrugged.

Fundamentally I knew what the terms meant, but I was utterly naïve to what they really entailed. However, I had the feeling that he would be more than happy to educate me.

“When can I see you again?” I asked nervously, tugging at the hem of my shirt and shifting from one foot to the other.

For a long moment he remained silent, regarding me with a hot and heavy gaze that made my nipples stiffen. Finally he tore a piece of paper off of a notepad on his desk and held out a pen to me.

“Write down your email address… not your student address, Miss Parker,” he said rolling his eyes at me. I quickly scribbled down my personal email address and handed the pen and paper back to him.

“Do you have plans for tomorrow evening?”

Shaking my head in reply he smiled with what I could only perceive as excitement.

“Check your email in the morning. I’ll have instructions for you.”

“Instructions?” I warbled. His smile dissolved in a devious smirk, his eyes alight with amusement and something darker.

“Yes, instructions. And I expect you to follow all of them,” he intoned darkly, reaching out to stroke a thumb over my cheek, leaving me breathless and rocking up on to the balls of feet to stay in contact with him just one second longer.

His thumb followed the curve of my cheek down to my lips, ghosting along my lower lip. I shivered in anticipation when his other hand rose to cradle the back of my head, titling my face up towards him as he bent closer to me, his mouth mere inches from my own. I could feel his breath on my face and taste it as I inhaled. It was warm and sweet, and held the lingering traces of mint. My entire body thrummed with the desire to kiss him, to finally taste his lips and tongue.

With unbridled passion he crushed my lips to his, his kiss fierce and demanding as if he would devour me inch by inch starting with my mouth. The hot line of his tongue pressed against my lips, seeking entrance, and I willingly obeyed. He eagerly drew my moan into himself as his tongue probed my mouth. My hands rose of their own volition to fist the front of his shirt, his skin hot and firm through the fabric. A deep rumble of pleasure vibrated through his chest and into my fingers in response to my hands tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer to me.

I suddenly found myself turned and pressed up against the edge of his desk, the wood digging into my sore butt, making me moan in both pleasure and pain. Instinctively my legs rose and wrapped around him, pulling him tight against me so the hard line of his erection rubbed against my sex through our clothes. He growled into me before tearing his mouth away from mine, trailing his lips down to my neck where he peppered my skin with soft kisses.

“God, I want to fuck you,” he breathed against my ear, the heat of his breath and the raw passion in his words making my center clench tightly, my back arching to press my breasts and stiff nipples against him.

“Yes,” I moaned, my head falling back to expose my neck to him. His stubble scratched lightly against my skin while his mouth moved up and down my throat, lingering over my racing pulse which he licked with agonizing slowness. My nails dug into his shoulder through his shirt, his head snapping back as he hissed aloud at the pain which seemed to cool his desire long enough for him to collect his thoughts. Resting his forehead against mine he breathed raggedly, his eyes closed as he fought for control of his passion.

“I think perhaps we had better go home… alone, before I really do end up fucking you right here on my desk,” he said in a pained voice. With gentle touches he disentangled my legs from their vice-like grip around his waist. Stepping back from me he ran a visibly shaking hand over his hair, his chest rising and falling with ever increasing slowness. I whimpered at the loss of his body pressed against mine, my blood still aflame with need and savage desire.

“No arguments,” he added at the look of protest on my face. “One of us has to keep a clear head, and with all those newly awakened sensations buzzing around in your system, it certainly isn’t going to be you. Your first time should be special. I want you to feel as if you can’t live another second without my cock inside you when I fuck you for the first time.”

“I feel like that now!”

His chuckle was rich and dark like chocolate when he cupped my face gently. “My sweet innocent girl, you haven’t even begun to understand what need is.”

I was about to voice my protests when he handed me my bag, careful not to touch me, whether out of fear of reigniting my desire, or his, I wasn’t sure. With a defeated sigh I accepted my bag and waited in the art room as he locked up his office and cleared away his painting supplies, throwing a large drop cloth over the canvas before I could get a good look at it.

We walked in comfortable silence out into the cool night air, the feel of it against my skin a stark contrast to the heat Professor Davis had inspired within me, causing me to shiver and huddle closer to him, seeking his warmth. Only a handful of cars were still in the parking lot beside my Jeep and a black motorcycle parked a couple spots away. Professor Davis fished his keys out of his pocket as he came to a halt beside the bike.

“Nice bike.”

I eyed the low slung, matte black motorcycle appreciatively. It somehow looked sexy and menacing at the same time, which I supposed was rather appropriate considering its owner. Adjusting his messenger bag so that it lay diagonally across his body, he picked up a plain black helmet from the back of the bike.

“Thanks,” he replied with genuine pleasure, flashing me a rare smile devoid of teasing undertones.

“But I thought all tough guys rode Harleys,” I quipped with a playful grin.

Swinging his leg over the seat to straddle the bike, a sight that made me almost swoon, he paused with his helmet in his hands resting on the gas tank and replied smoothly, “I don’t feel the need to play dress up on Sundays, Miss Parker.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of his comment, but I felt the conviction in his words and nodded mutely in reply. With practiced ease he brought the bike instantly rumbling to life, the sound reverberating through my bones and down into the pit of my stomach. Unbidden images of me straddling him on the bike, the vibrations rippling through us both while he attacked my neck and breasts with his lips rose in my mind, drawing a rush of heat into my cheeks. Smiling at me he opened the visor on his helmet before sliding it on over his head.

“Go home, Rachel. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his words muffled by his helmet and the rumble of the bike, his eyes crinkling at the corners with this smile.

Touching my fingers to my temple in a mock salute I said, “Yes, Sir!” blushing when he arched his brow at me, his eyes suddenly alight with renewed heat.

He waited until I had gotten into my Jeep and started the engine before snapping down the visor and pulling out of the parking lot. I watched him disappear down the street, recalling the sensation of his hand on my backside and his lips on my throat. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts I eased out of the parking spot and began the short drive home.

I fired up my laptop as soon as I got home, my fingers shaking with nervous excitement and the remaining adrenaline buzzing in my veins. I growled several colorful obscenities under my breath targeted at the cable company as my homepage seemed to take an eternity to load.

My heart fluttered when I saw an email sitting in my inbox from Matt Davis. Opening it I couldn’t help the wry smile that curved my lips. His email contained only three words. “Go to bed!” Snorting and rolling my eyes I shut down my computer and stood up from my desk. Changing into my sleep shorts and a tank top I climbed into bed, smiling sleepily as Ansel curled up beside me.

Chapter Six

I stretched languidly in bed, my muscles loose and liquid. Yawning and cracking my eyes open I found my room still filled with the gloom of early morning. Glancing at the bedside table my alarm echoed the fact that it was still early enough to roll over, bury my head under the pillows, and go back to sleep. Sliding deeper into the covers, my shorts rubbed against my still sore butt and I remembered the events of the evening before. Smiling sleepily, I recalled his email, sounding so commanding even through those three simple words. I sank deep into the pillows and then bolted upright.

His email!

Throwing back the covers earned me a disgruntled meow from Ansel. Ignoring his plaintive cry I bounded out of bed and over to my computer. Cursing and growling at my computer, internet connection, and anything else remotely tech related I waited for it to boot up and my email to load. Several emails sat in my inbox, all junk except for one. Taking a deep breath to calm my sudden flood of nervousness I opened it and quickly read over his words.

From: Matt Davis

Sent: Saturday, September 01, 2012 06:48 AM

To: Rachel Parker

Subject: Good Morning

I hope you slept well, Miss Parker.

Below are your instructions for our meeting this evening. As I said last night, I expect you to obey all of these instructions as I will be checking. Dinner will be prepared and ready at 7:30pm, you should arrive by 7. Here are directions to my house.

Now, on to your instructions:

1. You are to wear a dress or skirt that falls above the knee
   
2. You are not to wear any make-up
   
3. Your hair must be secured in a braid
   
4. You may wear a bra (something sexy if you like), but you are not permitted to wear any panties
   
5. You should be freshly bathed with all body hair removed
   

You are welcome to email me back with any questions or concerns.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

M. Davis

Breathless and shell-shocked, I read and re-read his email until the words were emblazoned upon my mind. Despite my hoped for success in, well, seducing him, his words were no less startling with each successive reading.

Not permitted to wear underwear? Shaved… down there?
I blushed just at the thought of it.

I couldn’t possibly do the things he was asking me to! And yet, I knew that to refuse would mean an end to our arrangement. He had said as much the night before. The thought of that was more alarming than the idea of shaving my pubic hair. I wasn’t so naïve to not know that people did that, I’d seen the magazines my brother had kept hidden in the back of his closet. I had been fascinated and shocked by the women on those pages, so eagerly spreading their legs to show their privates that were as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

What would I look like if I did the same?Wrestling that embarrassing thought to the back of my mind, I focused on his other instructions. The rest of them were doable. Running trembling hands over my face I breathed in deeply and let my breath whistle out through my teeth.

Whoa boy, this is going to be interesting!

After several moments I decided that the best course of action was to tackle his instructions one item at a time. Clothes. Clothes I could do. Moving to the closet I looked at the clothes hanging neatly by type – jeans, slacks, shirts, and so on.

“Just need something a little sexy…” I murmured as Ansel twined between my ankles. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”