“Open. "
The tiled floor was cold under Cara's knees, but everywhere else was hot. Her exposed thighs, her pinkened ass, between her legs, between her moist lips... The scent of sandalwood was like a fire to the tinder of her nose, and her bound arms itched to reach up and rip off the blindfold keeping her in anticipatory darkness.
Somewhere in the background, a woman was singing about sex in a raspy hungry voice. His hand gripped her hair, just a little too tight, and he nudged her closed mouth with his cock.
“Open, " he said again, and she obeyed. A moan bubbled up in her throat as she tasted him, her tongue sliding around the head, against the pulsing vein on the underside. He let her play with him like that for a minute, maybe two, then he gripped more of her hair in his other hand and, without warning, shoved himself deep into her mouth.
#
“Miss Cooper!"
Cara jerked awake with a tiny squeak. Laughter rumbled all around her, and she could see Professor Jameson's disapproving glare through the strands of her unruly hair. Damn, he was good at remembering names; the freshman Law and Political Science class was barely a month old, yet he knew all their names already. It made her dozing habit a little difficult to pull off.
“Busy weekend?" Laurie, her best friend, asked with a nudge to her side, and Cara blushed and chuckled.
“You have no idea," she said. Her eyes darted to the large round clock hanging above Professor Jameson's head, then to the open double doors of the lecture hall. The one hour allocated to this lecture had elapsed, but no one was walking out. In fact, the air seemed charged with some kind of anticipation.
“Why's the class still on?" she asked.
A second later, the reason was revealed. A man walked into the lecture hall, and Cara felt the breath knocked out of her. He was beautiful - so beautiful it was almost revolting. When he stopped next to the professor and turned to face the class with an unsmiling expression, moisture seeped from Cara's body into her panties.
“This is Professor Benjamin Kincaid, " Professor Jameson said. “Like I mentioned earlier, he'll be covering for Dr Harris until she returns."
“Good afternoon, " the man - Professor Kincaid - said with a sharp nod. His gaze snagged on Cara's, and her breath locked in her throat. God, his eyes were beautiful. Dark - almost black - and unreadable... Was he actually looking at her? His expression didn't change when he said, “I'm looking forward to teaching you."
Cara nearly melted in her seat. She was hopeless for men with dispositions like ice. And she was supposed to sit through three hour-long sessions with him every week?
“Woah," Laurie breathed, jerking Cara's attention from the dark angel in front of them. “Did I imagine it, or did you and the sexy new professor just have a moment?"
Cara opened her mouth to laugh it off, but her phone vibrated in her lap. She glanced down at it, and something tightened low in her belly. It was a text message, almost cold in its brevity: an address, and a 5pm. Don't be late. J.
“I have to go," she said, gathering up her bags and books. “I'll see you tomorrow."
She didn't catch Laurie's protest in her flight down toward the exit, and she was so busy cramming her books into her bags that she didn't notice the obstacle in her path until she slammed into it face first.
It was like slamming into a bare electric wire. Current zipping into her body from every point of contact, so hot that she pulled her hands back and fell to the floor, sprawling in the same direction as her books.
“Oh my God, I'm so sorry," she muttered, scrambling to her knees to collect her books.
“You should watch where you're going," the new professor's voice said. Cara looked up to see him squatting on his haunches in front of her, holding her phone out to her.
“I'm sorry," she said again, grabbing her phone. “I have to run."
It was only after she'd got outside that she realised the message had still been on her screen, and the professor had probably seen it.
#
Cara met J at a masquerade party. It was one of those things the dorms did that were illegal but happened anyway. Students from other colleges drove in for her dorm's annual Masquerade Ball, and it tended to get really wild. No one knew who anyone really was, and there was lots of free alcohol, so there was a lot of sex, obviously.
Trying to remember exactly what happened was a little difficult for Cara. She'd been floating in an alcohol-induced haze when she'd bumped into him, her drink sloshing onto her dress and onto his shirt.
“Shit," she cursed, then she burped. She looked up, expecting an angry face, maybe some choice curse words, and instead got kicked in the gut by a sexy grin and eyes darker than night, framed by a black leather mask.
“An apology would be nice," the guy said, wiping the front of his shirt with his hands. Huh. Was that a glimpse of a six-pack under that wet shirt?
“You want a sponge bath with that apology?" the alcohol slurred on her behalf, then she clapped her hand over her mouth and said, “Shit. I'm sorry."
“Nah, a sponge bath would actually be nice," the guy said. “This shit is sticky."
Cara wasn't sure if he was joking or not. Tentatively, she said, “The bathrooms are just down that hall."
She half-expected him to give her a look of disgust, to at least laugh it off and leave her to her drunken shenanigans. Instead, he grinned that sexy grin at her and said, “Let's go."
The bathrooms were, surprisingly, empty. Probably because all the hooking up was taking place inside the rooms. Cara clicked the lock on the door shut and turned to face Sexy Grin. He'd whipped his shirt off already - that had been a six-pack she'd glimpsed, alright.
“Wow, we're moving too fast," she said. “You don't even know my name."
The guy paused with his shirt in his hand. “Okay. What's your name?"
“Cara. What's yours? Wait. I don't want to know."
She giggled and attempted to sashay in his direction. “Let's keep that secret. It's kind of the point of this thing, isn't it?"
Surprise, surprise, she tripped when she was maybe a meter from him, falling headfirst into his chest. Arms like bands of steel wrapped around her, steadying her first then lifting her away to look down into her masked face.
“Steady there," he said, and Cara felt like she could fall asleep inside of his voice. So deep, so soothing.
“You're really hot," she murmured. It was the alcohol, really, making her mouth run away with the things her brain was thinking.
“You're cute," Sexy Grin said, and Cara scrunched up her nose. Cute? Was that a good thing?
“It's a good thing," he said, like he was reading her mind, his mouth tilted up on one side.
“That sponge bath? You still want it?" Cara asked awkwardly, setting her hands on his. They were still planted on her waist, radiating heat toward her belly and her back. She felt them clench at her words, then release.
“You still want to give it?" he asked. Did she? Maybe with her tongue. She took the step that brought her body right up against him. He smelt like sandalwood and sweat, and if she rose on tiptoe, she could press her lips against his. And they were very nice lips. Soft-looking, a little fuller in the bottom, pink...
She gasped when his arms wrapped around her again, then squeaked when he lifted her up, her legs going around his waist automatically.
“This isn't how sponge baths usually go," she said breathlessly. He shut her up with his mouth on hers, and she moaned. Soft, so soft. And hot. She tasted something sweet and hard liquor on his tongue when it slipped into her mouth, then whimpered when he bit down on her lower lip. Heat gathered between her legs, and she squirmed against the hot feel of his erection against her thigh. Her hand dropped between them to fumble at his belt, and he turned her around to rest her ass on the sink.
“Let me," he growled against her lips, his hands pushing hers out of the way.
“Hurry," she gasped when his lips dropped to her neck. He pulled back to rip open a condom wrapper with his teeth, and Cara would've squeezed her thighs together if he hadn't been standing between them.
“Hurry," she said again, and he laughed midway rolling the condom on.
“So impatient."
His fingers dug into her thighs, and he pulled her ass to the edge of the sink.
“You're sure?" he asked, his cock in one hand and her panties held aside by the other. Cara sucked in a breath saturated with sandalwood and lust, and she nodded, breathing, “Hurry, hurry."
She wasn't prepared for his size when he pushed inside of her. It was barely the head, but the stretch was teetering on the edge of uncomfortable, and her nails bit into the skin of his arms.
“Too tight," he groaned against her neck. His shoulders tensed, like he was going to pull out, and Cara tightened her thighs around him, whimpering, “No, keep going."
He groaned again. “I need to prepare you."
For what? She was already wet. So wet she could hear herself when he pulled the head of his cock out and rubbed it around her opening. She hooked her legs around his hips. “I can take it."
His fingers hooked her panties to the side again, and his thumb rubbed gentle circles around her clit, sending little sparks down her legs.
“You're sure?" he asked again. She looked up into his dark eyes and felt herself sink into something warm and inescapable.
“I'm sure," she said. This time, when he slid into her, it was easier, better. The stretch was still there, but it was more stroke than bite, and it made her groan in the back of her throat.
“Good?" he asked against her open mouth.
“So good," she breathed, then lost her breath when he moved deeper into her. It made no sense, but she was on the edge already, and he hadn't really started moving. He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her into him, and he started to move.
She was loud. She knew she was loud. Her moans ricocheted off the walls; twice or thrice, someone banged on the door then gave up. She barely heard them over the rush of her impending orgasm.
“I'm going to come,"she gasped. He lifted her leg and started pounding into her at a new angle that made the spark in her clit bloom into a firework display.
“Oh God. I'm going to come."
The words were barely out when the orgasm hit. It hit like a fucking freight train, careening up from her curled toes to the top of her spine. As if from a distance, she heard him growl her name, felt him go rigid inside of her, but she was floating too high, too far away to realise it was over until he set her down on shaky legs.
“That was..." she let out a huge breath and leaned against the sink, watching him take care of the condom. God, he was still hot, even after the orgasm.
“I want to do that again," she said. He grinned that sexy grin again and strolled toward her.
“I thought you didn't want to know my identity."
“I don't have to," Cara said. There was still enough alcohol in her system that she could come up with the outlandish idea that spilled from her lips. “Let's meet once a week. At a venue of your choice."
His grin took on a dark slant. “Like fuck buddies?"
Cara shrugged. “Yeah, but I don't have to know who you are. You could walk past me on campus, and I'd never know it was you."
“What's in it for you?" he asked. She shrugged again. “I don't know - great orgasms?"
He laughed, reached into his back pocket, and handed her his phone.
“Every Saturday?" she asked as she typed in her number.
“Nah. Let me surprise you."
When her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket, she pulled it out and grinned at the number blinking at her.
“What name should I save it under?" she asked, and he smiled at her. "Just J."