"Are you ready?" I breathed, one hand coming up to cup her cheek, resting my heated forehead against her own.
"Do you even have to fucking ask me that?" She hissed, taking me into her hand once again, sliding my tip up and down along her slit. My eyes closed in anticipation and pleasure.
"No, look at me," she snapped. My eyes opened and she didn't hesitate before crossing that one final line. Instinct took over and my hands closed around her hips, her legs locking around my waist as I took the first thrust. Her slight fingers pulled on my hair, tension filling her body as I began to build my rhythm. The fire between us had reached the heat of a super nova and I knew that I could explode at any second. My breathing hitched as I picked up the pace, pounding ruthlessly into her. The tension between us was stifling. I had two weeks of pent up sexual frustration boiling inside of me and I could feel in the terrible way that she clung to me that she felt the same.
"Holy fuck, Harry," she cried, her fingers yanking furiously on the roots of my hair as her body shuddered around me, sending me into my own climax. Our breathing was fractured, but for the first time since I'd laid eyes on Darien Grace I felt nothing but pure unadulterated bliss.
Darien Grace
"Fuck," he groaned, his gloriously inked chest rising and falling in a fractured rhythm beneath me, our skin sticking together in that deliciously familiar way.
"Yes, we did 'fuck', twice actually," I grinned, pushing myself up so that I was leaning over him, an amethyst curtain falling down to shield our faces from the world. I could see my reflection in his pleasure-glazed irises. Wild violet waves framed a full, smirking mouth, swollen and flushed from our adventures; azure eyes hooded, the over all image oddly familiar to that of the classic depictions of sirens in Greek Mythology. He was my sailor and we were far, far, far from shore. We were drowning in our own personal sea of ecstasy. Stella lay immobile in a pleasure induced coma, too spent from all of the activity in the past twenty four hours to even think of complaining.
"You didn't come first," I mumbled, still unable to move past the fact that he hadn't made me wait. He actually had some control over his own body and he actually knew how to use it. I was notoriously a hard girl to please— a fact that I have always been damn proud of— but, for once sex had been short, not because he was premature, but because he was that damn good. I was spellbound. It was the first time that anyone had ever made me come first. Ever. How was that even fucking possible? The guy always came first; It made no sense to me.
"What?"
"You made me come first. Both times. That never happens."
"You obviously haven't met a proper gentleman then," he let out a breathy laugh, pulling one skilled hand back through his mussed hair. I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep my mouth from popping open as I marveled at the way the muscles in his arms and chest moved beneath the decorated layer of flesh. Those button-ups were not doing him any favors. Would it be possible for him to teach shirtless?
"Ah, but I don't think a proper gentlemen would know half of the material you just demonstrated. You're quite the enthusiast, Professor— a real animal," I mocked, my smirk widening as his eyes clamped shut, his thumb and forefinger predictably coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"I'm so fucked."
"Oh, thoroughly, Sir. Most definitely. Just imagine how often this could have already happened if you hadn't kept that stick up your ass."
"Jesus fucking Christ. You don't get it do you?" His voice hardened suddenly, his hand catching mine as I went to brush a few stay hairs off of his forehead. They had fallen into his face while he was pounding into me against the wall during the second round.
"Please enlighten me."
"I could lose my job. Caleb could lose his job. I thought he was supposed to mean something to you? If someone finds out that we fucked even once we're all finished." He pushed himself up off of the ground, scattering the sheet music that he had thrown off of the piano sometime during our sexcapades. Frowning, I snatched my leggings from where he'd thrown them, shimmying into them sans-panties. He already had his jeans back on and was buckling his belt.
"Good thing it wasn't just once, then," I huffed, ruffling my hair out, searching the room for my borrowed button-up.
"Not the poi- Oh, God. Oh, God! We left the door open?" He exclaimed, his hands knotting into his sex styled locks.
"I like it kinky, you know, that extra edge of danger," I grinned retrieving the shirt from behind the door, pulling my arms through the soft fabric, not bothering to mess with a single button.
"What if someone had come by? Holy fuck." He was rapidly descending into a full on panic attack.
"Jesus, Harry. It's four in the morning. The only people insane enough to be anywhere near this place right now are the two of us. You need to relax. Sex is supposed to be stress relief." I chided, stalking up to him, taking his flushed face in between my hands. He visibly stiffened at my touch before all of his muscles uncoiled; he'd obviously lost some internal battle.
"That wasn't my point. You were careless, Darien."
"Me? I was the careless one? Sweetheart, you're the one who couldn't keep his dick in his pants. I just came in to see who the hell was in my room. Our happy endings were just a pleasant surprise. We're both to blame in this situation. Embrace it."
"You're dangerous to a man's health," he breathed, hazel eyes dark and foreboding. I cursed internally as Stella yawned lazily, on the fringe of consciousness. She was already sore and needed a break, but I guess she was on a binge after being celibate for nearly three months.
"So are blue balls," I smirked, tugging him just a little closer by the buckle of his belt.
"Why? Why are you always like this?" He breathed, as his eyes searching my own.
"Daddy issues," I shrugged, my grin faltering for a split second before returning in perfect condition. Concern and confusion were clear on his face, and, just for a heartbeat, I was hit with the urge to tell him. Caleb and John knew some of it, but no one knew how bad it got after she died. I hated talking about it. It was in the past and the past should be left alone. I'd put it behind me, that was a part of Darien's life. When I moved to New York I got to experiment, I got to become an entirely different person. I was Ren Grace; notorious, gorgeous, and completely unattached. I was new and improved and nothing, I meant nothing, was ever going to make me regress.
"Darien-."
"Aren't you late for your afternoon tea?" I laughed, slapping him lightly on the cheek before turning to leave.
"It's the middle of the night." He sighed.
"Yeah, yeah. Technicalities." A piece of flimsy black lace caught my eye and I had a wicked idea. Scooping up my underwear, I turned back to a still dazed Harry. "See you in class, Professor," I purred, my lips dangerously close to his ear. I slid my hand deep into his front pocket before pulling away. When I looked down, a little piece of black lace caught my eye, peaking out of the dark denim. I sealed my lips to his one last time before turning and stalking out of the room without a backward glance.
"Only if I still have my job." His voice followed me out into the hallway and I just smirked. He'd find my little present later, just a little thing to make sure that he knew just how stuck he was. I'd gotten a taste and now, I was hooked.
As I made my way across the deserted campus to the McKenney household, I couldn't help but let out a hysterical laugh. I'd just banged my teacher. I was that girl. Well, at least I would have interesting stories for the grandkids.
***
"Ren, you know the rules, get up!" I groaned, flipping over, onto my stomach, pulling one of the many pillows on my bed over my head, doing my best to block out the relentless voice.
"Ren, come on!" I ignored him, relishing in the soft embrace of feather pillows and my down comforter.
"Darien Amelia Grace! Wake up and get your ass in the shower! You smell like sex." Caleb ordered, grabbing onto my ankles and literally pulling me out of bed. I hit the hardwood floor in a tangled mess of sheets.
"Sex is a great smell," I groaned, propping my elbow up on my knee and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"Yes well the good people of St. Mary's won't take too kindly to one of their devout parishioners shuffling in smelling like she's just gone ten rounds in a brothel."
"Actually, Poppa Bear, it was five with two incredibly talented and oh so orgasmic specimens of the male origin," I sighed, leaning my head back against the plush king-sized mattress. I popped one eye open to bask in his predictably annoyed expression.
"What happened to our 'don't ask, don't tell' policy, Missy?"
"What can I say? I'm a rule breaker," I yawned.
"Yeah, well you're going to follow these or no more late night slumber parties in this house. Get your ass up and into the shower. We're leaving in an hour."
"Dear God, why?"
"You just answered your own question. God. Saturday Mass. Jasmine is already downstairs, dressed with John," Caleb huffed, walking towards the door, "Oh, and Ren? Try not to give Mrs. Williams a coronary this time. Keep it classy. We're going to be in the house of the Lord."
"You sure I won't get struck by lightning?" I laughed, pulling myself up out of the knot of sheets and shuffling toward the adjoining bathroom that Jas and I shared.
"I don't know. You're the one always talking about living on the 'wild side'. Time to take your own advice," He shrugged, swinging the door closed behind him.
"It's funny because you're gay and Catholic," I mumbled, turning the dial for the shower to 'hot', letting the water fly out of the three nozzles imbedded into the tile wall.
Perks of being practically adopted by a loaded professor at one of the nations most well known institutions and his partner, a New York Times best selling mystery and thriller author: five star, spa quality showers.
Popping the buttons on my new favorite Armani button-up, I slipped out of it and tossed it into the bin across the room. The story that went along with that top was definitely one I wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.
A solid forty-five minutes later, I was showered, dressed and applying the last bit of black to my winged eyeliner. I really needed to learn not to spend the night at the McKenney's on Friday nights. Anywhere would be better... maybe Greg would let me stay at the house?
My closet wasn't exactly made for "Catholic Mass". My beige slip dress hit a solid seven inches above my knees and exposed my entire back all the way down to the base of my spine. Top it off with my cropped leather jacket and black suede Steve Madden booties and I was set.
Slinging my jacket over my shoulder, I left the third story and made my way down to the kitchen on the first. When I'd first come to New York, the lack of space had really thrown me off, everything was stacked on top of everything else. The McKenney's townhouse was massive for the area and I knew that they had to pay a fortune to keep it. I couldn't complain though, the stairs had done wonders for my legs and kept me from having to go to the gym unless I really wanted to.
John was waiting for me with a cappuccino fresh from the Starbucks on the corner when I stepped into the kitchen. Jas was already perched on a bar stool, a bowl of greek yogurt and fresh fruit in front of her.
"Morning, Sleezy," John greeted, grinning at me from over his own cup of heavily creamed coffee.
"Morning, Judge-y," I shot back, cradling the cappuccino between both of my hands before walking towards the seat next to Jas.
"Don't even think about it. I already made you a bowl and it's in the fridge," she huffed, guarding her bowl with the end of her spoon.
"What makes you think I'd take your food?" I grinned, pecking her on the cheek.
"Oh, give it a rest," she laughed, extending her spoon armed hand toward the stainless steal refrigerator.
"I appreciate the thought, but I'm good with my coffee" I chuckled, setting my cup down on the counter before taking a seat myself. I had only been sitting for about a minute before there was a knock on the front door. I didn't even bother moving, anticipating the words I knew were about to come out of Mr. Mom's mouth.
"I've got it," John announced, already moving toward the front door.
"So where did you disappear to all night? I didn't even hear you come in."
"I was in the practice rooms until around four," I replied, avoiding the subject that would set John off. He was notorious for having a "savior complex".
"Oh?" She grinned, popping a spoonful of yogurt and blueberries into her mouth. Muffled voices trickled into the kitchen from the entry, distracting me, so I simply mouthed "later".
"I just came by to drop these off for Caleb." Stella jolted awake at the familiar voice and I could already feel the heat growing between my thighs. Whatever happened to the concept of "relief"? The reaction didn't even have time to build anymore, it was just immediate need. It was like some one had flipped the sex switch and I was suddenly rearing and ready to go three rounds in the ring.
"Well, come on in and take a seat; he just went back into the bedroom to grab a jacket. Have some coffee, we were just getting ready to head over to St. Mary's," John said, two pairs of footfalls heading our way.
"Thank you, sir."
"You know, you should really join us for Mass, I know Caleb would be thrilled!"
"Oh, no, I couldn't impose on you anymore than I already am. I'm so sorry for interrupting your breakfast."
"Nonsense, I insist. It's no trouble at all! How do you like your coffee?" I shifted in my seat as the door swung open, golden rimmed eyes immediately widened as they met my own. The atmosphere in the room shifted in a fraction of a second, the tension escalating in the span of a heartbeat.
"I actually don't drink coffee and I really do need to be going-."
"Harry!" Caleb cheered, bursting into the kitchen, a massive grin on his face, burgundy jacket in hand, "I do hope you're up for Mass!"
"Dr. McKenney, I do really need to get back to work-."
"You work too hard, take some time for the Lord and relax," Caleb ordered, refusing to take no for an answer, "Now everybody finish up, we're leaving in five." I didn't know whether I should be thanking Caleb's God or cursing him. I guess, I'd have a bit of time to make up my mind; there was no way Caleb was letting either of us out of this "family excursion".