Kaplan: Dr. Halperon stopped by my office. 

Me: You didn’t show her your drawer, did you? I’ll be highly disturbed if so. 

Kaplan: Thanks…that imagery is now living rent-free in my head, but not in a good way. More like in a “raccoons squatting in an abandoned building” kind of way. 

Me: Raccoons are supposedly cute. 

Kaplan: Sometimes also rabid. Anyway, Dr. Halperon had a comment about my new incense diffuser. She wanted to know where I got such a nice cherry scent. 

Me: Christ. I’m not sure I’m happy to be right this time. 

Kaplan: Well, I just thought you should know that it’ll be unscented next time. 

Me: You think there’s going to be a next time? 

I don’t know why, but my heartbeat doubles in rhythm and my face feels too hot while I watch those three dots bouncing on my screen as Kaplan taps out his reply.

Kaplan: Oh I know it, sweetheart. 

I reread that message before sliding my phone into my pocket, pushing away from the wall. My smile might be controlled on the surface, but the heat of it explodes in my chest.

I guess I’m not the only one who’s right today.

OceanofPDF.com

16

OceanofPDF.com

ELI

My lecture on neurodegenerative diseases and their impact on cognition is the last of the day, and a few students are starting to flag by the end. It’s early in the term. Some pupils are still finding their feet with the flow of classes and assignments and the turbulence that this stage of life can throw their way. But most remain attentive, and there’s a good discussion near the end about the next essay assignment before I dismiss them.

When the last student has gone, I start gathering my laptop and notes into my satchel, then check my phone for messages. One from Fletch. She loves her memes. A message from my motorcycle buddy Simon about an upcoming street race, the Autumn Adder, the last race of the season. Adrenaline surges through my veins with the thought of it, but I hold off on replying. Another message from one of my old trysts putting the feelers out for a hookup next weekend while she’s in town for a conference. I fire off a quick response to say I’ll be busy, but the truth is I’m just wholly disinterested. That’s it for messages. Not sure what else I was expecting, but for some reason, a sense of dismay and disquiet settles into my chest.

But that feeling is wiped clean with three simple words.

“Afternoon, Dr. Kaplan.”

My eyes dart up to the second row of terraced seats where Bria stands, leaning against the end of the long, curved table, her arms folded across her chest. I didn’t even hear a sound.

I release the tension from the strap of my satchel, leaving its weight on the table. “Bria.”

A smile as dark as the shadows of hell stalks across Bria’s face and I want nothing more than to dive into the flames that chase it.

Bria pushes her weight into the hip leaning against the sharp edge of the laminated wood to right herself. She takes her time to drift down the steps. “Neurodegenerative disorders and their impact on cognition. What’s next on your syllabus?”

She heard my lecture.

“You’re here to talk about my syllabus?”

Bria pauses on one step as her smile broadens. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Bria slowly ascends the stairs to the stage, rounding the table to stop just out of reach. She rests a hand on her hip, her shirt pulling open where it’s been unbuttoned low on her chest, revealing her black bra. My dick hardens at the sight of that patch of exposed skin and the knowledge of how much more I’ve already seen and felt, and want to feel again.

“Questions about the interviews?” I ask.

“Not at present.”

“Cognition?”

“No.”

“The history of tweed?”

Bria snorts a derisive laugh. “Fuck no.” She takes a single step forward and starts unfastening the next button on her shirt. “I don’t have questions about the library hours, or the university student union, or which coffee shop is the best in town either.”

Christ, I want to fuck her right here, and a thousand options scroll through my mind. I could lay her on the table. She could straddle me on one of the seats. I even glance at the podium while my desires war with the worry that someone could easily intrude. My eyes dart to the doors before I meet Bria’s gaze once more, and she regards me with a knowing smirk as though she can see every thought in my head.

“What are you going to do, Professor? Hide me in the lectern?” Bria looks down at the empty cabinet built into the podium and folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t think I’d fit.” Her eyes slide back to mine. The edges of her lips curl with a dark smile. “Maybe you do hate me if you’re willing to stuff my body into a little box and fuck my mouth like I’m a dirty secret you regret keeping. But you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

My jaw is clamped so tight it’s ready to snap. I want to tell her she’s wrong. Except she’s not. I do want to fuck her pretty mouth until she’s gagging on my cock. But damn straight I would push her into that lectern if I heard as much as a footstep from the hall or a click on the door handle.

“You’ve got that right, sweetheart.” I stalk forward and twine my hand in her hair, gripping it tightly. I pull with gentle, steady tension, Bria flashing a triumphant smile as I bow her backward and she drops to her knees, licking her lips. “You’ll be drinking my cum like it’s fucking lemonade. But I regret to inform you that you’re dead wrong about one thing,” I say as I release my zipper with my other hand and free my erection, gliding the glistening tip across her waiting, wanting lips. Her eyes turn black with my words. I hold her gaze and lean closer. “I won’t hide you away because you’re my dirty secret. I’ll hide you away because I’m the only one who gets to see you on your knees, Bria.”

The flare of surprise in her eyes turns to ravenous need.

I lean back, my cock nearly touching her lips, so close I can feel their heat. “Tap three times if it gets too much.”

“Tug on my hair three times if it gets too much,” she replies, darting her tongue out to swipe at the precum beaded on the head as I swallow the moan already climbing my throat.

“Doubtful.”

“We’ll see.”

“Indeed.” My grip on her hair tightens and I add my other hand. “Now take it like a good girl and make me come.”

I plunge into the hot, wet heat of Bria’s mouth and hit the back of her throat. And then I do it again. And again. And again. Rhythmic gagging and garbled groans vibrate through my cock as she sucks and chokes down every thrust. Her eyes flood and dampen her lashes, tears slide down her cheeks. But she never breaks the connection of her dark gaze. She glares at me with a mix of desire and loathing so potent it sets my blood on fire.

Bria tugs my pants and briefs down and wraps her hand around the base of my cock, adding sensation to what I can’t shove down her throat. I watch as she grips and strokes with strong fingers, her nails painted a dark crimson so perfectly Bria that it makes my dick impossibly harder. She scrapes those nails across my balls and I shudder, pounding into her mouth with no restraint.

“You are fucking perfect, Bria Brooks,” I grit out as I tug on her hair. She moans and hums in satisfaction. Lightning skitters up my spine. “Pretend to hate me all you want, but your mouth says otherwise. I think you love the taste of my cock. You can’t wait to have my cum filling your throat.”

Bria whimpers and her glare intensifies, as though she’s angry at herself for the needy sound that just escaped her control. It’s like tinder for the flame within me. I fist Bria’s hair and thrust mercilessly as pleasure winds through my nerves and my heart rages.