“Oh.” Liv peers at the screen, her voice husky. “Very nice, professor. I so wish I could touch you. I wish I could taste you.”
My erection pulses at the thought of her sliding her tongue over my chest and stomach before she takes my cock into her hot mouth. I move my hand up and down my shaft, pressure boiling through me like steam.
“Now take off your bra,” I tell her.
She unhooks the front clasp, displaying her full breasts topped with hard nipples. Just the sight of them, the knowledge of how soft they are, almost makes me come. I rub my thumb over the head of my aching prick.
“Wait, I can’t see you.” Liv looks at the screen again, moving her hands up to her breasts. “Adjust your camera. You know how much I love watching you touch yourself.”
I shift the laptop. Liv draws in a breath, her lips parting.
“Oh, God, Dean,” she murmurs. “That’s so hot.”
“Move back.” I can’t take my eyes off her as she massages her breasts and plucks at her nipples.
She scoots back a little so I can see more of her, then she slides one hand down to her *. A visible shudder goes through her. She leans her head against the back of the chair and lets out a soft moan that goes straight to my blood.
“I want to watch you come,” she whispers, her gaze on the screen. “I wish you were here, wish I could wrap my fingers around your cock, take you in deep…”
My heart pounds. I work my hand faster, pressure flooding me. The sight of her all spread out in my office chair, one hand between her legs and the other playing with her breasts, fills me with urgency.
“Oh, Dean, I’m so… so ready.” Liv’s breathing intensifies. Her pale skin is flushed, her eyes filled with arousal. She bites down on her lower lip, the way she always does when she’s getting close.
I wish more than ever that I could feel her warm breath, taste her lips, push my cock into her sweet, hot *…
“I want to touch you again,” Liv murmurs, her chest heaving with the force of her breath. “I want you on me, in me… I want you again, Dean, it’s been too long… I’m ready for you… for us…”
Her throaty voice, the way she’s starting to writhe in the chair, is enough to bring me to full boil. She lets out a cry, her body trembling with vibrations. I watch her as she rides out the wave, her words fading into pants and moans.
I stroke my cock faster, and then the tightness in my groin explodes into blinding pleasure, jets of semen pooling onto my stomach. Liv leans closer to the camera to look at me, her eyes dark with lust and lingering pleasure.
“You are so damn sexy,” she whispers.
“It’s all for you.” I rub my cock until the sensations ease, not taking my eyes off my wife. I swear I can almost taste her heat, smell her arousal.
Liv pushes up from the chair and presses a kiss close to the camera. I smile and put my finger against her puckered lips, wishing I could feel them, feel her.
A stab of irritation hits me suddenly that there’s an ocean between us, that we’re on different continents, that she’s there and I’m here.
Liv moves back from the camera. Her pretty face fills the screen, all brown eyes, thick lashes, that luscious mouth.
“I love you,” she says. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Right at ten.”
We exchange goodbyes, and I go to clean up. I get dressed, organize my work for the day, and put file folders in my backpack.
Before leaving, I draw a quick picture and scan it into an email:
TO: The Queen Bee
FR: The Frog Prince
I press the send button, then pull on my jacket and head out into the dawn.
CHAPTER THREE
Olivia
y husband doesn’t just love me. He knows how to love me. He knows what I need and when I need it, sometimes even better than I do. He knows how to unfold all the tight, rough parts of me and smooth them out with one glide of his hand. He knows how to prove that he—and only he—understands every crevice of my soul. He knows how to remind me that I am forever safe within his heart.
And all of this has never been more apparent to me than it is now, as Dean continues wooing me under the precepts of his own version of courtly love.
I know. Could not be more dorky. And yet, after all we’ve been through, for us it is also intensely personal and beautiful.
Over the next week, Dean sends me emails at least three times a day with poems and quotes:
TO: Olivia West (aka exalted mistress)
FR: Dean West (aka lowly servant)
Miss you.
Want to kiss you.
(for the record, Mrs. West, I wrote this one myself)
He attaches Internet pictures of smiling cartoon hearts and fluffy, big-eyed animals snuggling with each other. These adorable images are often followed by notes about the archeological discovery of a post-medieval building north of the transept wall or the aboveground structural analysis of a church.