∞
No one else is in the resource area at eight o’clock on a Friday. I’ve got my laptop open, pecking out the next chapter of my dissertation on my faulty keyboard when, out of the blue, it feels like a nuclear bomb goes off in my brain. I lose my train of thought mid-sentence, and no matter how many times I read what I started, I can’t figure out where I was going with it. I stare at my computer screen, all circuits scrambled, and when I can’t even begin to remember what I was trying to say, I swivel my chair toward the room.
And find Blaire on the other side of the counter.
Time freezes and my mangled thoughts focus on one thing. That flawless face. And now I recognize that it was her scent—something warm with the barest hint of sweet, like vanilla—that fried my brain. Spring break was last week and now that we’re well into April, the weather is starting to warm. Her long sleeves and leggings are gone, replaced by soft cotton tank tops and tiny skirts.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks, holding up her copy of Don Juan.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, recovering enough of my composure to speak reasonably coherently. I push up from my chair and move to the counter. “What’s up?”
“I’m a little stuck.”
“On…?”
She sets the book between us. “In canto five, Don Juan won’t sleep with the sultana Gulbeyaz because he’s still hung up on Haidee, but in canto nine, he fucks Catherine II. They were both essentially queens and Gulbeyaz was only twenty-six and gorgeous, right? So why the conflict there, and not with the fifty-year-old Catherine?”
“It’s your interpretation Dr. Duncan is interested in hearing, not mine, but by the time Juan meets Catherine, you have to remember he’s a little older and has been through a war. His perspective on life has changed.”
“So, no big deal, screwing an empress,” she says with a flip of her hand.
I shrug. “I guess not.”
She grabs a handful of hair and tugs in frustration. “It’s hard to analyze Don Juan’s sexual conflict when it’s so damn inconsistent.”
I push out of my chair and lean on the counter. “His conflict is going to evolve with time and experience, just like everything else.”
She looks at me, all frustration.
“Come here,” I say. “There’s a really good biography on Byron that might help.”
She stands and follows me into the stacks, but we’re only a few steps in when she slips in front of me, blocking my path.
“What about your sexual conflict, Caiden?” She trails a finger down my bicep. “Any chance that’s evolved with time?”
I close my eyes and breathe, but it’s no use. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I justify it by telling myself we only have to hide our relationship for a few weeks. After she graduates in a month, there’s nothing holding us back.
When she takes my face in both hands and brings it to hers, my last shred of resolve snaps. I yank her to me, one hand on that perfect round ass and the other behind her neck. I destroy her mouth with mine, our teeth grinding and lips tearing. I’m halfway down her throat, trying desperately to claw my way right inside her.
I slide a hand under her top and find the warm mound of her breast. She moans into my mouth when I flick the nipple with my finger before rolling it under the pad of my thumb. Her hands glide over the skin at the waistband of my jeans and I feel my cock lengthen out from underneath it to find her hand. I want to feel those fingers wrapped around me, stroking and pulling.
When she realizes what’s happened, that I’m right there trying to force my way under the waistband, she hooks her fingers underneath the layers of my clothing and gives a tug, and I spring out from under my boxer briefs. I groan as she rubs her palm over the exposed inches of my growing cock.
I have to know what she feels like. The impulse is sudden and strong. Base and necessary to my survival, like my need for oxygen. I slip my hand under her skirt, over baby soft skin, and cup her bare ass in my palm.
She grinds herself against me.
I hook my thumb under the cord of the thong between her ass cheeks and glide my hand between her legs from behind. She lifts her leg and rests her foot on the lower shelf of the stacks she’s got me pinned against, giving my fingers more room to explore. I push my hand deeper between her legs and find all the wet heat there. I drive my fingers into her core and she drops her head back and moans.
I capture her mouth with mine to swallow the sound. She rocks her hips as I finger her, never letting up on my cock. I draw out and press her away just enough to get my hand between us. I find her clit and stroke it with slick fingers. She shudders hard in my arms, so I stroke again, then press in a circle.