Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (55 page)

“I thought we established I didn’t have my ‘light’ anymore.” I rolled my eyes. I hung up.

My aunts were prudes. I wasn’t going to worry about what they thought anymore.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Carter

I couldn’t sleep.

I lay in my bed, my eyes wide open. Every time I closed them, all I could see was Teagan Moss with her mouth on my cock.

It was driving me to distraction.

It was probably the most erotic image I could conjure up, and it wasn’t imaginary. It had happened. I thought about her white skin, her closed eyes, her eager tongue.

I groaned and rolled over in bed. I had a raging hard on.

Honestly, I’d never done anything like that with an inexperienced woman. I was starting to understand the allure. There was something undeniably arousing about the knowledge I’d been there first. No one else. Every one of her tentative first strokes and licks had happened because she was experiencing something new. I’d
taught
her.

I put my hand on myself, but I’d been playing this game all night. It wasn’t enough. Previously, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to jerk off this many times and not go to sleep, but my dick was perking up very easily tonight. One thought of her, and I was ready to go again. And I wasn’t the least bit tired, apparently. It was a nightmare.

I needed more.

I stumbled out of bed, finding my laptop. I had a digital version of each play’s contact list, so that I could contact students if I needed to cancel practices. I’d cancelled the ones for Friday in fact, because of the dinner that Adelaide was having at Chillingworth Restaurant. It had affected enough of us that it was best to forgo the rehearsals. After all, I’d told my students that nothing was more important than those plays. If Adelaide got word that they skipped her dinner for rehearsals, she’d kill me. So, I’d had to cancel practices.

Anyway, I knew I had Teagan’s phone number.

I looked it up. I got my own phone. I dialed.

I lay back on my bed, listening to it ring.

What the hell was I doing? Why couldn’t I leave it alone?

She picked up. “Hello?”

At the sound of her voice, I no longer cared why I was doing it. I wanted her. That was all that mattered. “Miss Moss.”

She was quiet on the other end.

“Did I wake you?” I asked.

“I—yes.” She was whispering.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I wasn’t sorry. “Is your roommate in the room with you?”

“Yes.”

“Is she awake?”

“No.”

“Can you go into the bathroom? Close the door?”

“Um... yes.” There was some shuffling on the other end. The soft sound of a door closing. “Professor Alexander, how do you have my number? Why are you calling me? You can’t call me in the middle of the night.”

“I want you to do something for me, Miss Moss,” I said. “Can you put your hand inside your panties and touch yourself?” My lust for her made me bold. Saying that didn’t even phase me. It only made me more turned on.

A sharp intake of breath. “Professor...”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Y-yes.” Her voice was shaky. A little embarrassed, but I could hear arousal in it too.

“Good.” I wrapped my hand around my cock. It was stiff and big. I started to stroke myself. “I want you to keep touching yourself while I’m talking to you, Miss Moss. You understand?”

“Uh huh.” A hitch in her voice.

I sighed softly, thinking about what she was doing on the other side of the phone. “Listen, there’s something between us that’s overwhelming. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you all the time.”

“Me too.” Her voice was labored.

I rubbed myself faster. I loved hearing that thickness in her tone. I wanted to be the one who was doing it to her. “I think there’s too much tension. I think we keep teasing ourselves and it’s driving us mad.”

“Teasing ourselves?”

“We always get stopped somehow.”

She panted on the other end of the phone.

I groaned. “You still touching yourself, Miss Moss?”

“Yes.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed.

“I want to touch you there,” I said. “I want to kiss you there. I want my mouth between your legs. I want to taste you.”

She moaned.

“I want to be inside you,” I said. “Do you want that?”

“Yes.” She was having trouble speaking, I could tell.

It was getting difficult for me as well. My cock was throbbing as my hand moved quickly over it. “Say it, Miss Moss. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me,” she said. “I want you to take me.”

Oh. That was almost too much. I could feel the edge of my orgasm coming up on me. I slowed my hand. “Friday.”

“Friday?”

“There’s a dinner at Chillingworth Restaurant. I’ll be there. I know you’ll be there. I want you to come back to my house afterwards. I want to lay you down on my bed and spread your legs and take you over and over.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes?” I said.

“Yes, please, Professor. Please, it’s what I want. I want you.”

“And I want you,” I said. “Until then, Miss Moss.” I hung up the phone.

And I exploded into my hand, shocks jolting through my entire body, leaving me out of breath and spent.

I was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Teagan

I tried to tell myself that the phone call from Professor Alexander last night had been a dream. I wanted it to be a dream because it was too damned embarrassing otherwise. But there was the received call in my call log, and the fact that I’d found the underwear I’d been wearing in my hamper this morning, since I’d changed before going back to bed. After having mutually masturbatory...
phone sex
?

Augh.

It had happened.

And... well, maybe it hadn’t been the most horrible thing on earth. Like everything with the professor, it was heady and sexy. I remembered all of it through a haze of yearning. I wasn’t myself when I was near him, and it was because I craved his body.

Remembering the promises he’d made me over the phone, his voice deep and earthy, telling me what he was going to do to me... It made me feel shaky and weak. It made me excited. I
did
want him.

And maybe he was right. Maybe our attraction was as overwhelming as it was because there was so much unfulfilled tension between us. Maybe if we got down and dirty and gave in to what we both wanted, it would go away.

I needed it go away, because I felt like I might be losing my mind.

But I had a horrible feeling that it was only the desire working on my brain, trying to give me an excuse—any excuse—for going to bed with him. Maybe I should be afraid of that. My feelings for him were so intense. They couldn’t be natural. Could they?

Sure they could. People fell in love all the time and couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

But I barely knew Professor Alexander. When we were together, we could never keep our lips off each other long enough to talk. I’d been quite intimate with him, but I didn’t know anything about him.

I tried very hard to convince myself not to go to the dinner on Friday. I even played sick. I skipped all my classes and lay in bed, moaning to Nell that I felt awful whenever she came back home. I said, “Nell, I don’t think I’m going to make it to that dinner tonight.”

I said it over and over again, trying to persuade myself.

And I thought of Professor Alexander, telling me he wanted me. I thought of the way he’d groaned when I’d had my mouth on him. I thought of the feeling of his lips on mine, his hands on my hips, my breasts.

About an hour and a half before the dinner, I was in the shower.

When I was getting dressed, Nell said, “I see you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Lots better.”

Of course my stomach was in knots of terror and anticipation.

I was supposed to look nice, so I had to wear a dress, and it was warm outside. Even though nearly a month had passed since classes had started, it was still muggy. The fall chill wouldn’t set in until mid October. But I decided against wearing something that showed a lot of skin. I put on a dress that my aunts had gotten me. It was deep turquoise, and it was shapeless. It covered me from neck to ankles.

It was the only act of defiance I was capable of. I wouldn’t go to my tryst with my acting professor dressed provocatively. I would be as modest as I could.

Other than the dress, I was caught up in a crashing wave, and I couldn’t do anything to stop its motion. I headed to the dinner.

* * *

Dean Adelaide Surber met me at the door. She commented that I looked very pretty. She was dressed in a suit again—this one black. Instead of a collared shirt beneath, she had on a sequined top. She directed me to a room off the back of the restaurant. Four tables were set up along the walls. People were milling about the room, holding plates of appetizers.

I found my name tag at one of the tables. I left my purse there and went to fill a plate with crab puffs and artichoke dip. Stuffing my mouth nervously, I stayed to the corners of the room.

I saw Professor Alexander come in. He was wearing a suit, and he looked relaxed and happy as he shook hands and smiled at everyone inside the door.

Of course he was relaxed. It wasn’t a big deal for him to plan to sleep with a student. Nothing affected him.

But his gaze swept the room until he saw me. And looking into his eyes, I could see that he was affected. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

I pushed appetizers in my mouth and looked away.

We were served a prepared menu of beef with fingerling potatoes and roasted asparagus. I had filled up on appetizers and could barely eat any of my dinner.

I was sitting with my back to Professor Alexander. He was on the opposite side of the room. But I knew that he could see me, and I could almost feel his gaze on my back.

It made me nervous.

I’d been seated next to Dean Surber, who told me to call her Adelaide. There were also two other men at our table who were alumni. Both of them worked in theater. One was a director, and the other was a dancer. I was pretty sure they were both gay.

They kept trying to make conversation with me, but I had a hard time keeping up with them.

“Your aunts raised you. Really? How interesting,” said one.

“What made you choose Thornfield?” said the other.

“Um, I got the scholarship,” I said. “And my mother went here.”

“Oh, really?” said the other gay guy. “What year did she graduate? Maybe I knew her.”

“She didn’t graduate,” I said. “She... got sick.” Saying she went crazy didn’t seem like the best thing to admit.

“Too bad,” said Adelaide. She gave me a look that was supposed to be sympathetic, but only looked cold.

I stole a glance over my shoulder to see Professor Alexander.

He was staring at me, his expression ravenous. How much longer would this dinner last?

* * *

Carter

I caught Teagan when she was walking out of the bathroom and whispered a message to her to tell her come to my back door directly after dessert was served. I was close enough that I could smell her shampoo. Her hair smelled like peaches.

If I could have done anything on earth, I would have sped up the rest of that dinner, but I didn’t seem to be able to. It dragged on and on through dessert and drinks afterwards. Everyone seemed to want to talk a lot.

I kept my eye on Teagan, who got cornered by one of the reporters from the newspaper. Undoubtedly, she was being asked about her scholarship.

Finally, the gods smiled on me, and the dinner began to break up. The reporter stopped questioning Teagan. She gathered up her things and left, catching my eye on the way out. I winked at her.

I was at a table with Marcus Bancroft, sipping on a martini. I waited a few minutes after she was gone, and then I stood up. “I think I’m off. I’ll see everyone tomorrow.”

“Oh, are you walking back into town, Carter?”

“Yes.” That was where I lived after all.

“My car’s parked on campus still,” he said. “I think I’ll walk with you.”

Great. I wracked my brain, trying to think of some way to shake him that wouldn’t be suspicious. I couldn’t think of anything. Hopefully, he really did want to go directly to his car. I couldn’t let him into my house. Miss Moss was probably already there, waiting for me. “Sure thing.” I forced a smile.

He grabbed his coat and stood up. Together, we exited the restaurant.

I noticed that Adelaide was watching me go.

I glared back at her. I didn’t need her accusing eyes on me. She could think what she wanted about me. I didn’t care.