Author: Beautiful Figment PM
Jasper Whitlock decides he's going to do whatever he can to get Professor Cullen's attention.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Jasper - Words: 6,435 - Reviews: 47 - Favs: 96 - Follows: 18 - Published: 12-30-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6604983
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, its characters, and everything else. I merely own the laptop on which I wrote this. Thanks to Dark Absynthe, Touchstone66, Beate73, gypsysue for betaing. (yes, my work needs that much help! lol)
Class isn't due to start for another fifteen minutes and I'm not about to be the first one in the lecture hall and risk drawing too much attention to myself. There's only one person's attention I welcome.
Any other day of the week, I blend into the rest of the campus population; happily being a fucking sheep with everybody else. For guys, the strict dress code includes neatly pressed pants, a button-down shirt or polo, neatly combed hair, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah. In my case, since my hair falls just below my ears, it has to be pulled back. On top of that horseshit, there is a zero tolerance policy on visible tattoos, and since I have full tribal sleeves on both arms, polos are out for me. If that isn't enough, the only acceptable body piercings are earrings on female students and faculty. Since yours truly has nipple rings, I'm quite grateful that they're easily concealed.
So, why is today different from any other day?
For one thing, my hair's down. It's unruly as fuck, and I've decided to just let my curls go wherever the hell they want. Which, for now, is down in my eyes. I remember my mother saying at one point that my hair was the color of wheat. I guess that just sounds more appealing than dishwater blond. Regardless, I deliberately did not pull a comb through it this evening, preferring that freshly fucked look.
Underneath my black and gray leather jacket, I'm not wearing a long sleeved button-down shirt, but instead, a thin white wife-beater. And since it's as hot as the seventh ring of Hell in that lecture hall in the evening, I'm not keeping the jacket on once I get settled. Of course, once I shed the jacket, my ink will be on full display; not to mention the fact that my piercings will no longer be a secret since it's quite easy to make out the shape of my nipple rings through the flimsy material.
I could easily be tossed off campus and face a truckload of disciplinary shit for my appearance, so what in sweet Christ's name am I doing here in "rare form"? Because it's a surefire way to end up in Professor Cullen's office, which is the only place I want to be this evening.
Leaning against my bike, I have my backpack slung over one shoulder and helmet under my arm. Glancing at my watch, I decide that I've waited long enough. Time to head to class and see how badly I can piss off the professor.
This is gonna be too much fun.
I make an effort to slip in relatively unnoticed and take a seat in the back row. The chain connected to my wallet clangs noisily however, making that slightly impossible. Yes, I have a chain on my wallet. Sue me. I like that shit.
The clomp of my boots and the clang of my wallet chain earn me a few backward glances from the students that are already seated. Backward glances turn into double takes and raised eyebrows, and an ogle from Rosalie Hale three rows up. A busty, long-legged blonde, she's basically every frat guy's walking wet dream. Of course, my sights are focused elsewhere.
Sweetheart, you are so barking up the wrong tree.
Does that stop me from giving her a small smirk and a wink? Fuck no, but it does have its desired effect; she's now facing the front of the class.
Before settling into my seat, I unzip my jacket and pull it off, unsuccessfully trying to keep the various zippers from rattling. After slipping off the jacket, I notice that Rosalie is now staring at me slack-jawed. Reaching into the breast pocket of my jacket, I pull out my glasses, slipping them on and I raise an eyebrow at her. I'm unable to keep from smirking as the elbow she had been using to lean on her desk slips off the edge and she nearly cracks her chin on the plastic surface.
Sitting back in my seat, I unzip my backpack to pull out my iPod and slip the ear buds in place. Of course, it should go without saying that the use of MP3 players or other similar devices are prohibited during class, but I'm breaking all the rules already, so what the fuck do I care? I'm avoiding actually turning it on for a few more minutes since I don't wanna get distracted and miss the professor making his entrance.
Before the thought is even complete in my head, Professor Cullen appears through the back door and saunters over to his desk, arms filled with various papers and books.
Dude seriously needs a briefcase or something.
He glances around the class and offers a polite smile, a smile that immediately turns to a look of alarm as soon as his eyes light on me.
Here goes nothing...
Deciding to whip out the big guns right away, I flash my biggest dimple-framed grin and pull down my glasses before giving him a wink.
Three things happen in that moment: Professor Cullen drops his shit. All of it. Everywhere. Prior to the shit drop, his face flushes bright red and his jaw hits the desk.
Make that four things that happen, because the entire class is now staring at me.
I lean back in my seat with a huff and roll of my eyes. This isn't what I wanted; to cause a scene. My goal was simply to rattle the professor a bit and hopefully get hauled off to his office for some disciplinary action.
Is that too much to ask?
Apparently so, because Professor Cullen is beyond pissed. Not to mention that the rest of the class is a bit peeved at the little outburst, and probably more than peeved at the fact that I have the nerve to show up to class with such a blatant disregard for school policy and throw their mighty professor off his "A" game.
Professor Cullen shoots me another glare just before he drags his hand down his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he calls out, "Angela?"
A lovely young woman with ebony hair and glasses jerks her head at the professor's request. "Yes, Sir?"
My heart is hammering around in my ribcage and I'm wondering if I might have taken things a bit too far. Yes, I wanted to make a statement, yes, I wanted his attention. I didn't, however, want to embarrass him in front of the entire class, which I apparently seem to have done.
"Angela, I know you're supposed to have the week off of TA duties, but would you mind taking over this evening? It's clear I have some issues to address." His final words are directed at me and I feel my stomach somersault and my dick begin to stir.
"You," he says, pointing at me with an angry finger. "My office. Now."
My heart leaps, my stomach flutters, and my dick springs to glorious life in my jeans as I begin to gather up my belongings. I toss my iPod back in the backpack, pull on my jacket, sling the backpack over my shoulder and grab my helmet before strolling down to the front of the lecture hall. Each thud of my boots on the steps reverberates across the entire room in perfect fuck-all harmony with the zippers on my jacket and the chain on my wallet. It sounds like I'm dragging a fucking ball and chain, and from the looks I'm getting from the class, I probably should be.
Christ, it's fucking Anatomy. Were y'all really looking forward to this lecture tonight?
Professor Cullen holds the back door open for me and it's a struggle not to look at him as I breeze through the door and into the back hallway.
Before the door even shuts, he shouts loud enough for the entire class to hear, "Who the hell do you think you are, boy? Do you think the rules apply to everyone but you?"
Ignoring him, I continue to stroll down the hall, his office door in sight. I can hear him practically seething as he follows me to his office but he says nothing further, and neither do I. Finally reaching the door, I lean against the wall, trying not to give away any of my anxiety as he works his key in the doorknob. Eventually the door is opened and I shove off the wall before following Professor Cullen into his office.
"Have a seat, Whitlock," he snaps, indicating the chair in front of his desk.
I set my backpack and helmet beside his desk and all but flop into the chair he wants me to sit in.
After sitting down in the chair behind his desk, he drags his hand down his face again and looks at me pointedly. "You know we have a dress code for a reason, right? Your appearance in class this evening was more than a little distracting."
I scoff before responding with a smirk. "So are you saying that I distract you, Professor?"
Narrowing his eyes at me he says, "Now is not the time to be getting smart with me, boy. Normally, I'd just send you home to change into something more appropriate and dock you for participation in class. However, that little extra display is what earned you a trip to my office."
My smirk grows bigger, and I raise my eyebrow at him. "What little extra display is that? I'd like to make a note of it for the next time I wish to be sent to your office." In a not-so-subtle manner, my tongue slides out briefly to moisten my lips and I know that I have him exactly where I want him. His chilling green eyes darken considerably and his breath catches in his throat.
"Sexual harrassment carries a much stiffer penalty than just being sent home and docked a few points, Whitlock. One could be removed from the campus permanently." Professor Cullen's voice has grown considerably deeper. Any other student would find his tone menacing, but it's all I can do to not launch myself across his desk and into his lap.
Fuck, he's sexy.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but I have no idea what you're talking about," I say, my voice and expression laced with mock confusion.
"That's a crock and you know it. The wink? The lip licking...thing?" He's flustered now and has resorted to flailing his hands to show frustration.
"So, you brought me in here because I'm friendly and I fidget?" It's impossible to hold back a chuckle, and now he's really pissed.
Pushing back, he stands up and makes his way to the front of the desk with inhuman speed, making me gasp and jump back in my chair.
Pointing a finger right in my face, he says, "Listen to me, you little punk. I don't know exactly what you're trying to prove, but your utter disrespect for University policy, my class, and me is unacceptable. I have no problem, whatsoever, with tossing you out on your ass and making sure you never set foot back on this campus, or any other campus. Is that what you want?"
"Jesus, calm down!" He's normally very cool and calm. This side is not one that many people get to see and it has me trembling. "I'm sorry, alright?"
Reigning in his temper a bit, he leans back against his desk and folds his arms across his chest. "Not as sorry as you're going to be if you pull another stunt like this again."
"Hell, I said I was sorry! What more do you want from me? Want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?" Knowing full well that it wouldn't be my most brilliant moment, I chuckle at the irony of my question. He may have been pissed before but now he's infuriated.
Shoving himself off of the desk, he comes dangerously close to knocking me out of my chair. It would have actually happened had it not been for the fact that he has made two incredibly tight fists in my shirt, yanking me toward him.
We're now close enough where I can feel him exhaling heavily through his nose, heated breaths falling on the skin above the collar of my shirt.
For a few moments, he keeps his eyes locked with mine, but I know his resolve is beginning to weaken when I see them burn a slow trail down my body and drag back up to meet my gaze.
"You've got quite a mouth on you, boy, and you assume a hell of a lot. What makes you think I'm interested in anything you have to offer?" His voice is gritty, and it wouldn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that Professor Cullen is very much interested in what I could offer him right now. Unconsciously this time, my tongue darts out again to lick my lips.
Shifting my body weight slightly, I shrug out of my jacket, uncovering the expanse of ink on my arms. His office is considerably cooler than the lecture hall so if it wasn't easy to see my nipple rings through my wife-beater before, it's fucking impossible to miss them now, especially with the way he's gripping me.
Professor Cullen releases my shirt and his eyes darken even more as a deep, throaty groan falls from his lips and a wide grin possesses mine.
"What was that about assuming too much?" I ask, chuckling.
Leaning forward, he presses his lips to my ear, evoking a violent shiver from me. "I'm sure you are aware that faculty and students are forbidden to fraternize," he whispers. Instinctively, I lean into him and my breathing begins to accelerate.
"My lips are sealed, Professor. Just tell me where you want them."
His breath scorches the skin of my neck as he turns his face from my ear. Dropping his head to my shoulder, he places his open mouth in the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, causing the moan I had been struggling to hold back to break loose.
"You really want to cross this line with me, Whitlock?" he groans.
"I wanna leap the fuck over it and forget it was ever there in the first place, Professor."
Pushing himself off of me, he strides over to the office door, turning the lock, the victorious "click" shooting straight through to my cock. Coming back to stand in front of me, he leans his back against his desk and begins to unbutton his shirt; face flushed and wild-eyed. I stare unabashedly for several seconds before I slip off the chair and onto my knees at his feet.
Professor Cullen pulls his shirt free from his slacks and proceeds to peel it off, revealing a plain white cotton t-shirt that looks as though it's painted on his body. The shirt is stretched tight across his chest, showcasing chiseled pectoral muscles and very obviously hard, tightened nipples. The hem of the t-shirt falls right above his belt and there is the tiniest sliver of skin exposed. My hands are itching to exploit this exposure.
After pushing up the hem of his t-shirt, I nuzzle the heated, creamy white skin of his sculpted abs with my nose and delight in the clenching of his muscles at the contact. His navel is a delicious looking "outie" and I waste no time in paying it proper attention with my tongue as my hands caress the taut skin above his belt. I treat his navel like I would a nipple and flick it repeatedly with my tongue, all the while watching his lusty gaze as he struggles not to cry out. My hands hold his hips in place as his body quivers with the effort to maintain a small shred of composure.
As I work to unfasten his belt, Professor Cullen peels off his t-shirt and tosses it to the floor. With his belt undone, I pop the button above his zipper and swiftly open his fly to expose his straining cock tenting his boxers. Palming his erection, I revel in the exquisite heat pouring through the fabric and my breath escapes in a gush as my own erection grows impossibly harder. The professor's head rolls back, and his eyes squeeze shut as I continue to caress him through the thin barrier.
Frantically, I pull his boxers and slacks down to his knees as his head snaps back up to watch me. Panting heavily, he rakes his eyes over me. His cock is long and thick, standing proud and pulsing with need, the slit at the head slick with precum.
Hell, yes. This is exactly what I want.
"Your cock looks fucking delicious, Professor," I groan before leaning forward to capture the pearly liquid with my tongue.
"Fuck," he growls.
"Maybe later," I reply with a wink as I grasp the base of his rigid length in my fist and dip my head to take in his hot throbbing flesh. Humming in blissful satisfaction while I bob my head, I try to tell him, without words, that his cock tastes as delicious as it looks.
"Christ, Whitlock, that's amazing," he groans as his hips start to thrust in harmony with the bobbing of my head. I continue to hum around his cock and am rewarded with grunts, growls and various expletives. Before long, the grunts and growls turn into whimpers and restrained cries. The effect they have on my dick is excruciating.
Reaching down with my other hand, I begin to undo my belt; if I don't come soon, I'll surely combust. Before I can release the fly of my jeans, Professor Cullen halts his movements and grasps my head.
"Stop," he commands. Releasing my head, he grasps one of my arms, pulling me up. Standing almost nose to nose with me he struggles to free himself from his shoes, socks and pants, kicking them off into a haphazard pile next to his discarded shirt.
Gripping my arms, he spins me around to take his previous position in front of the desk.
"Now," he says, successfully unfastening my belt, "allow me."
He makes quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans while I pull my wife-beater over my head and drop it to the floor as I watch him work. Slipping my jeans and boxers over my hips, he finally, fucking finally, releases my cock, with his lips finding purchase on my right nipple. I cry out as he uses his teeth to gently tug on the stainless steel ring and I nearly explode in the hand that's grasping the shaft of my cock.
Pulling me away from the desk, he reaches around to grip my ass with his other hand, making me jump. He alternates between caressing and kneading my flesh with his powerful fingers and I'm now moaning uncontrollably. His hands are like fucking magic.
Ceasing his delicious torture on my nipple, he brings his lips up to my ear. "You have an absolutely fantastic ass, Whitlock. You don't know how badly I want to fuck it."
"Oh, God…" I groan as my back arches and my hips thrust into his hand.
"First things first though. Hop up on my desk," he orders. Complying, I watch Professor Cullen bend forward to pull off my boots and socks, followed by my jeans and boxers. The look in his eyes as he drinks me in is animalistic, and I'm positive that he fully intends to devour me.
Please don't keep me waiting.
And fuck it all if he doesn't just leave me there. He moves to the other side of the desk and I hear him open a drawer, retrieve something, then slam the drawer shut before making his way back to me. After standing between my spread legs, he sets a tube of lubricant and a condom on the desk next to me. My entire body shivers at the implication, but I decide to try and play it cool.
"You're quite the Boy Scout, aren't you?" I ask.
Raising an eyebrow at me, he asks, "Excuse me?"
I nod towards the condom and lube on the desk before replying, "Always prepared?"
Giving me a truly devious grin, he answers, "Always," just before leaning in to suck my left nipple into his mouth.
"Fuck, that feels good," I gasp. He begins to suck harder, once again wrapping his fist around my cock, only this time he begins to swiftly pump me. My arms are trembling, and I feel my elbows start to give.
Professor Cullen pulls his wicked mouth from my nipple to whisper, "Lie down on your back and bend your knees."
I do as he asks, sliding up to put my feet flat on the desk.
Increasing the pace of his strokes, he grunts, "I love how you're so hard for me."
"Ung…always hard for you, Professor."
It's the God's honest truth.
It's all I can do to keep from screaming as he finally wraps his lips around my cock and instinctively, my hips lift off the desk in response to the blinding sensation. He takes a deep pull of my dick with his mouth before releasing me. With a sexy grin and a quirk of an eyebrow he says, "Go ahead and fuck my face, boy. You know you want to."
Yes, I most certainly do want to.
I spread my legs a bit more as he once again takes me in his mouth. Using my feet for leverage I lift my hips off the desk again, this time with purpose. Like a fucking pro, Professor Cullen sucks me deep into his throat, taking in my entire length. I'm beyond speaking English as I feel his lips meet the skin surrounding the base of my cock over and over while I continue to thrust into his mouth. The suction is increased as he hollows his cheeks, creating a vacuum around me. When he begins to hum against me and his plush lips slurp my skin with each pull, I begin to lose it.
"Shit, Professor. I'm gonna come."
I'm so oblivious to what's going on around me that I never noticed he opened the bottle of lubricant. It's only obvious now that he did because he's pressing a lubricated finger inside of me and I nearly choke on my scream. Before I can even adjust to the exquisite sensation he slips in a second finger, and begins to thrust them into me. My scream rings free just before his other hand shoots up to clamp over my mouth.
My hips have stilled as his hand becomes a blur, pumping his fingers into me. When I feel his throat constrict around me, swallowing around my cock, I know I'm done for. Despite the fact that he's covering my mouth with his hand, my scream pierces the air as I fill his mouth.
Professor Cullen swallows my orgasm while his fingers continue to work me, and my climax is so strong, that my entire body begins to quake.
It feels so god damn amazing, and he hasn't even fucked me yet.
Christ, I can't wait.
Once I start to come down from my orgasmic high, he pulls his mouth off my dick and removes his fingers from me simultaneously. I sigh from the loss of contact but my heart rate begins to increase again as I hear him tear open the condom wrapper.
"Tell me what you want from me now, Whitlock. I want to hear you say it," he commands.
I sit up so I can look him in the eye. "I want you to bend me over your desk and fuck me. Hard. Please, Professor," I beg.
Professor Cullen extends a hand to help me off his desk and pulls me flush against his body. His erection grinds into my hip and my head falls back with a moan escaping my mouth. Whipping me around, he rubs his hard cock against my ass just before practically shoving my upper body down onto the desk. I start to pant as I hear him sheathe himself with the condom and pop open the tube of lubricant to coat his erection.
I groan low and deep as the head of his cock presses against my entrance and, without warning, the sound of a forceful smack resounds from his hand making contact with my ass. My breath catches in my throat from the shock, and unconsciously, my hips press back into him in invitation. Gently, he caresses the tender skin he just struck and purrs, "Such a sweet ass."
Burying my face in my arms, I groan, "Oh God, please…"
"Please what, Whitlock?" He punctuates my name with another smack on the other cheek and I scream into my folded arms.
Trying unsuccessfully to catch my breath, I pant, "Please, Professor. Fuck me."
Chuckling, he responds, "Well, since you asked so nicely." Before the last word is out of his mouth, he pushes the head of his cock inside, and then grabs my hips pulling me sharply against him, effectively shoving his entire length inside me.
"Uhhh…fuck!" I yell. Fucking Christ, that hurt!
"What's the matter? Did that hurt?" he asks, condescendingly.
"Yes," I whimper.
Immediately, his tone softens as he leans across my back, bringing his head to my shoulder. "I…Jesus, I'm sorry…I just…shit, do you want me to stop?" His voice is filled with genuine concern and I can't help but smile.
"No need to apologize, Professor. I suppose I had that coming to me," I whisper, still smiling.
With a chuckle, he responds, "You're right. I'll give you a minute. Just let me know when you're ready to continue, okay?"
With a sigh, I nod against my arms. My sigh quickly turns into a satisfied hum as his hands caress my back and sides, leaving goose bumps in their wake from the massage they're giving my muscles.
Spreading my legs apart a little further, I press my hips back into him, eliciting a muttered, "Fuck," from his lips.
"I'm ready when you are, Professor," I announce, pressing my hips even harder against him.
Without a word from him, he withdraws slowly until only the head remains inside me. Just as slowly, he rocks his hips and slides back in. I'm sure that he can tell from my moan that I'm over the discomfort and aroused all over again. Of course, all he would have to do to assure himself of the latter would be to wrap his hand around my cock and feel that it was already hard.
Instead, his hands are otherwise busy gripping my hips as he withdraws and slides back in, a bit swifter this time.
"Oh, yes…more…" I murmur.
Encouraged by my request, he falls into a rhythm, sliding in and out; advance and retreat, and my legs are fucking melting.
"Uhhh…so good. More…please, more…" I sigh.
Sinking his fingers deeper into my skin, he begins to pick up the pace and force of his thrusts. I start rocking back to meet his hips as his thrusts grow harder, more insistent.
Panting, I plead, "Yes…more…harder…" At my request, he begins to slam into me, hard and deep, grazing my sweet spot while I try to muffle my cries with my arms.
"Is this what you want, boy? Does it feel good?" he grunts.
"Fuck, yes," I whimper.
The force of his thrusts cause my body to jerk against the surface of the desk and every motion pulls on my nipple rings. Soon the combination of his amazing cock in my ass and the pulling on my nipples is becoming too much for me.
"God damn it, Professor, I'm gonna come again," I cry.
"Not yet, Whitlock. Not before me; I want you to come with me."
Moaning pitifully against the desk, I just know I'm not going to be able to hold out. My mind begins to race trying to come up with something that will send him over the edge and at the same time grant me relief. Turning my head to the side, I see his gold name plate on the desk and a brilliant thought creeps into my head. Few things spur me on quicker than hearing my name cried out in bed.
Struggling to maintain my own control, I grit my teeth and growl, "Please…Carlisle!"
"Ahhh… FUCK!" he screams as he slams into me one last time and reaches around to grab my erection just before I fall apart. My entire body quakes as I spill into his fist and cling to the desk for support.
"Fucking… incredible," he gasps as he falls across my back and kisses me between the shoulder blades. The gesture is so intimate it almost causes me to melt right into the desk. Instead, I smile and hum contentedly as I come down from my second high of the evening.
"Thank you," I murmur.
He kisses me again before standing upright and withdrawing from me completely. "Don't move."
I don't think I could even if I wanted to.
I watch him stride across the room and dispose of the condom before taking a few paper towels from the dispenser hanging on the wall to clean his hands. After discarding them, he pulls down a couple more and wets them from the hot water tap on the water cooler before coming back to my side. Closing my eyes, I relax completely as he cleans up the mess from our activities. The paper towels are rough but they're made gentle by his graceful hands cleansing my skin.
He kisses the small of my back before returning to the wastebasket to dispose of the soiled paper towels. I finally find the strength to stand up and turn to face him. His smile lights up his entire face and where he was incredibly sexy before, now he's downright beautiful.
Oh, how I love to see him happy...
His smile is contagious and I'm pretty sure my grin is stupid goofy, but I don't care. Wanting him in my arms I crook my finger at him, motioning for him to come closer. He doesn't hesitate and seconds later he's right where I want him.
Since I walked into the lecture hall this evening, I ached to have his lips on mine and I won't be denied any longer. Holding him bone-crushingly close, I claim his mouth with my own. Our tongues meet instantly as his hands find their way into my hair pulling me closer.
Leaning away several moments later, I whisper, "I can't tell you how badly I wanted to do that from the moment you walked into the lecture hall, baby. I could kiss you for fucking hours."
Chuckling against my lips he whispers back, "You're preaching to the choir, Jasper. It was an insane struggle not to kiss you as soon as that door closed. But how appropriate would that have been for the teacher to kiss the misbehaving student on the mouth?"
I nibble a little bit on his neck before I answer. "Appropriate enough if I wanted it. This was my fantasy after all. No matter, though. It was phenomenal, and you only broke character once."
He nuzzles into my neck and wraps his arms even more tightly around me. "Did you expect me to ignore the fact that I hurt you? That fucking killed me, baby."
I clasp his face in my hands before briefly kissing his lips. "Don't you dare feel bad for that. You gave me exactly what I asked for, and I wouldn't change a thing."
Groaning, he pulls away from me. "I do have to get dressed and head back to the lecture. Angela's brutal. If I don't make it back soon, she'll start failing people for the hell of it."
I chuckle as I make my way over to his closet and pull out the spare suit he kept for me in preparation for this evening. I pull on my boxers and wife beater before putting on a black button-down shirt. Reaching for my matching black pants I can't help but smile at something.
"You know, Carlisle, I almost wanted to laugh at how you kept calling me, 'boy', being that you're two years my junior and all."
He laughs heartily at my comment. "I couldn't help it, babe, you know you could pass for one of my students. I mean, come on, you still get carded when we order wine with dinner and you're thirty-two years old. You have a youthful, angelic look about you."
Smirking at the irony of his statement, I reply, "Until you get me naked."
He nods in agreement, fastening the belt on his pants. "True. When you're naked, you're very much a man."
Walking over to my side, he wraps his hands around my waist, disrupting my efforts to fasten my own belt. "And you're positively sinful," he purrs before kissing my lips.
Before I can even think, he's pressing me against the closet door and his tongue is engaged in an epic battle with my own. I groan into his mouth, feeling that he's hard again.
"Mmm… baby," I moan, pulling myself from him with great difficulty, "as much as I would love to continue this, you have to get back to class, and I have to get off campus before folks start putting two and two together."
Whining softly against me, he says, "You're right. Besides, next week starts two weeks of vacation and we can tackle the rest of our list."
"Christ, I can't wait. We gotta do the cat burgler thing first. I'm very much interested in finding out what you'd do in exchange for me agreeing not to call the cops on your thieving ass."
He laughs again before pulling away and echoing my thoughts from earlier this evening, he says, "This is gonna be too much fun."
I decide to leave the suit jacket hanging in the closet since I already have my leather motorcycle jacket and I grab the comb and hair gel on the adjacent shelf. After an ardent struggle of pulling the comb through my curls, I finally tame them back to secure them with an elastic band before slicking them in place with the hair gel. Lastly I put on my socks and since I'm not about to ride my bike in a pair of wingtips, I put on my boots.
Turning around and holding out my arms at my sides, I silently ask for Carlisle's opinion on my appearance.
He smiles before pointing to his eyes and I reach up to touch my own and realize that I still have my glasses on.
Oops! That would raise a few eyebrows. Folks on campus aren't used to seeing me in glasses.
I slip them back in the breast pocket of my jacket before pulling it on. After picking up my helmet and stuffing my jeans into my backpack, I pull Carlisle in for another kiss. Lingering for just a bit, I finally pull back before kissing his cheek.
"I'll see you at home, baby. I love you."
"And I love you right back," he says with my favorite smile.
Leaving his office it's almost impossible to keep from skipping down the hall toward the exit, but I'm drawn up short by petite little Alice Brandon blocking my passage.
"Professor Whitlock, I'm so glad I caught you! I had a question about Friday's Music Theory exam."
I'm pretty sure she wasn't concerned about the exam since she maintains a flawless 4.0 GPA. What she's most likely concerned with is whether or not I had plans after the exam.
"Ms. Brandon, why do I feel that your question has nothing to do with the actual test?"
Blushing, she smiles sweetly, but doesn't say a word.
"I'm flattered, truly. However, University policy is very strict on relationships between professors and students in any facet that's less than professional. Rules are in place for a reason and they're supposed to be followed to the letter. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
Her sweet face falls as she nods in response.
"And besides, if the looks he gives you in class are any indication, Edward Masen seems to be quite interested in you. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a study partner for the exam, if you catch my drift," I say with a smirk.
Her blush returns almost immediately as she takes in this information. Biting her lip, she says, "Thank you, Professor. You have a pleasant evening."
I watch her as she actually does skip down the hall before I let myself out of the building and into the parking lot.
Climbing onto my bike, I secure my helmet on my head before bringing my steel horse to roaring life. I smile at Alice's farewell comment to me to have a pleasant evening.
My evening will be very pleasant, because hanging next to my suit jacket in Carlisle's closet is a black track suit with a ski mask draped over the shoulder.
A very pleasant evening, indeed.