Becoming His Muse, Part Two (10 page)

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You’ve seemed so preoccupied with your art stuff and we haven’t hung out as much lately. It’s only been a couple of weeks though, and honestly, it’s been kind of fun having a secret.”

I play around with the zipper on my bag. “Actually, I have a secret too.”

“Don’t tell me. You
have
hooked up with the J-man!” She’s got a funny smile on her face, as if this type of secret would make her really happy or really miserable.

I shake my head. “It’s Logan O’Shane.”

“What about him?”

“It’s him. We’re… you know.”

It takes her a minute to compute. “No! Way! You’re fucking
his
brains out?” At first she’s grinning at having figured it out but then her expression scrunches up with concern.

“What about his fiancée, Ava?”

“He made that up. It isn’t true.”

“Really? He was just messing with us?”

“To keep the hounds at bay,” I laugh.

“Didn’t work very well,” she says, laughing along with me, but soon she stops.

“Still, isn’t it all a bit… delicate? I mean, he’s a prof. What if you get caught?”

“That’s why it’s a
secret
.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have told me.”

“But I wanted to. I can trust you. And Jonathan knows now, too.”

She looks hurt for a second. “You told him before me?”

“Of course not. He heard us outside Mick’s last night.”

A deep brow furrow turns into a wide-open gaze of realization. “Ohhh…That’s why you were gone so long.”

I nod.

“Damn, Ava. That’s kind of dangerous, isn’t it?” But she doesn’t linger on the illicit for long. “So was it good? Sounds hot! Omygod, what’s it like with him? He’s not making you do anything you don’t want to do, is he? I mean, things get pretty raunchy in some of his books. Don’t let him treat you like some whore.”

“He tells me I’m his muse.”

“Huh. Cool. That’s really sweet actually. So maybe you will go down in literary history just like I said.” She seems pleased now.

“It’s been incredible so far. Truly. No more sexual frustrations, apart from the ones that come from wanting someone so bad. That and having to pretend nothing’s happening.”

She nods knowingly.

“But it’s kind of all consuming, too, and it’s actually distracting me from my art. Just a bit. At the same time, I’m inspired, too. I’m just not as productive as I’d like to be.”

“Is he? Is the muse thing working out for him?”

“I guess.” I thought of last night and how he took all that sexual energy back to his novel instead of giving it to me. Not that I wasn’t left feeling satisfied. That had been one delicious orgasm. Witnessed by Jonathan no less.

“Poor Jonathan,” says Ruby all of a sudden. “We’re both gettin’ it good and he’s pining away by himself.”

“Are you going to tell him about this bouncer guy?”

“Dale? No, not yet.”

“Good. Don’t. It would break his heart right now.”

“I know. If this thing lasts until Thanksgiving I’ll tell him then.”

“Are you going to your Aunt’s for the break?”

She nods. “You going home? Dumb question. Your parents would never let you skip out on holidays.”

“They’ll be disappointed you won’t be there.”

“Grieving Aunts come first.” She sighs.

We agree to keep each other’s secrets. I swear Ruby to secrecy forever plus a day, while she tells me to keep her fling on the down low till she breaks the news to Jonathan. Soon after I leave so she can get back to resting.

I wonder if I should tell Logan that I’ve confessed our secret to my two friends, but then I decide against it. I know I can trust Jonathan and Ruby, and shouldn’t a muse have a few secrets of her own?

I’m not sure if I should tell Logan I’ve confided in my friends. It might make him nervous. It kind of makes me nervous. I also wonder if he’s told anyone, so when I sneak into his apartment later that night, I beat around the bush to see what he says.

“It’s a stupid rule,” I say, taking the glass of wine he hands me. “The other profs must think it’s a joke. Don’t they?”

He shakes his head as he pours himself a glass of wine. “They take it seriously because they don’t want to lose their jobs. It’s the kind of allegation that threatens tenure. But some of them think it’s overkill.”

“Do you all talk about it much?”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “Sure, we all sit around during staff lunch taking about the nubile young students we’d like to fuck. Female professors included. You wouldn’t believe how many times your friend Jonathan’s name comes up.”

My eyes widen. Logan smirks. “I’m
kidding
, Ava. Geesh. This is college. Ninety percent of the professors are so uptight I don’t think they’ve had sex in over a decade.”

He settles onto the couch beside me.

“What about Dr. T?”

I watch Logan’s profile. He squints in thought. “No, I’m pretty sure he’s had sex within the last ten years.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant. What are his thoughts on the policy? Have you told him about us?”

“You know he’s not a rule breaker. And you made me promise not to tell him, remember? Not that I would anyway. I won’t tell anyone. You won’t either will you?”

I bite my bottom lip and tell myself Jonathan and Ruby don’t count. They are my best friends and would never betray me.

“You look like a spoiled child when you do that,” says Logan, pressing his thumb against my bottom lip to separate it from my teeth. I open my mouth to bite his thumb.

“Maybe I am,” I say with a mock pout. “Maybe I need a spanking.”

Logan’s eyes flash and honestly I have no idea where that thought came from. I’m rather surprised I said that, though the look in his eyes is proving worth the risk. I take his thumb further into my mouth and start sucking.

“Maybe you do,” he whispers hoarsely. He hooks his thumb against my bottom teeth and draws me closer to him. At the same time, he leans in until his lips are a few inches from mine. I smell his wine-scented breath. My tongue is still dancing around his thumb as he withdraws it. My tongue follows and he catches it with his lips, drawing it into his mouth, where it tastes his wine, his breath, his desire. The kiss is long and deep and hungry. His hand, with its damp thumb, is in my hair, at the back of my head, grabbing tightly. We kiss madly, deeply. I’m afraid I’m going to tip my wine glass. I try to pull away. He lets me. His breathing is heavy and ragged. His hand falls from my hair.

“Ava, what am I going to do with you?” he whispers softly as he shakes his head.

I take a deep gulp of my wine before setting it on the coffee table. Then I curl my knees under myself so that I’m slightly higher than he is on the couch. I tousle up my hair, finishing the job he started, and then I lower my lids so they are heavy over my brown eyes and I lick my lips, tasting wine again. I match his intense green gaze, and without blinking say,

“Everything. Logan, I want you to do
everything
.”

I tilt my head down to kiss him, but my words seem to have had a strange effect. He slips away from me, setting his glass on the coffee table now, which he’s now pushing away from the couch, carefully, so as not to spill the wine.

“Don’t move,” he says to me, and then he leaves the room. I wonder if I’ve done something wrong, gone too far, been too bold. I think the keeping of secrets, the sneaking around, the small lies, have made me feel more daring. I thought he might like that. I thought that might be appropriate for a muse. Maybe I was wrong.

He’s back now, without his shirt. He slaps a small packet on the pushed away coffee table. I glance at the foil square, make out 3 little letters penned on the side. I smile.

“Now what were you saying you want me to do,” he growls as he tugs at his belt.

I look up at him, feeling a little more timid. “Anything?” I gulp. “Everything.”

His green eyes are dark and sexy and there’s a look in them like a fire that refuses to be extinguished. He walks over, stands in front of me. I kiss his taut belly as I start to pull his pants from his hips, but he grabs my hands, lifts them away, and pushes my wrists against my shoulders, which tips me off balance.

“Lean back,” he says. Then he bends over to kiss me, urging me backward until I’m lying on the couch lengthwise and he’s on top of me. He’s kissing me like we’re high school teens afraid to go past first base. Only we’re not, on both counts. I feel his hard length through the denim he wouldn’t let me remove. My exercise clothes are softer, easier to slip under, and soon we’re at second base. I arch my back so he can undo my bra and I feel it slip away. He rolls my nipples between his fingers roughly and then roams lower, to my waistband. Twisting his wrist, he’s under the stretchy fabric and wriggling beneath the bit of lace blocking third base. His fingers slip and slide because as soon as I saw him with his shirt off I’ve been wet and aching for a home run.

All this time he’s kissing me relentlessly. My lips are swollen and getting raw but I don’t want him to stop. It’s a crazy feeling, all this desire. His fingers plunge into me. I moan and arch my back. My fingers rake across his shoulders and down. I grind against his fingers and push into his teasing erection. I try to push his pants away, but can’t quite reach. I feel almost on the brink of coming when he pushes up and away from me. His lips are swollen, too. He pushes his wet fingers into his mouth and sucks. All the while, his eyes don’t leave mine.

“You were spoiled as a child, weren’t you, Ava?”

I nod. Compared to him, I was.

He pulls my pants off. Kneeling over me, he starts fingering me again. I rock my hips, imploring him to go deeper. His mouth quirks up into a teasing smile. He stops.

“What’s it like to get everything you want?” he whispers.

I’m all hot and bothered and I don’t much want to talk, but I think about my answer because I can tell he wants me to. “I guess it makes you expect things. And it makes other people expect things of you.”

He ponders this.

I sit up and remove the last of my clothing as I add, “But nobody gets everything they want. Ever.”

He gazes down at my nakedness, looking as if I’ve just given him everything he’s ever wanted.

The thing about wanting is that it never stops. And right now I want Logan naked.

“Take your pants off,” I whisper.

He smiles at my demand. “You do it.”

I oblige him. He sits back on the couch, lifting his hips to help me and as I pull his jeans and boxers to the floor his erect cock springs up, rock hard and pulsing.

“When you don’t get what you want,” he says. “You stop expecting things, and no one expects anything of you. There’s freedom in that.”

And sadness I think as I crawl between his legs, determined to give him something that he wants, that we
both
want.

I begin licking up his beautiful length. “Do you want this?” I say.

He sighs with pleasure. “Yes.”

“And this?” My tongue swirls around each of his balls.

“Yes.”

“This?” I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck gently.

He moans his assent.

I lick him wet with my tongue so that my hand slides up and down his shaft.

“It’s not fair that I had so much while you had so little.”

“I have more than I could ever want now,” he says, moving against my hand, his fingers weaving lightly through my hair. “More than I ever expected to have. Especially this.”

He slides a finger under my chin and lifts my gaze to his. “Especially you.” His deep green eyes, hooded and shiny with pleasure, penetrate mine. I hold his gaze as I take him in my mouth again. I bat my eyelashes as I suck him like he’s a sweet lollipop. Like I’m a spoiled child with an endless supply of candy. He doesn’t look away, but something in his eyes darkens. He presses my shoulders into his lap and moves against me with more intensity. Then he stops.

“Get up here,” he says, motioning me up onto the couch beside him. Again I oblige.

“You’re a spoiled rich girl who’s barely suffered a day in her life.” He slides his hand along my back and the round curve of my backside.

He guides me over him, so that I’m on my hands and knees on the couch and he’s under me. I can’t take him into my mouth or my pussy in this position, but he can reach behind me and slide his fingers inside me, which he does. I arch my back like a cat and sigh. He slides a finger of his other hand into my mouth. I suck those fingers hungrily. He has fingers in my pussy and my mouth at the same time. I’m so aroused. I’m arching, cat-like, with pleasure in front of him. With his mouth he nips at my waist and it tickles. I adjust my arms so that I can support myself with one arm. Now, with my free hand, I reach for his cock, perfectly positioned under my undulating belly. It’s warm, soft and hard all at the same time.

I hear him
tsk
. His fingers slip from my pussy, and I feel a smack against my buttock. I jolt, sucking in a breath and I nearly bite his fingers. My hand on his cock stills. He doesn’t want me to touch him? That can’t be it.

He slides his fingers back inside me. I groan with pleasure. My tongue dances around his exploring fingers once more. And… my other hand tightens around his cock.

Smack, again. I rock forward slightly, smiling. So this is the game.

I tug even tighter, my hand working his full length. He smacks my ass harder, and this time his fingers graze the folds between my legs. I am so aroused that I can’t feel pain, or not pain the way it’s supposed to feel. This kind of pain is different. It dances with my pleasure and makes a new sensation. I want more of it. I lean way back, practically until I’m sitting on my heels, so that I can take his beautiful, dangerous cock into my mouth. I draw him deep into my throat until he moans with his own pleasure, but a moment later, he slaps my ass again. And then he moves out from under me, toppling me onto the couch, and I’m flushed and breathing heavily. I smile up at him, enjoying our game.

“Turn over,” he demands. I reposition myself on my hands and knees, giving him full access to my behind. He kneels on the floor beside the couch, kisses the outside of my thigh, and then plunges his fingers deep inside me. He curls them, tapping on that secret spot that makes my eyes roll back in my head, and then his fingers slide in and out a few times and I’m sure I’m about to come, but then his other hand comes down hard on the curve between my buttock and the back of my thigh. I tip forward with its force and my breath catches. My balance shifts from one arm to both elbows as my upper body drops lower onto the couch cushions, while my bottom arches further upwards. I still myself in this position, unsure of what will happen next but aching, inside and out, for some kind of release.