Forbidden (short steamy romance) (2 page)

She had seen him around a couple of times, had spoken to him more than once. She thought that he might have a thing for her.

She nodded and smiled back, nibbling at her sandwich, wanting to look as dainty as possible. She didn’t go for the jock types. ‘Too much energy and not enough patience’ was what her mother used to say about them, and she should know, she married one. Elly’s father was an all-round athlete, he played football, rugby, tennis and track and field. He put a stop to that years before Elly was born, now his only sport was golf which he played half-assed and drunk on a Saturday afternoon.

Elly liked the intelligent ones, the creative ones. The ones more likely to excel at mathematicians or creative writing than to win any awards. But the man across from her, smiling at her as he tucked into what looked like a dry chicken breast, was cute and he clearly liked her.

She was about to say something, not entirely sure what, when they were interrupted, potentially saving her from saying something dumb.

“How’s my favorite student?”

They both looked up, Elly’s eyes opened wide, a smile split her face in two. James -- Jimmy to his friends and students -- Kitson stood above them with a tray of food in his hands.

“And Adam as well of course,” he joked, directing his attention to the man opposite.

The jock smiled meekly at the professor who stood, almost as if in wait, above the table. After a few moments of deliberation the jock stood, took his tray and shifted to another table. The professor took his place, grinning at Elly when he sat down.

“Becoming acquainted with the university hot shots?” he asked with a grin.

“Hot shots?”

He nodded slowly, poked at a pile of vegetables with a plastic fork. “Adam Morris. He’s a regular player on campus, been in more girls’ pants than Tampax.”

Elly nearly choked on her sandwich. She swallowed with great difficulty, stifled a laugh.

“I think he likes you,” Kitson said with a wink. “But he may just want another notch for his bed post, although I think there are more notches than bedpost there these days.”

“He’s not my type anyway,” Elly said.

“Ah,” Kitson nodded. “May I ask what
is
your type?”

Elly giggled softly, wished she hadn’t and tried to hide it with an awkward cough. She shrugged, played nonchalant. “I like them intelligent, educated…”

“Go on…”

“Handsome. Of course.”

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Older, preferably.”

“I see,” he nodded, she could see a glint in his eye, wondered if she should continue. She fell confident in the moment, more than she expected she would. He had a way of making her feel like that, of making her feel comfortable in her own skin.

“Dignified. Charming. Respectable,” she finished, holding eye contact.

He nodded slowly, looked down at his plate, poked a couple of vegetables in his mouth and chewed slowly. When he finally lifted his eyes towards her again it looked like he had been thinking about something and had come to a conclusion that he wanted to share. “What do you say to a drink tonight?” he asked her slowly. “Just a drink and a chat. To help you get settled, nothing untoward of course. I’m not asking you to a drug party or an orgy or anything.”

She raised her eyebrows, grinned. If he did ask her to an orgy, despite her tendency towards shyness, she doubted she would find it easy to say no.

“Just a quiet drink between me and you,” he smiled at her. “Get to know each other, maybe talk about campus life. I noticed you weren’t settling in around the others. I could help you with that.”

Sh stared at him for a while, let it sink it, let him wonder just what she as going to say. She saw a pleading behind his eyes, a desperation for her to say yes and a worry that she would think he was some sort of creepy pervert and report him immediately.

“Yes,” she said eventually. “That would be lovely.”

***

He had to deter Adam Morris to get to her. Adam was a former high school star athlete who liked to think he was still in the high school that adored him, despite having half a dozen years between his final glorious day there and his mediocre days at the university. He had slept with most of the young women at the university, but Kitson knew that when it came to quantity, and quality for that matter, he still trumped the little stud.

Elly seemed impressed with Adam and it wasn’t the first time he had seen them together. On her second day on campus he had seen them walking briskly down the corridor together, they had turned a corner and he had hurried to catch them, only to find they had disappeared. At the time he had worried that Adam had taken her somewhere, getting to her before he had a chance to, but judging by the way she brushed him off in the food hall, he doubted that was the case.

Adam was dejected when he brushed him aside, Kitson could see it in his eyes. After that, all it had taken was a joke or two to break the ice, some open and honest conversation and then he asked her out. He could get in trouble for it, he knew that and he knew that she knew it as well, but he’d stopped caring a long time ago. He had been with a lot of students and gotten away with it. He didn’t think he was untouchable, in fact, he liked to think that the reason he got away with it was because he was
so
touchable; the students loved him, would never report him.

Elly agreed to the date. Easy score. Not as difficult as some of the others, but far more timid, far more suggestible. Afterwards he began to wonder just what they could get up to when they were alone, just how he could mould and sculpt such a suggestible mind. He liked them young and easy, but she seemed like the youngest and easiest yet.

3

She dressed casually, spent time on her makeup and hair. She wore a loose sweater, rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of black leggings, she wanted to look like she wasn’t trying whilst trying her best to look good.

Kitson lived a mile or two off campus, she took the bus, watching the grey evening turn to black on the short journey. He lived in a compact two bedroom house. Nothing big, nothing grand, but it was in a nice part of town, an expensive neighborhood. The house had probably cost the same as her parents’ five bedroom house on the outskirts of the city.

She wasn’t feeling nervous, was comfortable when she knocked on the door and waited. He opened the door, ushered an orange warmth outside. She could feel the heat from the house, could hear soft classical music in the background, could smell the scents of freshly cooked food. He held a wine glass in his hand, the red liquid sloshing around as he moved forward to kiss her, a peck on each cheek.

He ushered her into the living room, offered her a glass of the wine. It looked expensive, the neck of the bottle appeared dusty, as if it had been in storage for a while. The rest of the bottle had been wrapped in a napkin, like they did at fancy restaurants.

“I opened this specially for you,” he told her, confirming her suspicions. “I picked this up a number of years ago in France. Very tasty, very rare,” he turned to grin proudly at her as he poured, careful not to spill a drop.

She sipped it, gave his expectant stare a smile. It just tasted like any old wine to her, she wasn’t an expert; wine was wine.

“I know I said it’d just be a few drinks, but I cooked a little food if you’re feeling hungry.”

She nodded. She hadn’t eaten since lunch.

The meal was perfect. She hadn’t eaten Thai food that good in a long time. Hadn’t really eaten any food that good in a long time. She had lived on a cheap student diet for a while and couldn’t get enough of the food he offered.

Afterwards they had some more wine, then he offered her the whiskey -- twenty year old scotch. She wasn’t a big whiskey fan but she was nicely lubricated by then and happy to try it. It burned her throat, felt very harsh, but instantly warmed her up. It also loosened her up, she spoke more freely, laughing, giggling, joking. Before long she was all over him.

She put his hand on his thigh at first, softly clenching and unclenching her fingers, feeling the tightness of his muscle through the tautness of his jeans. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he talked, explaining something about philosophy or literature, she wasn’t sure. She was drunk by then, her mind filled with carnal thoughts, unable to think of anything else as she watched his lips mouth, saw the slight wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and mouth when he smiled, felt the warmth of his leg in her palm.

He was still talking when she moved her other hand around, putting it on his crotch. He didn’t flinch, continued talking. She felt the bulge there, felt it growing as she applied pressure with her palm and her fingers, enjoying the way it felt as it grew beneath her touch. She unclasped his belt with one hand, a quick and skillful maneuver, then she pulled down his zipper, stuck her hand inside.

He was semi-erect, his penis already quite large from what she could gather. It was thick and long, she could only imagine what it could do to her, the heights of ecstasy that it could take her to.

She slipped her fingers beneath the waist of his boxer shorts, keeping her stare locked to his all the while, noting the wry smile that curled the corner of his lips when he felt her nails brush his smooth foreskin, which was retreating down the shaft as his cock grew fully erect.

She slowly wrapped her hand around it, enjoyed the way it felt in her palm, the way it twitched and pulsed, the heat of it as the blood coursed through. She pulled it down, stretching the skin down until the knuckles on her closed fist touched his scrotum. He stopped talking, seemed lost for words as she worked her hand up and down.

She kissed him, immediately sticking her tongue into his mouth, tasting the numbing whiskey on his lips and his tongue. He put a hand behind her head, pressed her closer. He lifted his hips upwards, gave her more room to maneuver.

She let go of his cock, moved her hand upwards, through the thin line of hair that ran from his pubic area, up his stomach and to his chest where it flourished. She ran her fingers through it, ran them over his nipple, over the light contours of his pectorals and down to his waist.

He turned sideways then, moved closer to her, wrapped his left arm around her and kept his right on her head. She felt his exposed erection digging into her as he neared, felt it pressing against her thigh.

He moved on top of her, lifted his kiss away, looked lovingly into her eyes. He slowly bit her bottom clip, gave her a smile and then slid down. He started on her breasts, lifting her jumper up and over her head before caressing and kissing her breasts. He cupped one, rubbed the nipple with his thumb whilst kissing the other, flicking the nipple with his tongue, working it expertly until she squirmed, moaned, felt him taking her where she wanted to go before he’d even entered her.

He moved further down, kissed the soft flesh above her pussy. He pulled her leggings down, lifting her legs up so he could remove them entirely before throwing them across the room. He kept her right leg in the air, holding it in his grasp. He kissed her foot, kissed each toe, running his tongue through the gaps. Then he kissed her calf, ran his tongue up the smooth flesh, to her knee, her thigh, and then to her pussy. She was wet by then, her head back hard against the pillow, her eyes closed to feel him more.

He put his head between her legs, kissed the moist flesh of her vagina, ran his fingers over it, pushing them in slightly to tease her, to test her. He bit the lips, a gentle, careful action, then tasted her clit with his tongue, softly at first, until she squirmed in a dire desperation, at which point he picked up the pace, using the same expert technique that he had used on her nipple, flicking her clit until she kicked out, until she screamed, until she forced his head deep inside her. He used his fingers as well, putting two of them inside her, working them quickly in and out as his tongue continued to excite her.

He pulled out before she came, gave her a sly smile as he climbed back on top of her. He kissed her deeply. She could taste herself, could smell herself on his breath.