Sapphire Beautiful (5 page)

I’m surprised when I shudder in response to his feather light touch.

“Take your bra off,” he orders.

I do as I’m told and add it to the pile of clothes on the floor.

His index finger then makes its way down to my left breast. As he slowly circles my nipple I feel a ripple of excitement.

“Take off your panties,” he tells me.

I slide them off and kick them onto the clothing pile.

His index finger makes contact with my hipbone next. He circles it then moves toward my belly button, which he also lightly rounds.

Neither of my two previous lovers ever touched me so carefully, or so deliberately. 

When he steps out his boxer briefs I can’t help but notice that he’s fully aroused. My chest tightens when I realize this is it. No turning back. I took his money and now he’s going to fuck me. 

“Get in bed.”

I take in a deep breath as I climb into bed. He eagerly follows.

Each lying on our sides we turn to face each other. My heart begins to race.

This time when he stares at me there is so much desire in his dark eyes it’s unnerving.

“You’re so beautiful.” When he touches my cheek I’m surprised by how cold his hand feels. Maybe he’s nervous too.

Then he kisses me. It’s a soft, gentle kiss, almost tentative, like he’s not sure if he should really be kissing me.

He tastes like wine, which isn’t bad, but I kick myself for not downing what was in my glass when he did. It might have calmed my fraying nerves.

It’s a little startling when Dante moves on top of me and pushes inside of me. I was so used to Doug always asking me, getting my consent, before we ever had sex. When I think about it now it’s a bit ironic for someone who was accused of coercing half a dozen students into having sex with him to be so concerned about getting consent from his wife.

Dante is paying to be with me. He’s in charge. And he doesn’t hesitate to take what he wants.

The first few thrusts are painful. It’s been several months since I’ve had sex, and I’m not extremely turned on, but I do my best to try to relax and accommodate him.

I hold my breath as he continues to push in and out of me. I try to think about being anywhere else but in my bed letting a complete stranger fuck me. Luckily it doesn’t take him very long to come. When he shudders his release he pulls me so close it’s almost suffocating.

Relax, I tell myself as I finally exhale the breath I’d been holding a little too long. Just relax. 

“I want to sleep here...with you.”

“Okay,” I reply even though it’s not a question.

I feel sticky from the sex and trapped in his arms. All I want to do is hurry into the bathroom and clean him from inside of me, but he doesn’t seem to want to release me from his tight grasp.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I whisper.

He doesn’t immediately let me go. For a moment it feels like he holds me even tighter. After a few more excruciatingly long moments he finally frees me.

“Hurry back,” he says as I rise from the bed.

Once I’m inside the bathroom I’m completely flooded with emotion. Tears begin to stream down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying.

I quickly use the toilet. Then I turn on the sink and wet a washcloth to clean myself. 

When I finally glance at my reflection in the mirror I don’t like what I see. How did I become someone willing to have sex for money? And I’m having sex with someone who’s barely out of college. I’m a college professor. Most of my students are his age.

I try my best to control my sniffling because the walls are thin and I don’t want him to know I’m crying.

When there’s a soft knock on the door I have a sinking feeling I’ve been busted.

“Are you okay?” he asks through the door.

Clearly I’m not, but I don’t want to upset him. So I lie. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

I do my best to wipe my tear-streaked face. Then I blow my nose before I open the door.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he barges into the bathroom.

“Nothing,” I insist.

He narrows he gaze at me. “Then why have you been crying?”

I take in a deep breath then slowly let out the air before I reply. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” Since I’m being honest about my sex life I might as well go all the way. “I was with my husband for over a decade. Before that the only guy I was intimate with was my high school sweetheart. I’ve never been promiscuous. I’ve never had a one-night stand. I’ve never been with anyone I didn’t know really well. And I’ve never been with anyone who wasn’t my age.” 

I look at him expectantly. Part of me wonders if he’ll just decide I’m not worth it and ask for his money back.

He bites his bottom lip like he’s giving his reply some thought. I brace myself for the worst.

“I like you. A lot. You’re absolutely gorgeous. I don’t care that you’re a few years older...”

“Ten years older,” I remind him.

“I want to make this work. I want to be with you.”

Having sex with him wasn’t that bad, was it? It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t awful either. And I can really use the money. Living so close to campus was doable when I was part of a two-income household, but my single professor’s salary is barely enough to cover my monthly expenses.

He extends a hand. Decision time. Do I continue down this path and become the mistress of a wealthy twenty-two-year-old, or do I pull the plug and struggle to make ends meet on my own?

When I take his hand he gives me the tiniest ghost of a smile in return.

This time when he gets into bed he gets under the covers. As soon as I join him he pulls me into his arms and holds me tight.

“I want to fall asleep with you in my arms,” he tells me.

I’m not used to sleeping so close to someone. There’s a reason I have a King size bed. Doug liked his space when he slept. He definitely wasn’t the cuddly-feely snuggle-after-sex-type. Not that I am either. It feels a little claustrophobic. But it also seems important to Dante, so I acquiesce. 

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before he’s lightly snoring.

I do my best to clear my mind, but so many thoughts are running through my head. What does it mean to be someone’s mistress? Will he expect me to do things other than have sex? Should I tell my sister what I’m doing? What about Lucy?

Luckily I’m so emotionally drained that it’s not long before I fall asleep as well.

***

“W
here are you going?” It’s hard to tell if Dante is mad or panicked. Maybe a little of both.

He was sleeping so soundly I thought I’d be able to sneak out of bed, but the moment I moved from his arms he woke up.

“I have to go to work,” I tell him.

“You have a job?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Obviously not a very lucrative one.” Most people don’t become college professors to get rich. For the amount of education and training required we’re definitely not paid as much as a lot of other professions.

He grabs my arm. “Is there time to have sex again before you leave?”

I glance at the clock. I don’t have a lot of spare time. “Join me in the shower?”

He nods.

We both stumble out of bed and make our way into the bathroom. I turn on the shower. “Do you like it hot?”

I’m shocked when he laughs. I wasn’t sure he was capable of it. He’s got a deep, hearty laugh. It’s much deeper than his speaking voice.

“I was talking about the water,” I clarify.

“I like everything hot.”

He pulls me close and kisses me. The first time we kissed he seemed so hesitant. This kiss is a little stronger and more confident. I decide to kiss him back.

This seems to really excite him. He slips his tongue into my mouth and deepens the kiss.

“We’d better get in the shower,” he says breathlessly. “I don’t want to waste water.”

And he looks very excited to get inside of me again. He’s already at full mast.

As soon as we step inside the shower his hands begin to explore my body. Between the hot water beating down on us and the light touch of his hands as they travel the length of my body I begin to tingle all over.

I gasp when he pushes me against the wall of the shower and I see the hunger in his eyes. Absolute and pure desire. I never saw anything like it in Doug’s eyes in all the years we were together.

Dante’s utter desire for me sparks something deep inside me that I’ve never felt before. It’s not any kind of emotional reaction, because I barely know him, it’s something more instinctive and carnal. 

This time when he pushes inside of me I’m turned on and ready for him. When I let out a small moan I actually see his eyes twinkle.

“I want to make you come,” he whispers in my ear. “Tell me what I need to do to make you come.”

“Long, slow strokes,” I urge. “Take your time.”

That’s exactly what he does. As he pushes into me slow and deep he doesn’t take his eyes from mine. I can feel a subtle exchange of energy between us as we continue to stare into each other’s eyes.

This is so much different than when we were together last night. The first time he fucked me I felt like it was all about him.

Now I feel like it’s all about me.

His eyes are still on me, examining me, as if he’s trying to capture every subtle change in my face as he slides in and out of me.

I gasp when a feel a swell of arousal building and I know I’m getting ready to have an orgasm.

Only then does Dante quicken his pace. His thrusts are harder and even deeper as he works to come with me.

“That’s it,” he cries as he makes one final push and we both explode. 

We gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

“Was that better?” he asks as he runs his thumb down my cheek.

Now I’m the one who just nods. For someone who gets paid to lecture and write it’s unusual for me to be at a loss for words, but that’s the position in which I find myself.

I have no idea what to say.

“Turn around,” he tells me.

When I do as I’m told he carefully washes my back. Then he puts some shampoo in my hair and washes that as well. For a moment I just relax and enjoy him massaging every inch of my body.

“All clean,” he says as he spins me back around.

For split second I wonder if I should wash him too. Before I have a chance to ask he’s already got the soap and he’s scrubbing his body.

I take a moment to really look at him. It feels so strange to get to know someone after you’ve already had sex twice. It should be the other way around.

Even though Dante is tall and slender, he’s got a hint of muscles in his arms and legs that suggest some kind of physical activity, although his skin is so pale it doesn’t seem like he gets outside very much.

When I reach over and touch the tattoo on his arm he turns his attention to me. “Do you like it?”

“It’s unexpected.”

“It’s my passion.”

“Dali or Dante?”

“I love everything about medieval history.”

I’m tempted to tell him that’s what I’ve been studying my entire adult life. That I’m a professor in a Medieval Studies department at a well-respected university, but for some reason I hesitate. I guess part of me is embarrassed that I worked so hard to build a career, yet I’ve found myself in a situation in which I’m being paid for sex. Maybe I’m having a difficult time reconciling those two parts of myself in my mind.

“Why Cerberus?” I ask.

His expression changes and I wonder if it’s okay for me to ask him personal questions. We never clarified how open we would be with the details of our lives outside of our arrangement.

“Did I mention how beautiful you are?” he asks, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Several times,” I tell him.

When he kisses me again I can see his cock begin to swell.

“I really have to get to work,” I remind him.

“When will I see you again?”

“I think you’re the one who’s supposed to make that decision.”

“Tonight.”

“Okay.”

“What time do you get off?”

He probably didn’t mean it as a joke, because he’s one of the most serious people I’ve ever met, but I smile anyway. And because I just can’t help myself I ask, “What time would you like to get me off?”

I’m shocked when my question elicits a genuine smile in return. “I’ll be over at eight.”

O
nce again I find myself sprinting down the hallway toward my office. Hopefully this won’t turn into a habit.

“Slow down,” Andrew says poking his head out of his office. “He hasn’t made the rounds yet.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Being on the Dean’s Late List two days in a row would probably mean the death of my dreams for tenure.

“Late again,” Lucy observes as she steps out of her office and joins me and Andrew in the hallway. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

I shake my head.

She narrows her gaze at me. “You look different. Are you dating someone?”

“No, definitely not.” That’s one thing Dante and I are not doing.

I can tell by the skeptical look in her eyes that Lucy does not believe me, but I’m grateful that she chooses not to continue the discussion in front of Andrew.

Not that I could date Andrew now even if he asked me. Dante and I have an exclusive arrangement. I won’t be dating anyone for a while.

“So,” Andrew says in an effort to change the subject. “Guess who I have in my Emergence of Europe class?”

Lucy puts a finger to her lips like she’s giving it tremendous thought when we both know it’s the new graduate research fellow.

“What’s he like?” I ask.

“It’s weird,” Andrew replies. “He’s a little bit nerdy. Quiet. He kept to himself. I expected him to be an arrogant frat-boy type. You know those guys who look like they just stepped off of an ultra-private golf course or their parent’s yacht. He looked like he just stepped out of a Dungeons and Dragons convention. He never raised his hand, but when I called on him every one of his answers was thoughtful, articulate and insightful. He obviously knows a lot about history.”

“You disappoint me,” Lucy tells him. “I was hoping he’d be a complete screw-up. But you make him sound like he’ll fit right in and maybe even be an asset to the department.”