"She thought she'd have to tussle with the
boney handed creep in the stuffed shirt.
She'd much rather tussle with him."
Temple Bryon, The Good Professor
This exerpt is a continuation of the 1st...
From The Good Professor - a contemporary erotic suspense romance set in Paris...
Copyright: Temple Bryon, 2012
The tiny area in front of the bar was nearly three persons deep behind them, the perfect cover from prying eyes. Ridge stepped closer, slid his hand around her waist, to the crook of her back, and pulled her pelvis against his, much better. The fact that this new position pushed her pussy up against the base of his cock was the only reason Bron did not protest. His erection was a bar of steel, the head pushing well above her wet cunt. He was huge and hard for her.
Yes, this new position was infinitely better. Ridge picked up his drink, Bron picked up hers. She took an unladylike gulp, he took a healthy swig. Neither of them wanted to talk, both content to ride the wave of sexual tension surging between them. As they drank, Ridge discreetly rocked the base of his granite erection against Bron’s mound. She shuddered every time he did. That she was trying to gather her thoughts was clear, but Ridge did not want to give her the chance to collect her thoughts. He just wanted her to feel him…
He could smell her arousal; it was tangy and musky. Her scent was so sweet and pure, there was no way that she had any panties on. Every time he rocked his cock into her, she let out a little gasp as she shuddered, damned clothes. Yeah, he was right about his professor. As soon as he shoved himself up inside her, she’d groan, tremble then come all over his cock –
Just like that, he was back to his original plan – fucking her up against the nearest hard surface. But Ridge was reasonable enough to alter his plan according to the altered situation. He was Special Forces after all. He was trained to quickly assess an un-expectantly altered situation and adapt his ops plan to fit. He’d fuck her up against the bar. And, God help him, Ridge knew he’d barely fit inside of her. He’d stretch her good, but he knew that she could take all of him, and he knew that she’d love it.
He rocked her again. She shuddered for him again. Ridge didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Bron rested her hand on his lapel and pushed. It was like pushing against the side of a cliff, but he slightly backed off and they both knew it was because he had allowed it.
“Wait, wait! We can’t do this, not here.”
“No one even sees us.”
Bron looked around, he was right. They were pressed tightly against the bar, by the crowd milling in the cramped space in front of the bar. The lone bartender had his young hands full: taking the landslide of orders, pouring drinks. The crowd surrounding them made them effectively invisible to the room. As for the crowd, the combination of free flowing liquor and lively atmosphere had quickly turned the staid academic function into a full-fledged party. The quartet’s lovely music was nearly lost amid the loud liquor suffused conversation and laughter filling the room. But Bron knew that perceptions could be and often were deceiving.
“Mr. Copeland, I’m sure that you know that university communities are like small towns – everyone knows everyone else’s business. There’s always a ‘town gossip’ gleefully disseminating the latest friandise juteuse to the townsfolk. Ridge’s laughter was as big as the rest of him. Bron’s mouth slightly dropped open at his response, in fluid French:
“First of all, my name is Ridge. Honey I can think of much better things to call a ‘juicy tidbit’ and most of them are on your body. Don’t look so surprised. Yes, I speak fluent French. David raised me.”
Ridge leaned forward and down, non-too gently bit her earlobe, then immediately licked the sting away. Liking the taste of her, he did it again. Bron thought that her knees would buckle. Bron moaned and briefly rested her forehead on his chest before looking up into his gorgeous eyes.
“Mr. Copeland, please don’t.” Bron didn’t know if she meant please don’t bite her or please don’t stop biting her.
“Enough of that Mr. Copeland distancing bullshit, you know my name say it.”
Her eyes flared with her irritation. “Mr. Copeland, by tomorrow morning my ‘encounter’ with D’Tourville will be the talk of the campus. That’s bad enough but unavoidable. But if you keep humping me up against this bar it’ll cause a firestorm and I don’t need this aggravation.”
“I don’t want to talk about D’Tourville or school gossips. Your sweet pussy is hot and wet for me, I can smell you. Delicious. All I know is that I need inside of you now. Baby, I’m so hard for you I’m hanging onto public decency by a thread. And that’s only because you work here.”
Bron stared up at him in dismay. “I don’t even know you.”
Ridge’s stomach clenched. He was scaring her, but he could not stop rocking his cock against her mound, feeling her shudders, hearing her gasp for him.
“You know me, I know you. Am I pushing too hard, too fast? If you don’t want this, me, say the word. I’ll cease and desist. But if your answer is yes, if you say yes, you leave with me right now or I’m going to have to go with my original plan and pound my pussy up against this bar.” Ridge moved his body a bit further back, breaking contact. She had to come to him willingly.
Bron valiantly tried to replay her earlier mental ‘stranger danger’ speech. There were several truly valid reasons why she should say no. The most important being that she was finally on the brink of landing an opportunity that would cement her career. She had already dry humped this fine ass man at the bar. Did she really want to add more fuel to the fire? She should say no – right?
‘I should say hell no, but…God help me, I don’t want to.’
David’s stories about this man had led her to have some seriously erotic fantasies that quickly became erotic dreams. And now, here he was. He was real and he was here. This might be her one and only chance to experience what she had only dreamed about.
All of a sudden her friend Suzan’s favorite saying popped into her head: “Le seule façon je le jeter hors de mon lit serait de luis baiser sur le plancher!”
Bron had nearly choked on her café crème when her diminutive elegant 65 year old landlady had first confided that the only way she would throw a fine man out of her bed would be to fuck him on the floor. But looking at the man standing before her she suddenly knew exactly what Suzan meant. Life was too short, grab what you want with both hands and deal with the bullshit later. Bron knew what her answer was. She could not deny it. She didn’t want to. Bron slowly slid her hands up Ridge’s chest, pushed her hands into the silky hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his head down toward her until her mouth was at his ear. Returning the favor, she bit his earlobe, licked the sting away and whispered the only answer she wanted to give, the only answer she could give.
“Yes. I don’t care where. Here’s fine, but now please.” Bron’s last word ended on a moan.
What do you think? Don't hold back. I can take it ;-}
'Til we meet again,