Page 5 of Forbidden Fruit

"I don't chase guys, Mia." I throw my hands over my face and plop on the couch dramatically.

"I swear to God if I have to hear your vibrator for three months straight, I'm gonna fucking lose it."

"I make no promises in that regard."

What if I seduced him? Just once. Best-case scenario, I get the lust and the closure from Julian out of my system with a fuck and we move on. Problem solved. Worst-case scenario, Dad finds out, and although I hate disappointing him, he'd do anything to sweep something that could tarnish his reputation under the rug. Knowing that, there likely wouldn't be any real consequences for me, would there? Would Professor DeLuca burn at the proverbial stake? Do I care? Should I care? That's the question.

Mia gives a conspiring grin. "I see you plotting. Your vag and your vibrator thank you." I laugh and throw the neighboring pillow at her, barely missing her wine.

"I can't drink another glass, Mia. I'm going to bed. Call Matt and fuck him."

Basically our third roommate, I like Mia's sorta-kinda-not-really boyfriend. She has yet to fill me in on all the terms and conditions, but at six-foot-four, and a wide receiver for Bennington's football team, he’s sculpted to perfection, lighthearted, and fun. I don’t mind having him around in the slightest. He is the perfect compliment to Mia's wild but enigmatic, sometimes serious, personality. It's obvious that they balance each other out. I don't know where he is tonight, but he is probably my ticket to getting to bed before one am.

"There are two ways I see it, Liv. Matt and I find you a frat boy to fuck or you cowgirl up and fuck DeLuca. Make the call and fuck DeLuca. Goodnight." With that, she yawns and sashays out of the room, leaving me alone and drunk, thinking of fifty ways to seduce DeLuca. I'm not sure how long I stare into space before I resign myself to getting a shower.

When I step in, the steam eases some of the tension and sobers me a bit. I savor the hot water, beads of it trailing down my freckled skin. This shower, more like a sauna, is my favorite part of the apartment. White and gray mosaic tile lines the floor and walls. I trace my finger along it absentmindedly.

My mind involuntarily recalls Julian. I've been so busy with school and oddly infatuated with DeLuca, that the hurt fades into the recesses of my fucked up brain and heart ala Julian. Now I know he’s a textbook narcissist. I didn't know it until after the fact, after I was too comfortable and too ashamed to ruin the relationship, convincing myself his words were right. Every time he told me I was the problem, even though a part of me deep down knew I wasn't, I believed him a bit more. I don't know why he makes a resurgence in my thoughts now. Maybe it's because, like DeLuca, Julian is classically tall, dark and handsome. It feels criminal to even compare the two. DeLuca may be cocky, but he doesn't seem cruel or self-absorbed like Julian was. He certainly doesn't seem like the type to fuck his personal trainer's wife behind his girlfriend's back variety.

I shiver in the cold air and grab the fluffy white towel hanging outside of the glass French doors. Wrapping myself up hastily, I try to savor the warmth. Although the days have been warm, the nights are cooling off rapidly in true Northeastern fashion. I don't bother dressing, just dive into my covers and pile a few decorative pillows underneath my head, hoping to keep the spins at bay. I grab the water bottle that I put on my nightstand prior to the wine and give a silent thanks for good planning. The silence feels too loud suddenly, and the resurgence of loneliness I tried to forget about finds me. I close my eyes, letting my thoughts take me away. Instead of drifting into a peaceful sleep, I replay DeLuca's class over and over in my head.

I should have suggested rum. Wine drunk always equates to me being a horny drunk, damnit. I give a resigned sigh, grabbing my vibrator from the top drawer. I have it on for five seconds, letting my mind imagine how DeLuca would part my thighs. Would he be gentle with soft fingertips skirting my sensitive flesh? Would he pry and take, primal and raw? The fantasy dissipates when my fucking phone rings. I'm momentarily confused when I see Mia's name flash across the screen. I answer it and say nothing, wondering if she meant to call me. She cackles into the phone before composing herself.

"I can hear your fucking vibrator. Make a plan. Corrupt that man."

My only response is a groan of exasperation as I toss the phone and my vibrator to the other side of the bed.Did I just get fucking clit-blocked?I have a feeling Mia's right, even if I'm not ready to admit it. I need a fling with someone to show me they can make me orgasm, that I'm not better off just taking care of myself.

Risky. Reckless. Forbidden.

He's my ideal rebound, the epitome of what I want from my college experience. With each passing day, I'm ready to take what I want.

Chapter Four

Olivia

DespiteMia'spassionatedissertationon how to get me laid, nothing happens in DeLuca's class other than me stealing glances and a continuation of last week's fantasies. I've fucked him fifty ways to Sunday in my head. He's all business today. Calm, poised, and focused on lecturing about the epiglottis and pharynx. No witty remarks. No knowing smirks. He's barely even looked in my direction. I try to pay attention to what he's saying, but I'm too focused on the irony of wanting him to bruise my oral cavity with his dick. I feel Mia smirking at me, and I instantly know what she's thinking. She scribbles a note on the page she has open.

“If you're thinking about making a blowjob joke, immediate yes. Do it, you goddess.” She nods emphatically as I read it.

"I can't, Mia. Too juvenile, don't you think?"

“Not if you play it right. It’ll get his attention for sure,” Mia responds, but I don't hear her. I'm too focused on the fact that DeLuca's glaring at me right along with half of the students in the class.

"Something on your mind, Miss Hamilton?" Shrugging and fighting to keep my composure, I answer as blandly as I can muster.

"Just some morbid curiosity, I suppose." DeLuca scratches his stubble pensively.

"Well, you know what they say. If one person has a question, it's likely someone else does, too." His smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"Well, in that case. I'm curious about the probability of causing severe bruising to the pharynx if it repeatedly experiences minor trauma." Some redheaded girl in the front row gasps while someone three rows ahead does a comedic spit take of his water. Mia looks like she wants to stand on her chair like a hype queen. The rest of the room sits with their gaping mouths, undoubtedly a mixture of shock, horror, and excitement. DeLuca's eyes flash in unexpected amusement, then darken to something stormy. I'm somewhere between smug and ashamed before he finally answers.

"It would depend on the length of the object and the caliber of the motion. If you're eluding to nine inches and no regard for your pharynx..." He shrugs, letting the words trail off. The look of rage, amusement, and longing he gives me fuels my fantasy for at least ten minutes after the joke lands. I didn't enjoy giving head to Julian, but I have no doubt DeLuca would be different. Where Julian thought he was dominant, he was actually just an asshole. DeLuca isn’t the type to need to make anyone do anything. It's clear from his cocky persona that women willfully fall at his feet, bruised pharynx be damned.

When I focus my attention back to his lecture, his posture and delivery falter. His lips part as he blatantly stares at my hand holding the pen that I didn't realize I had in my mouth. I apparently got a little too lost in my daydream. "The primary function of the Epiglottis..." His words trail off as I push the end of the pen further into my mouth, the cap disappearing. He sighs as he closes his notebook abruptly.

"Let's finish this up next week, shall we?" He doesn't look up, just shuffles papers and stuffs them into his messenger bag methodically. Mia leaves, the rest of the class hurrying off to more lectures and infinite amounts of homework. DeLuca still stands at the podium, shuffling through lecture notes, stuffing more paper into his bag. Still feeling bold, I let my eyes hungrily roam his muscular frame. Today he's wearing tight black dress pants that look tailored to him. They hug his bulge and his ass perfectly. I revel in what it must feel like to be a guy, unabashedly objectifying. I don't hide my gawking, especially since his back is to me.

"Would you like me to bend over so you can get a better view, Miss Hamilton?" His question catches me off guard, making me laugh.

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