Page 30 of Kiss and Make Love

“I had something else in mind…”

“Like what, Professor?” she teased.

“Look to your left.”

Spencer glanced to the side and saw Brett leaning against the hood of his vintage Datsun. It was a deep green, like the couch in his office. His hair was messy from being blown in the wind, and he was wearing a pair of black jeans, a maroon Henley, and the sexiest pair of aviators she’d ever seen. So this was casual Mr. Monroe.

Her pussy clenched. She liked it. She liked ita lot.

Ending her call, she slipped her phone in her bag and hurried over to Brett, letting out a wolf whistle on the way. He chuckled—a deep, delightful sound that made her heart skip a beat. She was ready to chastise herself for feeling like a teenager again, but she pushed away the thought. Was it so wrong to feel this way? More often than not, she thought it was actually, kind of, sort of…nice.

“Get over here.” He beamed, pulling her into his arms the second she was close enough.

Spencer let him hold her right in front of a main entrance to the school. Students were coming and going, so were professors. But it didn’t matter anymore. He was no longer her professor, and she was no longer his student. They were free to be with each other out in the open. No more secret emails or text messages.

“So what did you have in mind, Mr. Monroe?” she purred.

He raised his eyebrows. “I think you can just call me Brett now.”

“It’s not nearly as fun.”

“You don’t have to give up calling me that all together. Maybe we save it for special occasions.” He smirked.

She ran her finger down his chest. “If by special occasions you mean every time we’re in the bedroom, then agreed.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and pushed her gently toward the passenger door. “Let’s get going.”

“And where are we going?” Her curiosity was piqued. Did she want to jump his bones right damn now? Yes. But she also wanted to see what her sweet man had planned.

“It’s a surprise.” He glowed, looking every bit the ray of sunshine he was.

“What are we doing here?” Spencer asked as they stepped out of the car at The Frozen Spoon, Whitehill’s best ice cream parlour.

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” He took her by the hand, leading her straight through the front doors for all to see.

“Brett,” she tugged him to a stop. He looked back at her, concerned. “I need to make sure this is what you want. That you’re okay with this”—she gestured between them—“with us.”

“That’s a silly question. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Spencer rattled off a short list. “You were my professor until twenty minutes ago. There’s a significant difference in our ages. People will judge us.”

“Are you worried about that stuff?”

“Shit, no. I couldn’t care less what everyone else thinks. But you’re a lot softer than me. I don’t want you to feel like this is something you’re being forced into.”

A laugh lit up his face, highlighting the minute wrinkles on his forehead and beside his eyes. “Forced?” He stepped closer to her. So close, his chest pressed against her tits while his low voice whispered in her ear. “Do you think anyone forced me to crawl to you on my office floor? To lick your pussy until you came on my face?”

Spencer’s face flushed. This was a new experience. He’d never talked dirty to her out in public before. Only when it was the two of them, either sneaking around at school or texting late at night. His confidence was highly arousing.

“No,” she said on an exhale, happy she could manage to get any words out at all.

“Good,” he murmured, pulling away before turning back into the sugar-coated man she cared so much for. “Now, let’s get you some strawberry ice cream.”

“Strip, Professor,” Spencer directed, already in nothing but her red lace bra and panties.

Brett ripped off his shirt, shrugged out of his black jeans, and tossed his socks on the floor of his bedroom.

She crossed her arms. “Underwear, too, Mr. Monroe.”

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