Page 11 of Falling for Carla

‘It seems wrong. You’re my professor,’ she protested with a laugh.

‘That’s what’s wrong in this situation?’ I challenged.

We were sheltering in my office, a pop-up rainstorm keeping us trapped in the empty building. It was raining much too hard to attempt a dash for the parking lot. Even an umbrella wouldn’t have shielded us in such a harsh downpour. It lashed against my office window as wind rattled the panes of glass. She had burst into my office dripping wet, her t-shirt and shorts clinging to her, damp curls clinging to her neck. I had bundled her in my coat and told her to sit. I had leaned on my desk and made small talk for as long as I could.

She was chilled. I had offered to warm her up.

‘Simple physics,’ I assured her, ‘a transfer of body heat. Nothing wrong with that.’

‘I thought it was biology, but I’m not a science major,’ she said.

Still, she’d gotten to her feet and shrugged off the coat I lent her so I could fold her in my arms. Her wet hair and chilled skin felt cold to me. I held her against my chest as impersonally as I could. My heart rate kicked up, and I felt myself responding to her, the shape of her molded against me. Her damp clothes clung to my dry shirt, and a wet curl caught in the corner of my mouth when I kissed her head. That had not been my first mistake, but my biggest one. Not only bringing her into intimate physical proximity to me but absently kissing the top of her head as though she were precious to me, like it was the natural thing to do as I held her. Which it was. That was the really problematic factor in the equation. The ease with which she settled against me, her cheek over my heartbeat, my chin resting on the top of her head. We fit together flawlessly, and not even the clammy wet hair against my neck could cool me off because my body felt consumed by flame. I knew that my manhood stirred against her, that she must know what it meant and that she must be trying to ignore it politely even as I struggled to master myself in the face of such incredible temptation.

She thanked me and tried to withdraw from my arms. ‘Thank you, Professor,’ she said a little shyly. Her shyness was so unlike her. I had never seen less than blazing confidence in the lines of her lovely face. But her vulnerability was irresistible.

That was when I told her to call me Drake. That was when I bent my head and kissed her. I took those soft, berry-colored lips. I tasted vanilla lip gloss on them briefly before she parted them, and I slid my tongue inside. Oh, it was relief and torture all at once! A mere pantomime of what I really wanted, for her to open her legs for me, not just her mouth.

“You could make me warm, Drake. There are other ways,” she said, her voice husky, going straight to my cock that already stood at attention, aching for her.

“It would be my pleasure,” I managed.

“Oh, I think it would be mine,” she teased, and the curve of her lips into a naughty smile was stopped by the thrust of my tongue in her mouth. No more tentative exploration. I stroked the curves of her mouth, tasting her, making her tremble in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Her arms wound around my neck and I realized I was holding her up in my ardor. My passion for her was such that I had lifted her off the ground, feet dangling nearly a foot off the floor. All I wanted was my mouth on hers, and then it seemed imperative to get her wet clothes off. I peeled them off as I turned, setting her on the edge of my desk.

She leaned back on her elbows as I stripped her panties off. I could see the soft dark curls between her legs, see that they were glossy with her own wetness, not just the dampness from the rain. She wanted me. Was wet for me. It felt so good to know that, a powerful jolt of desire ripping through me at the thought. I was going to have her. I was going to take Carla Russo on my desk in a rainstorm. That was the last coherent thought I had.

I nipped at the swell of her breasts as they strained above the lacy cups of her bra. She arched toward me, and I sucked a nipple through the rough fabric. Her needy moan set my teeth on edge. I was so turned on, and I’d wanted her so badly. I had to make myself count backward just to keep from getting too close too fast. The truth was I could’ve come in my pants just from the noise she had made. Roughly, I gripped one thigh and hitched it up to my hip. I sucked her neck and then brushed my knuckles over her wet sex. Panting, she leaned up with effort and kissed my throat, my collarbone, her fist gripping the front of my shirt. I loved her hot mouth on my skin and loved being cradled between her smooth warm thighs even before I could bury myself inside of her. The slick heat between her legs told me what I needed to know. How long she’d wanted me, how turned on she was. How easy it would be to slide into her and pound her until we both screamed.

But I held off, tormenting us both, keeping us on the edge of that desire. Softer kisses on her lips and then the scrape of my teeth along her collarbone seemed to drive her wild. She grappled at me, holding on, almost trying to push me away once when I was kissing her neck and she writhed and whimpered. I started to pull back, but she held on tighter, ‘no, don’t go anywhere!’ she moaned, ‘it’s just too much. I don’t know if I can stand it.’

I knew how she felt. My cock had a life of its own, and its one goal was to stuff her full and then fuck her hard. I rubbed the weeping head of my stiff cock down her seam and watched her jerk with a sharp reaction, moaning and arching closer to me, spreading her legs just the way I wanted her to do. I kissed her mouth, quick and deep, and then I held onto her hip and drove into her in one deep stroke. She bowed up off the desk and I felt her legs kick out on either side of me as my big cock stroked places inside her that had never been touched. I rocked into her just to make sure I couldn’t go any deeper. She gripped me tight, her wetness easing my way as I slid back and then thrust in again and again, driving her across the desk until I was crouching above her, both of us on top of the desk and my tongue in her mouth as I pounded into her wildly. She fisted her hand in my collar and used it to keep my mouth on hers as we fucked hot and wet on my desk. When I came inside her tight, sweet body, it shot out so hard that she screamed, coming around me in response. The squeeze of her inner muscles drained every drop from me as I covered her face with kisses, reveled in hearing her scream my name in her ecstasy. Nothing I’d ever felt was more delicious than making Carla Russo come. She fell back onto the desk, my fingers tangled in her curls and my hand protecting her from hitting her head on the wood when she went limp from the force of our shared orgasm. I felt the quiver of her stomach against mine, her abs cramping with the exertion. My own thighs burned from the hard thrusting, the way we’d both pushed our bodies to the limit to join together.

I backed off the desk and got to my feet, zipped my pants. Then I wrapped her in my coat again and held her against my chest that was heaving with the aftermath of such a filthy workout.

When I spilled in my own hand almost immediately, I’d continued the fantasy, felt myself grow hard again and stroked myself to a second orgasm. That was how much I wanted her. How fierce my desire had become in such a short time. If she were here, I could go all night. I knew it. Something about her just defied all logic, all the rules of biology or physics. Everything in the universe had to bend to the force of this attraction.

CHAPTER 10

CARLA

“Brandi and Skylar are meeting us there, so you can’t back out and end up staying home in your pjs,” Brenda said.

“You say that like I’m a hermit,” I replied.

“Where do you go besides class and the library?”

“I went and picked up a new charger yesterday because mine broke. So, shopping. I go shopping. I have a very busy life,” I joked.

“You spend all your time studying, writing papers and prepping for the academy entrance exam. You do realize that people who are not nearly as smart as you have been able to join the police force, right? It’s not like you’re competing for a Nobel prize.”

“The Nobel is given for a body of work over many years,” I said flatly.

“Oh my God. You have to go out. Listen to you. You’re so literal,” she laughed.

“I’d get ready to go out tonight but you keep talking to me,” I said.

“Fine, I’ll let you get dressed, but if you’re going to be sassy about it, you can’t borrow my earrings!” she teased.

“No! You have the best earrings! Don’t take them away from me!” I giggled.

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