Page 25 of Falling for Roxanne

Kissing his neck made him groan and I craved that sound he made. Hamilton tipped me back onto the desk and reached for his belt. I covered his hands with mine and unfastened it myself, unzipping his pants to free his long, hard erection that sprang into my hand. I stroked and squeezed the length of him. With one hand atop the other, I still couldn’t hold all of his length. When he mounted the desk, I spread my legs for him and leaned back on my elbows. I wanted this, all of it, all of him, more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life. Reaching for me, kissing me, he cupped my head with his hand and eased me gently onto my back, so considerate to make sure I didn’t even bump my head in my eagerness. He was above me then, his shoulders, his handsome face, his chest and abs. I drank in the sight of him, the breathless anticipation of the moment. He was about to have me, and I wanted to give him everything, all of me.

He hooked one hand behind my knee, opening me even more. Hamilton lowered himself between my legs, his shaft brushing my sensitized flesh. I shivered involuntarily, both with excitement and a little apprehension. He was so big, and I was not very experienced, especially not with someone his size. He saw me tense, so aware of my every shift in thought, my every expression. He understood me and brushed the backs of his fingers along my cheek, affectionate and reassuring. He kissed me again, lush and sensual. I softened under his kiss, my body loosening, and blossoming for him. He nudged the head of his shaft at my entrance and my hips rose to meet him, to invite him in.

His eyes locked on mine as he swept into me, and his mouth covered mine, swallowing the gasp when I felt all of him, taking in all that length, being filled so completely that the sensation took my breath away. The intimacy of that, of his eyes on mine, was stunning. His expression was a look of masterful possession—all hot arousal and prowess—with a trace of restraint, of gentleness that spoke of his generosity as a lover, his consideration for me. I felt taken, fully owned by him and cherished, and my body responded not only to his incredible skill at coaxing tremors of pleasure from me, but also to the tenderness that tempered his powerful sexuality.

His body was big and muscled, all tanned skin, hot and smooth. Hamilton was very well endowed, and he could have engulfed me with his huge body and slammed into me and taken his own pleasure selfishly, could have used me. Never once did I feel overpowered or like I had to submit to him—he wasn’t doing something to me. He was sharing something with me. Our bodies mated, and the desire was equal in us both, and he wielded his size, and the surprising length and thickness of his shaft like a master warrior, not like a guy with something to prove, but as a man who knew his own strength, his own will. He stroked into me, thrusting again and again, giving me all of himself and leaving me breathless, stretching me, brushing against a place inside me that drove me wild.

When I thought it was the hottest sex anyone had ever had in history, then he hitched my leg up and draped it over his shoulder, tunneling into me deeper. He bent my knee, pressed his chest to mine. He held himself up, arms bracketing my head, and kissed me, a messy, frantic kiss as he pumped into me. His thrusts picked up speed, and I saw him getting closer to his own climax, the way his face was set in a look of concentration and the tension in his shoulders and arms. I flattened my palms against his back, rocking with him, following his rhythm. He was irresistible, his strength and the slick, sensuous sound of our lovemaking. I gasped for breath, shocked as I felt a sizzle at the small of my back, that pull low in my belly that meant I was about to come. Again.

I tilted my hips and arched into him as he drove inside me, his cock brushing that perfect spot inside me that made everything tighten and go white hot as spasms of euphoria crackled through me. I felt the jolt, the liquid rush of his orgasm pouring into me as I clenched and writhed around him. The shudders of pleasure wracked my whole body, my abs tensing so hard they started to cramp, and I whimpered, in the grip of ecstasy so strong it seemed to wring me out. I had to get my breath, to try to relax the tightened muscles of my sides, my stomach and back. I collapsed back onto the desk, a tear slipping from the corner of my right eye at the sheer impact of my release.

Hamilton swamped me then, engulfing me in his body, holding himself on his forearms but seeming to shield me protectively. He stroked my tangled hair, kissed my cheek and my forehead.

“You’re so beautiful, Roxanne,” he said.

I gave him a smile, but I was still shaking from my third consecutive orgasm in an hour. I felt loose and languid, spread beneath him on the wooden desk. I tilted my face and his lips met mine, romantic and sweet. I sighed, replete, completely satisfied.

“Wow,” I said, unable to come up with words to describe what had just happened. “I guess I got carried away.” I giggled.

To my surprise, he didn’t grin. I wanted more laughter and kissing, more flirting and joyous tangling of naked limbs. I felt shy all of a sudden, like I couldn’t say it out loud. I wanted to say, That was the best thing I’ve ever done, can we do more of it? Maybe at your place tonight? Or mine? He was my boss, my professor, a single father. There was nothing about our situation that lent itself easily to casual sex. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t leave me wanting more, that I didn’t want to begin an affair with him. Not a fling, a love affair, the secret, illicit kind that forbidden lovers had in old movies. I felt romantic just looking at him, at the way his face was so handsome but looked almost vulnerable in that moment.

He rose up and climbed down off the desk, leaving me feeling chilled and sort of lonely. He fastened his pants, put his shirt back on and buttoned it. I was lying there in a bra and high heels on his desktop like—like he was done with me. I slid awkwardly off the desk and scrambled to get my clothes on. I wished for underwear then. For a loose hoodie to put on, so he wouldn’t see my nipples, hard and tight, poking through the fabric of my dress, still turned on even as I turned away from him, trying to zip my dress up.

“Allow me,” he said, stepping in close. I could feel the warmth from his body, smell the clean sweat and musky scent of our sex on him, on both of us. It made me yearn for him again, even though I was tender where he’d been inside me just minutes ago.

Tell me you want me, that this was the best you’ve ever had, that you don’t want this to be a one-time thing. Say I need to stop saying silly things about being carried away and admit that we’re drawn to each other and it’s not just a passing whim.

My chest started to feel hollowed out, like I might cry. I reached behind my head, bundled my messy hair into a ponytail and fastened it with an elastic from my pocket. He stood behind me still, his hands covering my shoulders. He bent and kissed my neck. I melted back against him, and he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Mmm, I take it back,” I said languorously, wanting him to know how happy this made me, just the gesture of him taking me in his arms. “We got carried away just the right amount. That was…not like anything else I’ve ever done. In the best way.”

“You mean to tell me the boys back home when you were in high school didn’t know their way around a back seat,” he teased, his mouth against my ear.

“Not like that, they didn’t. I can’t even put into words how you made me feel, Hamilton,” I admitted.

“You were wonderful,” he said. “Warm and eager and when you kissed my neck, I thought I’d lose my mind,” he gave a chuckle then, one that warmed me all the way to my bones.

“I know you have a full caseload right now, but can we pencil this into the schedule soon? Maybe I could suggest to Sydney that she’s not feeling well enough to come back tomorrow?” I teased.

“I wish I could,” he said. “I don’t want you to think for a minute that I didn’t want you or that this wasn’t what I’ve been thinking about nonstop. I just know that it was a mistake. That I should never have let it happen given our—business relationship, I suppose you’d call it.”

“You didn’t take advantage of me, Hamilton. I kissed you. I made the first move. Remember that. Don’t stand there and think you crossed a line with me or that you did something that I didn’t want or that I felt like I had to do for a grade or an internship or a reference. I didn’t want a 4.0 GPA or a glowing recommendation letter. I wanted you, all of you, from the minute I walked into your class. If I’d ever thought I had a chance with you at all, I would’ve been walking around in a short skirt trying to get your attention, asking you to help me with a tangled necklace, a stuck zipper, anything to get you to touch me. I kept my distance because I thought a man like you—successful, older, established in your profession, would be so used to girls flirting with you, giving you their numbers, asking for special one-on-one tutoring—that you were probably not interested.”

“Never,” he said, kissing the top of my head, nestling me closer against his chest, “no matter how much I fought it, like my life depended on it, I couldn’t shake the constant attraction, being drawn to you. I tried not to pursue you, not to have any personal conversations. When I asked you to stay late, it was partly to prove to myself that we were colleagues, and I was your mentor and everything was above board. I was so smug that I’d succeeded in keeping you at arm’s length. I'm ashamed of thinking that. I’m not used to being overpowered, Roxanne,” he gave a rueful laugh.

Hamilton released me from his arms and retreated behind his desk, beginning to set things to rights. He picked up a lamp we had knocked off and straightened the shade, retrieved his blotter and put his clock back in place. He seemed preoccupied with putting everything back where it had been. I felt a chill, the sudden distance between us.

“I’d like to think that the chemistry between us and the good news about Pansy’s willingness to testify just gave us permission to admit how we feel. We weren’t overpowered by anything,” I protested, knowing it was a Hail Mary play, that it was my last chance to persuade him that this wasn’t a mistake.

“I don’t mean that I was powerless, just that this attraction I had to you, it was stronger than I expected. That I gave in to it and took things so far, I can only apologize and promise that it will never happen again,” he said. “Nothing can ever happen between us again. I’m your professor. You’re my student and an intern at my law firm. I’m a father. You’re just starting out, young, with no strings on you. I wouldn’t take that from you or hem you in when you’re about to graduate and make your way in the world. You’re brilliant and I can’t wait to see what you do with your life. I just can’t be part of that, not on any personal level, and I regret deeply that I wasn’t strong enough to back away today, and to tell you that I appreciate your hard work on Daniel’s case, and that I admire your tenacity. I was too weak to resist. But never again.”

Had. Was. Never. All those hateful words in the past tense, like a gong striking in my head.

“Oh,” I said.

I had been so sure of my argument, of declaring my agency and my consent, so certain that I had convinced him we could be lovers, partners. I was struck by the finality of his words. Taking a small step back, I straightened my shoulders.

There was no way in hell I would let him see how gutted I was. He wasn’t wrong. I knew that. He wasn’t being unfair either. There were too many complications, too many reasons why any romantic relationship between us was wrong. We couldn’t continue, and I had to accept that. A stubborn streak inside me wanted to shout and cry and stomp my foot, because what was proper and appropriate was the opposite of what I wanted. I took a slow breath and dipped my chin.

---