Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

GEMMA

When I get home after the game, there’s a big box waiting for me by my front door. I carry it inside and open the intricately wrapped gift. After sifting through all the tissue paper, I find what appears to be a school uniform, but it’s actually a designer plaid skirt and blouse with amazing thigh-high leather boots to match.

The accompanying note reads,

A smile finds my lips. He’s trying to play into the professor-student trope fantasy I mentioned. He’s so cute.

I look at the labels. They’re all high-end. He must have dropped a ton of money on this outfit. I hate that he did so, but I can’t deny how incredibly sweet and thoughtful he is.

I decide to text him.

Me: Thanks for the beautiful outfit, Professor Trey. It’s a bit much for this shy student.

Trey: I’ve been hard since I picked it out, just thinking of how you’ll look in it.

Me: How hard? Remember, I like adjectives.

Even better, he sends a picture with the evidence of his arousal. Fuck, he has a great dick. I save it to my phone. I’ll be using this picture in my spank bank for a long while.

Me: You have a book-boyfriend-worthy dick.

Trey: You have a book-girlfriend-worthy pussy. So pink and tight. Is it wet right now?

Me: You’ll have to wait to find out, but let’s just say that Professor Trey has a PhD in dirty talk.

Trey: Professor Trey’s PhD currently stands for Pretty Hard Dick.

Me: LOL. I can see that in the photo.

Trey: When you fuck your vibrator tonight, think of me.

Me: I intend to. Wishing you were here. Can’t wait for the real thing.

Trey: Just about to leave Connecticut. Now I have to drive for nearly four hours with a boner.

Me: I’ll take care of it tomorrow night. With my tongue.

Trey: Ugh. You’re killing me. Until tomorrow, my love.

I don’t respond. His love talk makes me uncomfortable. I much prefer dick pics and dirty talk.

The next day, I wake up to a text from that unknown number again. It’s a picture of me carrying the box through my front door last night. I get the chills. What’s happening? Who is this? Should I go to the police ?

I hide under my blankets for another hour until I decide it’s time to be productive. I stay in most of the day writing, suddenly feeling inspired to write a few sex scenes with a dirty-talking pierced man.

In the late afternoon, I shower and head out to do a little shopping before Trey arrives to pick me up. I have a very specific Christmas gift in mind for him. We’ve obviously just started dating, so I’m not going overboard, but I think he’ll get a kick out of it.

I’m walking back to my house when all the hairs on my neck stand at attention. I feel like someone is following me. Quickly turning back, I see no one. Maybe I’m just spooked by the texts from the unknown number. If I receive any more, I’m definitely going to the police.

I hurry home as fast as I can to get ready for our date.

An hour later, there’s a knock at my front door. I open it and see Trey wearing khaki pants, a button-down shirt, a bowtie, and a sweater vest. He’s looking every bit the part of a professor. Except for the fact that his muscles are so big they look like they’re about to burst through the shirt. I didn’t have any professors who filled out their clothes quite like this. Hell, I didn’t have any who were anywhere near as hot as him.

He's holding a single red rose. My insides liquefy. He remembered what I said about my teenage first date. My best first date. I have a feeling tonight will beat that one.

His eyes shade over with lust as they move up and down my body. The plaid skirt is very short. Even with thigh-high boots, there’s plenty of skin between my boots and the bottom of the skirt. The blouse leaves little to the imagination. My hair is down and wavy. I decided against the pigtails. We’re going for college-age romance, not felony-age romance.

I feign shock. “Professor Trey, what are you doing at my house? What if someone from the school sees you here?”

TREY

In a sexy voice, she breathes, “Professor Trey, what are you doing at my house? What if someone from the school sees you here?”

If I didn’t know before, I know now. There is officially no sexier woman in existence than Gemma Fairchild. That outfit is worth the two thousand dollars I dropped on it. I’ll buy a new one every day for the rest of my life if this is the outcome.

I charge at her like a bull until she’s pinned to the wall. She places her hand on my chest. “Just a kiss, Professor Trey. I don’t want you getting fired over me.”

I softly run the rose down her forehead, over her nose, across her lips, and then down her neck.

I can see her pulse beating rapidly in her neck. With my other hand, I cup her cheek and then bring my lips to hers. It’s been a long few days, and I’m ravenous for my sexpot.

I try to deepen the kiss, but she turns her head and whispers, “Later. It will be more fun if we wait.” She rubs her hand over my cock. “The payoff will be worth it.” She bats her long eyelashes. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise. You can put it anywhere you want tonight, professor.”

I suck in a breath. I’m so damn hard. My cock is leaking. I might come in my pants.

She continues, “Here’s a little something to tide you over.” At that, she hands me a pair of lace panties. “Be a good boy, and I’ll let you keep them. I wore them all day.”

After bringing them to my nose for a deep inhale, I growl. I don’t know where it came from. It’s not like I intended to do it, but there’s something primal that takes over my body in her presence. I would burn down the world for her.

Her eyes flutter. “You growl like such a good book boyfriend. I might record it for my social media…and my own personal bedside collection.”

“What is your bedside collection comprised of? ”

“So far, it’s just your dick pic from yesterday. I can’t wait to add your growl to it though.”

I smile before she reaches up to wipe her lipstick from my face. Now it’s my turn to pull my head away. “No. Don’t wipe it off. I like being marked by you.”

I know the lipstick wiping was a big deal for her in her previous relationship. I want her to know how proud I am to have her on my arm…and my face.

“You want red lipstick on your face all night? What will people think?”

I shrug. “Don’t care about anyone but you.”

Her smile softens. “You’re very romantic, Professor Trey.”

I grab her hand and run it over my cock. “I have very unromantic things on my mind right now.”

“All good things come to those who wait.”

“Are you really not wearing panties? The skirt is short.”

She gives me a sexy smile. “I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

My fingers are twitching to find out.

She notices and grabs my hand. “Let’s go, professor, before I have to slap you with a ruler.” She bites her lip. “Better yet, you slap me with that ruler.”

This woman.

I made a reservation at a nice restaurant near her place. I don’t want her to have any thoughts of coming to my home. It’s not like I have one here.

We walk the short distance there. Her face lights up when we arrive. “I love this place.” She sighs. “Between the outfit and this restaurant, it’s a lot for you to spend on me. You don’t need to feel like you have to do that. I’m just as happy with pizza, beer, and a ballgame.”

I mock gasp. “It’s our first date. I can’t have you telling our children that I treated you like anything other than my queen.”

She gives me a disapproving look. “No talk of the future or insta-love-affliction disease tonight. Let’s be normal, ordinary people, not romance-book-created, unrealistic trope people.”

“Baby, I assure you we’re very real. But I’m dressed as a professor, and you're dressed as my student. We’ll never be ordinary because we’re extraordinary.”

She smiles softly and leans into my body before standing on her tippy toes to plant a sweet kiss on my lips.

The hostess shows us to our table. I think she knows who I am. She keeps eyeballing me. I hope it doesn’t come out tonight. I’m not ready for that just yet.

I’ve decided that as soon as Gemma gets back from her trip to Florida, I’m going to tell her the truth. I don’t want her to leave being upset with me. I’ll be there to take all the punches she’ll inevitably throw and beg her to forgive me. And that gives me two weeks to make her fall in love with me.

We’re seated at a small table with two chairs across from each other. As soon as we both sit, I grab hers from under the table and pull it to me.

She lets out a small screech. “Good lord, you have the domineering-book-boyfriend thing down pat.”

“I learned from the best.”

“I didn’t teach you that.”

“You said to sit on the same side of the booth. There’s no booth, so I pulled your chair over.”

“Hmm. Fair point. That hostess looked like she wanted to eat you for breakfast. It’s probably best we sit close together so I can fight her off.”

She adorably holds up her fists.

I smirk. “Are you getting territorial?”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “Maybe I am.”

“I missed you the past few days.”

“I missed you too. How was Connecticut?”

“It was great. My niece and nephew are the cutest kids in the world. He mimics everything my sister says, both the good and bad.” I chuckle. “He may have dropped a few F-bombs. ”

She giggles. “Wow. I can’t imagine. And you’ll go back up there for Christmas, right?”

I nod. “Yes. My sister and her wife close their restaurant after lunch on Christmas Eve. We exchange a few gifts then, and again in the morning. We make a huge Christmas brunch together in their kitchen. It’s our tradition. Even though my sister is the professional chef of the family, we all know our way around the kitchen.”

She rubs my arm. “You cook?”

I nod.

“Ooh. Another checkmark in being a top-quality book boyfriend.”

I smile. “I suppose.”

“Will you see your parents?”

“Definitely. My mother is flying in. She mentioned that my father might come too.”

“Together?”

“They’re not coming together, but we can still celebrate as a family. They share kids and grandkids. As rough as the years leading up to the divorce were, it was for the better. They’re friends now.”

“Oh, wow. That’s so nice. Especially for your sister with the little ones. My parents struggle to be in the same room. They haven’t seen each other in years. I split holidays for my last few years of high school. Then my father moved abroad, so I just visit when I can. Frankly, I prefer holidays with my grandmother over either of them.”

“Ahh, the one and only Grammy Jane. Did she interrogate you after I left the other morning?”

She has a guilty look on her face. “I haven’t spoken with her. I’ll fill her in on us when I fly down.”

“What will you guys do down there?”

Her whole face lights up. “It’s hard to explain. She and her friends are in their final quarter of life. They’ve achieved this inner peace with a general mantra of I don’t give a fuck . They’ll do and say whatever they want. They don’t worry about hitting the gym, getting their work done, paying mortgages, driving carpool, paying for college, and regular life stuff like that. They’re having an unapologetically good time because they simply don’t know what tomorrow will bring. YOLO may be a millennial term, but it's the baby boomers who truly embody it.”

I squeeze her hand. “What a refreshing perspective.”

She nods. “It is. I let all real-world stress slip away when I’m there and get a kick out of watching these people live their best lives…and say whatever comes to their minds.”

“What do you do on Christmas Day? Any traditions?”

“Not like yours, but since my grandmother moved to her place in Florida, it’s been the same. We eat ourselves into a junk food coma on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is a huge margarita and musical festival at their pool. They dance and drink all day. Like I said, simply living their best life.”

“And you stay for a week?”

“I do. If I have New Year’s Eve plans, I’ll come home on the thirty-first. If not, I’m equally happy to spend it with them, though most of them are usually snoring by the time the ball drops.”

I place my hand on her exposed thigh. “I’m going to need to get my fill of you for the next two weeks to tide me over.”

She leans over and nuzzles her nose along my cheek. “I like the sound of that.”

“Tell me what other tropes interest you.”

She smiles. “You’re very into the tropes.”

“I’m very into you and your pleasure.”

She licks her lower lip. I want to suck it into my mouth. So fucking sexy. “Hmm. Maybe a little expeditionism would be fun.”

I pinch my eyebrows together. “Having sex in front of other people? Like in your fourth book?”

She shakes her head. “That’s exhibitionism. Expeditionism is slightly different. You don’t get off on people watching you have sex. You get off on the threat of possibly being caught doing some sexual act in public. It’s not exactly the same.”

I think for a moment as I slide my hand up her inner thigh. “So, if I were to slip my finger inside you right now—” I push a finger inside her and she gasps. “This would be expeditionism?”

Her eyes flutter as she discreetly widens her legs and ensures her lap is covered with her napkin. “Y…yes.”

“We’ve done this before, but I’m all for pleasuring you at the dinner table any time you want it.”

The waitress stops at our table. “Can I take your orders?”

Gemma attempts to push my arm away, but I don’t budge, continuing the in and out movements. Her whole face is flushed.

As if my fingers aren’t inside her pussy, I smile at the waitress and calmly say, “Yes, I’ll have the chicken parm.” I turn my eyes to Gemma. “Baby, do you want me to order for you?”

She bites her lip and nods.

“She’ll have the eggplant parm and we’ll share them both. And please bring us two more glasses of wine.”

“Sure thing.”

As soon as she leaves, Gemma breathes, “Trey.”

I lean over so my cheek is next to hers. “This is just an appetizer. We’ll call it an amuse-bouche. Later, it will be my cock inside you. The piercing dragging along your inner walls until you can’t help but come all over me again and again.”

“Oh god.”

I look at our tablecloth. Unfortunately, it’s not very long. “Next time we have dinner together, we’ll go somewhere with floor-length tablecloths.”

“Why?”

“So you can crawl on your knees under the table and suck my cock like a good girl.”

She buries her face in my neck to drown out her moans. She truly gets off on my mouth. Before I realize what’s happening, she sinks her teeth into my neck while her body shakes, and she comes all over my hand.

She fucking bit me hard. Somehow it makes my cock ooze that much more for her.

After a few more deep breaths into my neck, she lifts her head and looks around. She pulls my fingers out of her and pushes them into my mouth. “Suck my come off your fingers, professor.”

While I happily oblige, she reaches her hands under the table and pulls down my zipper. She then takes out my straining cock and proceeds to give me the best hand job of my life.

It’s noon on Sunday, and Gemma has forced me to leave her house. She said Sunday afternoons are a sacred time for her and her friends to watch football. I love her sporty side, but I wanted to be with her today.

She mentioned she’s not ready for me to meet her friends yet. Admittedly, that hurts, but I tried to act like it didn’t bother me. I can’t introduce her to my friends either. They’re the two biggest stars in Philadelphia.

We had the best evening last night. After the heavy petting session, we laughed and flirted throughout dinner. Then we barely made it back to her place before tearing each other’s clothes off for more life-altering sex. I’ve never shared this type of chemistry and passion with a woman.

It’s given me that much more to lose. I’m getting increasingly terrified about our third-act breakup.

I walk into Layton’s penthouse. He and Cheetah ordered food, and we’re planning on watching football games.

I plop down on the couch. Cheetah looks me up and down. “Hey, loverboy. Are you two married with kids yet? ”

I sigh. “I wish. She’s going to hate me when she finds out who I am. I should have told her right away.”

Cheetah nods. “Told ya so. Such an obvious plotline. What a rookie mistake.”

I moan out, “Ahh. This isn’t a romance novel. It’s my real life. I’m in love with this woman. She’s…she’s…everything.”

Layton asks, “How’s the sex?”

“I’m not giving details, but it’s easily the best of my life. She loves my dirty talk. I need to up my game. Got any good lines?”

Cheetah’s face lights up. “Tell her you’re like Crest toothpaste. Nine out of ten dentists recommend you in her mouth.”

Layton laughs and I roll my eyes. “That’s not dirty talk. That’s just a cheesy pickup line. You’re clueless.”

Layton twists his mouth. “How about milk my winky like a cow?”

I sigh. “I don’t know why I bother.”

Cheetah asks, “What do you call it when a man talks dirty to a woman?”

“What?”

“Sexual harassment. What do you call it when a woman talks dirty to a man?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“$19.99 per minute.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s a good one.”

Just then, my text tone pings. I see that it’s Gemma and excitedly open it.

Gemma: My legs are missing you between them.

Me: Don’t make me hard while I’m with my friends.

Gemma: I can’t stop thinking about last night. I think I purred at one point .

I chuckle. She did purr.

Gemma: I didn’t shower. I wanted you inside me all day.

Fuuuuck.

Me: We hit several tropes last night. Any more you want to try this week?

Gemma: How about why choose?

I look up at Cheetah. “What’s the why choose trope?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “When it’s one woman and at least three men.”

Me: Are you nuts?

Gemma: LOL. Just busting your balls. You’re way too possessive to ever share me with another man. And, baby, you’re all the man I need.

Me: Damn straight. When can I see you again?

Gemma: I’m around this week. Let’s do something seasonal. Maybe ice skating or that new Christmas trolley.

Me: Anything to spend time with you. Tomorrow night?

Gemma: Okay. See you then.

GEMMA

Trey and I have had the best two weeks. We’ve spent nearly every night together. We went ice skating, we ate good food, we had plenty to drink, and we even went holiday shopping for our families. There’s something extra romantic about doing holiday things with him during this time of the year. I don’t think there’s a single drop of mistletoe left in the city of Philadelphia that Trey hasn’t found and kissed me under.

We decided that we’ll recreate Christmas and exchange gifts when I get back from Florida. He talked me into returning on New Year’s Eve so we can spend that night together.

I’m leaving for the airport in the morning. This is our last night together for the holiday week. We wanted a cozy evening in since we’ve been out so much lately. We’re watching Christmas Vacation , the greatest holiday movie ever created. His head is on my lap, and I’m aimlessly running my fingers through his hair.

The ending movie credits scroll, and he doesn’t move. I look down and realize that he’s sleeping. I can’t help but stare. He’s so handsome.

I gently trace his chin dimple with my finger. He stirs and mumbles, “I’m sorry I lied. I love you. Don’t leave me.”

Tears fill my eyes. I’m falling for him, but I know we have an expiration date.

I land in Florida. I need this week with my grandmother to clear my head. She and I have a lot to talk about.

Even though I usually Uber to her house, she’s standing at baggage claim, waiting for me with her arms crossed. I know she’s mad. I’ve been putting off this conversation for weeks, sending her calls to voicemail and minimally responding to her texts .

As I get closer, her green eyes, exactly like my own, find mine. “You’ve been ignoring me, Gemma Morgan.”

I blow out a breath. “I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you about it in person. And I wasn’t ready to face reality just yet.”

“Yes, we do have a lot to talk about. We can start with you explaining why you’re dating a famous baseball player who’s pretending to be a plumber.”