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He never thought he'd find the perfect woman in his student.
I fought a strange urge to shield my face.
"I feel like this is the first time I'm really seeing you," Calvin remarked.
His fingertips played down the side of my face and around my full lips. I hoped he couldn't see my pulse hammering in my neck.
I wet my suddenly dry lips, inadvertently licking his lingering finger, and he inhaled softly. He gazed down at me in his lap, and slid the pinkie across my now-wet bottom lip, with just enough pressure to press open my mouth open.
"It's your turn," I reminded him softly.
"Huh?" he asked, still running his pinkie across my lip.
"To ask a question. I asked the last one."
He blinked a couple of times to clear his head. This time when his eyes did the scan, it was slow and meaningful. He looked dead in my face. "I have a question to ask, but I don't want to offend you."
A pang of worry flashed through me, because I was wet already, and I could tell by the charge in the air where things were going. But I couldn't welch without looking like he had me weak.
"Cone of Silence: It stays in the elevator," I said.
"Well, okay. What if we were single?"
"So what if we were?"
He jostled my shoulder. "You know what. Me and you..." he gave the most predatory smile I'd ever seen. For a crazy second I wondered if he'd engineered the entire situation.
"Yeah, I guess I might give you a test drive. You can keep up your end of the conversation. And I like how you fit in them jeans," I joked.
"And you're lethal in a dress," he replied. "Sometimes, when I'm trying to work and you walk by wrapped up just right... You know what you do to me."
It was the first time we'd openly acknowledged the chemistry between us. Calvin's eyes got warmer, and he spread his fingers wide. His hand almost spanned the width of my midriff. He stroked the fins of my ribcage achingly slow. His voice, already deep, went husky.
"I remember the first time we actually talked. I mean, not about news or something you needed from me. Remember? I kicked that UTFO lyric."
"Well, yeah, I was surprised. Even I didn't know all the words, and you were what, seven when the song came out?"
He laughed. "Yeah, you had me pegged for one of those punk college kids who thinks 'Doggy Style' is old school. I had to flip the script on you. You were wearing this dress, too."
"That's when you saw me as a real person." He looked down at my two brown half-moons, pushing out of the top of the bodice. "Perspective makes all the difference in the world."
The way his hand stroked me up and down, almost cupping my bosom, I wasn't sure if he was talking about my change of heart or his view of my cleavage. The motion was coaxing more of my breasts into the open, as the neckline gradually followed his downward strokes.
I was desperately trying to put the brakes on my body, but my nipples were so swollen they felt like bruises. My head was swimming. I had to sit up. Arching my back, I pushed myself upright and scooted beside him.
Calvin raised an eyebrow. "What, worried you can't control yourself?"
"You wish," I said, poking him in the side.
He shied away like a little girl. "Hahaha, no, I hate being tickled," he squirmed.
Fiendishly, I ran butterfly touches up his neck and around his back, as he gasped and hollered. Then he went on the offensive, goosing me back.
He was fast and strong; his tickles were soft pinches that hurt a bit, but they felt good too.
Giggling, I realised I was losing ground. I pushed him back into the wall and swung a knee over his hips, just as he managed to grab both of my wrists. Still chuckling, he held them tightly behind my back, forcing me backwards to knock my balance off.
I struggled, but with my arms pinned and the columns of our bodies pressed tight, the motion just jiggled my breasts and ground my pussy on his lap. As good as it felt, I froze.
There was no sound except our heavy breathing.