Did the professor really want a woman between them? She hoped so, because she couldn’t stop thinking about the two men together, about joining them, and it was playing havoc with her ability to study. They were both just so…edible. Irresistible in two entirely different ways.
Trick had two full sleeves of ink on his forearms, and he dressed like a jobless student despite his being in his late thirties. He seemed easygoing and reckless—but Jen knew that was a smokescreen. There was something dangerous about him that she could sense instinctively. She imagined he was good at his job. You wouldn’t notice him unless he wanted you to, and you wouldn’t want to meet him in an alley. Not if you weren’t his friend.
Professor Declan Kelley was at the opposite end of the spectrum. After that first day, he’d worn nothing but expensive, tasteful sweaters over buttoned up shirts and jeans that looked as if they’d been ironed. He had short, thick brown hair that was never out of place and eyes that were a surprisingly stormy gray behind his black-frame glasses. He was brilliant. Smart and quick with a voice that kept a room full of easily distracted students in his thrall. And those lips… Jen couldn’t look away when he spoke. They were beautiful. Full and tempting.
Had he wrapped them around Trick’s cock and made him lose control the way she dreamed of doing? Did Trick kiss him as if he were starving? Did he bite him the way he liked to bite her?
She imagined them both naked and Trick teasing her professor. Covering his mouth as he slipped his fingers inside Declan’s ass. Tugging his hair. But in her fantasy he didn’t stop and make Declan wait for the main course.
God, she needed to get a handle on this.
She readjusted the shorts and frowned. These really weren’t made for comfort. Especially when she was aroused. The lace scraped on her sensitive skin.
Jen picked up the phone to check her messages and smiled…before she read his reply.
Job taking longer than I thought. Stakeout will probably last for a while. Will you miss me?
“Damn it,” she said, frustrated. She was finally alone in the apartment and he couldn’t come over because he was sitting in his car waiting for someone else to do something dirty?
She turned the phone around in her hand and tilted her head, wondering how best to respond. Without thinking, she took a picture of her underwear. Glancing at it, she smiled in surprise. This was a good camera. She could see every detail behind the clinging lace.
“No.” She shook her head. She couldn’t send this. She shouldn’t. Not after all the trouble Scott had caused with his phone last year. Intimate pictures and Finns never ended well.
It’s just underwear. No one would know it was you. It will drive him crazy.
She knew it would. And maybe it was her sex drive talking instead of her brain, but he needed a taste of his own medicine. Swearing at herself and throwing caution to the wind, Jen typed in a message and added the picture before hitting send.
No. But you’ll miss me.
She ordered pizza and sat down to binge-watch a few hours of Netflix in scratchy lace underwear while she waited for his reply. It felt nice to have the last word and show him she could give just as good as she got. He wasn’t going to turn her into his personal sex slave.
Aren’t you already there? The voice in her head taunted. You’re waiting for his next move, ready to join his fantasy three-way. You give him whatever he wants. You’re the one waiting by the phone for your instructions and wearing holey underwear.
“Fuck that,” she muttered.
There were already too many men in her life who thought they could control her. Who thought she needed their guidance. She had a working dildo and a box full of toys that she’d thoroughly enjoyed long before Trick snuck in through her window and told her about the professor. She didn’t need either of them.
She took off her underwear and tossed it on the floor, glaring at the pointless panties and reveling in the fact that Belize was too far away for her roommate to get a headache and ask to come home. She lay down on the couch in her chemise and nothing else, and promised herself that tomorrow she would get her act together. No more obsessing about men. Or ménage. Or ménage with those men.
She woke up slowly, dreaming of Declan Kelley spanking her with a ruler in front of the whole class. Trick had joined him and was using his hands to make her come again and again as the ruler came down on her flesh.
Whack!
She opened her eyes and moaned against the hot, callused palm that covered her mouth. “It’s only me, Jen,” Trick told her, the way he always did when he snuck into her bedroom. “You must have been having one hell of a good dream, baby.”