The tension cording his spine relaxed. “My name is Gabriel.”
“I know your name, Professor.” She circled one of his nipples, then leaned in, and the whisper of her breath was his only warning before the gentle bite of her teeth. The electric contact pulsed a high-speed connection to his cock.
Tangling his fingers in her hair, he found the band confining the mass into a ponytail and tugged it free. Flicking the band across the room, he stroked through the wild profusion of curls and waves. He’d thought it red in Nigeria, and it had been sleeker in Miami, but it poured over his hands like wild coppery fire. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
Tipping her head back, she surveyed him from beneath lowered lashes. “What do you want it to be?”
The truth would be nice, but if he started down the interrogator path, their very promising encounter would not end well. Catching the hem of her sweater, he gave a tug, and she lifted her arms obediently. He dragged the sweater up, then used it to pin her arms, effectively locking them behind her. “I want it to beyourname.”
At the maneuver, the sleepy desire in her eyes sharpened.Well, hello, kitten…Teeth and claws. God, he had a hard-on for her that wouldn’t quit. Taking his life in his hands, he slanted his mouth over hers and took the next kiss. She opened to him, allowing the thrust of his tongue.
She tasted sweeter than the vanilla of her scent—decadent, rich, and altogether hedonistic. Another nip, then she sucked on his tongue, and he damn near came in his pants. One moment he had control, the next she had him slammed against the door, face first, with her forearm against the back of his neck. He’d never been into being thrown around by a woman, but when she proved herself more than capable, it simply turned him on more.
The soft sound of her chuckle teased his ear, then she nibbled a kiss against his earlobe. With a breathy murmur, she said, “Games are fun, Professor, but you want to touch, yes?”
No need to lie. “Hell yes.”
“So do I.” As if to prove her point, she slid her hands down his front to stroke his cock through his slacks. He hardened obligingly. At this rate, he wouldn’t have any blood left to get oxygen to his brain, and he didn’t think it was a bad thing. Her breasts rubbed against his back, the twin hardened points of her nipples a provocative invitation. “Don’t try to bind me again, and I won’t break you in two, sound good?”
More than good, but he still wanted. “What’s your name?” He found the lock on the door and turned it. The rear entrance was only accessible by key, and no other classes were scheduled for a couple of hours.
“Pushy.” Not a complaint, based on the way her hand fisted him, the hard strokes definitely a threat to whether he’d get to sink into her before he came. Catching her hand with his, he twisted around and traded places. He wanted to see her breasts.
“A name for a kiss?” he challenged. “Or a caress?” Then in a repeat of her earlier move, he covered her breast and massaged it through the bra. Her peaked nipple responded beautifully to his touch. The black bra was utterly functional and completely lacking in lace. It also covered her breast, hiding it from view.
Unhooking a woman’s bra was a skill he’d mastered in high school. Who knew how much of a Godsend it would be at this moment? She shed the bra and stood glorious, and…scarred. A cluster of three puckered marks formed a near perfect triangle over her right breast. Tracing the marks, he followed a fainter mark tucked along the curve of her breast—knife injury.
Even as he catalogued the injuries, he explored the expanse of soft flesh. Cupping her breast, he rolled his thumb back and forth over the hardened tip of her nipple. Her breathing grew shallower, and dragging his gaze up, he zeroed in on her damp mouth before meeting her gaze. Her shudder seemed to ripple over his spine, and when she went for his belt, he didn’t argue.
They shed their shoes, and he abandoned her breasts long enough to undo her jeans. His cock jutted toward her, like a compass seeking true north. She wasted no time wrapping a hot hand over him, and he hissed out a breath when she gave him a long stroke, then another.
Shackling her wrist, he eased her hand off of him, then dragged her close by the waistband. Dropping to his knees, he pressed a kiss to her belly, then peeled those jeans downward. The copper hair gleaming on her head matched the sweet curls his actions revealed, and he grinned. A stupid thing to enjoy a natural hair color, but he wanted every real part of her.
“Name,” he reminded her, then pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh as he pushed the jeans to the floor. She lifted her foot to step out of them, and he swung her leg onto his shoulder. Bracing her ass in his hands, he set her to the wall and stroked his tongue along the seam of her pussy. The flavor burst over his tongue, sweeter than her scent and thousand times more addictive.
“Name,” he repeated, nibbling kisses as he went. He circled her clit with his tongue, and she fisted his hair. The force urged him closer. Refusing her demand, he whispered a breath across the swollen bud and teased the edges. “Name.”
“Oh,” she growled, and the throaty sound had his balls tightening. “Fuck it, call me Ginger.” Her leg tightened against him, the pressure an exquisite reminder.
“Hmm.” He nosed her clit lightly, then stroked away from it with another kiss. “Gilligan’s Island. Cute.” The Professor and Ginger? “Not MaryAnn?”
The more he teased, the harder her breaths came. She was right on the edge.
“I can make it feel better,” he told her, teasing a finger against her entrance. His cock was so stiff, and his balls ached. He wanted to make it better for both of them. Looking up the gorgeous length of her, he met her troubled gaze and consternated frown.
“You’re really pissing me off.” Frustration writhed in those words.
No risk, no reward. “How much is your name worth to you?” He pushed the finger in, and her muscles tightened. She was so cut, everywhere. A perfect specimen of feminine grace, beauty, and strength…he didn’t know her.Yet.“All I want is your name, sweetheart, then we don’t have to say another word.”
If he lasted that long, he qualified for sainthood.
She pressed her head to the door, rested her weight against his shoulders and his hand. The simple act of trust encouraged him, and he added a second finger to the first. Her mouth opened, and her eyelids dropped. Passion suffused her face, and she said, “Copper.” Blowing out a breath, she squirmed against his hand, and he smiled. “Call me Copper.”
“Hello, Copper.” Delighting in the victory, he made good on his promise and locked his mouth around her clit, sucking the hard little bundle of nerves, even as he stroked it with his tongue. The force of her orgasm was a sight to behold. The sweet scent of her arousal filled his nostrils. The taste of her on his tongue was like a drug. He wanted more. Her face, her expression undid him. No moans or soft cries teased his ears. She came with almost absolute silence. Profound relief relaxed the tension in her expression, her head arched back and her neck extended. He could almost see the pulse beating in her throat, the wild cadence more than a match for his own. She softened, grew more radiant, and he felt like for the all the world, he was worshiping at her feet.
God, what a place to be.
Easing his fingers from her, he set her legs down gently. Once he was sure her feet were braced, he tugged his slacks closer. Retrieving a condom from his wallet, he suited up and then surged upward.