Educating Emma (5 page)

A
s hard as
I’m trying not to walk funny, I can’t help it. That’s probably why he’s gloating at me like he’s the master of the damn universe or something.

After what he just did to me though, I might be willing to admit that. If only to myself, because the man had no issues in the self-esteem category. I blame it on growing up with a big brain and an even bigger dick. Totally messed with a guy’s sense of entitlement.

He’s sitting on a bench under one of the big pine trees, where we usually share lunch, watching me come closer and wearing a stupid smile.

“Nice scarf,” he says when I’m in hearing range.

“Lucky for me I packed one so I didn’t have to give a lecture this afternoon with a giant hickey on my neck.” I wave the end of the scarf at him like I’m about to lecture him, but the fact is, I love it when he does shit like that. Mark me with his mouth. With his teeth. With his cum. I don’t care. I love it.

And before anyone goes and judges me for it, I’m an empowered, educated, confident woman . . . who just happens to like a little kink.

“You forgot this.” I pull his belt out of my briefcase and hold it out for him.

He grabs it and runs it below his nose. He grins even wider. “No, I didn’t. I just wanted you to have to come find me to return it. Poppet.”

“Yeah, yeah, well, your plan worked.” Setting my briefcase down, I take a seat beside him—carefully, thanks to my ass feeling like it’s on fire—and prop my chin on his shoulder. “I found you.”

He kisses my nose then my mouth. His kiss lingers there. “Damn right you did.” Luke’s eyes close as he breathes me in, then he pulls something from the pocket of his slacks. “You forgot something too,” he says, sliding the diamond solitaire onto my ring finger.

“I didn’t forget that. It was just part of your fantasy, remember?” I smile at the ring back on my finger, sparkling in the afternoon sun. “Innocent,
virginal
student . . . who’s really a dirty slut when it boils down to it.”

That makes him laugh, but I don’t miss what’s growing beneath his zipper. Luke’s and my sex life is as abundant as it is adventurous, and I know he wasn’t in character when he told me to be at his place tonight for some ass action.

“So?” I lean in and kiss him. “Was that better than some bachelor party in Vegas?”

He looks off in the distance for a moment, his brow lifting as something plays in his head. That goofy grin reappears, forcing his dimples out of hibernation. “Baby, that was better than any fucking thing my sick, horny mind could even conceive of.”

Now I’m the one laughing. When his friends tried to convince him to spend the weekend in Vegas for his bachelor party, Luke did the “pussy” thing and said thanks but no thanks. Little did those guys know that his alternative was getting some real kinky-as-shit pussy from his soon-to-be wife.

“Thank god no one saw or hopefully suspects anything.” I glance around the courtyard. Students are studying or throwing Frisbees. Professors are powering to their next class, phones propped to ears. “They already look at us like we’re fiends without the faculty finding out about your dirty fantasies.”

Luke shrugs. “They’re just jealous.”

I have on professor-appropriate clothes and actual underwear now, but I already feel them starting to dampen as I relive some of what was said and done in that room. I slide closer to him and lower my voice. “Cumming on my chair, Luke? Really? That was some seriously dirty talk.”

“Yeah, I have no idea where I would have come up with that idea . . .”

When he shifts on the bench, I tip my head. “Spill it.”

When he’s quiet for a minute, I wave, and he lets out a sigh. “Okay, so you remember our freshman year? After we first met at the football game?”

It should be a rhetorical question, but I can see he’s waiting for me to answer. “Of course I do.”

Luke and I met in college, fell hard and instantly for each other, and have never strayed since. We waited to get engaged until we’d both finished up with our PhDs and landed jobs at the same university. We’ve been together for almost a decade, but we still have sex like it’s our first time. That’s why we plan these kinds of “dates.” To keep things interesting . . . fresh . . . exciting.

Having phenomenal sex with the same person for a decade doesn’t come without a little planning and willingness to experiment.

“Yeah, so I might have sort have done that to something of yours later that night . . .” He rubs the back of his head as he admits this.

My mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me? You jacked off and sprayed your cum all over something of mine? That first night you met me?”

One of his eyes pinches closed. “Maybe?”

“God, Luke. You are one sick fuck.”

He glances at the belt still in his lap like that’s a confirmation.

“What did you cum all over? And please, please don’t say it was my toothbrush.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, although knowing you had your cum in my mouth would have been hot as hell.” When I elbow him, he lifts his hands. “Okay, okay. It was your bike.”

My forehead creases. “My bike?”

He clears his throat. “The seat of your bike.”

“So much better than my toothbrush, thank you, Luke Faraday.” My voice is thick with sarcasm. “So instead of your cum getting all up in my mouth, it was right between my legs every time I pedaled my ass to class.”

When he finishes laughing, his hand slips around my neck and he draws me closer. “I knew you were mine from the moment I laid eyes on you. That was my way of marking you even back then . . . without you finding out about it.”

I don’t blink as I stare into his dark eyes. “Sure, make sure I was good and in love with you before exposing the truth about you being a sexual deviant.”

This time when he kisses me, Luke’s tongue slips into my mouth, playing with mine. He holds my face close, and it doesn’t feel like he has any plans of stopping soon.

“People are looking,” I breathe against his lips.

“So?” He sucks on my lower lip before leaning back a little. “It’s just one professor kissing another. It’s not like I’m some sick fuck making an innocent student a slave to my sexual desires.”

My mouth fights a smile. “No, you’re nothing like that.”

His knuckles run down my cheek, where I can almost feel a blush forming. “Come here, my smart, beautiful”—he leans in so his mouth is just outside of my ear—“cock slut.”

I peak an eyebrow at him, grab his tie, and pull him closer. “Hey, I’m about to be your wife in a week. It’s
Mrs
. Cock Slut, thank you very much.”

That familiar growl rumbles in his chest. He loves dirty talk. Almost as much as he loves dirty fucking. Glancing at his watch, his brows come together. “How much longer before lunch break is over?”

I take a peek at the time. “Ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” He jumps up, grabbing my hand in one of his and his briefcase in the other. “This time, your classroom. It’s closer.”

I barely remember to grab my own briefcase before he tows me across the courtyard. “You are insatiable, Professor Faraday.”

Suddenly, he brakes to a stop and levels me with one of those looks he knows make me pant like a dog in heat. “Let’s see who you’re calling professor when I’m pounding you into a wall, Dr. Armstrong, soon to-be Dr. Armstrong-Faraday.”

I feel my damn pussy clench up again. I’m as insatiable as him, which makes things like hobbies and movie dates an impossibility.

My palm gives his ass a hard smack. Part in payback from earlier. Part as foreplay for what’s to come.

“What was that for?” His crooked smile tells me he doesn’t give a damn what it was for, so long as it was a promise of what’s to come.

I grab his tie again and pull him to me, inch by inch. “To you, it’s Dr. Cock Slut.” I purr before sinking my teeth into his lower lip. “Now give me what I want before I change my mind about the whole marrying you thing.”

His arms wind around me, and he pulls me close. “You can change your mind all you want, but you are still marrying me.”

I braid my fingers behind his neck, enjoying the simple, sweet touches as much as the rougher, more complicated ones. “Finally going to make an honest woman of me?”

“The first time I took you, I made an honest woman out of you because there was no way I was letting you go.” His arms tighten around me like he’s proving his point. “No way I was going to let you get away and let someone else love you. I made an honest woman of you the first time I took your body.”

His words fill my heart—and all the other parts. Luke Faraday has always known how to say and do just the right thing to fill me with more love and power than I could ever know what to do with.

“That is strangely romantic,” I say, tilting my head from side to side, “in a kinky, twisted kind of way.”

“I guess that fits the theme of our relationship. Romance with a kinky twist.”

I feel my smile form. “Lucky us.”

Luke shakes his head, pressing his lips into mine. “Lucky me,” he whispers against them.

* * *

I
’ve been
in love with Emma for half of my whole life, but there are certain times when she looks at me that take me back to when we first met.

We know everything there is to know about one another, but there’s still a degree of surprise and spontaneity we keep sacred in our relationship. Especially these days.

Post Offspring, as I like to tease about it. With busy careers and three little ones running around, our creativity and ability to seize any moment has never been more important.

It’s working though. I love my wife more today than I did on the day I’d promised to cherish her forever. She is everything I’ve ever wanted and ever would—I’ve known that from the day I met her and am reminded of it every day since.

Like right now, for instance, when I’ve just loped through the front door after finishing up my evening class to find an elaborate setting spread out on the dining room table. She lit candles and everything.

“Emma?” I call out quietly, guessing the kids are in bed since it’s after nine. However, I also know that just because they’ve gone to bed doesn’t mean they’d stay in bed. Especially the youngest, Mila, who is up at least a few times every night for a glass of water, a hug, or because those darn fairies were keeping her up sprinkling their fairy dust all around.

She looks just like Emma and is the sweetest thing ever, so her bedtime issues are easy to overlook. Plus, I’m a pushover where my girls are concerned.

“Doctor Faraday?” Emma calls back from the kitchen in a voice that pairs perfectly with a romantic candlelit dinner for two.

“You know what that does to me when you call me that.” I set my briefcase down and start toward the table. I’m afraid to breathe too loudly at this point for fear of waking the kids. Especially since I know what Emma has in mind.

“Of course I do. Why do you think I’m saying it?”

“Naughty poppet.” Yanking on my tie, I round into the kitchen, having to lean into the doorway to brace myself.

The sight of Emma crawling out of bed in the morning with a sinus infection in her old flannel pajamas makes my chest seize, but seeing her like this . . . let’s just say it’s a good thing I keep in shape and my family doesn’t have a history of heart disease. She is a heart attack in a little black dress.

She grins over at me, knowing I’m checking her out. “Hungry?”

“For food?”

Her shoulder lifts as she stirs the sauce simmering on the stove. “For starters.” When she glances at me, her eyes flash with possibilities.

Shaking my head, I stare at her, in utter awe. She still manages to juggle a successful career as a professor, runs a household with three kids under the age of five, and manages to prepare a beautiful meal for her husband when he comes home late at night. She makes it look easy, though I know how hard she works to make this beautiful life for our family.

“I love you so very much, Emma,” I breathe, unable to stand the distance keeping us apart any longer. Coming up behind her, I wind my arms around her perfect body that has given me the three most gorgeous, healthy children a man could ever hope to have.

“Lucky me.” She tilts her head back to kiss me. “How was your day?”

I tuck my head over her shoulder and pull her harder against me. There’s no such thing as too close when it comes to having Emma near me.

“Fantastic,” I answer.

“Fantastic reason?” She tastes the sauce with the spoon.

“I get to wake up with you in my arms and get to fall asleep the same way.”

She smiles back at me. “You get to do that every day.”

“Exactly. That’s why every day’s fantastic.”

This time when she kisses me, it isn’t over so quickly. Kissing Emma is as satisfying as what follows when we have a few minutes to ourselves. When Emma kisses me, I know that no matter what’s going on in my life, everything will be okay. Because I have her.

When her kiss deepens as she twists in my arms, I break away just enough to ask, “The kids?”

“Asleep,” she whispers, finishing the job of undoing my tie. “For now.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” I take the spoon from her and drop it back into the pan, turning the burner off. Dinner could wait a few minutes, but clearly, I could not.

“I’m waiting for you to throw me over your shoulder and carry me into our bedroom where there is this wonderful thing known as a lock on the door.”

When she lifts a knowing eyebrow at me, I chuckle. Early on in our days of parenthood, we’d been naïve enough to believe the whole kids stay in bed when they’re put to bed thing. I’d barely managed to throw a tablecloth over the two of us before our oldest, Oliver, wandered into the kitchen bleary-eyed and claiming he heard noises. After that incident, we keep things quieter and make sure we’re behind a locked door.

Leaning forward, I pat my shoulder and open my arms. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

With a soft giggle, Emma’s just getting ready to leap into my arms when we both hear a familiar sound coming from down the hall. The pitter-patter of little feet.

Sighing, I straighten and kiss Emma’s forehead.

“Dada?” Mila’s sleepy little voice rolls into the kitchen right before she does.

It’s impossible to feel disappointed from the distraction when I look at my youngest daughter. She’s wearing Star Wars jammies and is clutching a baby doll.

“Yes, love?” I kneel down in front of her, resting my hand against her cheek. “You need me to go have a talk with those fairies about taking their fairy dust spreading somewhere else?”

Her nose crinkles like she’s considering that. Then she shakes her head. “I just needed a hug.”

My heart melts right there on the kitchen floor. Spreading my arms open, I move closer. “Me, too, Mila. Me, too.”

A beam breaks across her face right before she bounds into my open arms. Her arms tangle around my neck as I stand.

“Family hug,” she laughs, getting an arm around Emma and pulling her into the mix.

Emma chimes in with Mila’s laughter. “Family hug minus two members.”

That’s when we hear the sounds of more pitter-patters moving into the kitchen.

Emma looks at me. I look at Emma. This night isn’t going to go the way we’d planned. But as we open our arms to let our other two children rush into our arms, I realize that it’s going to be even better.

The woman I love. The children we’ve created together in love. I’m surrounded by love.

Life doesn’t get any better than this . . . though I know it won’t keep Emma and me from trying.