When I felt myself coming for the third time, I felt the muscles in Chase’s arms tighten and I opened my eyes to watch him orgasm. This was my first time making a man come. This was a moment to remember. There was no way I was going to keep my eyes closed for this.
Every muscle in Chase’s body tensed, from his arms to his shoulders and down his back. Even his ass turned rock hard beneath my heels.
He clenched his eyes together and opened his mouth as if he were going to roar. As I bucked my pussy to come against him, he drove his cock as far into me as it would go and released a flood of hot creamy cum that I could feel warming me from head to toe, inside out.
One more good thrust and he was done.
Thank god, because this former virgin needed a break.
Chase collapsed beside me on the bed and we turned our heads to look into each other’s eyes.
With a goofy smile on his face, Chase said, “A plus, Miss Ross. Fucking A plus…”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Chase
Audrey sat naked at the little table in my little kitchen in my little house.
Jesus, I sounded like freakin’ Dr. Seuss.
Was this what having sex with a virgin did to a man of my age?
Made me think silly little thoughts about my silly little life?
We were both famished after our initial bout of…what was it? Love making? Hot sex? A fuck fest? A virgin sacrifice? All the above?
The only thing I had to eat in the entire house (that wasn’t spoiled or out of date) was a small container of Egg Beaters and an onion bagel that was as hard as a rock.
Audrey was a trouper. While I scrambled the eggs, she dampened the bagel with water and tried to get it back to an edible stage in the toaster oven.
She also found two Keurig cups in a junk drawer and made us each a cup of coffee we had to drink black because I had no cream or sugar.
I set the plate of faux eggs between us and handed her a fork. I had to scrub the crap off a plate and two forks and two cups. I typically used a shot glass for all my meals.
As I watched her eat the eggs (are they eggs, really?), which she doused with salt and pepper in a vain attempt to make them taste better, I realized that I was in a fantastic fucking mood for the first time in I didn’t know when. And it was all her fault.
I wouldn’t venture so far as to say that I was happy with my life now, but at that moment, staring into those eyes, I was as happy as someone like me could get.
“Your eggs okay?” I asked as I took a sip of the coffee. It was bitter as hell and thick as ink, probably because the Keurig cups were left over from Emily’s time, but it would do in a pinch.
“The eggs are…interesting,” she said with a smile. She propped her chin on the hand holding her fork as she chewed and let her eyes go around the kitchen.
It was a tiny space, made even smaller by the stacks of dirty dishes and empty beer and whiskey bottles on the counters. There was an overflowing ashtray on the table she’d moved with a look of disgust on her face.
Audrey didn’t know me well enough to understand that the kitchen was a fair representation of my life over the last two years: a small, dark, dirty space that smelled like cigarettes and booze that nobody ever visited. And if they did, they rarely came back a second time.
“So, Professor Hollander,” she said, giving me a mock frown. “Why did you give me an F on the midterm?”
“I gave everyone an F,” I said with a sigh. “If it’s any consolation, I at least felt a little bad when I gave you an F. Fuck the rest of them, but I know how hard you work, how serious you take your grades. I’m really sorry.”
I tried to smile, but the adrenaline from our fuck fest (I’m calling it a fuck fest for now; that may change later) was wearing off.
My body was starting to crave nicotine and alcohol. I took another sip of the rank coffee, hoping the caffeine might quell the wolves at my door. It didn’t.
My eyes scanned the table for cigarettes.
I looked toward the fridge and licked my lips. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon on a Saturday. I should be on my way to get shit-faced drunk by now.
“You seem tense,” Audrey said, narrowing her eyes at me. “I didn’t mean to upset you talking about the grades.”
I shook it off. “I’m good. Really. I just wanted a cigarette.”
“You know those things will kill you,” she said, shoving the last bite of egg into her mouth and wagging the fork at me. “You really need to quit. And you need to clean your house. It smells like an ashtray.”
“Is that how it works?” I asked without smiling. “We have sex one time and now you’re going to tell me my house stinks?”
She smiled at me. “How many times do we have to have sex before I can complain about the smell?”