My Father's Best Friend(21)

"You have a smart shower?" she asked incredulously.

"The whole house is wired for it, so of course the shower is linked to  the system. The floor and towel racks are heated and..." I trailed off  as I realized what had her in a state of shock. To my own astonishment, I  felt a warming sensation crawling up my neck. I was fucking blushing?  When did I grow a vagina?

"I have eleven bestselling novels, sweetheart." I didn't mention the  endorsement deals, the money from the lecture circuit, or my  inheritance.

"And, you live in the penthouse."

It was clearly a rhetorical question, so I didn't answer.

"A smart house." I nodded this time.

She cocked her head to the side and mused, "So, basically, you're extremely wealthy."

"I do all right," I joked. She raised a brow, but the side of her mouth kicked up. "I fail to see the problem here."

She grinned. "There isn't one. I was just surprised to see a college  professor living in a multimillion-dollar home. Come to think of it, why  do you teach?"

I smiled and gripped her waist, helping her off the counter, focusing on  answering her question and not on her lush, naked body. "Because I love  it. I was a teacher before I published my first novel. I decided to  slow down on the writing a little and go back school." I laughed  ruefully, "My publisher was less than happy when I signed a contract for  three years. But, as long as I met my deadlines, they knew they had no  strings to pull."

Her face softened as she listened to my words. When I finished, she  cupped her hands around the back of my neck and pulled me down for a  deep kiss.

I was done talking. Not breaking the seal of our lips, I walked her  backwards until she was pressed up against the stone wall of the shower.  Then I shuffled to the side, finding the entrance and stumbling in. We  stood under the spray of multiple heads, steaming the shower up right  along with the hot water.         

     



 

Eventually, we were both shaking with need. I grabbed her hand and led  her over to the bench where I took a seat. I turned her away from me and  slipped a finger into her pussy, checking to see if she was ready for  me and making sure she wasn't too tender. Her reaction was a deep moan  and it had my cock so hard, the head was purple and angry looking. I  kicked her legs apart and brought her back to straddle my legs, then I  took my dick in one hand and used the other to guide her down, sheathing  me as she sat on my lap.

"Gabe!" she cried out, I paused to determine if it was a sound of pain.  She wiggled a little and moaned, sweeping my worries away. I began to  swivel my hips and slid my hands around her wet torso and up to cup her  tits.

"Mmm, you have the most perfects tits, sweetheart." I twisted and  plucked at her nipples, "Perfect nipples." She started to bounce a  little and I let go of her tits to grasp her waist. Leaning back against  the wall for leverage, I began to guide her into riding my cock while I  thrust my hips up to meet each downward movement.

"You're so fucking tight! So hot and wet, I love how you take everything  thing I've got. Come on, sweetheart, take it deep. I want to empty so  far into you that I'll brand you inside out as mine."

She began to convulse, right on the edge. I brought my hands down to her  inner thighs, opening her even wider. I was so close, I lifted a hand  and slapped her pussy, hard. She screamed and I pinched her clit as I  gave one final drive and we exploded together.



"I'm driving you, sweetheart."

"You can't, Gabe."

"Charlotte, get your sexy ass in the car."

"Someone will see us!"

"I'll be stealthy."

Charlotte snorted, "Right, because a young professor rocking the hot geek look is so unnoticeable."

I grinned and kissed her, flustering her enough that she didn't fight me  when I put her in the car and buckled her up. I hit the remote lock and  ignored her glare as I jogged around to my side of the car. I used my  key to unlock my door and get in, smirking at her as I pulled out of the  parking garage.

My eyes were focused on the road, but I reached over and laced my  fingers with hers. It was only a ten-minute drive to campus, even in New  York traffic. I turned into a lesser used entrance that led right to  the faculty lot. I had early meetings, and the lot was mostly empty. I  pulled up and stopped near the entrance but under the cover of trees.  "I'll let you out here and go back to park."

She released my fingers and reached for the door handle. My hand shot  out and caught hold of her arm. "Sweetheart, get your ass back here and  kiss me goodbye."

Charlotte's eyes dashed around the lot. "Gabe!" she whispered fiercely. "What if someone sees?"

I sighed, "I don't give a fuck. When you have to be out of my presence, I  expect you to leave me a piece of you to take with me."

Her eyes went soft and she leaned across the seat to place a sweet kiss on my lips.

"I don't think so, sweetheart." I dove a hand into her hair and gripped  it tight, slamming her mouth down over mine. My tongue thrust into her  mouth and she moaned, her mouth opening to welcome me in. I kissed the  shit out of her, only pulling back when I was close to the point of no  return.

I grunted in satisfaction at the glazed look in her eyes and winked.  "See, sweetheart? You need to relax. Now get to class and daydream of  me."

Charlotte smiled wide and practically bounced out of the car. I watched  her until she was inside, then put the car back in gear. As I pulled  away, my eye caught movement and I saw another student walking around  the corner of the building, his head bent, absorbed in his phone. He  glanced up as he reached the door, looking right to where I idled, and  our eyes met. Then he opened the door and rushed inside.

Had he seen us? I rolled my eyes and shrugged it off. Charlotte's paranoia had apparently rubbed off on me.





Chapter 9


Charlotte


The exam for my Shakespeare class was easier than I expected, a lucky  thing too, considering how little studying I'd gotten done in the last  three days. My Special Themes in Literature exam was a breeze, as I'd  expected. I was just reading through my answers when the professor  called out my name, drawing my attention to the front of the room.

"Miss Young you're wanted in the dean's office."

I glanced down at my test packet one last time. "Almost done," I mumbled.

"I'm sure your answers will be sufficient considering you have a nearly  perfect grade in my course and haven't written anything new for the last  five minutes."         

     



 

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly, shoving all my stuff into my backpack.

Nerves fluttered in my stomach as I handed her my test. The only  communication I'd had with the dean since I started school here three  and a half years ago was the letter I received each semester letting me  know I'd made President's or Dean's list for my grades. What the hell  could he want to speak with me about now that would make one of my  professors act so strangely?

By the time I made it across campus to the administrative building, I  was a nervous wreck. The dean's administrative assistant was seated at  her desk outside his office. "Hi, I'm Charlotte Young. My professor told  me I needed to come in to see the dean."

"Yes, Miss Young," she responded, eyeing me up and down with a hint of  disdain. "Mr. Whitehall will be ready to see you in a moment. Please  take a seat over there while you're waiting."

She waved towards a row of chairs against the wall and turned her  attention back to her computer. When I took a seat, I realized my hands  were shaking and gripped them together in my lap. Then my foot started  tapping, the sound echoing in the room. Mr. Whitehall's assistant  cleared her throat and glared at me.

I glanced at the clock, staring at it as the minutes passed. After ten  minutes, my nerves turned to irritation. I didn't understand why my  professor rushed me out of the classroom only for Mr. Whitehall to make  me wait for this long. Another five minutes passed, and irritation  morphed into anger. I was stuck cooling my heels while waiting for the  dean for who knew what reason, while his assistant sent nasty looks my  way. And then his door opened, and I wished I was still waiting because I  finally knew what the reason was for this meeting.

"Fuck no," Gabe muttered, standing in the doorway. He swiveled on his  heel and marched back into the office, and I leapt from my chair,  following behind him.

"Wait! You can't just go in there," the assistant protested.

I shut the door in her face and felt a moment of satisfaction at the  action. The feeling was fleeting because when I turned to face Gabe and  Mr. Whitehall, they were facing off across the desk

"I need to speak with Miss Young alone."

"No, you don't," Gabe disagreed, coming to stand next to me.

His hand slid into mine, and I took comfort in the quick squeeze he gave  me. "It's okay. I'm willing to answer any questions Mr. Whitehall has  for me."