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“I need to work out some tension. Throwing a medicine ball would bring me some relaxation right now.”
“I have sorority shit to do,” Mia sighs as she begins dressing.
“Also, I don’t care if you get dressed, but I need you to not fuck on the couch,” I add sternly. I gather my various bags, a tank top, and grab some water.
“Is the dining room table fair game?” Matt deadpans. I don’t like the look on Mia’s face, as if the idea isn’t half-bad. I honestly can’t blame them. That would be my first choice if I was a depraved animal.
“You two are insatiable. Get a fucking room. Fuck in the shower. I don’t care. Just not somewhere where I sit or eat, preferably.” The pair of them give me a guilty look, wearing the worst poker faces I have ever seen.
“Insatiable, I tell you. Goodbye.”
Chapter Ten
Tomas
Ihearsomeonepunchingthe absolute fuck out of the punching bag when I rack my barbell and weights. It's odd that someone other than me is in the faculty gym on a Sunday. Are you fucking kidding me? My eyes go wide in a trinity of excitement, shock, and horror when I realize my luck. She has her back to me, a fitted tank top revealing her sculpted muscles and her AirPods sitting in her ears. I move a little closer behind her, mesmerized by her stamina and the ease that she moves. She shifts her weight to land a knockout punch to the bag and instinctively rears around with her fist raised to deck me. I grab her wrist quickly in an act of self-preservation.
"Jesus Christ, DeLuca, do you have a death wish? How many times a day do you need to scare the fuck out of me?" she asks through her heavy panting. The rise and fall of her chest instantaneously sends my mind to the gutter and renders me speechless. What kind of fucking test of righteousness am I being put through?
All previous thoughts of nobility, being the human with the fully formed brain, have gone to hell just as fast as the declaration has come. I might have a PhD in medical studies, but I'm skeptical in metaphysics. These coincidental meetings are making me wonder otherwise.
“Well, hello again, Miss Hamilton. At least you weren't holding a cup of coffee this time. I'm beginning to wonder if you're stalking me,” I chide. I circle her like prey, embracing the primal part of me I’ve been repressing for so long. What's wrong with shameless flirting, anyway? She instigates it as well.
"I'm the stalker? Don't be coy, Professor DeLuca. You've known who I was since the moment I walked into your class, which, by the way, is a little creepy. How did you know who I was?"
"Anybody who has ever stepped foot in your father's office knows who you are, Olivia."
She scoffs. "A likely story."
"And please, call me Tomas. When we're out of class, anyway."
"And do you intend on seeing me outside of class?" she asks flatly. I don't miss the flash of excitement in her eyes or the way she's looking at my fingers, like she’s imagining me pumping them in and out her right this very second. Maybe she's thinking of all the sweet whimpers I'd pull from those pouty, pink lips as I drag my tongue across those pert little nipples, or over each rigid collarbone. I'd take my time savoring every drop as I ravished her cunt with my tongue. There wouldn't be a part of her I hadn't tasted.
"DeLuca? Forgive me. Tomas, are you going to answer that?" she asks, her head tilted. Her question drags me out of my fantasy. My fantasy or hers? The trajectory we’re heading towards shows they’re ours.
"Well, I mean, it seems like you find me wherever I end up.” She rolls her eyes, like the witty little brat I met in September. Still there, but tucked away slightly, begging for release. I smirk in satisfaction at getting under her skin.
"You might as well make yourself useful while you're here, unless you were just leaving for a date or something."
"No, I don’t have a date. Also, now that I know you're here alone, I'm not leaving." I cross my arms, waiting for the protest I know she's going to make.
"I'm not some helpless girl, Tomas. You're free to leave if you have things to do. I can take care of myself." My traitorous cock imagines her doing just that.
"I'm good. There isn’t anything or anyone else I'd rather be doing right now," I say quickly, testing the water a bit. She pauses briefly, deliberating, then lets it slide.
"Well, then, make yourself useful and spot me on the bench press." She dabs a towel around her eyes, wiping off the lingering sweat.
"Yes, madame." I carry her items to the rack of weights where she's already adding twenty-five pound plates to the bar.
"Can you handle all of that?" I ask, my tone sounding more doubtful than intended.
"Wanna find out?" she asks suggestively. Ahh, there she is, the shameless little vixen who practically got herself off the first day of my class.
"Do you?" I meet her tit-for-tat. The words are on the tip of her tongue. I can see her weighing their meaning and the potential consequences of them. She positions herself on the bench and adjusts her grip on the bar. It's obvious from her sculpted, lean body and form that she knows her way around the gym. Unfortunately, it does nothing to curb my growing interest in her. She gives me an impatient stare.
"So, are you going to spot me while I lift or not?" I walk up to the barbell, which she’s already bringing to her chest. She’s exerting herself, but not struggling. I must say, the girl is impressively strong. She finishes her set of ten and stands, shaking her arms out.
"Aw, your arms hurt already? How do you expect to kick Nathan's ass?" I ask playfully. Without saying a word, she strolls to the plates and racks an additional ten pounds per side. She swings her leg over the bench, narrowing her eyes in challenge, and doesn't wait for me to assist her. I can see the mischievous glint in her eyes. She wants to show off because I was teasing her. She finishes the set of eight and grabs her water bottle. I watch her swallow, briefly mesmerized, and she catches my line of sight. Her lips curve up in a wicked smile, but she doesn't comment.
