AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Why did hearing her say the word willie spark me like a fucking twelve year old boy?
I had been totally honest when I’d admitted that I was a sapiophile. A woman walking around half naked on the beach? Barely a twitch in the trousers. A woman giving a presentation on the plausible and incomprehensible depths in reality of quantum physics? I’m hard as a fucking rock. Reaching under the table, I had to adjust my cock to sit a little more comfortably, trying decently hard to make it settle down a little, but every time Mia opened her mouth about writing and started blushing like a virgin, it stiffened up again. It felt a little like a losing battle that I was more than happy to surrender.
Shit, no!
She was a student.
I wiggled a little and threw my arm over the back of the booth behind me to look a little more casual as I man-spread to give the boys some room to breathe.
My eyes zeroed in on her teeth pulling at her plump bottom lip.
Dammit!
She wasn’t even that pretty, to be honest. My ex had been a volleyball player, long and leggy and blonde, a near ten if ever there was one. Mia was a little bit mousy in a girlish sort of way, looking younger than her twenty-three years. She wasn’t particularly tall, either, standing in at maybe just over five feet against my six foot, two inches. Her hands were delicate though, always going in gently before she committed to grabbing a paper or lifting her water bottle for a drink. It was like she questioned every single move she made, and that drove me fucking crazy. She was incredible and impressive in the best sort of ways, and all the papers I’d read from her were informed but artistic. They drew you in and it was easy to forget that you were reading a ten page non-fiction opinion piece about the benefits and drawbacks of semi-colons.
“What? You’ve got eighteen books here! And two thousand reviews? Small town author my ass!”
She threw her hand over her mouth at that, blushing again.
Hell, maybe she never stopped blushing.
“It is small time when you compare it to the greats out there like Tolkien, Hemingway, Twain, Austen. They’ll live forever through their books. These are just an income and an outlet.”
She shook her head, letting her hand drop.
“Why are you so dang hard on yourself? This is incredible! I can’t believe you think this is nothing. I’d give my left boob for this kind of success.”
There she went, lighting up again.
“Don’t,” I blurted. “They’re too perfect to chop off.”
We both froze.
What the fuck was that?
While I mentally pummeled myself, my inner professor started in on damage control.
“I mean, you’ll get your own success, I’m sure,” I rambled, hoping she’d let the comment go.
I might not have liked the fact that I was stuck in some no-name, small-town college in Mississippi compared to working at UCLA, UC Berkeley and Yale. Didn't matter.
“Can I ask you something,” she interrupted my yammering about the old ‘if you work hard, you can achieve anything’ routine.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I agreed, practically sinking with relief at changing the subject.
She didn’t seem disturbed by my reference to her stupid, perky tits, so thank fuck for that.
“Why are you here?” she rushed. “I mean, you used to teach at such prestigious colleges, then you’re…here. We’re just a little college in the middle of Mississippi.”
Those rounded, white teeth were chewing on her bottom lip again and I wanted to reach out and free it, but I kept my appendages all tucked away tightly so I didn’t do anything stupid. Well, all but one. Luckily my pants were keeping that one relatively contained beneath the table.
“The truth?” I blew out a breath, wondering if I shouldn't tell her all of it.
She was a student, yes, but she was something of a co-worker, too, which made me see her as more than that. Maybe it was the purity in her eyes, or the fact that I knew she wouldn’t judge me harshly because she was just too damn nice to, but I did. I told her everything.
“When the divorce finalized, my ex-wife decided that she wanted to go home and live a ‘simpler’ life with our kids. So the choice presented itself. Stay in California and live with only periodic visits over holidays with my kids and maybe a couple weeks during the summer, or move too, and be able to at least be part of my kids’ lives.”
She pressed a hand to her heart and sighed.
