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“Oh, God. I thought the first floor was crazy amazing.” Hazel looked around her as she felt over the embroidering on his comforter.
“Remind me to show you the rooftop pool later.”
“A pool?” Hazel exploded into giggles as Ian launched himself onto the bed with her.
Her leg curled around his, and his hands moved down her narrow waist. He adored the taste of her, the feel of her. And she was his, freely and willingly. In waves, her clothes came off and piled on the floor, until she was fresh and naked before him, smiling coyly. Free of her clothing, she was even more radiant, a bright and shining bud of a woman, ready to bloom into something marvelous. Ian bowed before her and peppered worshipful kisses against her breasts, and she cradled the back of his head, murmuring encouragements. Hazel shuddered as his fingers rubbed over her nipples, and he moved his attention upward to devour her neck.
As she lay waiting on the bed, Ian shed his jeans and his sweater, then reached for a condom on his nightstand before taking her in his arms once again. Hazel blinked up at him; Ian saw the trust in her eyes. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then hitched her legs up.
Peals of giggles filled the room followed by moans and gasps. After positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, he then pushed inside of her, both of them exhaling over the blissful sensation of the act. He moved in her, a powerful force between her warm, tight legs, and she only grew slicker with each thrust. Hazel’s moans grew longer and deeper, and he rubbed the top of her mound as he rocked his hips back and forth, back and forth. Her hips rolled up to meet his.
“Yes, yes.” She gasped. “Oh, God, Dr. Cartwright! Harder!”
Hearing her call him that caused Ian to growl deep in his throat and thrust more forcefully.
Hazel continued to babble. “Yes, more. Ohh, Dr. Cartwright!” Until the words caught in her throat and she jerked underneath him. The feel of her coming around him was exquisite, as was the way her fingers curled into the comforter and she fluttered her eyes.
Ian took a bit longer, a benefit of experience and age. He could never regret making a woman come before him. Next time, he would have to make sure Hazel got started before he did. He found himself to be the king of excess when it came to ensuring the plurality of a woman’s pleasure.
Finally, his own orgasm rose in him, first an intangible warmth, then like lightning, moving through him so fast and so good. He threw his head back and roared, “Yes!” just as his hips jerked forward and stayed, clenching every muscle.
Beneath him, Hazel was still gazing up in that unfocused, post-orgasmic way when he slid out of her and removed the condom to deposit in the wastebasket by the bed. That done, he lay back down, pulling Hazel into his arms. She rested her head on his chest and curled into him. They said nothing for a long time. He kissed the top of her hair and petted it gently. She was sweaty and sleepy and sated, and he was a little proud of the latter.
What they would do once morning came was anyone’s guess.
Chapter Eight
“This can’t happen again.”
This is what Hazel had told herself, entangled in Ian’s sheets and looking up at the elaborate decorations of his bedroom. She had been too tired (and buzzed) to notice much about the room the night before, but unlike his Spartan office and living room, the bedroom was impeccably decorated—modernist paintings, sculptures, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
She was lying in bed with her professor, in his amazing penthouse. She couldn’t believe they’d slept together. More than that, she’d practically been all over him. Hazel had never imagined she could be the kind of girl to be “banging” her teacher.
Then, Ian opened his eyes sleepily and brushed hair out of her eyes. Hazel’s heart sprung to life, fluttering excitedly just from seeing his face, and then from the gentle whisper of “Good morning.”
It seemed only minutes later when he had lifted her up onto the island in the kitchen, and she was holding onto his shoulders as he vigorously pounded into her.
She was so legless from her orgasm that she stumbled over to the sofa afterward and sat, spent but happy. And again, telling herself:
“This can’t happen again.”
Ian brought her coffee and then went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with buckwheat pancakes with berries and powdered sugar sprinkled over the top.
“Oh, that looks amazing.” Hazel took her plate and waved it under her nose. “How did you know I preferred powder sugar to syrup?”
“I heard you and Vicki talking about your mutual love of breakfast foods before the Lederman meeting in the conference room.” Ian sat next to her and smiled. “Try them. I’m not an awful cook.”
