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She says she’s alone, lives alone. But also seems more worried about that tiny dog.
I joke about it, telling her the dog will come back because she feeds it but I’d rather show her who her new alpha is. Rather feed her the bone I still have, so stiff in my pants it prods her sweet ass with almost every step.
She doesn’t seem to mind me being so close, and for the first time in my life, I’ve never felt like I have more of a purpose until now.
I circle back to pick up my research equipment, just a few cases but I feel a heat in my chest when she huddles closer, remarking on how strong I am.
My free arm flexes as I lift my equipment, the other holding her without effort. And the thing I’d like to share with her most grows harder and hotter too, making her gasp a little as I know she feels it pressing right into her own warm place for a second.
“Is your place far?” she asks, her breath shivering suddenly and her body trembling against me.
“Not far,” I tell her, squeezing her closer, asking if she’s warm enough and letting out a low growl of satisfaction as I feel her body shifting back, reacting only when it finds the stiff heat of my cock pressing into her again as I walk.
“Never better,” she purrs, muting a whimper as I watch her bite down on her lip.
Chapter Three
Gillian
I should be a lot of things, and smart enough not to go off with a stranger in the woods should be top of that list.
I’ve never heard of a Professor Sexton and I’ve never even seen Xander on or off campus, and it’s a pretty small town really.
I would probably remember if I had seen him, I mean he is pretty hard to miss.
But this feeling he gives me, the way he’s so strong but so delicate when he picks me up. And most of all, whatever it is he has in his pants, gently stabbing me so close to the spot I needed a man not so very long ago.
His clothes are so fresh and clean, at first, I think the heady odor of the forest might be from his sliding down to save me, but no.
Every man has a smell and Professor Sextons. Xander’s is as fresh, wild, and earthy as the woods we are in.
After he’s collected his research gear, which is a couple of heavy looking silver cases, he carries me for about a mile without even building a sweat up or pausing for breath.
Yes, he is strong, that’s obvious. But I can feel his heart right against my chest the whole way, beating a slow steady rhythm.
Mine on the other hand…
I use every chance I can on the trip back to his house to move myself this way and that. Shifting slightly and adjusting myself in his arms so I can feel as much of his incredible body as I can.
After about half a mile of silence, I feel his body shaking with laughter.
“You fall in poison ivy or just got ants in your pants?” he asks, looking down at me with what I can only describe as affection. Real affection.
The soft but intense, piercing dark eyes of a man who looks as though he’s found a prize and is happy to carry it forever.
I tense up, embarrassed that he’s caught on to my obvious attempts to feel him up but he only squeezes me a little tighter without another word.
I don’t mind at all. And if it’s okay with you, we can do a whole lot of touching when you’re ready.
I look up, gasping. It’s as though he’s spoken the words aloud but his face is set firmly forward, concentrating on the terrain in front and finding his way confidently in the total darkness, like a cat.
The words are hypnotic and I feel myself relax for what feels like the first time in my life.
I feel safe, secure. I feel warm and I feel like someone (even though it’s almost as if he’s just dropped from the sky), really does actually care about me for once.
Drifting into a half-sleep, I close my eyes and feel like I’m bobbing down a perfectly warm river. Somewhere where nothing and no one can hurt me or upset me, bother or annoy me ever again.
The feeling of his hand brushing against my stiff chest once he lays me on his couch makes me jump with a start.
His arm moves back naturally and he stands over me, considering me again from head to toe as I lay flat on what feels like patent leather under me.
“You lay right here and I’ll get a pillow for your ankle,” he says with clinical detachment.
Straight away all I want is his arm right where it was. I want him holding me again. Forever this time.
