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Charlotte
I’d kind of flirted with him.
Okay, there was no kind-of about it.
I’d absolutely flirted with the man.
I didn’t really even know I was capable of that.
I’d always admired the vivacious or coquettish girls who knew what to say or how to move around men in ways that made them instantly interested.
I’d never wanted to be one, though. It just wasn’t how I was wired.
Men were great.
But more so in theory than practice.
What could I say, though? Sometimes we were helpless but to go with the whims of our biological drives. Hell, even history told us that. So much death and heartache all over who someone was—or wasn’t—sleeping with.
I wasn’t against a casual fling.
I wasn’t even against a casual fling with the very attractive, almost disarmingly intense Professor Bael Than.
Just, you know, after all the app research was done. I was a little too invested in it now to screw that part up. It was taking everything I had not to tell my students about it. I was even considering making playing it and writing a short report on what they learned from it part of their grade or extra credit or something.
Sure, I knew I was getting ahead of myself. The app wasn’t even done getting researched, let alone built. Still, I was excited.
Which was why I was going to make sure I didn’t keep accidentally getting flirty with the attractive app creator. Until my part in the process was done.
I actually caught myself half-standing up to watch him as he walked out of the building before I sat back down and shook my head at myself, reaching for the book about Ariadne to try to get myself lost in.
Which was exactly what I did.
Until my eyes gave up on me and I, yet again, passed out at the table using my own arm as a pillow.
The only thing that was different about this night, though, was the fact that I didn’t dream my usual, uncomfortable, fitful dreams. The ones where I was lost in a seedy area in the middle of the night with shady characters watching me, sometimes while—for some inexplicable reason—I was desperately seeking a bathroom. Or the ones where I got up to speak in front of a new class of students and they laughed at me or booed me. Not even the ones where I was back in grade school and the other kids were bullying me for being a couple grades above where I was supposed to be at that age.
Oh, no.
I had the strangest dream I think I’d ever dreamed.
As soon as my eyes closed and I started to drift away, it was like I drifted to some little motel room across town, like I was a ghost moving through the wall and into the main space.
Where I found Bael on the all-white bed, his long legs stretched out as he sat against the headboard, a book open in his lap, and his head nearly hitting his chest as he looked down to read it.
There I floated, content, it seemed, to just watch him as he thumbed through the pages, admiring the stern lines of his handsome face, the breadth of his chest, the way those big hands of his made the book in his hands look like a children’s story instead of an adult novel.
Then, as I watched, as his breathing got a little ragged and a growling sound escaped him, his hand started to undo his pants.
“Fuck,” he growled before his hand slipped inside and fisted his cock, pulling it out in all of its thick, long glory.
The impact of desire made me wish I could rush forward, could take over for him, then take him inside of me when it was time.
But all dream-me could do was watch as he stroked his cock, as his body got tight, as his breathing got hitched and erratic.
Something happened then, something that I couldn’t quite wrap my head around.
It was like he sensed dream-me there, his eyes shooting open, his whole body tensing.
