Authors: J.J. McAvoy
J. J. McAvoy
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Judy Onyegbado
Ebook ISBN: 9781625178794
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Avenue, Suite 2003, NY 10001, New York.
To all those who scream, laugh, cry, and love with no reservations
when I grow up, I want be just like you.
P R E S E N T
This was going to be the worst week of my life. It had to be. After the week I’d just had, I knew there was not a thing in the world that could top it. I had met the woman of my dreams, and I’d fucked her all across the city. How could anything top that?
I was tempted to call her now, or swing by after work, but we’d made a deal; it was meant to be just a one week fling, after our week was up, we agreed that we’d both go our separate ways.
Why had we made such a stupid fucking deal?
Sighing, I scrawled my name on the board for the fresh new lambs. I was always surprised that many of them had even graduated high school, and the fact that they had been accepted into Harvard Law made me wonder whose pockets had gotten fatter.
I was known as
by most – well –
the law students, even the ones that managed to pass my class. Regardless of what they thought of me, almost all of them applied for jobs within my firm after graduation. It led me to the belief that they were all masochists... I had taught them well.
“Come in, and sit anywhere,” I told them as they filed in.
As I listed over two-dozen books on the board, I heard a chorus of whispers echo though the class, but this didn’t stop me from moving on to my second column of tittles.
“If you haven’t read any of these books, get out. You will fail, and once that happens, there is no hope for you. I do not care if your mother was sick, your house caught fire or even if you were taken off the planet by aliens. If you want to pass this class, and if you want to be a lawyer, working for it isn’t enough. You’ll need to bleed for it,” I said, placing the chalk down.
I waited for a moment, smiling to myself as I heard a few students rise from their seats and leave. It was the same story every time I chose to teach.
Thank God I only teach one class.
“My name is Professor Black. Now that we have weeded out the weak…” My words trailed off as I turned to face the class.
There she was, my girl, sitting in the front row, dressed in tight, dark jeans, with one of my shirts under her blazer. Her brown eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open as she stared back at me.
Flashes of her lying naked in my bed, with myself embedded deep within her, as I kissed down her dark skin, of me gyrating against her hot, sweaty body in the club, of making love in my car, all of it, came rushing back to me.
Fuck. This can’t be happening.
Looking up, I found what appeared to be a hundred eyes, focused on me. Clearing my throat, I began again, “For those of you who have stayed, I expect that you’ve heard the rumors, and let me assure you, they are all true. By the time you are finished with this class, I’m sure you will have more to add to them, but for now, come up, sign your names, and grab a syllabus.”
She didn’t move. She remained in her seat, her gaze transfixed upon me, looking as mortified as I felt. One by one, I watched them come forward, but not her.
Finally, she got up, grabbed her things, and then stopped. She looked as though she was trying to decide whether or not to run.
Run Thea! Please, for the love of God, run.
But of course she didn’t. With her head down, she came forward, signing her name as
before taking a syllabus from my desk. I took a step back from her. I couldn’t touch her… not after everything we had done together.
I had screwed one of my students, repeatedly.
“Who can pay attention with him up front?” a girl whispered to her friend beside her.
“I heard he’s a total Nazi, but he’s one of
best lawyers in the state. If you’re in good with him, you might even get a place at his firm. Even a recommendation from him and you’re set,” the blonde whispered back.
The moment I saw him, I just knew that I was going to be in for one hell of a semester. I had screwed one of my professors. Hell, I had licked honey off his chest! This was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to be one week of amazing sex, and then, we’d never ever see each other again!
This morning I had missed him, but knew it was over. I needed to focus on school, and on getting my life together. I had promised myself that I would do this; that I wouldn’t let anything get in my way, yet here I was, staring at Levi… and to think that just two days ago I had…
I had to transfer. I was going to transfer.
“Ms. Cunning,” he called, and I jumped slightly.
“Yes, that’s me,” I muttered, raising my hand, knowing full well that he knew who I was. He didn’t even look up, he just kept reading the other names.
God had the most twisted sense of humor.
P A S T
D A Y 1
All I really needed was a drink. No, not just a drink, but vodka. I was willing to drink it straight from the bottle. It was only by luck that I saw the lights of the upcoming nightclub called Twenty-Four, through my foggy, rain-covered windshield.
Parking as close to the entrance as I could, I grabbed my purse before dashing out of my car and into the rain. This was a bad idea. It was pouring, I was annoyed, and I didn’t have someone to take me home if I got drunk… which I most likely would. But right now, I didn’t care, because what I really needed was a drink.
I sound like an alcoholic. Jeez.
The bouncer looked at my ID, and then at me as I stared passively back. He nodded and waved me in. I didn’t pay attention to any of the couples grinding onto each other as I made my way across the dance floor, and to the bar.
“Vodka anything, fast,” I said to the bartender who wore a top hat atop his unruly mop of brown hair.
“Tough day?” he asked, his eyeliner eyes narrowing, as he poured me the nectar of the Gods into a glass.
I downed the whole thing in one shot, before coughing and taking a deep breath.
“You could say that,” I sighed, waving for him to pour more.
“Please tell me you’re not a recovering alcoholic,” he half joked, pouring more into my glass.
I smiled at that. “Maybe.”
His brown eyes brimmed with worry, and I rolled my eyes. “My mother died two months ago. Today is her birthday, and right now, I really don’t want to be at home, alone with all of her crap. So just keep them coming.”
I’m not sure if I made him feel better or worse, but this time he filled the glass, and I tried to be more civilized.
“What’s your name? Because I believe you and I are going to be very close by the end of the night,” I muttered sipping.
“Tristan,” he said, then added, “I’m sorry about your mother, hon.”
“Don’t be, she was a horrible person,” I muttered truthfully. “I’m Thea.”
“Nice to meet you Thea. Drinks are on the house.”
“No, it’s okay, I don’t want any pity.”
“It’s fine. I’m screwing the boss,” he said, dropping me a wink, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“If you keep giving away drinks, you will be screwed alright.”
“You’re the first customer I have ever had that’s fought me on free drinks.”
“I’m sure but—”
“No buts,” he replied cleaning a glass. “Drinks are on the house.”
“Fine. How about the house pays for the first three drinks, and I pay for the rest?”
“How many do you plan on having?”
I shrugged. “As many as it takes until I’m numb?”
“Are you always this honest?”
“Only to the person who’s controlling the booze.”
He laughed, shaking his head at me. “Fine, the first three are on the house. Did you just move to Boston?”
“Yes and no.” That was all I was giving him, and he nodded, accepting my answer as good enough.
I was just about to ask for a couple slices of lime, when the lights in the place dimmed. A blue light illuminated the stage as a
attractive man, took center stage with nothing but a guitar in his hands. His hair was dark, almost black, like a starless night. His eyes were a deep emerald color, so striking that even in the dimly lit bar I could see them. Every time the light hit them, I felt myself being drawn in more and more.
Sitting on a stool, he played softly, almost as though he was trying to put us all at ease.
“This song isn’t dedicated to anyone… yet,” he whispered into the microphone, which gained him a few whistles and claps.
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my drink.
“I carry a smile when I’m broken in two, all because of someone like you,”
he sang and I stopped for a moment before turning back to him.
“What the hell?” I whispered to myself.
“Fooling the world; none of them know you as I do. Why not me? Why never me? Standing right here you masterful puppeteer.”
I don’t know if it was the lyrics, or just the way that he sang them. Either way I found myself unable to look away from him, even to drink. It was as though I had come here just to hear him sing.
I sat watching as he ran his hands over the strings of the guitar. I was transfixed, bewitched, and overwhelmed. I could feel my throat closing up.
“I should go,” I muttered to myself when his song was over. But I simply sat there, staring down at my drink and unable to move.
Finally, I lifted my glass and swallowed its contents, and Tristan, my good old trusty bartender, poured me a new glass. I didn’t feel like crying. In fact, I didn’t have any more tears to spill. I was just tired. I had spent the last three and a half months with my mom. We fought, we cried, and then she died – in that order.
“Can I buy you a drink?” a voice behind me asked.
I turned to find the same devilishly handsome man from the stage, standing right beside me. He stood over six feet tall. He was fit, but not in the bulky, bodybuilder sort of way. His skin was fair and flawlessly smooth, his lips were full, his features were chiseled and well defined, yet still, it was his eyes that truly captured my attention. Without being aware of it, I leaned in towards him and smiled. He was totally at ease.
“Tristan, should I let him buy me a drink?” I turned to the man behind the bar. Tristan snorted, looking over at the man who waited for a yes.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Thanks man,” the man said, frowning at Tristan while I laughed.
Tristan replaced my drink, which I had not yet finished, with something new and pink.
“Still vodka?” I asked him.
“Still vodka,” he nodded.
Smiling, I turned to the Casanova and shrugged. “Looks like I already have a drink, but, seeing that you’re empty-handed at the moment, I’m happy to buy you one,” I teased. I turned and dramatically rapped my knuckles against the bar. “Tristan! Give our friend here something
They both laughed at that.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said taking the seat beside me.
“You do see this drink is pink, right?” I asked him.
“I think I’m comfortable enough with my sexuality,” he winked.
This was usually the point where I left guys at the bar, but for some reason, I just shook my head. I didn’t want to leave yet.
“You were good, by the way.”
“What?” He smiled as he leaned towards me.
I pointed to the stage and grinned. “Your song, what did you think I meant?”
“Nothing,” he laughed. “And thank you, I didn’t think anyone noticed.”
“Why wouldn’t anyone notice?”
He raised an eyebrow and looked out over the dance floor. Following his gaze, I noticed that everyone was glued to each other, and no one seemed to care what kind of music was playing. It was Sunday, so I guessed everyone wanted to end their weekend on a high note.
“At this point, they might as well not have clothes on.” I tilted my head to the side, watching as a man’s hand worked its way up his partner’s dress.
“That’s what they’re working towards,” he laughed. “I’m Levi by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Levi,” I said trying not to seem interested. He was attractive, but I was more the type who’d rather look than touch.
“This is the part where you tell me your name.”
“Really? Do you do this often?”
“Do what?” he asked with a frown.
“Sway women with your sultry music, then offer them a drink whilst staring deeply into their souls with your sexy green eyes, in order to get their names.”
“Sultry music? Sexy green eyes? Are you sure you aren’t the one that does this often?” He grinned so wide it was contagious.
“I’m sure you’re better.”
Oh damn him to hell.
“Dance with me,” he said, extending his hand.
“I may be black, but I have no rhythm what so ever,” I informed him. “I’m a terrible dancer, and I mean awful. I’ll step on your toes—”
He didn’t seem to care, because he took my hand anyway, and I shivered at his touch…
I bloody shivered
, as he led me towards the middle of the dance floor and pulled me closer.
“You’re going regret this,” I told him.
“Believe me, that’s not possible,” he whispered, spinning me around until my back was pressed against his chest.
I stopped breathing. I was afraid if I did, I would moan. I could feel him, all of him, behind me.
“Just relax, give in to the music,” he whispered into my ear, and once again it was like I had no control over my body.
He’s definitely done this before
, I thought to myself. But I didn’t say anything. I just lifted my arms up and wrapped them around him as the music blasted around us. His hands softly grazed over my thighs.
“I still don’t know your name.”
“That’s because I still haven’t told you,” I whispered, turning back to him. His hands went to my waist and we both stared at each other.
I really couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe it was the alcohol, or because he was insanely attractive, or because I just wanted to feel something, but I closed the gap between us. That was all the invitation he needed to take charge.
His arms wrapped around me, and his hands found a position on my neck as he drew me in for a kiss. He tasted amazing. Reaching up, I grabbed him by his hair and pulled him closer. I wanted…
more of him. Before I knew it, I was pressing myself against him.
Releasing his hair, my hands slowly wandered up under his shirt and I savored the feel of his smooth, rock hard, washboard abs, while his warm, almost feverish, hand cupped my breast, relaying a promise of things to come.
Finally, we broke away from each other for a moment so that we could breathe. I wanted him so badly, I would have taken him right there on the dance floor.
“My name is Thea,” I whispered, and he smirked.
“Your place or mine, Thea?”
“You think you’re going to get lucky?” I asked him, and he kissed me again. The moment he did, I moaned into his mouth and gripped onto his hair. But he pulled away all too soon.
“I think I’ve already gotten lucky,” he smiled.
“Your place it is then,” I whispered, and he took my hand.
I barely remembered to grab my purse before he led me out of the club. By the time we got into his car, we both were trembling. As we drove through the city’s streets, I took the time to admire his profile in the intermittent glow of the passing streetlights. His fingers gently traced patterns along the sensitive skin of my thigh. It was such a small, mindless action, yet still my breath caught in my throat and my mind went blank. Before long, my hand wandered into his lap and I groped him through his pants. He didn’t say a word as we drove, but I could feel his mounting excitement.
He pulled up right in front of a beautiful town home in the better part of the city. Somehow I managed to regain a little bit of my composure as he opened the door for me. To anyone looking at us, they wouldn’t have guessed anything indecent was happening, yet the moment I touched his hands, I felt myself flush, and a wave of heat spread over me.
He fumbled with his keys, trying to get the door open, and I reveled in the fact that he was either extremely nervous or so excited that he couldn’t think straight. I took pride in either prospect.
The second we were inside, he spun around and pinned me against the door.
“Thank God,” he said against my skin.
He brushed his thumb across my hot, swollen lips, and lightly trailed his fingers down to my waist, his touch lingered for only a moment before he dragged my shirt up over my body. Lifting me up, he carried me towards his couch allowing us both to fall back onto it. With him on top of me. I could feel the length of him through his jeans, but that wasn’t good enough. Pulling on his belt, I bit his lips impatiently, and he snickered as he understood the urgency of my actions. Moving away from me, he rid himself of his clothes and returned to help free me of mine.
The way his hard body felt against mine…I wanted to touch all of him, but when I tried to reach for him, he pinned both of my hands above my head, and proceeded to gently kiss and lick my nipples. He teased me slowly, enjoying how I shook under him. I felt like I was losing my mind.
“Damn you,” I sighed, as I bit my lips, trying not enjoy it.
But when one of his hands trailed down my stomach and between my legs, I couldn’t help but melt in his hands. This wasn't foreplay, it was torture.
“Fuck. You look so sexy…” he hissed, as if I were doing anything to him.
His grip on me loosened as I kissed along his jawline. Finally free, I allowed my hands to wander back to him, and this time, he didn’t stop me as I gripped onto him. I tightened my hold on his member, moving my hand up and down agonizingly slow, torturing him, just as he had done to me. His breathing shortened, and his eyes seemed to darken, as he watched me work him. I liked fact that he seemed to be fighting an inner battle, trying to control himself. But I didn’t want him to be controlled, I wanted our torturous version of foreplay to end.
“Condom?” I asked him.
“Back pocket.” He nodded to his pants on the ground.
With my other hand, I grabbed it and tore the wrapper open with my teeth. Then, without wasting any more time, I put it on him.
We watched each other as I positioned myself over him. I could feel him, he could feel me. He grunted in frustration and grabbed my waist, flipping me onto my back and thrusting forward.
“Yes,” I moaned as he pinned both my hands above my head with his right hand, and he used his left hand to grip my thigh.
He grunted, slamming into me.
“Yes!” I cried out, as he thrust into me, harder and harder, with so much force the couch moved with us, and I didn’t even care. My breasts bounced freely, and he grinned, kissing them both before kissing my lips.
I opened my mouth, allowing our tongues to dance around each other.
“So tight,” he hissed.
“Harder!” I demanded not caring who heard me.