The Rule of Always

ISRAEL

If I kiss her, she won’t be going anywhere. I know that and so does Callie. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t think, Iz,” she whispers, lips trembling, eyes pleading. “Whatever it is you think that keeps you from doing this, from taking me, tonight, don’t think it.”

“Callie, find someone your age. Find someone else.”

“I tried that.”

My teeth grit at the thought of her with another man. Of course, she’s been with someone else. Else.

A woman who looks like this, is as brilliant as she is, there would be as many as someone as she wanted. I want to ask who.

How many. How many times, but I have no right to those answers, and they would only make me miserable.

“Oh, yeah?” I finally reply. “You did?”

“I was actually in a relationship for three whole months not long ago.”

“Why didn’t it last with him?” I force myself to ask.

“Her.” She smiles at my surprised look.

“I guess your tastes did change,” I say wryly.

“Not really.” She shakes her head, and a sheaf of black hair slips between her breasts. “I’ve known I was bi since high school.”

“So why didn’t it work with her then?”

Callie shrugs carelessly. “She was awesome. She was smart and creative. A graphic designer in Chelsea. Fantastic in bed.” Erotic images of some chick with her head between Callie’s legs spring my dick rod straight.

“You like that?” She glances down to my crotch.

I don’t like the thought of her with anyone else, but that’s irrational since I won’t take her myself.

“Red-blooded males tend to get excited by the thought of two women together. It’s predictable.”

“When I was with her, the guy before her, the girl before him,” she says, her gaze earnest, “I imagined you every time.” “Callie.” I gulp down a groan. “Don’t tell me that.”

“It’s true.” Her bitter laugh hangs between us. “I could never come until I imagined it was you.” “Fuck, Callista.” I drop my head, a mistake because I smell her. She presses her tight, curvy body into me.

“One kiss,” she says huskily, raising up on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear. “And I’ll leave.”

“You know it won’t go down like that.”

“Say go down one more time,” she groans.

“And your dick will be in my mouth so fast your head will spin.”

I stifle a moan, and the dick in question twitches to rock level, begging me to accept her offer.

“I want this, Iz. You want it. Take it. Take me. Why the hell not?” Why the hell not indeed? Before I was conscious of my position ~of~ her as my TA and the power dynamic.

Then there’s the age gap. What does she want with an old man like me?

“Callie, you’re in your twenties.”

“Barely.”

“And I’m in my forties.”

“Barely, and who gives a damn? You keep throwing rules up between us, rules I don’t care about. What about your rule?

The one that got you where you are? The rule of right now?”

She leans into me fully, and her sweetly scented softness is my undoing. I palm the curve of her waist, warm through the thin layer of fabric covering her small body.

“You’re so tiny,” I say, almost wonderingly. “I feel like I might break you.”

“With a kiss?” she asks teasingly. “Or are you already thinking ahead? If so, I can assure you, I won’t break when you fuck me. I’m trial tested, Professor.”

Professor. ~The rule of right now.~

I lower my head swiftly before I talk myself out of it, and I take what I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on Callista Garcia. Everything.

I leave nothing in her mouth unlicked, unsucked, untasted.

Her lips, her tongue, the sweet, addictive lining of her mouth.

Every fantasy I’ve had about this woman begins with a kiss just like this, but it’s so much better than I imagined.

It’s so much better than the one time she kissed me in my office because now I know we won’t stop. Whatever lie I told myself, whatever thing Callie said to get us started, this can’t stop.

Not until I’m buried balls-deep inside her. I slide my hand into the low-cut neckline of her dress and palm her breast.

“Jesus,” she gasps into our kiss, leaning into my hand.

“Please, Iz.” I appreciate the weight of her breast for a second, the soft firmness, and then I knead it reverently and brush my thumb across the nipple.

She breaks the kiss, lowering her head to my chest. “Don’t stop,” she begs, easing her shoulder and arm from one sleeve, baring her other breast.

She’s breathtaking, a plump berry brown nipple crowning her breast. In the cool air, it peaks, tightens.

I slip one finger beneath the dress at her other shoulder and coax the fabric down until her neck, shoulders, breast, waist are all on display.

I go to my knees, tug until the dress slides over her hips and legs, gathers around her ankles. She steps out, the silky gold of her body bare except for a tiny nude-colored thong.

There’s a dark spot on the front of the minuscule panties. I touch it, finding it wet. “God, Callie.” I groan and press my lips to the dampness. “Already?”

“Are you kidding?” She laughs breathlessly, cupping my face between her hands and looking down at me. “I’ve been wet since hello, Professor. I literally carried spare panties in my backpack that semester.

I’d be soaked by the end of every lecture.”

“Shit.”

I cup her ass and suck her through the panties. The wetness christens my lips, and her flavor explodes in my mouth.

It’s galvanizing, the taste of her, the sweet musk of her. I jerk her panties down and press my face between her legs, matching the rhythm of my tongue and teeth around her clit with rough squeezes of her round ass.

She’s so compact and lush and full and tight. I’m overwhelmed by her scent and taste and the gorgeousness of her breasts and belly and pussy.

She lifts one leg onto my shoulder, spreading herself and squeezing my shoulder to the point of pain as I eat her ravenously.

“Keep eating,” she pants, her nails digging into my neck. “Oh my God. It’s just like I …”

She sobs, her voice breaking as she comes, her body offering a stream of passion across my lips.

She bucks into my mouth, reaching up to squeeze her breasts, pinching her nipples.

I could do this forever, watch us both bring her pleasure so intense, tears stream from her eyes and her beautiful mouth opens on a silent scream.

The tight plane of her belly trembles with ragged breaths, and her breasts heave. Her hips continue pumping against my mouth for long seconds until she slows, stills, sags, and I think she may fall.

I stand, picking her up, bringing her chest level with my lips, and suckle her breasts.

She’s completely limp, deadweight, but so light it’s no strain at all to carry her to the bed. I lay her gently on the cool sheets.

“I made it,” she says drowsily, her lips swollen from kisses. “I made it to the bedroom.”

“What?” I laugh, pulling the shirt over my head.

She sits up, naked and completely unselfconscious, and places her hands over mine at my belt.

“Let me.”

Her fingers are deft, efficient torture, brushing against my stomach as she undoes the belt, against my hip bones when she slides the jeans down.

And then deliberate provocation, gripping me through my briefs. I choke back a needy sound and swallow, trying to maintain some semblance of command.

Her hands slow when she tugs the briefs down, and her eyes scorch, they’re so hot on me.

“Oh, this is very impressive, Professor,” she says, licking smile onto her pretty lips.

“I, um, haven’t had any complaints.”

Her fingers close around my naked shaft, squeezing and pulling. “I wouldn’t advise that,” I groan, holding her hand. “If you want this to last for any amount of time.”

“I don’t care if it’s fast.” She raises her lashes and teases me with her stare. “We’ve got all night.”

“Maybe you overestimate my virility,” I chuckle, pushing at her slim shoulder until she falls back onto the bed, naked and, at least for tonight, completely mine.

“I don’t think so,” she crosses one slim leg over the other, hiding the cove between her thighs from me. I nudge her legs open, and her sly smile says I’ve done exactly what she wanted.

“This, Professor,” she says, opening her legs a little wider, “is what I call a carte blanche lay.”

“And how does that work?” I ask, struggling to keep my eyes on her face while she’s talking, and not straying to everything below.

“You get whatever you want. Any hole you want. Mouth, asshole, pussy. You name it, it’s yours.” She laughs huskily, naughtily.

“Hell, I have a strap-on back at my place if you want me in any of your holes.” “Nah,” I laugh. “I’m, uh, good on that score. My holes are fine, and I’m much more interested in yours.”

“They’re interested in you, too.” She swallows, some of the humor leaving her expression. “I’m interested in you. Have been for a long time.”

“Well, I think we’ve waited long enough.” I reach down to the floor, pulling a condom from the wallet in my jeans pocket.

“Tell me how you want it.”

She’s quite the adventuress. From her confident pursuit over the last five years, I suspected she would be. I can be adventurous, too, but tonight, I just want to look in her eyes when I’m inside her for the first time.

I don’t voice it but come over her, resting my weight on my elbows, afraid I’ll crush her petite frame. I bend, taking one nipple in my mouth, grinning against her areola when she moans and links her ankles behind my back.

I reach between us, slipping my middle finger inside the tight sheath of her body. She draws a swift breath, her hips matching the invasion and withdrawal of one finger, then two, then three.

“I’m ready.” She moves fitfully beneath me, squirming, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back, her slim neck exposed.

I nibble at the satiny length of her throat, and her fingers stroke the back of my head gently. I’m so much bigger than she is, when I slot my hips between her legs, it spreads her wide open.

I look up the length of her, a runway of curves and silky flesh, until our eyes connect. Hers are surprisingly sober.

“Finally,” she whispers, a single tear skidding over her cheek.

“I won’t have to pretend it’s you. This time it is you, Iz.”

I ease in, unsure of how her small body will receive me, but it’s tight and hot and wet and unbearably perfect. I drop my head to the curve of her neck, holding myself still for a few seconds, savoring this initiation of our bodies together.

“This feels so right,” she says, her breath stunted and ragged in my ear. “No one else is you. Don’t hold back. I want it all.”

“Are you sure?” I kiss her neck, behind her ear, push the tumble of dark hair away from her face.

“All.”

I lose the reins on my legendary control and thrust so deep and hard into her, she moves up the bed, and the headboard knocks against the wall.

“Fuck,” she says through clenched teeth.

With every thrust, my mind spirals away from my body until I’m lost in mindless possession. Nothing but animal instincts and bliss.

Berserker fucking where my thoughts blur and we fall into a trance of coupling that is nothing I’ve known before. The sheets pull free of the mattress corners with the vigor of our bodies.

Our skin slickens with sweat the longer I go, and I lose track of time. God, she must be raw by now, but I can’t stop and I can’t come. I’m trapped in this bottomless well of pleasure that seems to have no end.

And she’s right there with me. She grabs my ass, pushing me in deeper. She claws my back and clamps her legs around me as if I might get away.

She shudders around me with her release, raining kisses over my face and shoulders, begging me not to stop, not to leave her. I want it to last forever, but when I come . . .

God, I roar. I stiffen. I dig my knees into the mattress, scoop under her knees with my elbows and hammer into her, the release, seemingly infinite, but when it’s over, completely satisfying.

This is why I stayed away. I knew this would happen. Nothing else will ever compare to this.

To her.