Tangled with the Professor (Bringing Home Trouble)

Chapter 6

Isabelle

It’s the first Christmas I’ve ever brought anyone. He’s brilliant, accomplished, gorgeous, and I’m crazy about him. I was thrilled to get to spend my favorite holiday of the year with him.

And instead of sneaking around and learning more about each other over cups of hot cocoa like I ridiculously envisioned, I’m sitting alone in my childhood bedroom crying my damn eyes out. I knew my parents would have a little trouble with our age difference at first, but their animosity toward Mark is astounding. My father won’t even look at me and my mom is being cold and distant. Everything is falling apart and I wish I had never agreed to any of this, instead staying on campus and studying straight through Christmas like it never existed.

My family doesn’t respect our relationship at all and they seem hellbent on destroying it. The thought of losing him forever because of my family’s behavior makes me sob harder and I press my face into a pillow so anyone passing in the hallway doesn’t hear. Not that any of those people who claim to be my family would come in to see what’s wrong.

I think about unwrapping the apple butter I bought at the farmer’s market last weekend for Aunt Mary, unscrewing the top and spitting in it. She’s never taken me very seriously, but she’s never been outright unkind and always had impeccable manners. It’s like she became another person at dinner, poking at Mark and then making that final jab about his age.

Why did I ever think this might be okay? Why did I let Mark lead me to believe everything would be perfect, just because he said so. Up until now, everything between us was perfect, heading towards something even better than perfect, and now it’s all ashes.

Thinking about some of our past interactions has me calming down a bit until I’m startled by a knock at the door. My rage rushes over me again and I’m just about to tell whoever it is to go to hell when I hear Mark’s voice on the other side.

“It’s me,” he says softly. “Can I come in?”

I tell him yes and as soon as he’s in, I tell him to lock the door. He grins at me a bit wolfishly because that’s what he always tells me when we’re able to steal some alone time in his office. It always makes my heart race and now is no exception. I hurriedly try to dry my leftover tears but he’s already seen the evidence.

“Oh, Isabelle,” he says, turning the lock and hurrying to my side.

“It’s nothing,” I say, but there’s no fooling him. He can read me like a book and no amount of pretending would work on him.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells me simply, pulling me into his arms.

I rest against his warm chest, breathing in his spicy scent for a moment, then push away. “Why are you apologizing?” I ask, getting upset all over again. “They treated you like you were a criminal or something and me like I’m twelve instead of twenty-three.”

“I’m sorry you’re so upset by it all,” he clarifies, his dark eyes sweeping my face with such tenderness I feel my insides turning to mush. “We never got a chance to talk before dinner, either.”

I stiffen in his arms. Is this where he tells me he didn’t sign up for a crazy family and he’ll be requesting a new assistant after the break? I look up at him, trying to find a way to remain dignified through my first ever dumping when all I want to do is hold onto him and never let go.

He chuckles softly and presses a kiss to my forehead. “What’s that look for? Don’t tell me you’re giving in to your parents’ pressure and thinking about asking me to leave?”

I gasp because that’s the furthest thing on my mind. Before I can shake my head or say a single word, he kisses me, slow and deep and reassuring.

“I hope not,” he says. “Because I’m not leaving. Not because of them, anyway.”

“I’m not asking you to,” I say quickly. “But I’m the one who should be apologizing. I know I said they’d be upset about the age difference, but I wasn’t expecting this. This is on another level.”

He shakes his head, pushing my hair behind my ear, then trailing his finger down the side of my neck. His eyes capture mine and don’t let go. “Your family’s reaction to me doesn’t change how I feel about you at all. I still want you.”

All the tension flows out of me like water through a sieve and my shoulders slump with relief. “We can leave if you want,” I offer. “Go to a hotel. I hate that they’re all ganging up on you.”

“Your brother seems neutral,” he says with a shrug. “And you forget how charming I can be. Tomorrow I’ll start working on them to lighten them up.” There’s a cheerfulness in his voice but his face doesn’t seem as convinced as his words might have me think.

“You don’t have to put on a show for them,” I say bitterly. “They don’t deserve you.”

“It’s not going to be a show,” he says. “I want them to like me.”

I laugh outright at that. He’s actually very well liked on campus, but it’s not ever because he tries. It’s because he’s a great person, demanding, exacting and sometimes such a hardass that whoever falls victim to it might think they hate him until they see it’s only to make them excel. He’s never once danced to anyone else’s tune.

“What?” he asks with mock innocence, then turns serious.

“I just can’t even imagine it.”

“You won’t have to. You’ll see it with your own eyes tomorrow.”

“But, why?” I ask. He’s such a proud man. “Why jump through hoops?”

“To make you happy,” he tells me, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. “Don’t you know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you?”

The soft feel of his lips on my palm makes me lean toward him and he slides his other hand around my neck and into my hair. “Thank you,” I whisper as his lips claim mine.

The feel of Mark’s hands sliding down my body erase any last worry that’s left over from dinner and the horrible, icy cold welcome we received. He reaches my knees and pushes my dress slowly up my thighs and I twist in his arms to deepen our kiss. He’s intoxicating and lights me on fire. Suddenly the perfectly comfortable room is much too hot and my new dress that I picked out to show how grown up and together I am now is scratchy and rough on my skin.

I only want his hands and his mouth there. Curling my fingers into his flannel shirt, I pull him closer, then let my fingers wander down his chest. He’s burning up, just like I am, and I push his shirt up to feel his hot skin and hard muscles against my hand.

Footsteps stomp past in the hallway and we freeze. After they’re gone, he pulls back to look at me with a twinkle in his rich, brown eyes.

“I don’t think I should be doing this in here,” he says, nodding toward my old porcelain unicorn collection, staring down judgmentally from their shelf over the window.

Moonlight pours in through the curtains and I smirk. “I don’t think you should stop,” I say, moving my hand lower, only stopping at the waistband of his jeans.

He grins and scoots down to start kissing his way up my inner thigh, nudging my dress higher as he goes. “Can you be very quiet?” he asks.

Before I can say anything, he reaches the edge of my panties and pushes them aside. I spread my legs wide as he grips my hips and teases me with his mouth.

“I love how wet you get for me, little girl,” he growls in a low voice.

My hips raise to get more of his tongue and he presses me hard against the mattress. “Oh…” I murmur, then start to moan as he circles my swollen bud.

I clamp my lips together, remembering that Aunt Mary and Uncle Phil are staying in the guest room next door and she’s probably got her ear jammed against the wall.

“That’s really nice,” I whisper, then giggle, suddenly not caring so much what anyone thinks.

I can feel him smiling against my wet heat and when I glance down, he’s grinning up at me, the light back in his dark eyes.

He’s perfect, always making me feel like I’m soaring and so patient with me. He has been so patient with me, with this whole horrible visit, I need to show him how much I want him too. Does he think I don’t notice the big outline of his cock straining against his pants? Since I’ve waited so long to be with anyone already, it seemed right to wait for the perfect person, and I know that man is Mark.

Like everything else in my life, from cheering on my studies to training me as a TA, he’s just got a quiet, steadfast care about him. If I screw up, he lets me know it, then we get right back on track, and over time I’ve come to see I can do the same with him without him getting a massive ego attack and pulling rank.

“Isabelle,” he says, his breath hot on my thigh. “Are you still with me?” He laps at my pussy and makes me squeeze my legs around his head.

“I was thinking about you,” I admit.

He fakes a scowl. “If you can think at all, then I’m not doing this right.”

He presses his tongue hard against my clit, then slides it down to push deep inside me. Every last thought flies out of my head and all I can do is feel every amazing sensation he’s giving me. I nod, letting my head fall back onto my pillows, getting wrapped up in the bliss that courses through my body.

“Oh, you’re doing just fine,” I murmur.

Soon I’m writhing underneath him as he works my body until I’m panting and clawing at his hair. Still he won’t let me have release, teasing me mercilessly until I’m quietly begging.

“Please,” I say, my voice getting dangerously loud.

He chuckles and shakes his head between my thighs. “I like eating your sweet little pussy way too much, and I hardly got to enjoy dinner.”

I bat at his head. “I’m really going to scream,” I warn him. “I’ll scream your name.”

“That sounds too enticing,” he groans, but lowers his head again.

Seconds later, his expert tongue is driving me wild and I’m thrashing as silently as I can, rumpling the bedspread and tossing one of the pillows off the bed. I grab the other one and slam it down over my face, biting on a mouthful of cotton and feathers as one final lick sends me over the edge.

As the orgasm rocks me, Mark holds tight to my hips, easing back to kiss my thighs and then my stomach. A few moments later, as shockwaves are still coursing through me, he makes his way back up to cradle me in his arms. I cling to him, my heart swelling with happiness and relief as my body settles down.

“That was amazing,” I finally manage, tilting my head up to see him looking down at me.

He sleepily kisses my forehead, then starts to sit up. “I better get out of here before I fall asleep in your bed and cause the next world war to break out.”

I immediately grab onto him and whisper “What if I want you to stay? What if I want to do more?” That piques his attention and he is immediately back on top of me, driving me into the bed with the force of his kiss and the stiffness of his cock. It’s only been seconds since my previous orgasm, but as he grinds against my clit, I feel like I’m only seconds away from another.

“Mark,” I say, breaking our kiss, but he just moves to my neck, working his way down to my torso. “Mark,” I get out again, knowing I have to tell him this, “I’m a virgin, but I want my first to be you,” he pauses as I finish speaking and moves back so we are at eye level.

“Oh little girl, I’ll be your first… and your last,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready for this now?” he asks, more gently this time.

“I’m ready.” He doesn’t need anything more than that and before I know it, we’re both fully undressed.

I can’t help but gasp when I see his huge cock standing tall in front of him. A big, veiny beast, throbbing and dripping. Bigger than I was ever prepared for. “It’ll fit, don’t worry,” he says, sensing my nervousness. Curious, I reach out and run my hand along his rippling length. He audibly shudders.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to touch me, little girl. Tell your daddy how much you like touching him, how much you want him inside of you,” he says, covering my hand with his and showing me how to stroke him.

“So bad, Daddy, I want you inside of me,” I say, barely above a whisper. He looks feral, and before I know it, he’s pulling back—staring at me while continuing to slowly pump himself. He positions himself between his thighs and then rubs his cock up and down through my slit. I moan so loud I immediately cover my mouth. Mark just chuckles, never taking his eyes off where is head is rubbing my pussy.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, all I can do is nod. “Stay quiet for daddy, little girl,” he says, before slipping inside. It’s the most delicious pain I’ve ever felt and I already know no one could ever compare to him.

“You feel so good, like silk wrapped around me,” he says as he starts thrusting into me, each stroke somehow longer than the last. I can’t speak, I can barely breathe. He picks up his pace.

? “I’m not going to last, little girl. Feels too good,” his thrusts grow more erratic and I can feel my second orgasm breaking through. His pace becomes near-punishing, but he keeps sneaking glances to make sure I’m okay. A man possessed, but still concerned about my wellbeing is exactly the man for me.

? My climax comes like a wave, slow at first and then forcefully cresting. I can feel him spill into me as soon as my walls contract around him. It’s glorious, better than I could have ever imagined.

? He collapses onto me, nuzzling against my chest. I bury my hands in his beautiful waves.

? “Is it always that amazing?” I ask, he looks up, balancing his weight on his elbows beside me.

? “It’s never been like that before, Iz. Like I said, you were made for me,” he says, planting kisses around my face between each word.

? We lay together for a few more minutes before we decide he should go back to his room because even if my parents approved of him wholeheartedly, they’re old fashioned and would never let us stay in the same room.

“See you tomorrow,” I say, running my hand through his hair, standing on end from all my tugging on it.

He grins. “I can’t wait, little girl,” he tells me, making my blood heat up again.

I tiptoe to the door and he kisses me goodnight, both sweet and full of passion. As I get into my pajamas and under the messy covers, I slip easily into sleep. Sated, comforted, and full of confidence in my man.