Conquest

The way he said my name sounded as if he’d spoken it tenderly to himself many times.

I waited for him with my eyes closed, listening to the remaining logs pop and hiss in the fire that was slowly dying in front of me. It was humiliating standing out here, alone in the dark. How long was he going to make me wait?

He knew I was out here standing in the cold. He’d been watching me all night, and I had pretended not to notice. I bet he knew how nervous he made me, and he liked it. He probably enjoyed knowing that I was out here shivering for him after everyone else had either gone home or found a place to sleep inside.

The temperature was quickly dropping, and I wasn’t dressed for it. I extended my hands and leaned in toward the low flames. I began to imagine that he stood behind me, as if I could manifest his presence, willing him to come to me. I was finally rewarded with soft lips and a prickly chin pressed against my cheek.

“Are you crazy? You’re wearing sandals? You should protect your feet,” he scolded.

“I’m not cold.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled, then slowly scanned my folded arms and trembling bottom lip. He placed a warm hand on my numb shoulder and a low chuckle vibrated in his throat. Then shook his head and put his arms around me. As I leaned against his chest, I was surprised to feel his heart beating fast.

I noticed that the top button of his shirt was undone, and I couldn’t resist touching the triangle of exposed skin there. He took in a sharp breath and pressed his nose into my hair.

“We can’t,” he whispered against my forehead.

“Why not?” I asked, the air thin between us, my humid breath circling his jaw.

He turned his face away, but didn’t release me, and I could smell him; smoke, coffee, and something slightly fruity.

“If I was 28…,” I began, but he interrupted me.

“You’re not 28, Amanda.” His expression was harsh, but the way he said my name sounded as if he’d spoken it tenderly to himself many times. “You’ll meet someone your own age, and you’ll forget about me.”

I knew he didn’t mean what he was saying, so ignored him and savored the smell of his breath and the sound of his heartbeat as I rested my head against his chest. This was the first time he’d ever allowed me to be this close to him. He was so good at keeping me at a safe distance during our conversations on campus.

Neither of us had expected to see each other at this party tonight. It had been a thrilling game to glance at him over the fire and find that he was watching me each time I checked. His expression had been teasing, but he never approached me. I ached with desire for him for hours while I spoke to friends and struggled to behave as though my stomach wasn’t in knots.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and held me at arm’s length as his eyes softened and he said bitterly, “If I wanted you, I’d have you warm in my bed. Not freezing in a backyard surrounded by empty beer bottles.”

“You don’t want me?”

“No,” he said, releasing me and turning his back. I watched him take a few breaths to regain his composure. He stepped closer to the fire, and his body relaxed. The night was silent except for the steady sizzle from the embers pulsing red in the fire pit.

“I don’t believe you.”

My eyes stung and began to water from the smoke that wafted between us, or was it a reaction to his words? How was I going to face him in class for the rest of the semester? He always focused his attention on me when he gave his lectures. “You understand concepts that the others don’t,” he’d told me, “Your essays are well written, and I can tell you’ve read the textbook. You’d be surprised how rare that is among the undergrads I teach.” He respected me. He was protecting us.

He turned around to look at me just as a tear rolled down my cheek, and I noticed his jaw tighten and his fists clench. The lock clicked in the backdoor behind us, the homeowner likely believing no one was left outside. It was apparent that we were now truly alone, and this seemed to have been the last straw. He scowled at me, and I could tell he had reached his breaking point.

“Go home,” he commanded, his tone menacing.

He approached me slowly, closing the distance between us. The glowing coals in the fire pit beside us murmured soft secrets and occasionally popped, sending sparks into the darkness.

“I can’t,” I said in a small voice. “My friends left a long time ago, and I didn’t drive myself here.”

“You stayed knowing you had no way to leave?”

“…yes,” I looked down at my feet.

“Reckless”

“Yes”

“Irresponsible,” he was scolding me again.

“Yes, I know, professor.” This was my choice. I knew what the consequences might be, and I chose to stay. I rightly believed that he would wait for me to leave before he went home, and I hoped, maybe foolishly, that he’d take me with him.

His eyes blazed at my mention of the title referencing his position and our relationship as teacher and student. I felt his annoyance at the realization that he was losing control. My whole body shook uncontrollably. The air was frigid, and with the fire dying and my professor’s arms no longer around me, the cold began to creep back. I trembled in the silence, admiring his strong, capable posture.

I placed my hand against his cheek. My fingers icy against the heat of his skin.

“Amanda,” he sighed, in soft reproach, “I’ve spent months trying not to touch you.” His hand covered mine.

He tightly grasped my wrist and pressed it against his mouth, and I felt his tongue, deliciously warm against my pulse. His eyes dared me to pull away as my pulse throbbed against his lips and my wrist ached in his grasp.

I shivered so much that I was sure hypothermia was beginning to set in. The moment I realized I wouldn’t be able to stay on my feet much longer, he opened his coat, pulled me to him, and wrapped it around me. I melted into him with a sigh of comfort. When I again looked into his eyes, I expected to see tender passion, but instead, his expression was lascivious and dangerous. The temporary comfort I felt turned into apprehension and excitement as he kissed me so aggressively it took my breath away.

He grasped a handful of my hair and used it to pull my face away from his. He stared at me for what felt like a long time as I panted, breathlessly waiting for more. I could tell he enjoyed whatever he saw in my eyes.

When he finally released me, the absence of his body was agony. He bent over and placed a few logs on the fire, and they soon ignited over the hot coals. Small flames began to hiss through them, and he poked and rotated the wood until the fire became larger. I could tell by his deliberate movements that he had made a decision. He took off his coat, and placed it on the ground.

“Lie down,” he said sweetly.

I obeyed without hesitation, and his weight was quickly on top of me.

“I lied,” he said, as he looked down at me, his eyes tormented.

He circled my face in his hands and brushed my hair away from my temples. “I want you. I want you so much I’d ruin my career, my life, everything, just for one chance to see you look at me like this.”

My heart hammered in my breast, my nipples rising under his palms. My handsome professor’s face glowed in the firelight as he lifted my shirt and exhaled a long sigh over my belly button.

“I’m tired of pretending I don’t walk home after class, lie down on my bed, and imagine every single way I could make you come.”

I couldn’t move at all as he unbuttoned my jeans, pulled them off, and buried his face between my thighs. I felt smug in my victory over his resistance, and I reveled in my orgasm as it rippled through me and warmed me to the core.

I smiled with the knowledge that I would own the memory of this moment forever.