I sink into her, and her tight, wet heat envelopes me. “Christ,” I groan.
“Oh, God!” she cries, her nails digging into my back.
I thrust into her, slow at first, then quicken my pace and pound into her harder. She responds with sinful moans, loud gasps, and chants filled with four letter words.
I flip us over, allowing her to ride me, and giving myself a better view of her generous breasts as they bounce with her every movement.
Soon, her body tenses and her fingers squeeze my biceps as she shouts, “I’m coming!”
I lift my hips, getting deeper inside of her as she grinds on top of me. Once her movements slow, and her pussy stops clenching, I flip us back over and then raise her legs over my shoulders and dive deep inside her.
With a glance down between us, I watch as my cock plunges in and out, evidence of her arousal glistens on her inner thigh.
It doesn’t take long before I reach that blissful moment, coming with a few loud grunts and groans as she spurs me on with chants of yes, yes, oh God, yes!”
Almost immediately after we’ve separated, Nova gets up and puts her clothes back on. She peeks over her shoulder at me. “Rain check for breakfast?”
I grin, somewhat relieved. Very few people have stayed the night. “Sure.”
“Can you get me a Lyft back to the bar? That’s where my car is.”
“Of course.”
Once out of bed, I throw on a pair of pants and grab my phone to get the Lyft. We both use the bathroom before heading downstairs to wait.
“Well, I’m glad you came to talk to me tonight,” she says.
With a smile, I say, “Welcome to Gaspar.”
She barks out a laugh. “That’s quite the welcome party.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t throw them for every newcomer.”
She ducks her head, grinning. “I don’t normally attend parties like that either. I’ve had quite the few days. Weeks. Well, if I’m being honest,” she says, looking me in the eye, “I’ve had a rough time for a while, so thanks for the pick-me-up.”
Suddenly, I’m interested to hear more. I want to know the things she’s gone through. I want to help her. As I’m about to ask more questions, headlights flash through the front window.
“Your ride’s here.”
When we get to the door, I pull it open, and then there’s a few seconds where time stands still and we both study each other. My eyes are drawn to her lips, and as much as I want to lean in for another kiss, I don’t.
She seems to take my cue, gives me a small smile, then walks away.
Before I go to sleep, I check my phone and see a message from Cill.
Cill: Don’t kick this one out before dawn. Give someone a chance before you end up eighty and alone.
With a sigh, I plug the phone into the charger and go to sleep.
3
The first day of school is always hectic. Actually, the first two weeks can be bothersome. A lot of students get lost and show up late. And then there are the ones who transfer late, so the class I have on the first day isn’t always the same class I have at the end of the week.
Today, they come in loud and boisterous, talking and laughing about what happened last weekend. They’re not bogged down with stress or fears about passing their classes. It’s early for that yet.
At eight o’clock, I stand in front of the half chalkboard half whiteboard in front of the class and face the students. “All right, all right,” I say, waiting for them to quiet down. “I’m Professor Kingston and you’re in Calculus One. If you’re able to successfully complete this course, you will understand and be able to apply the ideas of integral and differential calculus to problems involving instantaneous rates of change, areas bounded by curves, properties of curves, and motions of accelerated bodies. Fun, right?” I ask the sea of mostly confused faces.
Scattered laughs float back to me as I take a look at the list of names of students who are supposed to be in class. “Okay, I don’t take attendance in here. We will not be calling out names like we’re in elementary school. You all are adults and I expect you to be in class when you’re supposed to be. If you choose to not show up, your grades will reflect that, and you’ll fail. Plain and simple.”
“Professor Kingston?”
I look up and spot a young man holding his hand up. “Yes?”
“Derek,” he says, gesturing to himself. “Are we going to have a textbook?”
“No, Derek, this course has its textbook available online. I’ll pass out some information soon, but you’ll be required to purchase an access code at the bookstore here at the university, and then you’ll have access to all the learning materials.”
He nods his head and pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Okay. Thanks.”
My door opens, garnering my attention as well as the attention of every student in class.
“Yes?” I ask.
The petite woman is holding a collection of things in her arms. Her laptop looks dangerously close to slipping from her grip as she moves her books around and rips a paper from a folder.
“Um. Is this Calculus One? Professor Kingston?”
“Yes, it is.”
She looks at the class, a blush tinting her cheeks. “Sorry I’m late. I got lost.”
“It happens. Find a seat,” I say, gesturing to the desks.
Within the sixty-five-minute class, I hand out a pre-calculus worksheet, simply as a review for the students. After they’ve completed that, I pass out a sheet that allows them to give me some information about who they are, their majors and minors, and any other details they choose to share with me.
When I walk around the class, I take some time to talk to each one of them about something on their page, and that’s how I begin getting to know my students. Some time is spent asking me questions about
