by Shayla Black
A groan tore from my parted mouth and I blinked as my head fell back, my palms resting against the sinew of his tight shoulders. “We should stop,” I whispered.
“You’re right, we should,” he said. “Do you want me to stop?”
God, no. I reached between his legs, gripping his length and gasping at its feel in my palm. I placed him against my sex and thrust my hips, rubbing myself against him, and my nerves were on fire as pleasure spiraled up my core. My chest heaved with his heady groan as he lifted his hips, pressing his cock harder against my clit.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “You feel so good.”
I leaned down, nibbling his ear, sucking at his earlobe before whispering, “I taste even better.”
An alarm blared, jolting me out of the sex haze, and Reid gave a frustrated groan as we split apart. I launched off his lap, backing away, breathing heavily. “What’s that?” I asked.
With a grunt, he lifted his hips and pulled his phone from his pocket, hitting a button and shutting it off. “My alarm. It’s midnight.”
He swallowed as though this fact—the time—meant something and I cocked my head, shrugging. “And?”
“And it’s time for me to go.” He didn’t seem to want to go, despite the words. Standing, he slid the phone into his pocket, pressing his lips together, his eyes raking my body with such a heated expression that I could feel it just as sure as his touch on my flesh. “Do I owe you anything for the…” He paused, swallowing.
“Dance?” I offered, since he seemed at a loss for words. Then, I shook my head. “No, it’s been taken care of.”
“By Noah?”
I nodded, my mind going to the envelope of cash sitting on my dressing room mirror. I’d have to return some of that to him. It was way too much. “Something like that.”
He started toward the door and stopped, his hand hovering at the handle before he spun back to face me. In a swift motion, he rushed toward me, scooping his hand back into my hair, squeezing the strands, and tugging my head back as he took my mouth in a demanding kiss.
He pulled back, his breath heavy, chest rising and falling with each labored inhalation. “Come home with me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
My cunt pulsed between my legs and I ached to feel his touch there once more. I wanted to say yes. For the first time in months, I wanted to go home with a man. Would it be so bad? Going home with a client? I’d heard about other dancers here at the club doing that. Hell, some of them did it for money. But I wasn’t a whore. If I was going home with him, it was solely for the pleasure of his mouth…his touch…his cock. And holy hell, what a cock it was. I’d only had a glimpse of it through his pants as I wrapped my hand around it, but it wasn’t small. And he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
I wanted to blow off my second dance tonight. Desperately. But I needed the money. I needed to get on that stage and shake my ass at least one more time in order to make rent this month.
I stepped back, putting an arm’s length between us, and shook my head. “I-I can’t. I have another dance tonight.”
The liquid heat in his green eyes cooled immediately, but he nodded politely. “Of course.” He walked backwards toward the door, not turning away from me this time.
“And… I don’t get off work until after two—”
He put up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. Really. This is a job to you… I should have realized.”
My jaw nearly hit the floor. Did he think that what we’d just done in here was something I did regularly with clients? That I let them finger me and ground on their cocks and kissed them? That this…what happened here was solely part of the private dance?
“Excuse me?” I said, my voice a harsh whisper and sounding just as incredulous as I felt.
He didn’t answer me. He was already out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.
3
Reid
The next morning I arrived to my empty classroom forty minutes early. Or should I say, Faith’s classroom. It reeked of her in every corner. I opened the top drawer and found a set of her favorite pens. The micron felt-tipped kind—damn, she loved those pens. It was such a weird thing to be so passionate about, but she was. Every Christmas, she asked for them in her stocking.
I felt the smile twitch at the corner of my mouth as I pulled out a red pen and placed it on the desk. Beside it was a small sample of perfume—the kind that comes for free with purchase at the makeup counter of Macy’s. I popped the top off and held it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled lightly floral and that scent launched me into years of memories with her.
“Professor Bradley?” a voice called from the doorway. I jumped, the small bottle tipping and pouring out over my dress shirt. I hissed a curse, gritting my teeth to stop myself from the explosive language I was thinking. Not that I couldn’t afford another damn Hugo Boss shirt, but I really liked this one. And now it was going to be stained and smell like I’d just rolled out of bed with a woman.
Not just any woman… my ex-fiancée.
I cleared my throat, looking up to find a woman a little older than me standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
“I’m Laura Dercy, the musical theater department head here.”
“I’m Reid—”
“Bradley,” she said, taking my hand and giving it a vigorous shake. “I know. We’re really excited to have you subbing for Faith.”
I gave her a polite smile, but it felt tight, stretching unnaturally across my face. “Well, uh, it’s good to be here.” I wasn’t sure quite what it was about Ms. Dercy, but she rubbed me the wrong way, leaving me shifting and itchy in her presence. Which was not a feeling I was accustomed to.
“Anyway, I’m going to sit in on this morning’s class if that’s okay by you. We’re very fortunate to have you filling in for Faith this semester and I would love to observe your brilliance at work.”
Aha. There it was. That’s why I felt so weird. She was kissing my ass. I guess it wasn’t every day they had a Broadway director subbing for a semester of classes, even if Faith only taught two classes per week. “Okay,” I said. “Faith had told me that you are very flexible with teaching styles here. I hope that it’s okay the way I’ve chosen to handle the semester.”
She waved her hand into the air as she slid into a seat in the back row. “Oh, we are. I’m sure whatever you choose to do will be great.”
A few students shuffled in and I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until we started.
More and more students came in. One girl stopped at my desk, her nearly platinum hair pulled back in a shiny ponytail that had the ends curling under in a way that would put Sandy from Grease to shame. “Professor Bradley?” she asked, smiling.
“Yes.”
Her grin widened. “I’m Jenna Duncan. It’s so exciting to meet you. I’m a huge fan of your work.”
I smiled, not quite so tight as it was with Ms. Dercy, yet she still made me feel uneasy. Maybe it was this whole teaching thing that made me uncomfortable, not the people in the class. So far, everyone had been friendly, which led me to believe it was me, not them that was the problem. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Duncan. I’m excited to be teaching you as well.”
Her smile was so large I wondered if her cheeks hurt. “Have a seat,” I said, glancing at the clock. “We’ll get started.”
She scurried away, clutching her books to her chest as she slid into the front row. All in all, there were about fourteen people in the room.
I held up the clipboard that held all of the names enrolled in the course. “Is everyone here?” I asked. “You’re all adults. You’ve paid to be in this class. I assume it’s because you want to be here and want to learn what it takes to be a professional actor in New York City. So I feel like attendance is probably not something we necessarily have to do every day, right? Be here, don’t be here…it’s your dollars you’re wasting. Then again, I suppose I’m preaching to the choir for those of you who are sitting here on time.” I looked down at
my list, where there were fifteen names, but only fourteen heads seated in front of me, not including Laura. Damn. We were missing someone.
“Here’s the thing, though,” I said, moving toward the door. “In the professional world, you can call if you’re going to be late or miss a rehearsal, but those rehearsal doors usually lock as soon as warm-ups begin.” My eyes met Jenna’s and she glanced around the room, her grin turning somewhat mischievous in a way that left me curious. I strolled toward the door, ready to lock it, as it flung open and, standing there, panting heavily, her laptop clutched to her chest—a chest I had gotten up close and personal with last night—was Ms. Hazel Moon.
4
Hazel
My morning was a nightmare. More than a nightmare. I had my cell phone pressed against my ear and was on the phone with my best friend. “I’m telling you, she wasn’t in her office like she usually is,” I hissed into the phone, talking with Rosa, who was a full-time psychology student here. “Any ideas on where she could be?” Laura Dercy, the head of our department and my boss here at the school required a venti Frappuccino daily—otherwise known as a bucket of sugar. And yet she still managed to maintain her lithe dancer body despite that daily sugar intake.
Rosa snorted in my ear. “Just leave it on her desk. Who the fuck cares if it melts? If she’s not there to claim her coffee, then she misses out on her coffee.” Rosa paused, clicking her tongue. “Better yet, drink the damn frappe and tell her someone must have stolen it.”
I groaned. “I’m serious. She could literally fire me and you want me to drink her damn coffee?”
I’d barely just rolled out of bed after my late night at the club. I didn’t manage to get home until after two thirty and the crowd that night had gotten even rowdier after Noah’s friend left.
So it made sense that in my still-half-asleep haze, I’d tugged on the first pair of jeans from off my floor that didn’t smell bad before I rushed out the door and grabbed the two iced Americanos, one macchiato, one flat white latte, and of course, Ms. Dercy’s venti Frappuccino. I could barely handle my class load along with my two jobs and I was taking the minimum credits per semester. I don’t know how the hell Rosa kept up with all of it. At this point, it felt like a waste of time. If I was being honest with myself, I had long since given up the musical theater dream. And if the school ever discovered the reality of my night job, I had no doubt that I’d be kicked out and never invited back. Even as a part-time, minimum-wage employee of the school, I still had to sign that insane integrity clause of theirs. Like this was the fucking Renaissance age and I was going to be branded with a scarlet A if caught dancing in my pasties.
“Do they even reimburse you for those coffees you get every day?”
“Yes.” Well, usually. “But that’s not the point, Rosa. I’m on freaking probation right now. They don’t let you stay in the program below a 2.5 GPA.”
I loved Rosa, but she didn’t understand how badly I needed this job. Not only did I get paid hourly, but I also got faculty rates on classes, which meant they were almost affordable on my dancer’s income. I was the assistant to the department and one of my most “important” duties was bringing coffee to the professors before their classes at the beginning of my shift. Ms. Dercy was only one of several coffee deliveries I had before my classes, of course. And yet she was also always the hardest to track down.
Rosa snorted. “That probation is a whole lot of bullshit.”
I sighed, rushing down the hall and peeking into a couple of the other offices and classrooms to see if I could find her. “It’s not bullshit. My GPA dropped below 2.5 when Professor Lewis gave me that F in History.”
“Yeah,” Rosa sneered. “He gave you an F because you wouldn’t fuck him after your oral exam.”
I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning and sweat pushing through my pores. I wasn’t sure if it was our conversation or the running around, but either way, I was greasy and sweaty and not cute at all. As much as I wanted to blame Professor Lewis—and yeah, he was a dick—I had to take ownership too. “No, he failed me because I fell asleep in class while everyone else gave their oral exams and slept right through my own turn when he called my name to go.”
“Yeah. And you kept that failing grade because you have integrity and wouldn’t take his ultimatum to fuck him to give you a makeup day,” Rosa said and I could almost picture the way her dark brown eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared when she got mad. “You are one of the few students here who has two jobs…plus a full class load. And one of those jobs keeps you out until three in the morning. You’ve got to cut yourself a break.” She paused. “You should have reported him.”
I stopped in the middle of the hallway, taking a deep breath and letting it out on a sigh. “Maybe. But it’s too late now.”
She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t change the fact that I’d failed that class all on my own. It didn’t matter that Jenna had missed her finals day and was granted a makeup in the same class. It didn’t matter that Professor Lewis was a raging asshole. He’d left after last semester anyway, going with his wife on some national tour, so hopefully I never had to see him again.
“The new professor is starting today, right? Taking over for Professor Lewis’s wife, teaching your musical theater class?” Rosa said. “Maybe Professor Dercy is in there? Didn’t you say she likes to observe classes?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling the phone from my ear to glance at the time. “Shit. Class already started,” I hissed. “Gotta go, Ro.” I hung up and sprinted for the door at the end of the hall, clutching my laptop to my chest, and grasping my cell phone in one hand while holding the Frappuccino in the other.
I shoved through the door, nearly plowing into a man just on the other side.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I’m so sorry…” I froze as my eyes lifted to the professor’s and my words caught in my throat as I stood there wordlessly. Choked. Panicked.
“You.” The word brushed through my lips on a whisper and I definitely didn’t intend for it to sound as accusatory as it did.
He took a beat, looking just as shocked and horrified as I did before his mouth snapped closed. He moved around me, shut the door, and locked it.
“You,” he repeated me, seeming to pause for a moment longer than I was comfortable with, “are late. You made it by the skin of your teeth. Normally the door would be locked by now.”
I swallowed and his eyes dipped to the venti frozen beverage in my hand, his brows jolting up. “Good to know your priorities are in order though and you got your coffee.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. My gaze combed the room and there sitting in the back was Ms. Dercy. I paused, waiting for her to come to my rescue…to tell him I wasn’t late because I had to buy a venti cup of pure sugar, but that it was actually for her. That she was the reason I was late. Because if she had just returned one of my numerous text messages asking where she was, I wouldn’t have had to traipse around the goddamn building looking to get her the stupid coffee she ordered this morning.
But she didn’t come to my rescue. Her hands folded in her lap and she slowly crossed one leg over the other.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, Professor. It won’t happen again.”
His jaw twitched and he pointed at a seat. As I crossed the room, the fucking kiss-ass of a bitch Jenna Duncan snickered against the back of her hand. I paused, glaring at her for a brief moment before I slunk into a free seat, opened my laptop, and cursed my bad luck. What in the hell was he doing here? What sort of bullshit kismet was this? The man I almost went home with last night also happened to be my professor? I glanced over the top of my laptop at him. Gone was his casual shirt from last night, now replaced with exquisitely fitted charcoal-gray dress pants and a blue Hugo Boss shirt. Muscles—muscles I’d had my hands on last night—pushed against the high thread count and the shirt tapered, hugging his trim waist.
He made my mouth water, and holy hell, I regretted not going home with him last night.
As soo
n as the thought entered my brain, I shook it away. Was I crazy? He was my teacher? How many fucking propositions was I going to get from professors at this fucking university?
“Normally,” he said, addressing the class, and it snapped me out of my improper thoughts, “in the real world, if you’re late to a rehearsal, you get docked your pay.” He reached into a bag leaning beside the piano at the front of the room and pulled out a large jar, setting it on top of the piano. “In here, of course, none of you are getting a paycheck. But if you are late and you want that door to be unlocked to get in, it’ll cost you a dollar for every minute you’re late.”
I felt my breath hitch as I glanced at the clock. I was six minutes late. Today would have cost me six bucks. Six extra bucks when I was already paying a fortune for this damn class? His eyes met mine briefly. “Today was your one pass,” he said, the glass jar slamming down onto the heavy wood of the piano and the strings made a musical noise that was anything but lyrical.
My hand shot into the air and I immediately regretted it, wincing at my stupid impulsive hand that was stretched above my head. But it was too late now.
He sucked his teeth slowly. “Yes? Ms.…”
The question about my name tripped me up momentarily as I almost said Moon and stopped myself. “Stone,” I answered with my real last name. “Hazel Stone.”
“Yes, Ms. Stone?”
“I have a problem with your policy,” I snapped, forcing myself to take a breath and remove the hostility from my voice.
“Do you, now?”
“I do,” I said, nodding. “As you mentioned…in the real world, that pay is docked from a paycheck. Since none of us sitting here are getting paid, I find it rather unethical that we should be expected to pay extra on top of the tuition we’re already putting in to be here.”
Another twitch of his jaw. Oh, shit. I was pissing him off. If he wasn’t already pissed because of the raging case of blue balls I sent him home with. Then again, I was pissed too since his parting words last night had basically implied I was a prostitute who let all my clients finger me for money.