Truly, Madly, Deeply Read online

  Matthijs nodded his thanks, and the other man took his leave. When he glanced back at Diana, she asked uncertainly, "Are you really okay?" And almost as if she couldn't help herself, she moved forward, and he inhaled sharply as her scent teased him.

  It was an intriguing combination of feminine elegance - like one of those rare fragrant varieties of tulips - and something masculine (perhaps a hint of leather?). Whatever the combination was, its intangible message was broad as fucking daylight.

  I'm a princess, her sweet, tart scent whispered, but I can get dirty...for the right man.

  The professor's teeth gnashed. Message fucking delivered, and it was potent as hell, his trousers once again feeling like they were a damn size smaller than they should be.

  "Let's go, shall we?" He walked away without another word, and he heard her follow behind him after a moment, doe eyes gobbling him up in that innocently hungry way that was uniquely hers.

  Most of Matthijs' first-time visitors typically spent a lot of time gawking and gaping at their surroundings. Modesty aside, he knew damn well his house by the lake was an architectural masterpiece. A sprawling single-story estate designed with an impressive fusion of contemporary and rustic elements, its structure boasted of reclaimed wood logs fortified by black steel and glass walls that offered a 360-degree lakeshore backdrop for the professor's heirloom furniture.

  All of this, and yet the damn girl hadn't even spared her surroundings more than a distracted glance. She only had eyes for him apparently, and so it remained even when they made it to the breakfast room, which his friends' wives remarked would be an irresistible delight for any woman.

  Apparently, they were wrong.

  He got his HomePod to work with a 'good morning,' but even having his range of smart appliances operate on its own proved incapable of making her glance away. It was only when music started playing in the background that she finally reacted, a surprised smile breaking over her lips.

  "Is that Sunflower?" she asked. "From Spiderverse?"

  "Not exactly." His voice was gruff. "It's a cover, by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra of Contini."

  "Oh." A pause. Then, she said teasingly, "Snob alert."

  "It can't be helped," he answered with a disinterested shrug, "if I've a more elevated taste in music."

  Diana seemed about to reply when the professor's live-in cook came in and she fell silent instead, her lips automatically curving in a smile, albeit tentatively, as she met the chef's gaze.

  At Matthijs' nod, the other man began setting the table. "Good morning, mejuffrouw," Antoine said cheerfully. "I hope you like eggs Benedict and French toast."

  "They're my favorites."

  Her tone was a charming mixture of shyness and warmth, and while it was enough to win Antoine over, it also had him throwing his employer an odd look, almost as if questioning what an innocent like her was doing with a bastard like Matthijs.

  The professor's lips twisted. You and me both, chef. He watched in brooding silence as the other man continued to fuss over Diana, asking her what she wanted for dessert and insisting that she try his famous lemon-and-cucumber shake.

  By the time Antoine had finally taken his leave, thirty minutes had already passed, and the professor was considerably glad about this. The more time wasted, the better.

  When he turned to face Diana, she seemed to be squirming on the other end of the table. He raised a brow, and she said haltingly, "I'm sorry I put you and your staff through all this trouble..."

  "I should be the one apologizing," the professor dismissed smoothly, "considering I had you come all the way here." In fact, his delirious self had been very insistent about this. 'Don't make me wait a single second. I need to fucking see you' were, in fact, the exact words he had texted her, and remembering this made Matthijs wince slightly.

  "So...um..." Diana cleared her throat. "Shall I say grace?"

  "By all means." After all, that meant an additional ten seconds consumed.

  Afterwards, Diana offered to start with the consultation while they had breakfast, but the professor demurred, saying he would rather have her properly enjoy Antoine's preparations.

  When they finally moved to the professor's library at the other end of the hallway, it was already ten minutes past six.

  Perfect.

  Since his place was a ten-minute drive away from Helder Meer, it shouldn't be amiss if he had her leave by six forty-five. That meant he had, what, only 35 minutes left to kill?

  The thought brought him relief, enough to put the professor in a far mellower mood as he took his seat behind the desk. Giving Diana a faint smile, he asked calmly, "Shall we start?"

  "Of course." She leaned forward as she spoke, her V-necked dress dipping to reveal a plump amount of cleavage...and something else.

  The professor's smile vanished.

  FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

  And everything he had managed to forget - the rest of the words he had texted her - all of it came back in a flash.

  Diana: Why don't I just come now? I want to take care of you.

  Matthijs: You can take care of me in every way you want tomorrow.

  Diana: Is that a promise?

  Matthijs: Depends. Have you ever tried teasing a man before?

  Diana: Do I look - act - like I've tried teasing a man before?

  Matthijs: *smirk* Not gonna lie, my darling. Virginity's never been a fetish of mine, but you're different. I haven't been able to stop imagining the countless things I'd like to do to your cunt. I wanna fuck it in every way. Fingers. Tongue. Dick.

  Diana: I...have...no...words (but in a good, breathless way!)

  Matthijs: I know this can be too much. So tell you what. Let's make a deal. You come here to my place tomorrow minus your pretties...that's a yes. You come here with your unmentionables on, that's a no.

  Diana: And you'll know without me saying anything?

  Matthijs: Fuck yes.

  A guttural growl of frustration inadvertently escaped him, and Diana blinked in confusion. "Professor? Are you okay?" She leaned forward some more, and there was no way he could deny it this time, no way to unfucking see the fact...that her tits were completely bare under her dress.

  Together

  Don't Worry, Baby by The Beach Boys & Lorrie Morgan

  Diana could barely breathe.

  They had been going over her thesis steadily for the past twenty minutes, and while every second of it had been efficiently put to use, a part of her couldn't shake off the feeling that they were playing a game.

  But as for what game...

  Cunt cat and mouse?

  Hide and seek the banana?

  Tic-fuck-tac-toe?

  "Did you get that?"

  Just one short question. Four simple words. And yet, with the professor so painfully close and looking so breathtakingly beautiful in his black turtleneck cashmere sweater and jeans...

  "I...umm..."

  He might as well be speaking gibberish.

  "Could you please just stop staring at me like that?" she blurted out, giving up on any pretense of not feeling hot and bothered by the slow-burning heat in the professor's gaze.

  She had been hoping the words would catch him off guard, but instead it only had him chuckling, and even this...something so dreadfully basic...oh sweet mercy, but even just the sound of his chuckle had her stomach clenching in what she knew by now was sexual desire.

  "It's not a crime, is it?"

  The purr in his voice almost made her want to whimper. I'm so out of my league, Saint M. Something must be drastically wrong, that every little thing he said or did had her obsessing over fornicating. With him, if that wasn't obvious enough.

  Clearing her throat, she tried to focus on answering his question. "We're talking about, um, what my stand should be..." His knee suddenly bumped hers under the desk, and she jumped in her chair.

  "My apologies."

  But the way his leonine eyes were gleaming had her thinking, Yeah right. He had totally made that h
appen, and now her body was suffering a serious case of tingles because of it.

  Seriously, Saint M. If you think I'm doing the wrong thing here, now's the time to let her know.

  Clearing her throat for the third time, Diana tried to start fresh once more, but this time she spoke in a rush. "You were asking about my stand on Catholics who willingly chose death to save the greater good."

  "Correct." The professor's tone turned brisk. "I strongly recommend you look up St. Augustine's writings on this matter."

  "Got that." She dutifully added this to her TBR while telling herself she was not disappointed about play time apparently being over.

  She might have come here without her underwear, but it wasn't like she was really expecting anything to happen.

  The professor had only been teasing, and she had known that.

  Right?

  "Diana?"

  Color burst in her cheeks when she realized she had missed the professor's last words. "I'm sorry, Professor. What was that again?" She held her breath right after, bracing herself to withstand his usual avalanche of well-aimed barbs.

  But instead, the professor only smiled at her. "I was talking about this part." She watched dumbly as he tapped the chart she had on Page 14...and that was it.

  Maybe he was still sick, Diana thought worriedly, and he just didn't want to worry her?

  The professor gestured to her Apple pencil. "You should label this part---" His fingers tapped a section of the chart. "---with your initials."

  "Yes, sir."

  The professor raised a brow when several moments had passed and the only thing Diana had done was reach for the pencil. "Well?"

  Diana fidgeted in her seat, and apparently, this was sufficient explanation for the professor, whose lips subsequently curved. "You don't know how to?"

  "I just haven't gotten around to learning it, that's all." Diana tried not to sound defensive but knew she had failed when the professor's amused smile turned into a smirk.

  "Let me show you then."

  "It's fine---"

  "Do you have the chart saved in Photos?" he interrupted her to ask, and at her nod, the professor instructed her to open the app. "Click Edit on any photo. Now, click on the More button. Yes, that's it. And there you go."

  Diana felt sheepish as she clicked on Markup. "Thank you, Professor."

  "And while we're at it...how about adding a two-way arrow here then a clockwise one on this part? Just click on the Plus button."

  Diana did as asked, but this time, the professor's commands were a lot harder to execute as her iPad refused to cooperate.

  "Click on the actual arrow," he advised, "and the additional design options for arrows should show up at the bottom of the screen."

  "I'm trying," Diana protested, "But it's clearly not working."

  "Here, let me show you."

  Before Diana could say another word, the professor had already moved to stand behind her.

  Oh. No. Oh. Shit.

  And then he was already there, the professor's strong arms forming a cage around her body, and it was all she could do to keep breathing.

  He reached for her right hand, his fingers covering her own, and Diana's body burned so hotly a part of her was simply waiting for her clothes to catch fire.

  "You should just do this..."

  You should just do me, Diana thought dizzily.

  "And now click on this green button." His voice had thickened by the end, and Diana couldn't help but think of something else that was wonderfully thick.

  His head slowly bent down, and Diana fought hard against the urge of arching her neck.

  "Do you get it now?" His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, and her toes curled hard.

  "Y-Yes."

  This time, Diana's word came out in a sexy little whimper, and arousal bit into him hard. The last ounce of sanity the professor possessed urged him to quit while he still could, but the devil inside of him was persuasive as hell, telling him what he wanted to hear.

  She's already here, even went as far as coming with her tits jiggling free under her dress.

  Come on, look down. See those nipples saying hi to you?

  If you don't keep your word when she's kept hers, she might misunderstand, and she'll leave here hurt and feeling like you've done something wrong.

  So really, you're doing a good thing here.

  Just give her what you want.

  And so he did.

  "I want to see you cum again," he said roughly. "Will you let me?"

  "Yes." Her reply was soft but swift, no fucking hesitation at all because it seemed she was stupid enough to trust him with everything.

  "Then start with your breasts, darling. Pull your dress down until they spill free."

  Her trembling fingers followed his command, her boobs bouncing out a moment later: pale, perfectly shaped, and crowned with pretty-in-pink nipples.

  It was a tormentingly beautiful sight, and a hiss escaped him. "Yes." God, yes. "Now pinch them the way you want me to pinch them." His conscience made one last-ditch effort to save him, telling him he was taking too much of a risk, but he shut his ears to it. "Imagine it's my fingers pinching them." He was being careful, dammit. There wasn't any flesh-to-flesh contact, was there? It was all safe. Nothing like the fucking past was going to happen.

  So shut the fuck up, conscience.

  The professor looked down, and he swallowed hard at seeing her breasts now swollen with need.

  God.

  If only he had the fucking right to take her breasts into his mouth. But because he couldn't, he sought to distract himself, his fingers curling around his dick, stroking just enough to keep it from going crazy and overruling his brain.

  When he heard Diana start to pant, he knew she needed more to push her over the edge, and he was more than happy to teach her the way. "Have you ever fingered yourself, Diana?"

  A silent, jerky shake of her dark head, and he nearly exploded at what it meant.

  Ah God, this just made him the luckiest and unluckiest bastard all at the same time.

  "Would you like to try while I watch?"

  He saw her teeth sink into her lower lip, and just when he was convinced it meant she would refuse, he heard her say shakily, "If you want me to."

  "I do. Badly."

  "Then...yes." She released her left breast and her fingers slowly moved down.

  "You don't need to worry about anything," he said hoarsely. "Just one finger will do. Just to open you up and make it ready when it's my dick turn." He heard her breath catch at the mention of his dick, and his strokes automatically jerked faster. "You like thinking of my dick going inside of you?"

  "Y-Yes."

  "Me, too, darling."

  "Then why---"

  "Because it's not the right time yet." And it never would be, but she didn't have to know that. "Now, let's get that finger wet..." This time, it was her whole body that shook, and he bit back a groan at how fucking sensitive she was.

  "Show me how you get it wet..." And she did, pushing her dress all the way up until her moist, quivering cunt was bared to his sight.

  And God, what a fucking pretty sight it was.

  "One finger first."

  Her middle finger hovered over her slit.

  "Up and down, darling. That's how you stroke it. Slowly."

  And because she had submission down pat, she did exactly as instructed, and it had his balls aching so damn hard he knew he only had minutes left before his orgasm hit him.

  "Now, push it inside slowly..."

  He saw the head of her finger disappear, and he growled, "Yes. Exactly like that. Deeper now."

  She moaned as she went knuckle deep, and he groaned with her.

  "It's too much," Diana gasped.

  "Then pull it out..."

  Another moan.

  "Push it back in."

  More moans.

  And this time, her body began to undulate, her breasts swinging and her hips squirming on the chair.
/>   "You know how it is," he rasped. "Do it as fast and hard as you want."

  And so her finger thrust in and out faster and harder, and her moans turned into helpless panting.

  "Yes, just like that."

  Diana moaned, and his strokes quickened.

  "P-Professor..."

  "Yes," he growled. "GOD, YES."

  She screamed as she came, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  Mijn obsessie.

  And a dark stain spread over his jeans as he climaxed right behind her.

  Her

  It Must Have Been Love by Kathleen Edwards

  Diana wondered if people could tell how happy she was, just by looking at her.

  She didn't think so, but neither did she think she was imagining the way she was attracting more glances than usual. And since her looks or taste in fashion hadn't changed in any way, then...it was that, wasn't it?

  People could tell how much being with the professor was making her happy.

  Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach, and she had an actively hard time resisting the urge to skip and clap her heels together for the rest of her short walk to the university's civic hall. In keeping with the university's Neo Gothic theme, the structure also boasted of turrets and spires and Helder Meer's ever-present (mascot) gargoyle. Past its majestic front doors, however, the building seemed to undergo several centuries' worth of makeover, with its sleek, industrial interiors and state-of-the-art facilities.

  There was even an AI robot named Krystal manning the concierge, and it was like having a ten-year-old version of Siri to interact with as she keyed in her ID number and explained (verbally) what she was there for.

  First-year students like Diana were required to schedule a minimum of three meetings with a life coach, and after verifying her details, Krystal texted her timeslot details.

  Mr. Aart Bakker

  2/F Room A-3

  1400 - 1500

  Checking her watch, Diana saw that she still had about thirty minutes to spare and took off for the library. She still had a couple of critical passages to reread from St. Augustine's Confessiones, which - albeit not dealing directly with suicide - helped Diana considerably in establishing a causal relationship between the depth of one's faith and depression.