MASTERING THE PROFESSOR
TRAINING TO BE TAKEN
by A.J. Steele
After a particularly sensual interlude with Emma Burke following an evening of the hottest sex he’d ever participated in, Gage Rutherford is terrified. As a Dom, he’s always prided himself on being able to remain aloof from his submissives. Guiding them, mentoring them, and scening with them while maintaining strict control of both himself and the women. Never allowing any personal feelings to intrude. But with Emma, everything is different. He’s feeling things he swore he’d never feel. Wanting things he never imagined wanting. This woman is way too appealing and that makes her dangerous. He needs to put as much distance between them as possible. Now.
Except he can’t seem to break away. He’s never found a more perfect submissive than Emma. Masochist to his sadist, adventurous, and so damned responsive. Unfortunately, as idyllic as she seems on the surface, keeping her could easily turn out to be the worst mistake of his life.
Emma stood in the sumptuous bathroom, mouth dry, facing Gage, watching his hands as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, gradually revealing more and more of his broad chest. He’d already taken off his tie and suit jacket, hanging them up on a hook on the back of the door. This was going to be the first time she had ever seen him naked. As he yanked the tails up out of his pants, her belly plummeted and she felt fresh cream gushing out into her already-sopping folds. Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, he pulled his arms out and tossed it backward in the direction of the hamper.
She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help herself. He was magnificent with that broad chest, firm, well-defined pecs, the smattering of crisp, curly, black hairs dusting his sun-bronzed skin. Holy fuck! His cock wasn’t the only thing that was pierced! Stainless steel barbells skewered his coppery nipples and suddenly her mouth went from desert dry to bubbling spring and her pussy grew even wetter. She licked her lips. Jesus, she wanted to suck those hard nipples, play with those piercings, make him shudder and groan with desire.
He toed off his black wingtips. His hands moved to his belt buckle and her gaze followed like a guided missile. The clinking sound made by the metal pieces as he freed them from the strip of leather was quickly becoming one of her favorite sounds in the entire world. A sound guaranteed to stoke her arousal to fever pitch. A sound that made her want to sink to her knees and suck his cock. Or bend over the nearest sofa to feel the kiss of the folded leather on her ass and thighs. As he unzipped his pants and bent forward to push them down, she gasped.
Jesus! He had a tattoo! From the looks of it, a rather large tattoo. As she watched, mesmerized, he stepped out of his trousers, picked them up, straightened, and turned to put them on a hanger, revealing the sheer magnitude of the tattoo. A spectacular medieval dragon, wheeling in mid-flight, covered his entire back. The dragon’s head, located on Gage’s left shoulder blade, was turned to shoot a blast of fiery flames back toward the observer. His wings rose over the top of Gage’s shoulders. The long sinewy tail stretched down over the round globe of Gage’s right ass cheek and wrapped around his thigh, its barbed tip ending on the back of his calf just below his right knee. The mythical creature’s scales were a rainbow of jewel tones that seemed to shimmer in the bright bathroom light.
Emma’s hand flew to her throat. Good Lord! I watched every move he made at the club last Friday night as he worked that woman over! How come I didn’t notice all that fabulous ink? Or those pierced nipples? How could I possibly have missed them? She shook her head. I don’t know. Could it be because the light in there was so dim?
Yeah, it could, her cynical self argued snidely, but that wouldn’t be the whole reason, now, would it? Face it. You were too busy staring at that menacing mask he was wearing. Or those gorgeous muscles flexing and bunching every time he raised and lowered his arm.
Bullshit. You didn’t notice the tats or the piercings because the instant his eyes met yours you were caught. Captured. Held in thrall as if you’d been trapped in a force field, helpless to look away. And when he started walking toward you, you were a goner. The breath snagged in her lungs and she shivered at the memory of that slow, predatory advance across the room toward her, their gazes still locked, electricity zapping back and forth between them as he’d closed the distance that separated them.
That was the real reason those other details hadn’t registered on her brain. His gaze had captured hers like a rabbit in a snare and she’d been too busy drowning in those emerald green pools to notice anything else. Exactly as she was drowning in them now. Because he had turned around and was once again facing her.
She cleared her throat. “There has to be a story behind that tattoo,” she said, her voice so hoarse it sounded strangled.
His look sent her pulses racing. “When my sisters and I were kids, our housekeeper used to read us stories about Robin Hood and King Arthur and dragon slayers. My sisters told me I was St. George.” He smirked. “I always identified with the dragon.”
She stepped toward him, lifting her hand, then pulling it back as she realized that she was about to touch him. “May I?” she asked, her eyes wide.
His only answer was to turn around, presenting his back to her.
With a sigh, she placed the palms of her hands on his hot, tattooed skin just above his shoulder blades, stroking down and all around. The dragon was magnificent. But Gage Rutherford was even more magnificent. His hard, rippling muscles, the smooth satin of his skin captured her as nothing else ever had. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and rested her cheek against his spine between her hands, drawing his heady masculine scent deep into her lungs. Despite all the orgasms he had just given her downstairs, she was ready for more. Her clit was throbbing with newly awakened need.
Turning her cheek slightly, she pressed her lips to the inked lines on his skin, the dragon’s scales shimmering in shades of blue, aqua, and purple.
“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed as she began placing kisses randomly across his back. “So powerful. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s…you,” she finished lamely, frustrated by her lack of ability to summon up the words she wanted. Her brain had been pulsed in a blender.
She continued kissing him, moving lower and lower as she did so until she found herself on her knees, gripping his thighs, brushing her lips across the dragon’s tail in a flurry of kisses, following it over the curvature of his ass cheek. As her mouth moved lower, he turned, allowing her to follow the sinuous tattoo as it twined around his thigh, all the way down to his calf.
He reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling her head up, studying her face. She returned his scrutiny through half-closed lids, her eyes unfocused, dazed with lust. His cock was mere inches from her mouth. She could see the beads of pre-cum seeping from the slit, smell his earthy musk. She tried to move her head forward and take it into her mouth, but his grip on her hair kept her in place.
“Open your mouth, Ms. Burke and stick out your tongue.”
She did. He grabbed his cock and began tapping it against her tongue. When she whimpered and tried to pull it back into her mouth, he gave her hair a painful yank and jerked her upward, making her cry out.
“Did I tell you to close your mouth?”
“No, no, Sir.”
Loosening his grip only enough to allow her to sink back down onto her legs, he waited for her to open her mouth and once again stick out her tongue. Again he tapped his cock against it, each slap harder than the previous one, moving back and forth between her tongue and her cheeks until she was gasping for every sobbing breath.
He paused. “Do you know what I want, Ms. Burke?” he asked, his voice a growl.
He slapped her with it three more times, then rested the tip on her tongue before releasing it. “I want you to suck my cock,” he went on. “I want you to take me into that beautiful mouth of yours all the way to the back of your throat. I want you to suck and lick and nibble as if cock is the most delicious treat in the world.”
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From fairies in the garden at age 9 to handcuffs in the boudoir at age 60, Julie’s writing has run the gamut. In between she managed to graduate cum laude with a B.A. in French from Georgia State University followed by a Master’s Degree in Library Science from Emory University. Having thus procured these two necessary but ultimately irrelevant pieces of paper, she launched a successful career as a children’s librarian, followed by an even more successful career as a professional storyteller and puppeteer. She published Kidstuff, an award-winning, monthly newsletter, as well as a book, Puppets, Poems and Songs, both major language arts resource for early childhood educators.
At various points in her life, if asked what she would like to be, her answer would have been (in rough chronological order, since some of these lofty ambitions overlapped): a fairy, a princess, a ballerina, Nancy Drew, Cherry Ames, a paleontologist, Scarlett O’Hara, thin and beautiful, an actress, and a writer. Now, at age 73, her answer to that question would most likely be, “younger”.
Followed closely, of course by bestselling author. Oh, and a princess. Some dreams die hard.
Now retired, Julie lives in a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia.
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