Dirty Professor (20 page)

“God, I can feel how wet you are even through this,” he said, moving his fingers across me. I rocked forward, needing more of him, but his other hand held firm to my hip. “No. Stay still.”

I didn’t think it was physically possible, and I wanted to cry out. As he moved his hand across my panties, using his middle finger for extra pressure on my slit, I held tight to his broad, strong shoulders. “Please,” I said.

He pulled back and looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. “Already begging, are you?”

Instead of speaking, I pulled him toward me and crushed his mouth with mine. He responded, our tongues moving together as he held firm on my hip. Under my skirt, he finally made his move.

He moved aside the small bit of fabric and slid his finger across my slit. “You’re so wet,” he said. “Have you been wet all night?”

“Since I first saw you,” I panted as his finger continued to tease, moving back and forth but not entering me. He circled my clit, hard and throbbing. I draped my arm over his shoulder, holding tight.

Finally he slipped a finger inside me, giving me the slightest bit of release but not nearly enough. He slowly pulled his finger out and circled my clit again before dipping it back into me as deep as he could go, and out again, back and forth. My hand slid from his neck down this hard chest. As I continued down past his waist, almost to the thing I wanted most, he stopped me, his fingers still in my soaked pussy and his other hand on my wrist.

“No,” he said, his voice ragged. “Not tonight. Just wait.”

How could he stand it? How could he go so slow, so patient? I wanted to rip every stitch of clothing from him, run my hands and lips over his entire body, feeling how hard was, from the muscles in his arms and chest to the bulge pushing out the front of his perfectly-tailored pants. I needed more of him, and then he slipped a second finger inside me, moving slow enough to make my head spin. I closed my eyes and felt only his fingers on me, torturing me, thrilling me, making me want to scream out. When he inserted a third finger, I did.

“God, you’re so sexy to watch,” Leo said, moving his fingers faster, deep, moving them so that they rubbed my clit and I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer. “I want to taste you.”

I opened my eyes, looking at him. For a moment, the image of his tongue on my soaked pussy flashed through my mind, and it looked perfect. It was exactly what I wanted, before I even realized.

Keeping his eyes on me, he said, “Not tonight. Tonight I want to watch you come on my hand.”

I let out a small groan, disappointed, but the way he continued to thrill me with just his fingers was beyond amazing. I felt nothing but his fingers inside me, my entire skin buzzing with pleasure, my stomach clenched, my pussy ready to explode all over his hand. His own breathing had sped up, matching mine. I whimpered the closer he pushed me to orgasm. Knowing he was watching my face made me self-conscious, but it also thrilled me. His long fingers brushed over my clit, and when he breathed out my name, that was the end. The world exploded behind my eyes, up through my stomach and out my throat, where I groaned and cried out like I never had before. My head fell on Leo’s shoulder, my hands still holding on to him, purely for support. Otherwise, I’d fall right over.

“God,” I finally managed.

He slid his fingers out of me. Quietly he said, “I still want to taste you.” I watched mesmerized as put his fingers in his mouth, moaning as he pulled them out, slowly, savoring every moment. “I knew a girl as sweet as you would taste the same.”

Locking my eyes to his, I took his wrist, surprising him—and myself. I opened my mouth and slide my tongue from the bottom of those fingers all the way up before wrapping my lips around the top. Then I dipped my head to take all three fingers in my mouth and slowly slid down and up.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his eyes heavy as he watched, fascinated. I gave one last pull as I released his fingers. “You’re incredible.”

I lowered my leg from the railing and readjusted my dress, back into its proper position.

“Seen enough?” he said.

“Hardly.”

We went back inside settled on the couch, where the untouched food and barely sipped prosecco still sat. A silence fell over us. Not awkward, exactly. Leo looked at me with ease, the lust still present in the curve of his lips but the hunger satiated, at least for now.

“So,” he said, taking a drink. “Think you’ll be taking any more auditions? I just want to be warned in advance. “

“Very funny,” I said, eating some of the cheese on the table. If I was hungry before I was ravenous now.

“I told you I was good with teasing.” A smiled played on his lips, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Tell me more about writing. What kind do you want to do?”

“Fiction,” I said. “Novels. Maybe screenplays,” I added. I hadn’t thought about screenplays until then, but it seemed to please Leo. I wished I could tell him everything, but that was now an impossibility.

“Good,” he said. “Then I can still give you some pointers, and we won’t have to limit our activities to the balcony.”

I laughed. Telling him about writing had been surprisingly easy. I didn’t feel silly like I sometimes did, when people would snicker, “So you wanna write the great American novel?”

When I’d told my ex-boyfriend Paul that I wanted to major in writing, he’d said, “I hope you want to be a teacher, because that’s the only kind of job someone with that kind of degree will ever get.”

It stung me to realize that so far, Leo was nothing like I’d imagined him to be. Right now, in fact, I liked him better than anyone else I’d met since moving to LA.

Still, I had to remember my mission. “Did you always want to be the youngest head of a movie studio?”

“Hardly,” he said. “But I’ve always been driven, that’s for sure.” He stared down at the floor for a moment. “I started out wanting to be a writer.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I wrote this terrible screenplay when I was still an undergrad and submitted it to another studio. I was so full of confidence that I was sure they’d buy it for a million dollars. I didn’t get so much as a rejection. They didn’t even bother.”

“Ouch,” I said. I could totally relate. I’d once submitted an overly wrought short story to a literary magazine. I did get a rejection—an auto-reply from the site’s info box.

“Yeah. If anyone finds out that script is floating around, it’ll be dug up and laughed at by the industry,” he said.

“Well, I won’t tell,” I said. “I don’t really feel like being sued.”

“Sophie,” he said, disappointed. He gave his head the slightest of shakes. “Don’t do that.”

I didn’t say anything. I guessed teasing about the contract was out of bounds. I didn’t want the awkwardness to settle in after such an incredible moment on the balcony, so after a moment I said, “I should probably get going.” I stood up. “Thanks so much for having me over.”

“Of course,” he said, standing up with me. “I’ll walk you to do the door.”

We started across the marble floors, my heels echoing in the large space. Just before he opened the door that led down the hall to what I now realized was a private elevator, Leo said, “Wait. Will you do me a favor?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Stay here,” he said, and went back inside his condo, which is a silly thing to call a place that was more like a mansion in the sky. When Leo came back, he held a stack of papers in his hand. “This script has been floating around the office for months. It’s been read by a dozen executives and ten junior readers but no one can figure out what’s missing. It should be a good story but something is off. Would you read it and let me know what you think? You can write notes on this copy.”

“Yeah,” I said, stunned. “Sure.” One thing I realized in taking this script from Leo Armstrong was that he intended to see me again. That was good—for the magazine, of course.

As incredible as the balcony had been—as amazing as he was with his lips and hands—I decided to use him like he was using me. Mutually beneficial. If a woman wanted to be in his presence, they had to sign away their rights to him. He got all the comfort of doing whatever he wanted in the relationship knowing he’d suffer no consequences.

Eventually, he’d tire of me and unceremoniously dump me like he did every other girl.

Sure, he seemed nice enough right now, but that was because he wanted to sleep with me. As soon as he got what he wanted from me, his true colors would come out and then I’d be nothing to him.

Fine.

That would simply make it easier to do the hit piece that Kait was looking for me to write about him for Crush.

But will you really sleep with him if that’s what it comes to? Sleep with a man you don’t respect, who doesn’t respect you?

I sighed, knowing that this was the worst part of it all.

Sleeping with him was what I was looking forward to most.

Chapter Seven

“Spill it,” Kait said, practically pulling me into her office. “I want every detail.”

I was surprised to see Alexa and Bethany sitting in Kait’s office. They were all waiting, pens hovering over notepads.

“Grab a chair from down the hall,” Bethany said.

I took the extra chair from Kait’s assistant’s desk and rolled it into Kait’s office, where all three women looked at me as eagerly as children waiting for their birthday presents.

“Kait said you were at Leo Armstrong’s place last night,” Bethany began, once I sat down.

“Must have been some audition,” Alexa smirked.

Shifting in my seat, I licked my lips. “I totally blew the audition.”

“It certainly doesn’t sound like you did,” Kait said, slowly swiveling her chair like a lion circling its prey. “You clearly did something right.”

“How did he get you to his apartment?” Alexa asked. “Like, what was his excuse?”

“Alexa, he’s Leo Armstrong,” Bethany snickered. “He doesn’t need an excuse.”

I had to admit, Bethany was right about that. “He just called and invited me over,” I said. “That was sort of it.”

“And?” Bethany and Alexa asked at the same time.

“And I went. His place is huge. It has its own elevator,” I added lamely.

Alexa and Bethany exchanged looks like they couldn’t believe the boring details I was handing over about a such a huge player. I didn’t feel comfortable at all telling them or anyone else about the balcony incident, and other than that we didn’t exactly talk about too much—at least nothing news worthy. What we did talk about had been clouded by the way he made me—and my body—feel when his hands were on me, something I thought every waking second since.

“Look at her, she’s blushing,” Alexa said.

“You’re holding out on us, Sophie,” Bethany said.

I looked to Kait, knowing she planned to get it all out of me. “Sophie,” she began. “I shouldn't have to remind you already that this story is due in a few weeks. I intend to have it in the next issue. There’s no dragging your feet on this.”

“I understand,” I said, feeling like I was failing already. I wasn’t there to protect Leo Armstrong, no matter how good his fingers felt inside me last night. That’s what he was good at doing, to hundreds of women, probably. I was just another in a never-ending string.

So I told them what I could. I told them what his place looked like. Kait said it could be a good way to show some setting for the piece.

“Sounds like his décor is as sterile and unemotional as he is about his women,” she said. I had just thought it was sleek and modern, but I supposed I saw her point.

I told them how I had to tell him that I wasn’t really trying to be an actress, and that he seemed to believe me and it hadn’t made him suspicious, even when I told him I wanted to be a writer.

“Did you tell him screenplays?” Kait asked.

“Basically,” I said.

She nodded approvingly. “And?” she asked.

“Actually, he gave me a screenplay to read. He wants my opinion.”

“Very good. So a second date, then?” Kait said.

“I guess,” I said. I certainly hoped—for the sake of the story, of course.

Kait eyed me closely. “Did something physical happen?”

I squirmed uncomfortably. I would not give details, but I knew I had to give her something. “We kissed a little.”

“Lucky girl,” Alexa said.

“How was he?” Bethany asked.

“Amazing,” I replied, despite myself. I hated being interrogated like this. It was a violation, but I reminded myself that I’d signed up for it.

“You would be amazing too, if you got as much action as this guy does,” Kait said. “Listen, Sophie, you’re off to a good start. But surely there’s something concrete we can take away from your first evening with him?”

They all watched me closely. My mind spun, trying to think of something I could give them to let me out of their scrutiny. “Oh,” I said, remembering. “He originally wanted to be a writer. He sent a screenplay to one of the studios when he was an undergrad.” After the words leave my mouth, I instantly regret them.

“Seriously?” Kait asked. “Single-minded Leo Armstrong wanted to write? How pathetic.”

“Which studio?” Alexa asked.

“He didn’t say,” I said, hoping they’ll just drop it.

“We have to get a hold of that script,” Kait said. “At least find out what studio he sent it to.”

“Look for the script that contains aliens, explosions, guns and women with no speaking roles,” snickered Alexa.

“Why do all the studio execs think that’s what we all want?” Bethany said. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kait said, shutting up the girls. “Sophie, make sure you write all this down. Keep copious notes and save them to the shared drive so I can see your updates. Got it?”

As I left Kait’s office, I heard the girls fall into another fit of laughter, and the weak part of me felt bad for telling The Panty Dropper’s secret.

Except that’s what I’m being paid to do. Find out his dirty secrets and then expose him for the woman-hating misogynist that he clearly is.

At home that evening, I read through the script Leo gave me for a second time. I’d read it last night when I got home from Leo’s, unable to sleep. Now I went through it again, making notes and gathering my thoughts.