inside me, he pushed the switch that controlled the vibrator, angled the mini bull horns directly over my clit, and allowed the sex aid to do the fucking while he watched.
I unraveled. Seconds? Milliseconds? My orgasm crashed over my body with embarrassing speed, leaving me gasping, crying, cursing. My limbs struggled against the cuffs, but it wasn’t a conscious struggle; my mind could only focus on the sensation. No thought.
Zen.
There was a moment’s registering of a lightbulb going off over my head that this was a perfect moment in time, but I didn’t dwell on what it meant.
* * * *
I pushed my books into the bag and zipped it closed. I could not waste any more time or energy thinking about Shiro, because if I thought too long, too hard, I’d remember how it felt to be kissed by him. I’d remember how it felt when his erection pushed inside me…
“ We just made love for four hours. I call that a little more than stopping by .”
“Get out of my head, Shiro Miura.”
I hurried across campus to my next class. I was going to be late and hoped the professor hadn’t taken attendance yet. “I have to get my head straight!”
“ My soul communed with your soul .”
My feet stopped moving. I almost stumbled and fell headlong onto the grassy lawn.
“I am too busy for a relationship. Hell, I’m too busy for a relationship with myself. I don’t have a single private moment, for a single private thought.”
I sat on the grass and grabbed my phone from the backpack. I opened a search window and typed in Shiro Miura. I don’t know what I expected, maybe nothing, but I knew I wanted something to pop up. I got more than I bargained for when it opened to the home page of his Web site detailing his shibari classes and schedule. There was even a blog.
I should not go to his blog . Not really taking my own advice today, I ended up staring at a picture of him. Just as gorgeous as I remembered. You have a very wicked smile, Mr. Miura. And God, those eyes.
I read from his page: Through photography and artwork, my students and I explore the taboo subject of shibari, a Japanese style of rope bondage. The heart and soul of my shibari school lies in self-discovery. While we explore our own creative interests, we also wish to spread appreciation for this previously secret art form.
His hours were listed. And his phone number. Without thinking I pressed Dial, and when he answered, I skipped formalities. “I just found myself with a free hour. Think you could come to the campus?”
* * * *
I was shaking by the time I saw Shiro’s Jeep turn into the campus parking lot. I’ve never purposely skipped a class, especially not for a secret rendezvous. I stepped closer to the curb, so he would be certain to see me. My heart was racing, and my palms sweating. No competition had ever made me this insane. What am I thinking? Why did I call him?
He pulled up directly in front of me and spoke to me through the open passenger window. “Hiya, beautiful.”
He seemed so cheesy, all the time, but then he flashed his brilliant thousand-watt smile at me and his beautiful dark eyes squinted with joy, leaving me to float for a moment on his happiness, and I didn’t care how clichéd his expressions seemed, because he gave me something I was in no position to give myself: a reprieve from the stress that was my life.
I opened the door and slid into the seat beside him. His hair wasn’t tied back and hung straight down, slightly longer than shoulder length. He seemed even more perfect. He was wearing a tank top and khaki shorts. He obviously hadn’t made any special effort… But God, even dressed down for a casual day, he was sexy as hell. “I probably shouldn’t have called. I just hated the way we left things last night. I’m glad you didn’t mind coming here, so we could talk.”
His smile widened. “I’m just glad you chose to spend the free hour in your schedule with me.”
“Do you do that with every girl you meet?
I unraveled. Seconds? Milliseconds? My orgasm crashed over my body with embarrassing speed, leaving me gasping, crying, cursing. My limbs struggled against the cuffs, but it wasn’t a conscious struggle; my mind could only focus on the sensation. No thought.
Zen.
There was a moment’s registering of a lightbulb going off over my head that this was a perfect moment in time, but I didn’t dwell on what it meant.
* * * *
I pushed my books into the bag and zipped it closed. I could not waste any more time or energy thinking about Shiro, because if I thought too long, too hard, I’d remember how it felt to be kissed by him. I’d remember how it felt when his erection pushed inside me…
“ We just made love for four hours. I call that a little more than stopping by .”
“Get out of my head, Shiro Miura.”
I hurried across campus to my next class. I was going to be late and hoped the professor hadn’t taken attendance yet. “I have to get my head straight!”
“ My soul communed with your soul .”
My feet stopped moving. I almost stumbled and fell headlong onto the grassy lawn.
“I am too busy for a relationship. Hell, I’m too busy for a relationship with myself. I don’t have a single private moment, for a single private thought.”
I sat on the grass and grabbed my phone from the backpack. I opened a search window and typed in Shiro Miura. I don’t know what I expected, maybe nothing, but I knew I wanted something to pop up. I got more than I bargained for when it opened to the home page of his Web site detailing his shibari classes and schedule. There was even a blog.
I should not go to his blog . Not really taking my own advice today, I ended up staring at a picture of him. Just as gorgeous as I remembered. You have a very wicked smile, Mr. Miura. And God, those eyes.
I read from his page: Through photography and artwork, my students and I explore the taboo subject of shibari, a Japanese style of rope bondage. The heart and soul of my shibari school lies in self-discovery. While we explore our own creative interests, we also wish to spread appreciation for this previously secret art form.
His hours were listed. And his phone number. Without thinking I pressed Dial, and when he answered, I skipped formalities. “I just found myself with a free hour. Think you could come to the campus?”
* * * *
I was shaking by the time I saw Shiro’s Jeep turn into the campus parking lot. I’ve never purposely skipped a class, especially not for a secret rendezvous. I stepped closer to the curb, so he would be certain to see me. My heart was racing, and my palms sweating. No competition had ever made me this insane. What am I thinking? Why did I call him?
He pulled up directly in front of me and spoke to me through the open passenger window. “Hiya, beautiful.”
He seemed so cheesy, all the time, but then he flashed his brilliant thousand-watt smile at me and his beautiful dark eyes squinted with joy, leaving me to float for a moment on his happiness, and I didn’t care how clichéd his expressions seemed, because he gave me something I was in no position to give myself: a reprieve from the stress that was my life.
I opened the door and slid into the seat beside him. His hair wasn’t tied back and hung straight down, slightly longer than shoulder length. He seemed even more perfect. He was wearing a tank top and khaki shorts. He obviously hadn’t made any special effort… But God, even dressed down for a casual day, he was sexy as hell. “I probably shouldn’t have called. I just hated the way we left things last night. I’m glad you didn’t mind coming here, so we could talk.”
His smile widened. “I’m just glad you chose to spend the free hour in your schedule with me.”
“Do you do that with every girl you meet?
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