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I can’t, Roxie. I’ve got homework.
I huff at his reply, texting him back,Just do it here! I graduated from that same program, remember? Maybe I can help.
Three dots emerge on the screen for a moment. It seems Andries is unsure at first, but I know he misses me just as much as I do him, and eventually he relents. I tidy up and pour us some wine; a deep, dark merlot this time, and change into a long, silk, cream-colored nightgown.
I go and open the door when I hear the sound of the elevator arriving. Once Andries lets himself in, I waste no time in greeting him properly with my mouth on his. He jolts when I kiss him immediately, no words shared between us, but after a heartbeat or two he melts into the embrace and returns my kiss with gusto. I feel his hands slide down my back to palm my ass, but he stops after he gets a handful, groaning as he pulls away.
“You missed me that much?” He laughs, running a hand through his tousled hair. I nod, and his smile is almost enough to make me jump on him again. Unfortunately for me, he holds his backpack up, shaking it. “I told you I have to finish my homework, Roxie, so let me at least get started.”
I give him an exaggerated pout, but he ignores me, settling in the couch of the living room to do his studies. He’s such a multi-faceted person, and despite my minor complaints, I actually love to watch him work. He draws his eyebrows together just slightly as he does so, a small wrinkle of concentration forming on his forehead. In these moments it’s easy to see what an incredible author he will be once he graduates; he puts his heart and soul into everything that has to do with literature, from his own writings to things as minor as a bit of homework.
Since it probably isn’t great for him to drink while studying, I lay a napkin over his glass of wine and bring him a chilled bottle of sparkling water instead before curling up on the couch with a book of my own, a used copy of Murakami’sNorwegian Woodmy sister had taken in from a seller recently. I tuck my legs under myself, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and around my shoulders, trying to relax. It’s difficult, though, with Andries right there. His mere presence makes me fidgety.
I snap a few pictures of him on my phone when he isn’t paying attention. His scholarly focus is just too adorable, and I want to keep the photos for myself when I am missing him. I deleted so many in anger when he broke up with me that I needed to start replacing them when I could, and candid is always best.
I manage to become absorbed in my own book when I notice Andries shifting in his seat. When I turn my attention to him, I can see he’s frowning, that concentration wrinkle between his eyes deeper and more pronounced, like he’s struggling with something.
“What are you studying?” I ask him.
“English Linguistics Three,” he mumbles distractedly.
“I remember that course. Very tedious.”
He looks up at me, surprised. “How do I keep forgetting that you took the same courses as me?” His attention switches back to his homework. “Can you help me with a question?”
I dog earNorwegian Wood, sitting it down on the sofa next to me. “Of course.”
He sighs unhappily, like asking me for help annoys him, but he quickly clarifies, “I know it’s wrong of me, but I feel like being so tedious about the grammatical parts of language takes some of the creativity out of writing.”
I consider the thought. “I can see what you mean, but just ask me the question so you can move past it.”
“It says, ‘What is a morpheme?’”
“Easy,” I say, scooting closer so we are shoulder to shoulder, and I can see his paper. “A morpheme is a word or part of a word that has meaning and cannot be broken down into smaller meaningful segments.”
Andries looks skeptical but writes down the answer anyway.
“I can explain further if you want,” I tell him, snuggling close and sitting my chin on his shoulder. “I think I got a B in that class.”
He snaps his notebook shut and shakes his head. “No, I’m done for now. I’m hoping this won’t be something that we spend a lot of time on, but if it is, I might need more study help.”
“Well,” I say, swinging one leg over his hip until I’m straddling him, “I suppose I should have some kind of reward for helping you…”
He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t protest, helping me settle on his lap with his hands on my hips. “And what kind of reward are you looking for, Ms. Feng?”
With a growing smile on my lips, I take control of the situation, pushing my hands up and under his shirt and along the ridges of his bare chest before pulling the shirt off completely. He slides the straps of my gown down over myshoulders, pushing the top half of the garment down until it’s around my stomach and my breasts are bare. It takes me effort to undo his belt, and he has to help me in removing his pants while I sit up, balancing with my hands on his shoulders, but eventually his pants are around his ankles, my dress is bunched up above my thighs, and we are both more or less naked.
Both of us are breathing raggedly. Andries teases and plucks my nipples with the lightest touch while I grind my wet core along the length of his cock. I haven’t taken him inside me yet, sitting far enough back that it juts between us, and I can tilt my hips forward and slide the length of it over my clit again and again. Kissing the column of his neck, I sink my teeth gently into the tendon that sticks out there as Andries gets more and more tense, all the while covering my body in goosebumps with the sensations his fingers on my nipple are creating.
“Were you,” Andries grits out between his teeth, “waiting for me with no panties on?”
“You caught me,” I confirm, my voice needy.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “I need you now, Roxie.”
I grind my mound over his cock a few more times, loving the sharp shocks of pleasure as the tip of him glides over that little bundle of nerves, but I don’t want to wait any longer, either. I lift up just enough for Andries to reach down and guide himself to my opening, the thick head of his member giving me a delicious preview of what’s to come.
As he slides deep, I cup his face in my hands, setting a slow, devastating pace while keeping our faces intimately close. I kiss his full lips, rolling my body so his cock presses against the sensitive front of my inner walls with each movement. I don’t want to pull back. I want to take in the subtle changes in his expression and the tiny gasps and moans spilling from his mouth.
