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 HUMAN BIOLOGY

A STUDENT/TEACHER FORBIDDEN ROMANCE

LENA LUCAS
Human Biology (Love 101)
By Lena Lucas
www.LenaLucas.com

Copyright © August 2021 by Lena Lucas

First E-book Publication: August 2021
Image Provided By: Shutterstock

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or

distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright
infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in
federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the
product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author
and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would
violate the author’s rights.
 CONTENTS

Blurb

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Epilogue Three
Also by Lena Lucas
About the Author
Control. Something I’d always had… until she walked into my life.
Curves that went on for miles. Lips pink and plump. A face that
could bring a man—me—to my knees. She was too young, too
innocent.
She was mine.
Because of my position of power, being with Mary was out of the
question. Forbidden. Taboo.
I was her professor. She was my student.
I’d always prided myself on self-discipline, but Mary was my
weakness, the one person I was willing to risk everything for.
The one woman who I wanted to break the rules for.
So when the opportunity arose to make her mine, to claim that
innocence for my own… I was never letting her go, damn the
consequences.
Lena’s Note: I know you like them fast and right to the point so
don’t worry, this one gives you all the goods with a forbidden
romance trope! And it’s got all the romantic filth to whet your
appetite! Enjoy this good old-fashioned safe smut-fest.
 1
LOGAN

M ary Richards. My weakness. My fucking addiction.

My student.
I ran a hand over my face. The scruff under my palm scraped,
sounding loud, my body strung tight. My cock rock-hard. I leaned
back on my couch and stared down at my crotch, my erection
ramrod stiff as it tented my slacks. I hadn’t bothered changing out of
my slacks and button-down when I'd gotten home after leaving the
university. I reached up and loosened my collar, undoing the first few
buttons and exhaling.
My cock jerked when the image of Mary came to mind. I
groaned, not even stopping myself from lowering my hand to my lap
and gripping the thick length behind the material. I rested my head
back on the couch, closed my eyes, and reached for my zipper,
slowly pulling down that little tag of metal, the teeth coming free
almost erotically.
And the whole time I thought of her, of how she’d look spread
out on my bed, her long black hair fanned out over my white pillow,
her arms above her head as she gripped the headboard and held on
as I buried my face between her thighs.
I grabbed hold of my dick, the fucker all but pulsing in my palm.
I stroked myself from root to tip, using the slick pre-cum at the
crown as lube as I jerked myself off and thought about my far too
young and way too innocent student.
 Everything about Mary turned me on, right down to the way she
painted her toenails this sexy bright red, a color that was so vibrant
and bright that it went against the air of vulnerability that
surrounded her.
I groaned as I pictured bending Mary over my desk, ripping her
clothes off, kicking her feet apart, and sinking down to my knees so
I could devour her.
God, I want to eat her out so fucking badly. I’d lick and suck at
her pussy until she came against my lips over and over again.
I groaned again and felt my dick jerk in my hand, felt more pre-
cum form at the tip, and used that to make my shaft nice and slick
as I pumped my hand up and down even harder, even faster.
Dammit, I was messed up as I masturbated to the thought of my
student, a woman over ten years my junior.
Motherfucker, I thought as I worked my palm faster up and down
my cock, squeezing the base on the downstroke and running the
center of my palm over the crown before repeating the process.
Fuck, it felt good, so damn good. I thought about how soft her skin
would be under my hands, against my lips. My heart raced, and I
grunted as more pre-cum lined the tip.
My imagination was a thing of fucking beauty.
Mary lay in the center of my bed, the black sheets a stark
contrast to her creamy, pale skin. She’d have her legs spread, her
pretty pussy on display. She’d be looking up at me with her wide
blue eyes, her expression shy because she didn’t know what to
expect.
I’d order her to touch herself, to reach down and pull her pussy
lips apart, to touch that little nub at the top of her mound and make
herself come. And she’d obey instantly, her cunt so pink and wet,
glistening under the dim light of my room because she was primed
for me.
“Fuck, that’s it,” I said softly and jerked off faster. My balls drew
up with my impending orgasm.
Her back would be arched, her breasts tipped with hard little pink
nipples. She’d be moaning my name over and over again, her climax
taking her sanity and leaving a wet spot in the center of my bed.
 My orgasm rushed to the surface so swiftly it took me off guard.
My body tensed, my muscles contracted, and I came, thick jets of
cum exploding out of my cock and covering my hand and my shirt. I
made these deep, gruff sounds, noises torn from me because I
couldn't stop it.
And when I was spent and relaxed against the couch, forcing my
eyes open to stare at the ceiling, I tried to calm my rapid breathing
and frantic pulse. I still held on to my cock, my length semi-hard,
but I knew if I allowed myself to think about Mary I’d get rock-hard
once more.
Jerking off helped marginally, but the truth was it was a poor
fucking substitute for the real thing. And as much as I should have
forced myself not to think about Mary, let alone pleasure myself to
thoughts of her, I wasn't even attempting to stop myself.
Because I knew at the end of the day I wanted Mary too much to
stay away. I knew no matter how many rules I was breaking, how
wrong everyone on the outside would see it, I wasn’t going to
practice any control where she was concerned.
Fuck the non-fraternization policy. I was going to make Mary
mine.
 2
LOGAN

D espite having jerked off while sitting on my couch, once more

in the shower, and finally a third time this morning before I’d
come into work, my cock was still uncomfortably semi-erect. I was a
fool to think of anything that would calm my arousal down where
Mary was concerned.
It was as if my body knew I wasn't going to give up on my
obsession with Mary, so it was reminding me constantly that until I
claimed her, this was going to be my state of living. I’d come in
earlier than usual, well before the sun had even risen because I
hadn’t been able to sleep. I was fucking tired but wired at the same
time.
And as I looked at the clock again, I felt this nervous energy rush
through me that Mary would come to class soon, that I’d get to set
my gaze on her and devour every inch of her body.
I’d get to imagine all the filthy things I’d do to her, all the
depraved and delicious things I’d do to her innocence.
For fuck’s sake.
I ran a hand over my jaw, realizing I'd been so out of it this
morning I hadn’t even bothered shaving. No doubt the five o’clock
shadow I sported would surely have some people questioning where
my head was. I was always in control, had everything in order; my
lessons, my appearance… my emotions.
 Until Mary, which was when my restraint and common sense
vanished apparently.
I pushed her out of my mind—which was a fucking impossible
task—and started organizing my lecture for the class. Introduction to
Human Biology was a basic course at the university, a class students
could take for required science credits.
I leaned back in my leather chair and brought up the lesson plan
on my laptop. I went over the charts and models, the lecture and
statistics. I read them over and over again because the material
wasn’t sinking in and staying… because of her.
The time went by excruciatingly slowly, and when students
started filing in and taking their seats, I tried to assume a relaxed
position behind my desk, but inside I was tense and hard, and my
heart raced to see Mary.
And there she was, the shy and quiet girl who always took one of
the last rows in the auditorium with her friend. I could become
aroused just thinking about her, and she didn’t even have to be in
the room for me to pop a boner, but when I did see her, when I
caught a whiff of the vanilla scent that always seemed to surround
her, all bets were off where my arousal was concerned.
I didn’t even try and pretend I wasn’t tracing her movements
with my gaze, following her with my eyes. I was like a predator
stalking his prey.
I was a hunter, and I was going after her.
It was wrong… but I don’t give a fuck.
She kept her head down as she followed her friend up the steps
toward the back, but I didn't miss when she glanced over her
shoulder and our gazes locked. Her eyes widened marginally,
probably because I was staring at her so hard. She faced forward
quickly, her long dark hair swinging from side to side from the quick
action. My cock jerked in appreciation of her vulnerability.
I lowered my focus to her legs, those long, tanned limbs that had
my pulse going a little faster and my blood rushing through my
veins. She was modestly dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt
that had little pink flowers printed on the black cotton. But every
time she ascended a step, the denim that covered her ass rode up
ever so slightly, and I caught a glimpse of the crease where her ass
met her thighs.
Christ.
I ran a hand over my mouth and knew I should have looked
away, but for the life of me I couldn't. I didn’t even try to fight my
infatuation with her, even if it was obvious to others around.
I imagined those long, slender legs wrapped around my waist as
I drove in and out of her. I pictured her clutching me as she moaned
and begged me for more. Fuck, I pictured her looking up at me as I
fed my cock into those lush, pink lips of hers and made her take all
of my ten inches.
She took her seat, and unfortunately her desk and the students
sitting in front of her blocked any other views of those gorgeous
legs. But now I got an unobstructed view of her face. So soft
looking, so feminine.
Jesus.
I reached down and adjusted my now ramrod stiff cock, working
it up and at my waistband so when I stood I wasn’t sporting a
fucking pair of tented pants.
When the last student entered, I cleared my throat, ran a palm
over the back of my head, and rose. The conversation in the room
dimmed as everyone got settled in for class, but still I stared only at
Mary.
Now all I had to do was get through class, then after I’d excuse
myself into the staff bathroom, rub one off to thoughts of Mary, and
pray like hell I’d get through the day without having to repeat the
process a dozen more times.
 3
MARY

T rying not to focus on Professor DeLuca would’ve been a lot

easier if he wasn’t talking about human anatomy, which in turn
had me thinking about all the things the human body did… all the
things his body could do to mine. We wouldn't talk about how I had
almost zero knowledge on anything sex related, that my only
experience had been in the form of something sloppy and
inexperienced while I was still in high school. Since then I hadn’t
even kissed a guy, had told myself I’d never let a man touch me
again until I felt that connection with him.
And boy oh boy was I feeling that with Logan DeLuca.
My mind was filled with dirty thoughts, raunchy images, and lewd
fantasies where the star in them was currently the six-foot-four man
who was forbidden to me.
“You’re staring again,” my best friend Sarah whispered, and even
though I refused to look at her, I could almost picture a smirk
plastered across her face.
But her words did have a physical reaction in me. My body
tightened, my spine straightening. I grabbed my pencil far too tightly
and loosened my hold because I figured I’d snap it in half. I cleared
my throat and forced myself to look down at my textbook, “reading”
the words, yet they might as well have been a foreign language for
as much as I was comprehending them.
 I glanced back up at Logan DeLuca, listening to the way his deep
voice moved over me in an almost sexual way. I let my gaze linger
over his body, appreciating how good he always looked.
For the entire semester I’d been wanting my professor with a
burning desire. At first it started off as a crush, and then that
attraction had turned into a very deep and real need. He was all I
thought about, the only man I wanted.
It wasn’t as if I had tried to stop myself from desiring him.
Because I didn’t want to stop.
I’d never in my twenty years of life ever wanted another person
this badly. It went far beyond the physical lust. He was smart and
articulate. He was well spoken and sexy. He held command and
respect when he spoke, and I was afraid that what I felt bordered
on obsession, because saying I loved him when I didn’t really know
him would have seemed ludicrous.
He was big and strong—double my size—which made me feel
tiny in comparison, fragile even. His professional attire couldn’t hide
all the raw power I could see underneath his clothing. His khakis
covered thickly muscled thighs, and his Oxford couldn’t hide his
bulging biceps or broad chest.
I’d even seen the definition of muscle underneath the crisp
material, and my fantasies conjured up images of what he looked
like with the fabric gone. Hell, I’d dreamed about him tearing his
clothing away because he was too impatient to get it off before he
ravaged me.
I felt my face heat as I kept thinking those obscene thoughts.
What’s wrong with me?
For the next forty-five minutes I tried to concentrate, tried to
focus on anything but the way Professor DeLuca's body moved, or
the way his muscles contracted and relaxed underneath his clothing.
I tried not to picture what he looked like completely naked. I bet he
had so much strength that it would leave me breathless. Hell, just
looking at him in the auditorium, listening to him speak, made it
hard to breathe.
I was busy biting on the end of my pen, thinking of extremely
inappropriate things, when our gazes locked. Professor DeLuca kept
talking, his words fluid, his tone unchanging, but there was no
mistaking that his focus was trained solely on me.
I shifted on the seat a little bit, straightening, not wanting to
seem like I was suddenly nervous, that his attention made me
anxious...and aroused. But I was horribly failing at that.
I swore his eyes grew hooded the longer our gazes stayed
locked. And just from that look alone I was aching and wet. I was
desperate for all the things that would and could never be.
Because he was my professor, and I was a student.
It was a forbidden romance.
Against the rules.
Maybe that’s why I wanted him so badly. Maybe that’s why I was
more than willing to toe that line before I completely crossed it.
Because right now as I stared into his dark eyes, as I felt a flush
cover my entire body, my breasts feeling heavier, my nipples
hardening, nothing had ever sounded better than blurring the lines
with Professor DeLuca.
 4
MARY

I rubbed my eyes, the exhaustion settling in enough that I could

probably have rested my head on the table and fallen asleep, not
even caring that I was at the university library.
I exhaled and looked at the clock. The library being open twenty-
four hours was a blessing and a curse because it forced me to
actually work and not find an excuse not to be here.
But it was late, I was tired as hell, and even though I’d been
here for the last handful of hours, I hadn’t gotten much studying
done. Not with my thoughts consumed by Professor DeLuca.
I packed up my books, slung my bag over my shoulder, and
headed out. There were a few people still reading at various tables,
but none of them paid me any mind as I left the library.
I made my way out to the parking lot, the campus lighting bright
enough that I shouldn’t have felt unsafe, but being alone this late at
night, not a soul in sight, made even the most brightly lit areas seem
sinister.
I already had my keys out and walked around a car, making my
way toward my small compact when a guy made his way down the
sidewalk and right toward me. I glanced away and kept on track to
my car, but when I heard his footsteps far too close, I picked up my
pace.
“Hey,” he called out, but I didn’t answer and didn’t look back. I
had my key ready to unlock my door when suddenly I felt him
standing right behind me, his hand on the hood of my vehicle, the
smell of his humid, alcohol-laced breath bathing the back of my
neck.
“Hey there.” His speech was slurred but upbeat, as if he knew
this was a sure thing.
I didn't respond, and although he stopped me from opening the
door, he wasn’t touching me.
“Whatcha doing out here so late all by yourself?”
I moved away from him and put some distance between us. I
didn’t recognize him, but the glassy look in his eyes, the sweat
covering his brow, and the stench of booze on his breath told me he
was probably coming from a frat party. There were certainly plenty
happening every day of the week.
I knew enough about intoxicated people that if you opened that
door to conversation you could never close it, and that door would
never close if said drunkard was a dude who thought he had some
kind of right to a woman. And it was clear this asshole thought that.
“Can you please move so I can get in my car?” He only grinned,
and I adjusted my keys between my knuckles so I could use them as
a weapon if need be.
“You go here? To the university?” When I didn't respond, he
grinned. “I’m just passing through.” He tipped his chin in the
opposite direction. “Left one hell of a fucking party.”
I still said nothing but made a point to look at the car door then
back at him.
“You're pretty.” His grin spread, and he took a step closer. I
moved one back. “We’re both alone…” He didn’t finish his sentence,
but he didn’t have to.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I tightened my hand on the keys and
prayed he left. No one was around, the air so still that no noise
seemed to come from anywhere.
“Come on. You don’t look like you have anywhere important to
be.” He eyed me up and down. “You look kind of uptight, one of
those good girls.” He looked in my eyes again. “But those are the
best in the bedroom.”
Oh gag.
 I turned around and was about to head back into the university
library, pretty sure his drunk ass wouldn’t be stupid enough to follow
me, when I felt his heavy hand land on my shoulder. I didn’t
hesitate. I turned around and jabbed my knuckles out, the teeth of
the keys scraping down his forearm.
He cursed and looked down at the wound. “You bitch,” he
seethed and took a step closer. “You’re going to fucking pay for
that.”
But before he could do whatever he planned next, a large
shadow from behind me crossed over his face. He tipped his head
back and stared over my shoulder. I was pulled back suddenly and
stumbled against the side of my car as I watched a massive body
move between me and the drunk.
I could feel my heart rate increase as I realized the massive body
protecting me was Professor DeLuca. He looked over his shoulder at
me as if he could read my thoughts, and the expression on his face
made me feel a whole lot of things I didn't want to dissect right now.
The world started to darken, my breathing becoming so frantic I
reached out and gripped my hand around the edge of the car I was
pressed against. I couldn't see straight, the panic a living entity
inside of me.
I knew there was something happening, a scuffle, violence thick
in the air. But my eyes closed on their own as the world tipped and
turned and threatened to swallow me whole.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh went in one ear and out the other
before this buzzing started to take over inside of my head.
And then I got this weird tunnel vision, everything going dark
around the edges. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think. Was I
having a panic attack? Was I having a heart attack?
Then I heard a deep, soothing voice wrap around me. I latched
on to the voice, feeling myself slowly coming back to reality as it
washed through me.
“Mary, hey, are you okay?” Professor DeLuca’s voice was soft,
almost hesitant. I heard clear concern laced in the words.
I felt hands on my wrists, thumbs gently pressing against my
pulses, and strangely enough, I felt myself come down from my
panic marginally enough that I came back to the present. I found
myself gently turned around but kept my head lowered, my eyes
shut. I was so lightheaded, my body aching with how hard my
muscles were constricted.
“You’re okay now. You’re okay now.” He kept saying those words
over and over again, and I let Professor DeLuca’s voice calm me, or
tried in vain to let it. I was on a razor’s edge at the moment.
The hands that held my wrists slowly moved up, fingers skating
along my forearms, over my upper arms, and settling on my
shoulders. He gave a light squeeze, and I inhaled sharply, trying to
gather more oxygen in my lungs.
“Mary,” he said softly, encouragingly, as if he were afraid I’d bolt
like a scared rabbit. I certainly felt like I could have at that moment.
“Hey.” His warm breath, which smelled sweet like peppermint,
brushed along my forehead, and I kept my eyes closed, pushing
away all the events that had just happened. I forced my eyes open
and stared into Professor DeLuca’s face. “Are you okay?”
His brows were pulled down tight over his eyes as he looked at
me with an expression full of concern. I tried to focus on his eyes,
the color, the way they had always looked so dark, almost black, but
up close I saw flecks of amber in them.

“Y ou ’ re in shock .” His voice came through the fog of my head. “Just

breathe. You’re okay now. I’m not going to let anything or anyone
hurt you.”
I nodded—believing him unquestionably—but I didn't know what
I was agreeing to. I didn't feel okay. My hands were shaking, and my
breathing was erratic. I kept staring into Professor DeLuca’s eyes but
still felt dizzy. I knew if he hadn’t held me in that moment I wouldn’t
have been able to hold myself up.
“Just breathe,” he said again in that low, deep and soothing voice
that washed through me. It was like my body had a mind of its own
as it obeyed his gently spoken command.
 He slid his hands up my neck, and a second later I felt his
thumbs brushing back and forth over the pulse points under my
ears. I felt myself calming further. My hands stopped shaking, my
breathing evened out, and the longer I stared at his dark eyes, the
more I felt like everything truly was okay.
“Professor DeLuca,” I said low, barely a breath of air from me.
“Call me Logan.”
My heart fluttered. “Logan… you could get in trouble,” I
whispered and licked my lips. “They could say you assaulted a
student.” I was assuming the asshole went to the university. He
certainly looked young enough to be enrolled.
Logan shook his head slowly. “I don’t give a fuck about that. I’m
actually disappointed he ran off, the fucking coward. I would have
done a lot more damage to the prick for what he thought he could
do to you.” He slid one hand up to cup the side of my face, and I
was embarrassed that I instinctively leaned into his touch.
For long moments we didn’t speak, just stared at each other. I
didn't know how long we stood there, but soon I felt myself return
to normal. No more frantic thoughts or panicky feelings.
“I think I’m better now,” I said and knew I should have moved
away, but I couldn’t, and Logan hadn’t let go of me. He still cupped
the side of my face, his thumb moving back and forth over my
cheek, his gaze locked on mine. His other hand curled gently around
the side of my throat, and I felt my pulse flutter for a very different
reason.
“Are you sure?” His voice was so low and so very deep.
I nodded, but it was a lie. I wasn’t okay, and it had nothing to do
with the attack and everything to do with Logan. He stepped back
then, his hands falling away from me, and I instantly felt the loss.
Logan was still close enough I felt his body heat surround me, felt
safer than I ever had.
He cleared his throat and looked around, but even with the
commotion, we were alone, everything still and quiet. Eerie.
“What would you say if I asked you to have coffee with me?
There’s an all-night diner a few blocks from campus, and no offense,
but I can tell you’re not okay, Mary.” The concern in his voice did
something to my heart and belly. “I don’t want to leave you alone
right now.”
My belly contracted, and butterflies took up residence. “I’m not
okay,” I admitted and felt better that I’d told him. Although his eyes
still held worry, the corner of his mouth lifted in a soft smile. It
changed the rough exterior of his façade somehow, making him
seem more approachable.
“Come on,” he said softly and held his hand out to me. I didn’t
even hesitate in slipping my palm against his.
We walked to the diner, and although it was late and dark, being
with Logan had me feeling zero fear. Even if he hadn’t kicked my
attacker’s ass, I knew this man was strong and smart and would
protect me like no other.
He pulled open the diner’s door for me, and I smelled fried food
and heard soft music playing from a speaker overhead. I’d never
been to this particular restaurant, although there were plenty
scattered around close to campus. Logan gestured for me to head to
a booth in the back, and I felt his hand land on my lower back, a
warm, heavy presence. My belly fluttered again, and any shock was
chased away by my rising arousal.
Once we were seated across from each other, a frazzled-looking
waitress came by, and Logan ordered us two cups of coffee. I asked
for creamer and sugar, but before she left, Logan tacked on two
pieces of apple pie à la mode.
“They have the best,” he explained when we were once again left
alone, and I gave him what was probably a shy-looking smile.
“Do you come here a lot?” My voice was soft and thin, my nerves
over my desire for him making me suddenly feel bombarded and on
edge. He’d probably assume I was still in shock over the altercation,
but surprisingly, that was being pushed very far back because of my
lust.
He gave me a sheepish grin and lifted his hand to rub it over his
face. He had a sexy five o’clock shadow covering his cheeks and jaw,
and I realized I’d never seen him other than clean shaven. He looked
good in all ways, apparently.
 “I work late a lot, more so recently.” His dark brows pulled low as
if that comment triggered something in him. He cleared his throat
and leaned back in the booth, smiling, but it looked forced.
“Thank you again…” I blurted out and felt my face heat at how
awkward I sounded randomly bringing that up. “It's just—” I
stopped and glanced at the table, then forced myself to stare at him
again. “If you hadn't shown up when you did—”
“Hey,” he said, cutting me off, clearly knowing where I was going
with that sentence. “Don’t go there. Don’t think about it. I was
there. I did stop him. And I won’t let anything happen to you,
okay?”
I wanted to ask how he could possibly ensure nothing happened
to me, but I kept my mouth shut and nodded. Thankfully the
waitress arrived with our coffee and pie, and for the next few
moments we ate and drank in silence. But it was nice, the good
kind, the kind that wasn't forced.
Truth was I didn’t want the night to end. I had never particularly
felt unsafe, not until just an hour before, not when I thought things
were going to go from bad to worse. But then Logan had shown up
and defended me. He hadn’t cared if he could get in trouble with the
university or the police. He hadn’t cared because he only wanted to
keep me safe.
And my desire for him had deepened.
He protected me, looked me in the eyes and told me nothing
would ever hurt me again. And I believed him. How could I not?
Once we finished our coffee and pie, declining second helpings,
we sat there in silence. It started to become heavy and thick, and as
I stared out the large window that showed the parking lot, the
streets quiet this time of night, I dreaded going home alone.
“Hey,” he said softly, and I turned my attention back to him.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the chipped table,
his hands clasped together. I looked down at those strong fingers,
the shirt sleeves of his Oxford rolled up and showing his firm, strong
forearms. The first few buttons at the collar of his shirt were
undone, his skin golden and smooth, and his biceps bunched from
the position he sat in.
 “What's on your mind?”
I shook my head, although I didn't know what I was denying.
“Nothing. Everything.” I gave a humorless laugh and shrugged. “I’m
just being ridiculous, letting my fear over the unknown keep me
scared.” His expression softened, but I wasn’t fooled into thinking he
wasn’t ready to defend me at the drop of a hat. I’d seen that
firsthand.
Maybe that was my own clouded vision making him out to be a
knight in shining armor. But then again... that was exactly what he’d
been to me tonight.
“You’re afraid to go home,” he said matter-of-factly, but I shook
my head.
“No, not really. Being alone makes me anxious, but then again
I’m an adult, and I know I’m safe there.” I smiled. “And calming
down at the diner with you has gone a long way in making me feel a
whole lot better. Thank you for that.” I looked down at my hands,
which I had curled into tight fists on my lap. “I’ve never been afraid
before, not of anything substantial.” I felt his finger under my chin as
he lifted my head up so I was forced to look into his eyes.
“What happened back there—” he said in a soft but stern voice,
his lips pursed, his eyes narrowing as if he were letting that rage
settle in him once more. “It’s easy for me to say don’t think about it.
Don’t let it bother you. That’s not realistic. I don’t want you to be
afraid. Ever. I don’t want anybody to hurt you. But that’s life. It’s
real. You have to let it wash through you so it can escape. You
understand?” I nodded. “But I will not let anything happen to you.”
His voice was so hard that I believed him undoubtedly.
This entire night was turning out to be surreal, some of it bad,
but being here with Logan made the rest—the biggest part—good. I
found myself lifting my hand and curling my fingers around his wrist,
his fingers still gently gripping my chin, his thumb stroking along my
jawline. I didn’t miss how his gaze dipped to my lips and didn’t miss
the hooded expression he suddenly got.
He wanted me.
I didn't know how I knew that from just an expression, but the
look on his face as he stared at me made it very clear that Logan
DeLuca desired me, and I wanted to explore that.
But as much as I wanted to bridge the gap between us, just be
bold and have strength and go after what I wanted at this moment,
I was still far too shy, too unsure, and the vulnerability I felt right
now coursed through me and held me in place.
So no, I wouldn’t act on my feelings even though all I could think
about was pressing my lips to his and letting Logan show me exactly
how to forget about everything else but his touch.
Tonight I’d go home alone, thinking about Logan, feeling safer
than I ever had, and maybe one day I’d be able to go after what I
wanted.
Maybe one day Logan would make me his.
Until then, it was a nice fantasy… and maybe always would just
be that.
 5
LOGAN

T hree days had passed since the attack. Seventy-two hours since
I'd sat across from Mary and wanted to tell her she was mine.
And when I taught class today, seeing her for the first time since
then, I hadn’t been able to focus. I’d only been able to think about
her, about how she was doing, and if she was still frightened.
Fuck, I wanted to take that fear from her if it was still there.
I wanted to tell Mary over and over again that no one would ever
touch her, no one would ever hurt her. They’d never think about it
because they’d know the repercussions that I’d deliver upon them if
they tried anything, if they even thought about it.
I exhaled as I thought back to the class she’d been in hours
before. She’d refused to look at me, hardly glanced at my direction
as I went through the motions of spewing out the lesson. I’d been
going through the motions as if on auto-pilot, not noticing anything
or anyone but her. Mary was dangerous for me. She unraveled my
control. But I’d never wanted to come so undone than I did where
she was concerned.
I brought my thoughts back to the present and exhaled again. It
was well past sundown, not too late, but late enough I should have
been out of here already. But here I was, still in my classroom,
knowing I needed to go home, knowing that I’d probably jerk off to
thoughts of Mary twice before I fell asleep.
 What I wanted to do was find where Mary was. I wanted to go to
the student directory, look up her number, and find out where she
lived. I wanted to go to her home and make sure she was safe. I
wanted to do that and so much more. So much more.
I leaned back in my chair and scrubbed a hand over my face.
There’s something wrong with me. My obsession for her was this
twisted feeling inside of my body that wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t
listen. In fact, it kept growing until it ate away at me and I’d never
be able to ignore or fight it.
Until I didn't want to even try.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, but a soft knock on my door
drew me out of my thoughts… and desires for Mary. Temporarily at
least.
Before I could call out to whoever it was to enter, the door was
pushed open, and I instantly straightened in my seat when I saw
who stepped inside.
The object of my obsession.
Mine.
Fuck, Mary looked good, as she always did, and my body thought
so too as I instantly got hard. I discreetly adjusted my lengthening,
hardening cock behind my zipper and moved in closer to the desk to
hide my arousal.
“Professor DeLuca?” she called out softly as she looked toward
my desk, her eyes widening a fraction when she caught sight of me.
God… she was beautiful.
I cleared my throat before saying, “Come on in, Mary.” She
stepped inside, the door closing behind her. “What can I do for you?”
God, tell me all the things I can do for you.
She moved closer—slowly—and when she stood a few feet from
my desk she started fidgeting with the strap of her bag. “I… I was
studying late and saw the office light on and figured I could go over
part of the lesson today that I was unclear about?”
There was an intense blush that spread across her cheeks, her
nervousness an attractant to me. I knew my arousal was clearly
written on my face. It wasn’t like I was trying to hide it. I was eating
her up with my gaze, not pretending like I wasn’t eye-fucking her.
 Because I was. Good God was I ever.
Was that why she blushed so fiercely? Because she could see
how much I wanted her? My cock jerked at the thought.
I cleared my throat and gestured for her to take a seat in front of
my desk.
“I don’t want to bother you. It’s late and I’m sure you’d like to
get home.”
I had all the time in the world for her.
“Are you sure you have time?”
“I’m sure.” I tried to keep the growl of pleasure out of my voice. I
shifted and prayed I didn’t have to stand because my erection was
obvious. If I stood, the fucker would damn near poke her eye out.
She smiled, and it was sweet, soft, and far too trusting. If she
only knew the things I was thinking about right now.
“Tell me what’s the problem. What are you having issues with?”
Keeping a professional mask over my face was a failing task. Ever
since I’d stopped the fucker from assaulting her days ago, and then
sharing time with her at the diner, she’d been even more on my
mind.
She shifted on the seat in front of my desk and flipped through
pages of her notebook. Her lips, so pink they reminded me of the
color of roses, has my cock thickening even more. She bit on her full
bottom lip, and all I could picture was those lips wrapped around my
cock.
She exhaled and leaned back, an almost defeated look on her
face. Instantly my protective side rose up, and I straightened in my
seat.
“What’s wrong?” I tried to keep my voice low and level. I didn’t
want to startle her when it was clear she was already on edge about
something. “Did someone bother you?” I felt my rage fill again. “Did
someone try to put their hands on you?” My voice rose and the rage
in me grew at the very thought of some asshole thinking they could
look at her, let alone touch her.
“Oh,” she said and cleared her throat. “No. No, I’m fine. I just…”
She glanced at the closed door, but I didn’t take my focus off her
face. When our gazes locked again, I watched as her pupils dilated,
and saw her breathing pick up. She was biting on her bottom lip
again, and I had to force myself not to groan out loud. “It’s just
that… I can’t stop thinking about the other day.” She glanced away,
her cheeks pinkening. She slowly lifted her head, and our gazes
clashed once more. “I can’t stop thinking of you,” she whispered.
My cock jerked painfully, my heart raced, and I found myself
standing and walking to her before I could stop myself. She had her
head tipped back and her focus on me, her lips parted as she
inhaled in and out. Fast.
What would she do if I leaned down and gripped her behind the
head, pulled her forward, and pressed my lips against hers? Would
she slap me? Or… would she beg for more?
The very thought of losing my job because I was fraternizing
with a student, or being caught by anyone that walked through the
classroom door, caused no fear. No hesitation. All I felt was that
being with Mary was right and good, and I needed her now.
She still stared up at me with those big blue eyes, ones that I got
lost in. Mary looked so innocent, like she couldn’t possibly know
what being fucked hard felt like. And God I want to show her… teach
her. I want to claim her until there is no doubt she's mine forever.
I wanted to taste her, every damn part of her.
“Professor DeLuca—”
“Logan,” I said low and deep. “I want you to call me Logan,
Mary.”
She leaned forward, the front of her shirt gaping slightly. Christ, I
could see the swells of her breasts rising and flailing as her
breathing picked up. She was getting aroused. Her pupils still
dilated, her nipples hard, her hands curling around the edge of the
desk as she looked at me as if I could give her everything.
And I sure as fuck would.
Mary lifted her slender arm and tucked a strand of long dark hair
behind her ear, the shyness coming from her turning me on even
more. I should have felt like a dirty bastard for wanting to defile her,
to teach her all the pleasures we could have together.
“Come here, Mary,” I all but growled and held my hand out. She
stared up at me with a doe-like expression and slipped her palm
against mine, and I curled my fingers around her hand. God, she
was tiny compared to me.
We stared at each other for a moment, and then my control
fucking snapped. I curled my free hand around her nape, pulled her
forward, and slanted my mouth on hers, kissing her with all the
pent-up passion I had inside of me.
I groaned and tunneled my hands into her hair, tilting her head
back so I could deepen the kiss. I ran my tongue along the seam of
her lips, and when she opened for me, I didn’t stop myself from
pressing fully against her. I had no doubt she felt the thick hardness
of my cock grinding against her belly. The fucker was like a third leg
at this point.
“Logan,” she murmured against my mouth.
I tightened my hands in her hair, kissing her deeper. We didn’t
need to talk. We needed to do this… and so much more.
“We could get in trouble.” There was no heat behind her words,
and when I ran my tongue along her bottom lip, she clutched at my
shoulders and moaned. “It’s not right,” she cried out when I gently
nibbled on her flesh, her cry of pleasure fueling me on.
Did she realize she was pressing her breasts against my chest,
that her nails were digging into my flesh? “Who said this was
wrong?” It was rhetorical. I didn’t expect her to answer. I just
wanted her liquid for me. “Doesn’t this feel good?” She moaned and
nodded. “So how can this be wrong, Mary?”
I didn’t want to push her, to frighten her, but fuck me… I did
want to push her at the same time. I wanted her writhing and
moaning for me, begging for me as she clutched at me tighter. I
wanted to see how far she would go, and how far she would actually
take this.
She opened her mouth, and I slipped my tongue inside, pressing
it against hers. She gasped against my mouth, and I delved harder.
Finally, she started moving her tongue against mine until I felt my
cock throb and jerk, my balls drawing up tight, the need to come
right there. I should have gone slower so I didn’t orgasm before I
even made her mine.
 Dirty, obscene thoughts slammed in and out of my head, and I
started grinding myself against her, pressing my cock back and forth
against her belly. I pictured her on my bed, her body gloriously
naked, her thighs spread, my hands moving all over her creamy skin.
I broke the kiss and stared down at her, my hands still tunneled
in her hair. Her eyes were still closed, her lips red and swollen and
glossy from fucking her mouth with mine. Her cheeks held a hint of
a blush from her arousal, and her dark lashes were long crescents
on her alabaster skin.
And when Mary finally opened her eyes and we stared at each
other, I knew this woman would forever be mine. I’d never let her
go, and I was going to make her see and feel that right now.
 6
LOGAN

I pressed my body fully against Mary’s until I felt all of her softness
mold against my hardness. Her breasts were soft and perfect,
her nipples hard against the flat planes of my chest. Fuck, I was so
hard for her, my cock throbbing behind my slacks.
I used my body to move her against my desk, knowing this was
all kinds of wrong on some level, but also not giving a fuck. I got
even more turned on that we were breaking rules, that anyone could
walk in and see what I was doing with my student.
Her chest arched, and I lowered my head to her neck, brushing
my lips along her pulse point. I inhaled deeply, her scent sweet and
so very perfect. I was already addicted to it. Mary was breathing
heavily, and I could feel her pulse beating wildly right under her
skin, like a bird’s wings fluttering because it was afraid. But in her
case I knew she was aroused and so far gone… just like me.
“Ah, sweet Mary. Are you nervous?” I didn’t know why I was
toying with her. The fact that I knew she was nervous and was
urging her to admit it to me should have made me feel like a
bastard. But I grew harder because of it.
She didn’t answer right away, and I pulled back so I could look
into her eyes. She was now leaning against my desk, her hands
gripping the edge, her nails scraping the wood. Her eyes were big
and her expression almost hesitant, but I knew she wasn’t afraid of
me. I could tell she was primed and ready, but possibly fearful of the
situation. Her cheeks were rosy from her desire, and her lips were
swollen from my kisses.
Mary exhaled roughly and gripped my biceps like I was her
lifeline.
“Logan.” She moaned my name, and I leaned down to claim her
mouth again. The kiss was soft and easy. I wanted her relaxed and
right here with me.
I pulled back and whispered, “Do you want this?” I asked
because she hadn't answered me about being nervous.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I want this. I want you. And I am nervous.”
She spoke so low that I almost didn’t hear her, but the sweet words
filtered around me, and I groaned deeply from my chest. She licked
her lips, and I was riveted to the sight. “I want you, Logan. God, I
want you.”
I needed her like I’d never desired anything else in my entire life.
It had been so long since I’d allowed myself to want something,
especially a woman’s touch. It had been years of celibacy for me.
And I was so fucking happy I’d waited to give myself over again to a
woman. Because I only wanted Mary. Now and forever.
I kissed a path down her throat and across her collarbone. Would
she let me touch and kiss her and make her mine? Would she give
me all of herself? I flicked my gaze up to her eyes, saw she had
them closed once more, and pushed further. I could see her turgid
nipples pressing against the thin material of her shirt, as if those
little peaks were desperate for my mouth.
When I opened my mouth and sucked one hard bead into my
mouth, a harsh groan ripped from me. Despite her shirt and bra, I
sucked hard and long on her nipple until the fabric was saturated
and she had her hands tunneled in my hair. She writhed beneath
me, soft cries spilling from her perfect lips.
With my hand I cupped her other breast and started massaging
the perfectly sized handful. She arched her back, thrusting that soft
mound further into my hand, and moaned loud and long. I didn’t
break the suction of my lips on her as I looked over at the closed
door. It was late, but there were still a few staff members here doing
work, and then there were the custodians who could walk in at any
second.
My cock jerked at the thought of being caught.
When I pulled back, my gaze immediately went to her chest,
seeing how the material was soaked from where my mouth had
been. The outlines of her areola and nipple were a stark contrast
against the white shirt and bra.
“Logan,” she whispered, and the little tremor in her voice was
almost my undoing.
“I want you. I want only you,” I found myself saying before I
even knew I was speaking. My cock jerked, and she lowered her
gaze down to the front of my slacks, her eyes widening, her lips
parting even more. “Only you,” I growled and cupped the side of her
face. She stood fully, and I pulled her in close, burying my face in
the long fall of her hair and closing my eyes as need and desire
waged war inside of me for supremacy.
“Be with me. I only want to feel you. I don’t want to think of
anything else,” she pleaded, and any kind of self-restraint I’d had up
until that point completely fucking vanished.
I devoured her mouth over and over again, and a harsh sound
was ripped from my throat when I felt her hand press against my
slacks-covered cock. The length gave a mighty jerk, as if trying to
tear through the material. I didn’t want to move too fast with her; I
would have ended this and forced myself to just hold her if that’s
what she wanted. But it was clear she wanted more. Mary wanted all
of me.
“God,” she breathed in a whisper. “You’re so hard. It’s like granite
behind your zipper.”
I hummed in approval and kissed her long and slow.
“Do you see how hard I am for you, Mary?” I pulled back enough
that she could really get a look at what I was sporting just for her.
Her eyes dipped down to the part of my body that ached for her. She
licked her lips, and I grunted before saying, “You have to stop doing
that or I’m going to come.”
She snapped her gaze up to meet mine, her blush getting even
redder.
 I cupped the side of her face and dipped my head to kiss her
again. I moaned when she curled her fingers around my cock and
gripped her waist to spin her around until her chest was pressed
against the desk. This was fast and frantic, and right now I felt like I
had no control over myself.
I expected her to tell me to stop, to tell me she needed more
time. But Mary looked over her shoulder, her eyes hooded, her little
pink tongue coming out to swipe along her lips, and I knew she was
right here with me. She wants this as much as I do. And she
affirmed that by the way she spread her legs wider, her skirt riding
up her thighs and showing the crease where her legs and gorgeous
ass met.
“I've only ever been with one guy, and it was years ago,” she
whispered.
My hands were already at her waist, my fingers digging into her
lush body. “It’s been years for me, too, Mary. Fucking years.” I
stepped in close, my shaft bobbing slightly, my focus trained on her
face. “But we don’t have to do anything more tonight. I’ll wait as
long as you want. I want you to be ready and want this fully
because I can't let you go.”
She slowly shook her head and said, “I want this. With you. Right
now.”
Jesus Christ, she was everything to me.
I pressed my chest to her back, my cock now nestled between
her ass cheeks, the material of her skirt the only barrier stopping me
from plunging deep into her heat. I inhaled deeply, taking her scent
into my lungs, taking a little part of her into me. She smelled so
fucking good. I lifted up and pushed the long fall of hair off her
shoulder before pressing my mouth to her ear and whispering,
“There's no going back. You're mine.”
“I’m yours,” she repeated, and I thrust my cock against her,
causing her to gasp and lift her bottom up and out more.
I leaned back so I could get a good look at what I was about to
reveal, then slid my hands to the edge of her skirt, slowly pushing
the material up and over the panty-covered mounds of her ass, and
glanced at her face. She watched me intently, her pupils blown out
from her need for me.
My gaze found its way back to her ass as if I had no control.
“Your ass was made for me and me alone. Say it,” I demanded.
“Everything is yours. I’m yours.”
She sure as fuck was.
I smoothed my hands down the outer sides of her thighs, her
skin soft like satin. And then I was crouched on my haunches behind
her, and the only thing keeping her perfect pussy hidden from me
was a thin layer of white, innocent-looking panties. I cupped both
cheeks of her ass in my hands and gave a gentle squeeze. “Spread
your legs more for me, baby.” She was obedient to my request, and
I felt pre-cum line the tip of my dick in anticipation.
And when her thighs were spread as far as they could go, I
groaned at the damp spot revealed in the crotch of her panties, her
desire making the material soaked. Fuck, her pussy was wet for me.
Without thought, I leaned forward and ran my tongue up her inner
leg, closing my eyes as I tasted a little of her sweet muskiness that
was on the sensitive skin right by her pussy.
She tasted like heaven.
With her legs spread, I gripped the edge of her panties and
pulled the material to the side. The air left me violently at the sight
presented. Her pussy was pink and wet and so fucking gorgeous
that my mouth watered. I could see her clit poised at the top of her
mound, engorged from her arousal and causing my tongue to almost
throb in anticipation of licking it.
“Mary, Jesus you’re so fucking beautiful.” I didn’t wait. I couldn’t.
I leaned forward and ran my tongue up her slit, starting from her
pussy hole to her clit, groaning at the sweetness that spilled from
her and bathed my tongue. I wedged my shoulder closer to her,
forcing her thighs to spread impossibly wider.
Mary’s pussy was velvety smooth and hot against my tongue,
and as I ran the muscle along her little cunt hole, I was rewarded
with more of her wetness. And the small cries that spilled from her
told me she wanted more.
And I'd give it all to Mary.
 I all but tore her panties away until they were pooled around her
ankles. She kicked them off with enthusiasm, and then I had my
mouth right back on her cunt, licking and sucking, lapping and
growling at how perfect she was. I placed my thumbs on either side
of her pussy lips and slowly spread them apart, revealing her inner
pinkness. “Oh, fuck, Mary.” I buried my face in her cunt and inhaled.
She smelled fresh and clean. And so fucking sweet. Mine.
There was no stopping me from devouring her. I let my tongue
move all over her exposed flesh, animalistic sounds leaving me, this
hunger for Mary stealing my sanity. And when I placed a hand on
her lower back, she instantly knew what I wanted and flattened
herself on the desk, giving me access.
The sound of wet sucking filled the classroom, and I rolled my
tongue along her clit before moving it down and pushing it gently
into her little clenching hole.
Mary cried out softly, and I sucked harder as I moved my mouth
back to her pussy hole and started thrusting my tongue in and out
of her, fucking her like I’d be doing with my cock soon enough. Her
inner muscles grabbed on to the muscle, and I grunted, my dick
jerking, more pre-cum spilling from the tip. I went back to her clit
and sucked and sucked and sucked until she started writhing against
me, pressing her pussy to my mouth, needing to get off.
“Come for me,” I growled against her flesh, and she gave it all to
me.
When she sagged against the desk, I stood, breaking away from
her, and panted, not able to get enough oxygen into my lungs.
Copious amounts of pre-cum constantly lined the tip of my shaft and
started making a slow trek down the underside of my length. I was
ready to come again, but I wanted to do it inside of Mary. I wanted
her to be marked by me.
I rose and gripped my cock, stroking myself from root to tip,
using my seed as lubrication as I stared at her spread pussy as it
glistened for me. Mary had her cheek resting against the desk and
her eyes trained on me.
“Fuck me, Logan.”
 I groaned, squeezing my cock tightly to try and stem off the
orgasm that could have burst out from the whispered words alone.
I ran a finger right up her center, loving that she lifted her ass for
more of my touch. I pushed the thick digit into her and felt her
muscles clamp down on it instantly. But just as I slipped my finger
out and was about to push into her, I stopped myself and reached
for her. I helped her to stand, all but tore her shirt off, and pressed
my body to hers, feeling her bare skin against mine.
When the shirt was off, I stared at her chest, the simple white
bra that matched her panties. They were plain and so fucking hot.
Because Mary was the person wearing them.
“The bra, Mary. Get rid of it,” I said in a guttural voice.
She reached behind her back with shaky hands, and the next
second the material was fluttering to the ground. And then there she
stood, naked aside from her panties, and looking up at me like I had
all the answers.
“So beautiful,” I whispered. Her breasts were perfect, round and
handful-sized. Her nipples were rosy pink and hard, causing my
mouth to water.
And as if my fantasies had come to life, Mary sank to her knees
in front of me, stealing my sanity. I tightened my hands into fists at
my side, wanting nothing more than to pull her in close. But she
held the power right now. She controlled the situation and would go
as far as she wanted.
Mary looked up at me, and it was the hottest fucking thing in the
world to see her kneeling before me, my cock hard and aimed right
at her mouth. “Mary,” I groaned. “Touch me.”
Her chest was rising and falling so fast now, her breasts shaking
from the force, but she reached out and wrapped her hand around
my length, her fingers small and not able to fully encompass my
girth.
She started stroking me and whispered, “Like this?”
Oh fuck, her softly spoken words and touch could have made me
come again.
“Yes. Fuck. Yes, just like that.”
 She was breathing harder, and the feeling of her warm breath
perilously close to the head of my cock had more pre-cum spelling.
God, I was going to come again.
My heart thundered as I watched in slow motion as Mary leaned
forward, opened her pretty, pink mouth, and ran her tongue along
the other side of my cock. I made a deep, animalistic sound in my
chest, my muscles tightening, my need fierce.
I was so fucking close to orgasming as it was, and she hadn’t
even wrapped her lips around my dick yet.
And then I felt the warm, wet suction of her mouth on my shaft,
and I closed my eyes and let my head fall back on my neck as I
exhaled harshly. I knew I wouldn’t be able to last long, not with the
fact Mary—my Mary—was driving me crazy with lust.
My hands found either side of her head on their own, as if my
mind and body weren’t working together, as if I had no control. I
started slowly thrusting into her willing mouth, feeling her tongue
stroke along me, loving the vibrations along my length as she
hummed her pleasure around me.
I took it slow, knowing I needed to go easy, to pace myself or
this would be over before it truly started. “That’s it, baby,” I said and
opened my eyes to watch her suck my cock.
She curled her hands around my thighs, and the sounds of wet
suckling, of her little moans, told me that she was just as turned on
by this as I was.
“You’re mine,” I snarled, and she looked up at me with wide
eyes. I would have apologized right then, not wanting to frighten her
—thinking I had, but when she moaned and nodded slightly,
affirming she was mine, I felt my balls draw up with my impending
orgasm.
The leather of the chair creaked as I felt my body tighten,
knowing this orgasm would knock me senseless, but that I’d be
ready to go again and again because I was with Mary.
And then, just when I would have gone over the edge and shot
my load right down Mary’s throat, there was a knock on my fucking
office door.
 7
LOGAN

I pushed the chair I sat in farther under the desk, Mary shifting
her body so she was hidden, and was tempted to call out for
whoever it was to get the fuck gone. But then the door opened and
one of the custodians walked in pushing a cart with cleaning
supplies.
“Oh,” he said as he stopped right inside the doorway. He pulled
one of his headphones away from his ear.
I gripped the edge of my desk tightly, Mary's mouth still wrapped
around my cock, her hands slowly smoothing up and down my
thighs. Fuck… was she actually going to keep going while someone
was right in the office?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize someone was in here.” He gave
me a smile, the lines around his eyes becoming more noticeable. “I
always knock before entering, even if I know someone isn’t in here.”
He shrugged. “Habit.”
I cleared my throat and nodded, about to tell him things were
fine and he could leave, that I didn't need my office cleaned, when
Mary started sucking my cock with more fervor.
My body tightened, and I clamped my jaw down as I stared at
the janitor.
His brows pulled down low as he asked, “Are you okay?”
My blunt nails dug into the wood of my desk, and I nodded.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t need anything cleaned. You can go. Thanks.” I
was rambling, wanting him the fuck out because I was about to
come, and the last thing I wanted was this dude watching me get off
as Mary gave me a blow job.
The janitor didn’t move for a second, and I was about to tell him
to get the fuck out, when he gave a nod, turned with his cart, and
left, shutting the door behind him.
I let my head fall back as a moan spilled from me. My hands
went to Mary’s hair as I tunneled my fingers into the silky strands,
helping her movements as I lifted my hips up.
She hummed around me, my cockhead hitting the back of her
throat, and then I came, my entire body shuddering when I pumped
her mouth full of my cum, as I heard her moan and felt my pleasure
rise even more.
Fuck, she was perfect.
I sagged against the chair when my orgasm faded, my cock still
semi-hard as she pulled her mouth from me and maneuvered herself
out from under my desk. I forced my eyes open to stare at her,
seeing how red and swollen her lips were, the very idea that they
looked like that because she’d been sucking my cock having my cock
hardening all over again.
She glanced down at my lap, her eyes widening when she
watched my boner came back to full attention.
“I thought guys were a one and done kind of situation.”
I groaned and stood, pulling her in close and kissing her, tasting
myself on her tongue and feeling even more possessive. “When it
comes to you,” I murmured against her mouth, “I’m always hard.”
Before either one of us could think about anything but coming
together in the most basic, elemental way, I swiped my arm out,
cleaning off my desk, and flipped her around again until she was
leaning against the wood once more.
I ran a hand across the perfect mounds of her ass, giving the
flesh a squeeze, my cock throbbing. When I slipped a finger
between her legs to make sure she was still slick with her need for
me, I felt my balls tighten further at all the silky honey that I came
in contact with.
 “So ready for me,” I murmured to myself and aligned the tip of
my shaft with her little pussy hole. She looked over her shoulder and
held my gaze, her expression showing intense sexual need that no
doubt mirrored mine.
I should have gone slow and easy, but hell I couldn't. I was too
lost at this moment.
In one swift move, I thrust all of my thick, long inches as far into
her as I could go, grunting at the strangling tight fit of her cunt
around me.
“Fuck,” I barked out when she clenched around me. “I’m sorry,” I
gritted out, sweat beading my brow. “I don't want to hurt you.” My
voice was strained. “I just can’t help myself where you’re
concerned.”
“Don’t stop,” she mewled. “It feels so good.”
My hands tightened on her waist.
“I feel so full, so stretched.” She arched her back, causing her ass
to pop up even more.
I slid out and pushed back in, and her eyes slid shut as she cried
out in the most delicious way. Buried inside of her again, I didn’t
move for a moment as I let her body adjust to my girth. I wasn’t a
small man by any means, and my cock matched that. And fuck… she
was so tight.
“I… I need you to move,” she moaned.
I tightened my fingers around her waist and started pulling out.
When just the tip was lodged in, I pushed back into her. I forced
myself to go slower this time, easier. Every muscle in my body was
strained as I fought the need to fuck her good and hard.
And then, after long moments, I was fucking her in steady
thrusts, slamming into her a little harder, a little faster each time.
The soft sounds she made were muffled as she buried her face in
the crook of her arm. I reached around and grabbed one of her
breasts in my palm, and the breathy sound she gave me was music
to my fucking ears.
With every thrust I gave her, she met me by lifting her ass,
letting my cock slide deeper into her. I gripped the cheeks of her ass
and spread them apart, staring in awe as her pussy stretched wide
around me, her flesh pink and glistening.
I swiveled my hips on every thrust inward, her cries growing a
little louder, a little more frantic. I should have been worried about
someone hearing, but fuck it. I moved my gaze back to Mary’s face.
Watching her get lost in the fucking was one hell of a high. She cried
out softly and threw her ass back against me, and all I could do was
watch between our bodies as my shaft disappeared in and out of her
tight heat.
“Please, Logan. God, yes.”
I slammed into her especially hard and ground myself against
her, and then she came again, her inner walls clamping down on my
cock. I pulled out right away, gripping her hips to turn her around,
and the dazed look on her face was nearly my undoing.
“God, Mary. Fuck, you’re so damn beautiful.” I gripped my wet
cock, her pussy juices coating my length and shooting a spear of lust
up my spine. My mouth went slack as I started jerking off, knowing
that although I wanted to come in her, I had to mark her this way,
like I was some kind of fucking animal. My palm moved swiftly over
my shaft, and then I was exploding.
I watched in a lust-filled stupor as cum shot out of the tip of my
cock and coated her perfect skin with even more seed exploding out
of me. I shook and shuddered, my body spent and the pleasure
mind-numbing.
When I was drained dry, I looked down at Mary and felt
something hard and painful, powerful and consuming lurch in my
chest. She was beautiful, my Mary, the only woman to ever make me
feel something more.
The sight of her marked by my seed, knowing she now smelled
like me, had a surge of possessiveness move through me. I gently
helped her up and instantly embraced her, pulling her in tight,
wanting to forever keep her safe. She was warm and soft against
me, her curves molding perfectly with the contours of my muscles.
And her scent… God, her scent would forever fill my dreams with
its lush sweetness.
 I smoothed my hands down her back and lightly curled my
fingers around her ass. Mary sighed, and contentment filled me.
“Mary, I can't ever let you go.” She smiled up at me, and I didn’t
stop myself from leaning down to kiss her, to caress her lips softly,
gently, letting her know over and over again that I meant my words.
“I am,” she murmured against my mouth. “And you’re mine.”
EPILOGUE ONE
 LOGAN

One year later

A baby. My baby. I am going to have a child with the love of my life.

I stared at Mary, ran a hand over my face, and exhaled. I was
nervous, scared… so fucking elated.
I’m going to be a father.
I looked back at the little screen, the images flashing across it
confusing and foreign to me, but there was no denying a little
human was right in the center, legs and arms flailing around, the
heart beating like a flickering light.
“Beautiful,” I said softly and tightened my hand on Mary's. She
squeezed me back, and I glanced at her, smiling and reaching out to
wipe a stray tear that slid down her cheek. She was happy, elated.
Her expression showed me that clearly.
“I love you so much,” I said softly, not caring if the ultrasound
tech heard. Let everyone know Mary was mine. I wanted to shout it
from the fucking rooftops.
God, I love this woman so much.
For the next few moments we were silent as the tech measured
the baby, the click clack click of her typing things out on the
keyboard seeming especially loud.
“Would you like to know the sex of the baby?”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
d’haver ramor. Si no hi viu un desanimat com jo, no ho habita ningú;
si no ho ven per pedras ningú li compra. Me sembla qu’ha fet mal
negoci, D. Magí.

—Sempre feu mals abaranys de lo que més vos agrada.

—Sí, á fé de Deu, ja li dich qu’es ben galdós pera que un se n’enamori.

Un hom s’hi mor de fret y de por. Com no estiga mellor abaix!…

—Sí, sí, anem per abaix —interpretá Da. Tuyas cada cop mes
capficada.

—Oh, abaix! Abaix s’está molt bé —exclamá’l Notari.

Y baixaren, y com la gran cuyna estés ben acondicionada y un xich

provehida, y notés l’Olaguer que la pelada establa era de fácil omplir
ab un paller que treya’l cap per demunt de la tanca del hort allí á
duas passas, ja’s vejé á coll.

—Hont dormiréu avuy, Olaguer?

—Ab lo matxo, velhi aquí. Jo ab un feix de palla’n tinch prou per

avuy; demá ja m’arreglaré.

—Y la palla, d’hónt eixirá?

—Home, m’ha de deixar la del paller.

—Demaneu més qu’un pobre.

—Y que no veu que ja es podrida?

—Ben bé’s deu menjar lo matxo la que li heu dat al entrar.

—Home, per avuy hont vol que vaja á buscarla? Cóm vol que’m fassa
un jas? En aquesta casa no hi ha un mal llit.

—Be, vaja, per avuy…

—Pensi á escriure al Pere, D. Magí.

—Ja está fet; en aquestas horas la carta ja camina.

Y aixó dihent, se despedí’l matrimoni, y del brancal de la porta lo

seguí l’Olaguer ab la vista, fins que vegé’ls caps enfonzarse per la
relliscosa devallada ab moviments expressius que denotavan viva y
picada conversa. Da. Tuyas se n’havia dut una impresió dolentíssima
del castell: conceptuava com l’Olaguer qu’havian fet un mal negoci,
deya qu’era un casalot, qu’era massa gran, car de foch y d’escombras
pera habitarlo, y grunyia ja per no anarhi á viure de cap de las
maneras. Sóls perque no fos dit, D. Magí, qu’interinament no
desconeixia la rahó, sostenia no obstant lo contrari: ab molt poch
gasto s’apariava alló magníficament; podrian criar porch, coloms y
gallinas; tindre una cabra pera la llet; l’hort, que’l podrian conrehar
ells mateixos los diumenges per entreteniment, los provehiria de
verdura; si tant convingués, llogarian los baixos; en una paraula,
ficats allí serian uns reys, lo castell los hi faria la vida. Després,
devant de la tossuderia de la seva dona y per no donar qué parlar, un
cop dins la vila, s’avení á vendre’l: de segur que li compraria,
pagantho bé, en Vives, aquell vanitós de la Granja.
V. Lo castell fou la perdició de D. Magí. Aquella carronya de Da.
Tuyas li tirava á la cara cada día com una gran disort, com un
disbarat que sóls podía ocórrer á un home negat de sentit comú,
incapás de menar una familia, de dur lo pondu d’una casa. Y no
bastava que’l Notari oposés á tals agravis, que’l primer pas d’aquella
adquisició’s debía precisament á qui tant lo recriminava.

—Jo no conexío’l castell més que per de fora.

—Ni jo, gens més.

—Tu tenías obligació de mirarho mellor; aquéstas no son cosas de

donas, peró si deber vostre. Y ja estich cansada de sentirme que la
culpa es meva: jo no vaig aconsellarte sinó que li deixesses los
primers trescents duros al vint per cent, y tu encare los hi vas
bestreure al dotze. Tu, y ningú més, ne té la culpa; tu, que tota la vida
has sigut un somniador y res més; que sense mi no haurías fet res de
positiu; disbarats sobre disbarats y sempre disbarats. Estaríam
carregats de terra pera engreixar pagesos y nosaltres cantant los
goigs de Sant Prim.

—Peró, dona, aixó’s vendrá; aquell vanitós de la…

—Tornemhi ab lo vanitós. Lo vanitós ets tu, qu’has somniat tota la

vida ab propietats. Sempre’m surts ab lo vanitós de la Granja, com
un melindro pera ferme callar: ¿que’t pensas que soch una nena
que’s mama’l dit? Alló no t’ho comprará ningú sino á preu de pedra…
¡Sembla impossible que la gent te confíen escriptures y testaments!
Pobre de tu que jo’t faltés; que ben ennavegat estarías.
Y un día, y un altre día, á la hora de dinar, á l’hora de sopar, á l’hora
de anar al llit, sempre aqueixos gemechs, sempre las meteixas
inculpacións, fregían las sanchs del pobre Notari, y sa salut
decandida ne venía á menos. Semblava que li havía ficat un clau al
cor y que cada día li enfonzava més y més á novas martelladas. D.
Magí anava fonent greix, gastant paciencia, ascoltant cap-moix tants
vituperis, restituhint á solas lo dinar ab la bilis remoguda, fins una
certa nit que tant y tant las enfilá Da. Tuyas, que l’home no pogué
més:

—Prou! —va dir— prou! Recórdat lo qu’eras ans de casarte ab mi: la

meva criada. Recorda qué vas durme en dot: la roba que jo t’havía
regalat… Recorda que vaig tornarte ab lo casament: jo no ho vull dir;
prou ho sabs tu. Recorda quí’ls ha fet los diners que tens, que
m’amagas fins pera menjar… Jo, jo, ab lo meu travall. Tu no’m pots
demanar comptes, tu no hi tens cap dret. Calla de un cop, y si no
estás bé al meu costat…

No pogué acabar la frase; las camas se li blincaren, perdé’l mon de

vista y caygué extés á terra. Un cop de sangs al cap lo matá en dos
días; morí en brassos de son escribent y d’un vehí.

Inmóvils restaren un y altre bona estona, contemplant al finat dins la

recollida alcova hont los dos fils de sol que s’escorrian pe’ls mal
ajustats finestróns arribavan fosos en llum grisa. Inútil era llur recel,
róssech de la darrera esperansa á que’ls vius s’arrapan per’envá
retindre’l vol del esperit: era mort, ben mort. Sos ulls envidriats, la
boca oberta y fosca, l’inflada má sobre’l llensol, tenían la trista
inmovilitat de la pedra. La grogor de la pell, en aquella claror, prenía
un tint blavench que feya més cantelludas las apófissis, y ombras
amoratadas semblavan demacrar més, per moments, tota la faç.

Convensuts de la trista veritat, eixí l’escribent á darne part á la viuda,

ab l’encongiment que causa missatge consemblant. Lo pobre home
havía perdut l’esma del temps y creya que fins la dels llòchs; ja que
no trobava á Da. Tuyas en cap sala ni cambra. Per fi arribá al
menjador y topá ab ella, dinant tranquilament. No ans de badar
boca, que prou li obrí la sorpresa de cop, peró si ans de posar en joch
los llabis, lo feu tornar enrera la viuda, pronunciant ab posat y veu
imponents las següents paraulas:

—No vull saber res. Es hora de dinar y dino. Després me dirá lo que
hi haja.

Lo pobre escribent, ab tot y conéixer l’egoisme d’aquella dona y

d’haver presenciat la fredor dels darrers dias, quedá espalmat, com
devant de una trahició alevosa. Y encorregut y aclaparat de pena,
torná al costat de son company y mirá al mort ab major dolor.

—¿Qué fém? Se refredará… l’hem de vestir.

—Esperém una estona —respongué ab tremolosa veu, l’escribent. Y’ls

colors que li pujaren á la cara, lo privaren de delatar ni indirectament
á Da. Tuyas.

Passava’l temps y’l vehí insistía ab natural indiscreció; peró son

company callá ab tota la fermesa d’un cor honrat, fins que, sentint
ramors per allá fora, cregué arribat l’instant d’eixir, y ho feu, mal que
li costés, pera no enviarhi al altre.
—Ja pot pensar —digué ab veu aspre que no pogué endolsir— que no
vinch á durli cap nova, sinó á demanarli roba pera vestirlo.

Da. Tuyas tragué, sens inmutarse, un paper plegat que mostrá al

escribent.

—Véu: es de lletra d’en Magí, que vosté coneix, aquí hi há la seva

firma, que vosté coneix… donchs aixó es son codicil, hont disposa…
llegeixi… que son enterro siga de pobre. Amortállinlo ab lo llensol.

Y dit aixó, girá l’esquena, deixant altre cop al escribent més espalmat
que may.

Peró aquell vespre, Da. Tuyas, quan entrá per primera volta á l’alcova
pera apagar la xinxeta, única llum que permeté encendre al costat del
mort, vegé ab sorpresa qu’aquést no estava amortallat ab lo llensol,
sino vestit de negre. Atansá l’llum, palpá la roba, y al sospitar qu’era’l
vestit bo del escribent, no pogué evitar que’l fòch de la vergonya li
encengués la cara. Y quan sos ulls caygueren sobre l’esquerdalench
rostre del difunt, hont semblava haverse petrificat l’emprenta del
martiri, un crit de la conciencia li feu bategar lo cor y exclamar ab
veu confosa.

—Deu t’haja perdonat, Magí.

Bufá la xinxeta y, ab un llum á la má, eixí tota esgroguehida, en tant

que sobre’l mort queya la negror de las tenebras.
 VI.
Era de massa bon natural en Pere de las Borjas, pera no aceptar
l’avinensa proposada pel Notari. Passat lo bull de la sang, arribá á
sentir com pietat delescanya-pobres, á qui havía bofetejat
impunement, se n’empenedí com si hagués pegat á un malalt.
Rebrotá, per altra banda, son amor envers la terra que tants anys há
conreava, y sóls ab greu de la conciencia hauría sabut alluyarsen
sense tindre corrents los comptes. Alló de no pagar, afrontant fins lo
presiri,’s diu al cop de la disputa; convertirho en fets, quan ánima y
cos tenen igual nivell de bondat, ja es diferent.

Per aixó tothom restá en son lloch, llevat del Aloy, qu’era, en efecte,
geperut de cos y ánima. Aquést no estava per cosas, si’l veya per allí,
s’hi perdria; sóls terra entre mitj podia lliurarlo d’un cop de venjansa
que potser costaria car á tots dos. Y en havent parlat per aquest estil,
se penjá’l farsell á coll, lligat al cap del bastó, y abandoná La Coma,
asmirat de que tots los altres fossen tan baixos y perdularis.

Peró per la lógica prepotent dels fets, aquella avinensa promoguda

per l’escanya-pobres produhí un capgirell en l’orde social dels
avinguts, verament inesperat. Cap d’ells lo veya venir y tan natural
com era, donchs que consistí en aixecar al fort y anorrear al feble. Lo
masover obtingué un nou cavall, cobrá las despesas fetas, y sense
aixecar la veu ni menos los punys, de las-horas ensá, allí en La Coma,
era l’amo; l’escanya-pobres, si no’l mosso, un súbdit. Tota l’autoritat
moral qu’aquést hi havía perdut l’havía guanyada l’altre.

Se comprén l’odi qu’aquesta humillació havía d’engendrar en

l’escanya-pobres, qui, de llavors ensá, estalviá tot lo possible las
anadas á La Coma, ab goig y benhauransa dels masovers. No podent
prescindir d’aquéstos, tot lo desitj del avaro fou despossehirse de la
mesada; pero’l dimoni del carril ho feya més impossible cada día,
com qui diu xuclantse á la gent rica pera portarla á Barcelona. Ben
segur que no l’hauría dada á mal preu, pero ni á mal preu trobava
comprador.

Ah! que bé deya’l Notari “aixó es peste pera’ls pobles!” Pratbell

s’abaltia de pobresa de sang, y com tots los atacats d’un mal crónich,
se alimentava d’esperansas ilusorias qu’ab lo consegüent desengany
la consumían més y més. Avuy se parlava d’una fábrica, demá d’unas
minas, un altre día era una font miraculosa lo qu’havía de remontar
la vila; peró ni la font, ni las minas, ni la fábrica apareixían en altre
mon qu’en l’imaginari, consol dels desenfeinats y empobrits. Lo real
era’l carril, aquells convoys de riquesa que desfilavan á la vista de
tots, pera fugir sorollosos y ab crits d’ergull d’aquell recó de miseria
que’ls hi dava pas!

L’Olaguer ja no podía passar pe’l carrer de La Roca sense trencarli’l

cor la vista de son antich magatzém ab la porta tancada; anava al
hostal de Sant Roch, y envá hi cerva tot aquell aixám de carreters
sempre mancats d’un’hora, d’un pam de corda y de diners, qu’ell
bestreya ab tant profit. L’ensopiment que regnava per tot arreu’l
consumía com á La Coma, sense que Las Paradas ni l’hort dels
Mínims poguessen darli consol, perque’ls tenía arrendats. La mort
del Notari acabá d’aixafarlo, perque ab ella quedá sens conseller y
amenassat d’alguna etzaguellada de la Tuyas que me’l plantés fora
del castell, ahont ja’s trobava com lo peix al aygua.

Lo castell, sí,’l castell era son únich consol. Tants escarafalls com ne
feu á primera hora y tanbé com s’hi trobá després. Per’aquell home
esquerp, cap edifici com aquell, apartat de la vila per una costa
perillosa y sóls visitat, de lluny en lluny, per algún foraster que no
més se preocupava de las pedras. Aprofitant l’indiferentisme, pera no
dirne odi, ab que sos amos lo miraren á causa de las disputas,
l’escanya-pobres s’ensenyorí de tot lo casal, l’escorcollá de cap á cap,
trobanthi un sens fi d’amagatalls que feyan sas delicias. Feu mudar lo
pany de la porta forana, trobá en l’hort una bona soca de cirerers
pera barrot, apuntalá fortament las finestras més sotmogudas, y aixís
assegurat, sense més company que’l matxo mossegós, no temé ja
entregarse á una lley de jòch per demés estrany. Consistía en
distribuhir las talegas per diversos amagatalls, de distints pisos y en
passarse llargas horas de la matinada y vespre recontant las unsas y
dobletas, mudant los saquets de lloch cada día. Tan aviat la talega
qu’havía entafurat abaix al celler passava á ocupar lo recó de biga de
la golfa d’hont n’extreya un altra, com aquésta era col·locada al cau
del celler ó en un forat del primer pis, ó sota la rejola del quarto
fosch, sinó entre la palla de l’estable ó en lo munt de la cendrera.
Aixis las visitava d’una á una, las hi feya estacións ab fervor religiós,
hont desplegava tota l’idolatría de que parla Sant Pau, las portava
una estoneta sobre’l cor, y ab llur trasbals y diferencia, notada al
contar, se feya l’ilusió d’esser més rich. Sense cercar gayre, trobá
encar per golfas y magatzéms, portas vellas, trossos de biga,
despullas de mobles corcats que li servían de llenya pera coure las
farinetas, aixís com los llibres de D. Guillém pera encendre’l fòch.
Descobrí també mitja gerra d’oli ranci ab que alimentar son llum de
ganxo fins qui sab quán, y en sos escorcollaments, contragué la deria
de buscar los tresors que per forsa hi havía d’haver soterrats en lo
castell. No hi hagué un pam de paret que no truqués, primer ab los
nusets dels dits, després ab una massa de ferro, ni una cana de terra
dels baixos que no sotmogués ab son magall.

D’aquí qu’ab los sorrolls sotmorts y ab los viatges llum á la má que

clarejava en negra nit per los esberlats finestróns de tots los pisos,
comensessen los vehins del carreró á dir que hi havía ramor al
castell, á forjars’hi fantasmas y esgarrifosas historias, quan lo home
més content y tranquil hi estava. Y si algú no s’ho creya, feya com que
sí, tan sóls per’ajudar á traures d’aprop l’escanya-pobres. Aixís la veu
s’escampá més aviat per la vila que no’n fou ell sabedor.

Quan la nova arribá á Da. Tuyas, li causá un tropell. —¡Adeu, are sí

que ni’l llogo, ni’l vench may més! Are si que ni jo puch ja mudarmhi!

Feya tres mesos que D. Magí era difunt, y ofegats ja’ls antichs
ressentiments qu’á primer’hora li feren aceptar, aquella perdua com
un gran guany, Da. Tuyas comensava á sentir lo defalliment d’esperit
de tota viuda. Un oncle del difunt l’amenassava ab plets, la soletat
més gran la rodejava, l’honrat escribent no volgué trepitjar més
aquell escriptori, qu’hagué de confiar á qui menós confiansa li
mereixía; los honoraris que per conveni ab lo substitut havía de
cobrar, eran font qu’anava estroncantse y s’estroncaría del tot lo dia
que’l notari nou s’emportaría’ls manuals. La manía d’esser robada li
creixía per moments, y reduhida, pera viure, á gratar los curts
productes que tocava del escriptori, veya, esgarrifantse, arribar lo día
de no poder estalviar los rédits del diner bestret qu’era son capital.
De la plassa, del vestir, de sas necessitats diarias, no’n podía ja traure
res aquella miserable; un sol estalvi li restava á fer, lo de lloguer de
pis; y estava disposada á ferlo desseguida que perdés lo manual,
trasladantse al castell si no trobava arrendatari ó comprador. Aquella
nova, donchs, havía d’aclapararla, y per’eixir de duptes, enviá á
cercar al Olaguer.

Precisament feya tres dias que, contra sa costum, l’escanya-pobres

tornava á La Coma, hont passava llargas horas. Era á mitj juny; los
camps estavan plens d’ufana, los cirerers y pereras de Sant Joán
carregats de fruyt; l’horta tenía un abundós esplet de tomáquets,
pebrots, auberginias, monjetas y alls; la vinya comensava á verolejar,
y, dins del barri, los masovers batían las rossas garbas de blat á la
llum enlluhernadora d’un sol esplendent y entre una atmósfera d’or.
Ja no era aquella terra morta del hivern, tan avara en dar com cara
de mantindre; era tot’ella un doll de riquesa qu’entendría al Olaguer.
Allí contava de primer los caballóns, després las garbas, després las
quarteras de grá, y per fi las doblas d’or á que veya reduhit llur preu.
En lo desvari de sa passió, ja las apilava, ja las cosia en talegas y las
portava de dalt á baix del castell ben apretadetas sobre’l cor. Aquést
se li aixamplava devant de tanta abundó, l’arrastrava á travallar ab
dalit y á ferlo altre cop sociable. Mentres los masovers dinavan,
desfermava son matxo, y enfonzantse fins á genoll en la batuda
preparada á l’era, comensava á batre, tot cantant y aixeribit, ab
l’afany de enllestir feyna y tocar diner. L’odi contret ja se li apagava,
tornava á conversar ab las donas, á mostrarse afable ab los nens, á
trobar bella á la Sileta, á somniar ab lo matrimoni, y son major goig
era á las tardes, quan tornantse’n á Pratbell ab los corns de sarria
plens de fruyta y verdura, pensava en los guanys ja próxims de la
cullita y en la que pera després prometía la vinya encara. L’arreplech
fet á La Coma li estalviava la despesa del hostal; no menjava sinó
verduras, cireras y peras, y com home previsor, omplía l’sostre de la
cuyna de restalleras de pebrots y bitxos que s’assecarían pera
l’hivern.

Quan la criada de Da. Tuyas vegé barrada la porta del castell desde’l
cap de la costa, torná enrera tota joyosa de no haver de trepitjar
aquella casa de la ramor. Da. Tuyas, rosegada d’una corcor que la
consumía, hagué d’insistir dos cops més, enviantli, lo derrer, una
carta que la criada tirá per la gatonera, arrencant á córrer tot seguit.

Llavors l’escanya-pobres se presentá, ascoltá ab atenció las penas y

travalls d’aquella viuda y restá tot d’una pessa al sentirli dir lo de la
ramor. Sa primera impresió fou molt semblant á la experimentada en
lo magatzém.

¡Es á dir que ja’s tornan á fixar en mí! pensá. S’esgroguehí, quedá
capficat una estona, y, arreu, ab una mirada guspirejant de goig, en
la que la mateixa Da. Tuyas, menos possehida d’ira, hauria llegit un
sobtat descobriment, respongué qu’era veritat.

—Cóm! —exclamá la viuda— Y goseu dirmho!

—Per qué m’ha enviat á cercar, vosté? pera que l’enganyi?

—Y goseu dirho!… —torná á fer Da. Tuyas, roja com un tomáquet.

—Ja ho veurá, parlém clar: qué vol dir ab aquestas exclamacions?
que creu vosté que jo ho faig?

—Si, ras y curt, aixó mateix. Vos desitjeu eternisarvos allí per una
miseria, robant lo pa d’una pobra viuda; y fent por á la gent,
escampeu aixís, ja no sóls á llogaters y compradors, sinó á la mateixa
mestressa, qu’os hi faria nosa.

L’escanya-pobres ascoltava badant son morret de furó y, en acabant,

replicá ab l’intenció d’una amenassa esglayadora:

—Be, donchs, tréguime’n. Ja veurém qui hi anirá á estar.

—Se quedará tancat á pany y clau.

—Que li deixá gayre’l baró, ab tot y esser un beneyt del cabás? Que
per ventura’s creu la gent que so jo qui fa la ramor?

—Ho esbombaré, jo —interposá la viuda ab l’imprudencia d’una dona

fora de sí.

—D’aixó ja se’n guardará com de caure —exclamá l’escanya-pobres,

fent un pas endavant pera dar major forsa á l’amenassa. Y, arreu,
endolsint lo tó: —Me sembla —prosseguí— que va mal aconsellada
vosté; si la gent té por al castell, no’l deixi sol, perque… hi calarán
foch.

Y en lo “hi calarán”, á Da. Tuyas li semblá entendre “hi calaré”,

quedant espalmada, retuda.
—Are, fassi’l que vulga. ¿No se li ofereix pas res mes? —afegí
l’escanya-pobres, veyentse vencedor.

La vella rodá’l cap, sens gosar á aixecarlo, consumint en silenci las

llágrimas de despit que l’ofegavan. Y darrera d’una pausa
embarrassosa, sentí que son enemich, posantli la má á la espatlla,
aixís parlava:

—Pe’l be que li vuy, ascóltim. Un dia,’l seu marit, Deu l’hagi

perdonat, me deya: “Olaguer, t’has de casar”. Lo seu consell me va
sobtar de debó, y ell, pera ferme agradós lo matrimoni, me va pintar
las virtuts de vosté, com estalviadora y dona de sa casa. Ni aixís vaig
volguer ascoltarlo per duas rahóns: perque ni’m feyan falta las donas,
ni personas estalviadoras y del bon seny de vosté’s troban per tot
arreu. Es, aném al dir, tan difícil com trobar homes de la meva lley…
y vosté era casada. Donchs bé; després hi he pensat molts cops: don
Magí tenia rahó; ni l’home ni la dona, quan tenen alguna cosa que
perdre, poden viure sols… y la dona menos encare, molt menos…
Créguim á mi: senyora Tuyas, casis.

L’aludida per fi aixecá’l cap, y topant ab la mirada traydora del

Olaguer, digué ab falsa rialleta:

—Es á dir que vos sabeu un modo de capitular?

—Crech que vosté m’ha entés.

—Y llavors no hi haurá ramor?

—May n’hi ha haguda.

—Donchs que deyau ara meteix?

—La gent veig que s’ho creu, y essent aixís es més fácil ferli sentir de
debó… Are falta saber, que jo un servey lo pago ab un altre servey.

—Sou ben dolent! Tinch set mesos pera pensarm’hi.

L’escanya-pobres arronsá las espatllas ab un cop nerviós, y ficantse

las mans á las butxacas, eixí escala avall, deixant á la vella pensativa.
 VII.
Durant aquells set mesos, lo defalliment de la viuda aná aumentant
al compás de las contrarietats que, per tots cantóns, li eixian. Queyan
rédits, y’ls deutors, uns apurats de debó, altres envalentonats per la
falta de D. Magí, de qui no gosaren riures com á curial qu’era, no
pagavan; los manuals havian desaparegut ja á mans del Notari nou;
l’oncle del difunt seguia en cartas y més cartas amenassant ab acudir
als tribunals si no se li restituhia la part de llegítima gravada, y no cal
dir que’l castell continuava en poder delescanya-pobres y ben lluny
del pensament de compradors ni llogaters. Da. Tuyas sentia
l’engunia de qui ha caigut al mitj del mar y no veu sino un baixell al
horitzó, peró lluny, lluny, que potser ni á temps arribarà pera
lliurarla de las famolencas onas. Que’l baixell sia gran ó xich, hermós
ó lleig, tant se val; lo cas es que vinga, que’l malhaurat agonisant
puga aferrarse á la soga y lliurarse de la mort. Per sórt seva,’l baixell
anava atansantse, tot ensemps que’l contraposat onatje empenyia á
ella cap al baixell salvador, com moguda d’invisible imán. Era una
atracció d’afinitat molecular, empenta, per un cantó y altre, de
necessitats aparelladas.

L’estiu, l’abundós estiu, havia passat, ab sas cullitas, ab tota

s’atmósfera d’or, pera deixarne una altre de plom més miserable y
aygualida; los brassos del pagés ja no s’obrian per no poder gayre bé
abastar las dauradas garbas ni las sucosas portadoras de most;
devant del amo, estava com un pobre, sempre parant la má, pidolant
sempre per abonos y conreus, com un sagristá per ciris, que l’amo no
veya lluhir; la terra tornava á estar pelada, vidriosa, morta, y á
Pratbell s’havia apagat lo burgit de vida que’l trasport de cullitas li
doná per un moment, abaltintse altre cop ab la tristesa dels dias
curts y’l remorós trontoll dels trens que seguian passant
d’esquitllébit, tan mofetas y ergullosos com sempre.

Altra vegada, donchs, estava l’escanya-pobres reclós en lo castell,

adorant sas unsas, devorat per la passió, y morint de frisansa cada
cop qu’havia d’abandonar la vila per’adinerar fruyts, perque temia
més y més aquell ditxós cop de má. Una dona pera férlashi centinella
li mancava; ja ho havia dit: “lo Notari tenia rahó”. Y si per cas,
somniant aixís, recordava á la Sileta, abaixava’l cap al pes del
impossible, y’s quedava aquella estrella pampallugant no més, en lo
cel boyrós de la passió, entelada y moribunda. Tot son amor, totas
sas tendresas, eran pe’l or, ¿á qué, donchs, la bellesa, la juventut ni
cap dels encisos que porta en si la dona per l’enamorat? De segur que
seria malgastadora, má-foradada, com la majoría. De segur que li
duria fills, un reguitzell de necessitats costosas de que fins are s’havía
passat. Ja ho insinuá aváns: ab una centinella’n tenia prou; y pera tal
ofici cap tan barata e idónea com la Tuyas. Si era carronya y
reganyosa, ja la posaria á rotllo, y després ni un guant. Ademés era
rica, un altre mitjot pera contar, novas talegas que aparellaria, qu’un
dia serian sevas, totas sevas.

Ab tals intents, lo garnéu del Olaguer procurá amanyagar á la vella,

arreu d’haverla esparverada. La visitava sovint, li parlava sempre
d’interessos, fentse, com qui no se n’adona,’l rich, pera enllepolirla, li
dava consells pera tráurela d’apuros, y, algun cop, al consell afegí sos
bons oficis, logrant arrancar de malpagadors los rédits desitjats. Y
si’s parlava d’aquell oncle ó d’algún deutor tossut, ben prompte
saltava ab sa deria sempiterna: “es perque la veuhen sola; una dona
no fa por.”

Aixís y sense una paraula d’amor, aná guanyant á l’interesada vella,

que, per sa part, buscava rasser y també talegas. Havent dominat al
Notari, ¿per qué desesperar d’un nou triomf? La gota forada la
penya, poch á poquet se vá lluny, y tal moltó escuat aná per llana y
torná esquilat. Aixís anaren ablanintse un y altre, y potser arribaren
á creure y tot que s’estimavan, al menos ella, lo dia que, concertant
las esposallas, la viuda li digué Olagueret y ell mastegá la paraula
Tuyetas.

Passats, donchs, los deu mesos de lley, lo casament se realisá. Ells no

volgueren pompas ni caramadas, no per avaricia ¡qu’es cas! sinó pera
evitarse esquellots, y rendir un tribut al dir de la gent que veya á la
viuda encare ab vestit tintat de negre, y de més á més sabia per boca
d’ells que’ls contrayents, si no eran pobres, poch se’n mancava.

Era una matinada d’Abril, xamosa y riolera per lo ras qu’estava el cel,
la fortor de rosas que duya’l ayre, la cantadissa de aucells que hi
havia per arbres y teuladas… y, en fi, perque xamosa y riolera la
veyan aquells sos sérs qu’anavan á assolir desitjos somniats. La vila
gayre be dormia encare, quan la benehida parella ja eixia de l’iglesia;
vestida de negre la nubia, peró ab la perruca un xich més lluhenta, la
mantellina posada ab més pretensións, una mica més encastat al cos
lo mocador gran, l’esguart més aixeribit, menos arrugat lo front,
menos caygudas las vermellas galtas y un poch més aprimat lo nas;
potser xuclant la fragancia de l’atmósfera. Lo nubi, que semblava fill
d’ella, anava en cambi com avergonyit, coto’l cap que cobria un bolet
fins á las orellas (un bolet del difunt), una americana ampla y curta
(americana del difunt), una armilla de quadros y un pantalón d’esca,
que tot Pratbell coneixia com prendas del difunt, closos los llabis
d’aquell morret de furó, las mans creuhadas al derrera, com si portés
grillets.

Sí, era una matinada d’Abril, xamosa y riolera, per lo ras qu’estava’l
cel, la fortor de rosas que duya’l ayre, la cantadissa de aucells que hi
havia per arbres y tauladas… y en fi perque’l Diable n’havia fet una de
las sevas.

Lo pis del notari Xirinach quedá tancat, ab papers als ferros dels
balcóns. Tots los mobles foren trasladats al castell, feta excepció de la
despintada taula de bayeta y cadira de brassos del escriptori, qu’ab
llur producte serviren pera pagar la muda. Aixís, quan la parella
arribá al palau de sos amors, tingué taula hont regalarse ab un
chocolate ab secalls servit per la coixeta, ab repiquets y tot de crossa.

Era, la coixeta, una hórfana de solemnitat que, cansada de parar la

má al portal de l’iglesia, mudava d’ofici, desafiant la por á las
fantasmas que l’antiga criada no pogué vencer.

—Oh, si no fos la costa! —havia dit la mestressa— fins d’aquésta me’n

passaria! Si no fa proba, ja anirá á plassa l’Olaguer.

L’Olaguer sortí á dar un tom per si topava ab un dels deutors més

tossuts, ferli saber, ensenyantli las dents, que d’aquella hora ensá
era’l marit de la Tuyas. Aquésta’s passá tot lo matí arreglant las
pessas de dalt, hont havian posat molta part dels mobles del Notari.
Mes tart baixá y’s tancá de part de dins en lo dormitori nupcial
qu’era al cap del corredor inmediat á la cuyna, altre temps destinat
als porters. Peró’ls nous senyors estavan més per viure á peu plá que
no per muntar escalas y atravessar aquellas salassas hont se perdian
com formigas. Per altra part, com qu’aquell dormitori dels porters
havia sigut habitat fins á darrera hora pe’ls guardians que hi tingué’l
baró, estava ben apariat de vidres y fustas, y aixó estalviava gastos;
donava á mitjdia y aixó’l feya calent com un turró sens necessitat de
braser; s’asqueya sota d’una torra ab volta de pedra per trespol, y
aixó’l posava á cobert de fòch y de lladres. La coixeta dormiria en la
cambreta del costat del rebost qu’era darrera la llar, y aixís, tancant
la cuyna, quedavan tancats y barrats per una porta més: tres,
contanthi la forana. Reunint aytals condicions, be podian donchs
escullir aquell dormitori, prescindint de si la cals de las parets era ja
un xich massa rossa y escrostonada en certs indrets com mostrant
llagas de pedra, y fent cas omís de las dimensions de l’alcova, qu’ab
lo llit de matrimoni tot arrambat á un cantó en prou feynas permetia
una cadira. A la saleta, en cambi, se n’hi encabian tres, la calaixera de
la Tuyas, demunt de la qual posava son tocadoret de calaix, un bagul,
un tres-peus pera rentarse, y penjada en un clau de ganxo, la
carrabina del Olaguer. ¿Qué més podria desitjar un matrimoni
senzill?

Dinaren frugalment, perque era primavera, y després donaren

comiat á la criada.

—Avuy s’hi ha de conéixer —li digué donya Tuyas, que de la mort del
Notari ensá per tothom havia perdut lo Don, llevat de las minyonas—