Personal Tutoring

Maya is used to being invisible to guys. Especially guys like Dean, who she tutors every week in his college dorm room.. She manages to hide her attraction to him until the day she accidentally catches a glimpse of him. First with a girl, then taking care of his desires on his own. When she's caught watching him, his response is anything but what she expected, leading them both into a very different kind of tutoring session. The bare and unprotected kind...

Excerpt:
I ignored the smirk on John's face as I moved into the apartment. That look was pretty much his default expression anyway, as if he were constantly amused by something that no one else knew, yet couldn't be bothered to share the joke with the rest of us. I wasn't here for him, anyway, so I'd long learned that it wasn't worth paying him the attention.

Good or bad, he took any response as flirting. Convinced that he was also far more irresistible to every girl who crossed his path than he actually was.

It was his roommate that was actually the irresistible one, not that I'd ever admit it. Dean had every girl on campus chasing after him already, and he certainly didn't need the awkwardness that would come if he knew that his tutor was also lusting after him.

I ignored the tiny flutter of desire that rippled through my body. Just the thought of him made heat rush through my veins and thanks to him, I'd also learned what it was like to have my panties soaked with desire.

I'd never felt that way for any other guy, which probably a good part of the reason why I was still a virgin.

Not that anyone from Dean or John's circle of friends would ever have believed me capable of feeling any sort of desire anyway. To them, anyone smart enough to be hired as a tutor—in any subject—was automatically considered a nerd. And nerds, especially girl nerds, were supposed to be prudes.

At the moment, I felt far from prudish and definitely more than a little overheated.

Especially when I stepped into the hall just outside of Dean's bedroom. His door was closed and locked, even though I knew he had been expecting me. I always arrived at exactly the same time every week.

But it quickly became clear that he wasn't alone.

There was a loud and rhythmic banging, which I suspected was coming from his headboard knocking into the wall, along with a distinctly female voice shouting, “Oh, God, Dean! Yes, oh yes, fuck me harder!”

I didn't know whether to laugh or groan. I might not have first-hand experience with sex myself, but it sounded so much like the porn videos I'd seen on the internet that there was a ring of falseness to her cries. Like she was faking her responses.

Surely no one would really say things like that—exactly like that—if they were truly swept away in the throes of passion.

I couldn't understand how any woman would feel the need to falsify their responses with Dean. Hell, I couldn't imagine how any of them could not be so turned on by him that they could not do anything except lose control completely.

Then again, that might just be more proof of just how Dean was out of my league.

Even in my fantasies, despite the fact that he had starred in my dreams every night.

I squirmed and pressed my thighs together. Wishing that I could take the place of that unseen girl. That just once, I could feel Dean on top of me. Inside me.

Fucking me.

I wouldn’t ask for more than once, because I was sure that being fucked by him would be an experience of a lifetime.

And it was entirely possible to overdose on a good thing. Or so I’d heard.