A/N: Thanks as always for the reviews!!! I am amazed at how many of ya'll have wished for (or actually had) hot teachers to ogle- I thought I was the only one ;) So, more bom-chicka-wa-wow in this chapter, but the next few will probably have lemons of the less pulpy, descriptive variety. I mean, there has to be some plot, right? :D Bon appetit!
Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to Charlaine Harris...and maybe also the phrase, "pleased as punch."
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I drove for about half an hour through the country to reach Eric's house, not including the time it took me to get from Gran's to the "center" of Bon Temps. The house itself was a decent size and looked like it had only recently been built. There was a lot of cleared land and some forest area around it, and I took in the peaceful, lushly green surroundings as I drove up the graveled driveway.
His black Chevy pick-up sat in front of the house, but I caught a glimpse of something red inside of the one-car garage. I parked behind his truck and gave myself a final once-over in my rearview mirror. Hair not flat or frizzy? Check. Lips glistening with cotton candy-flavored lip gloss? Check. Self-restraint? Er, that one might need some work. It was too late to try, though, because the front door opened just as I slid out of my car and smoothed down my crimson sheath dress. Slamming my car door shut, I took a deep breath and determinedly strode up to meet him.
He was wearing a light blue, collared shirt that perfectly complimented his eyes, which were smiling amusedly at me, and casual khaki pants. I grimly returned the smile, trying to hide the fact that I really just wanted to rip that shirt off of him and maybe reenact that earlier scene from the bathroom. In order to avoid any contact that might make me waver in my resolve to act rationally, I moved automatically with a businesslike manner and stuck out my hand to shake his.
"Eric, thanks for inviting me over for dinner," I said, hoping that this was how mature adults acted in these kinds of situations. Must control self, an ADULT would not lunge at their host and knock him to the ground in a desperate attempt to make out and is that Armani cologne? Oh, he is so not playing fair!
"Sookie, you are a vision," he spoke warmly, and casually brushed my hand aside with his forearm as he reached for my cheek and lightly kissed it.
"Thanks. You look...nice, too." Nice? NICE? He looks like a hot hunk 'o man meat! my mind screamed at me.
"Is everything okay? You looked like you were preparing to invade Normandy as you were walking up here," he teased lightly.
"What? No, no, I wasn't thinking about anything that serious. Um, just your last lesson. Ya' know, those crazy Greeks were just so, um, crazy?" I finished lamely.
He gave me an incredulous look before asking, "Are you nervous about something, Sookie?"
I gulped a little as I looked into those sky blue eyes.
After a moment, he smirked at me knowingly. "Ah, I see. Well, let's get that out of the way, shall we?" And in one smooth movement, he dipped me to the side and planted on my lips the smooch to end all smooches. Surprised, I just held onto his shoulders and decided that to heck with it, I was going to enjoy myself tonight and not worry about what he or anyone else would think about my behavior.
Eventually, he pulled us both upright and his lips broke away from mine.
"Better?"
I laughed, feeling my anxieties entirely dissipate. "Yes, much."
Suddenly, I sniffed the air.
"Eric, is something burning?"
His eyes widened comically and he swore under his breath as he rushed to the kitchen.
I shut the front door gently and followed him, taking in the simplicity of the house as I walked through it. The colors were all earth tones, forest greens and light browns and creams and grays, with a few Italian themed images and structures strewn about. It seemed as though he had mostly unpacked, but there were still a few boxes still lying about. The living room was on my left, the dining room just past it, and finally I reached the kitchen, where thin smoke was curling out of the oven.
Eric quickly turned off the stove and opened it. Smoke poured out and, while trying to wave it away with a kitchen towel, he covered his mouth with his arm and turned on the vents. From the doorway, I could see a half-charred, gooey mess sitting in a pan in the oven. Finally, when most of the smoke had cleared, he turned around to me with a sheepish expression. I raised an eyebrow and did the only thing I could do under the circumstances: I started laughing.
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and admitted, "It has been a while since I have made anything more complicated than a sandwich." As he ran a hand exasperatedly through his loose hair, I noticed that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. He wasn't wearing his ring. Suddenly, I didn't care if he had burned ten dinners. The whole point of the evening was for us to get to know each other, so I was happy to discover something new about him, (even if it was that he couldn't cook).
But I did find it kind of adorable that he had tried and failed so spectacularly.
I walked over to his fridge, opened it, and rummaged around a little. Pulling out a few items, I set them by the stove and confidently turned to meet his gaze.
"I'm going to cook for you. How does rosemary and lemon chicken with potatoes au gratin and steamed broccoli sound?"
He stared at me for a second. "I have all of that in my fridge?"
I giggled a little, shaking my head. "In parts, yes. I might have to improvise a little here, but I think it'll turn out okay. And don't think you're getting off the hook, buddy." I found the utensils' drawer and, luckily, a potato peeler. Handing it to him and pushing the potatoes in his direction, I said authoritatively, "Wash these and peel them."
I noticed something was missing and returned to the fridge. As I stepped back and turned around, he was right there behind me and I met the hard wall that was his chest. Gazing up, I saw that he was considering me with what was becoming a familiar combination of lust and admiration.
"I can't remember the last time someone cooked for me. And especially someone wearing something so...alluring," he purred sensually, placing his hands on my hips and lightly stroking them with his thumbs.
I asked, in what I hoped was a casual tone, "Your ex-wife didn't cook?"
His hands stilled, his eyes iced over, and he was stone-faced and silent.
Blushing at my faux pas, I stepped around him and tried to busy myself with the ingredients.
Nice going, dummy, to bring up the wife that cheated on him. Maybe next you should bring up religion or politics. Or ask him what he thinks might happen if we get caught dating...or whatever it is that we're doing.
"I apologize for my rudeness, Sookie, but I would prefer not to discuss her." He approached me and, brushing my hair aside, placed a tender kiss on my neck. "I would much rather hear about you and how you became such a knowledgeable cook."
As I told him about Jason and I going to live with Gran after my parents had died, and about how she had been the one who always encouraged me to be self sufficient, he worked on the potatoes next to me, listening intently but respecting the narrative flow. It was a comfortably domestic scene; I felt like I might be happy to do this every night for the rest of my life. And considering that I had only just turned eighteen, with the "whole world in front of me," it scared me little.
It was also pretty darn sexy. Every once in a while, I would furtively glance over at him and melt a little at the sight that greeted me. With his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his strong, lightly tanned arms, and his large hands gripping the vegetable, and those long agile fingers wrapped around it...I tried not to be jealous of the potatoes, but it was difficult, and I found myself semi-relieved after he had finished.
Eventually, all of the other prep work was finished, too. The two dishes were baking in the oven, and the broccoli was ready to be steamed. We went into the living room to relax, and Eric poured two glasses of white wine as we settled on the couch.
I discovered more about his family, (he spoke fondly of them: his father owned a small business in Stockholm, his mother was a homemaker, and all three of his sisters were older than him and acted like mini-mothers; this was part of the reason why he wanted to study abroad, and why he couldn't cook).
He was also enthusiastic about his experiences in Austin, saying that it was a "weird" but vibrant city, and there was constantly something new to do (live music festivals, parks and swimming spots, historical sites, uniquely funky restaurants, etc). The best part of his description, though, was when he told me unthinkingly that I would love it and that we would have to go sometime.
Our meal was finally ready, and as we sat down to eat, he first pulled out my chair for me before seating himself. I tried not to swoon but couldn't help a miniature one- Southern men are supposed to be known for their manners, but I'd still only ever seen that happen in movies.
I waited, slightly anxious, as he took his first bite. He chewed and swallowed completely before looking at me.
"Sookie, this might be the best thing I've ever had in my mouth," he said honestly.
I grinned, pleased as punch, and then dug in.
As we ate, we continued our conversation, moving from our backgrounds to other broader topics. He couldn't believe that I had never seen Goodfellas or The Godfather or anything by someone named Clinton Tarantina; I couldn't believe that he had never been to a honky tonk, or two-stepping, or celebrated Mardi Gras.
"You lived in Texas for four years! There's no excuse- we have to go to Outlaws sometime soon, or else," I said, making a reference to the famous country bar in Shreveport, which wasn't far from here.
"That sounds like an offer I can't refuse," he joked. I stared at him blankly and he shook his head in mock pity. "You have been an American for eighteen years but apparently, I am going to have to educate you on classic American cinema."
His words, (eighteen, educate) brought me back to the current predicament in which we found ourselves. So far, we had spoken candidly about everything except for school, and her. But I decided that I didn't want to ruin what was otherwise turning out to be a fantastic first date, so I mentally let it slide.
After Eric had cleaned up (I tried to help, but he looked offended and said that it was the least he could do), we had coffee and dessert (pecan pie, from a local bakery, and vanilla ice-cream). At some point I had slipped out of my shoes and Eric, who had finished his piece of pie, had pulled my feet into his lap, massaging them as we spoke.
As he worked out one kink in particular, I leaned my head back and moaned, "Mmm, God, that feels so good." His eyes shot to mine and I realized how overtly sexual I sounded. He smiled wickedly, like the giant blonde Viking who ate the canary. Or who was about to.
Well, I don't know if it was the wine or the coffee or Eric's ability to make peeling potatoes look sexy, but I felt brazen enough to move my other foot from his chair to his thigh. Quicker than a flash, he stood, letting my feet drop to the floor. Not to be outdone, I jumped up just as he had started to lean over me. I placed my palm on his chest and, hooking my index finger on the button of his slightly opened shirt, I pulled him to me.
Smiling coyly even as my heart threatened to burst out of my chest, I said, "Mister Northman, I think we have a score to settle." I made sure that his eyes, which were turning a tumultuous blue even as I spoke, watched my other hand as it snaked downward and adroitly unbuttoned his pants. I slipped inside and, blushing slightly after realizing that he had scandalously gone commando, I hesitantly gripped his erection. Woah. His eyes smugly met mine as I realized exactly how big that score was. However, I was determined to make turnabout a fair play and I began stroking him slowly and more firmly.
I was trying not to worry, but my sexual experience was so limited that I was panicking slightly, trying to think of what to do next. Oral sex? How could I start that? I knew all of the technical stuff, but the actual motions- could I do it?
Luckily, Eric decided the next step. When my thumb grazed the tip of his penis, which was leaking precum, he groaned loudly and pulled back from me and out of my grasp.
I bit my lip nervously as his dark, dangerous eyes burned into me. "I..I...I'm s-s-sorry," I stuttered, embarrassed that I had done something wrong or accidentally hurt him, and ashamed that my attempt at confidence had led me so far astray.
God, no wonder Bill hadn't stayed for a second time. I was pathetic at this.
A tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it. Eric's ardor dimmed and his expression rapidly changed to confusion.
"Sookie, don't apologize, please, if you are not comfortable with this, we should stop."
"Yeah, maybe we should," I said quietly, looking away. "Eric, I'm sorry if I hurt you, all of this is new to me, I've never really been physical or intimate with anyone before except..." My voice trailed off as he began to smile. Great, now he was laughing at me. My humiliation turned to anger. I didn't need this. Fuck. Him. I turned on my heel and stalked off.
Of course, he caught up with me in about half a second, and grabbed my wrist to make me turn around. I struggled for a moment when he swooped down to kiss me, but even Wonderwoman couldn't have resisted those lips. He finally broke away but continued to smile at me.
"Sookie, you're a darling, you know that?"
I frowned.
"I wanted you to stop because I was about embarrass myself and cum into your hand like a thirteen-year-old schoolboy." He placed my hand on his pants so that I could feel his rock-hard erection. "Can't you tell how much I want you? You're beautiful and intelligent and cook like a goddess- I don't give a damn about 'experience.' The only thing I insist on is honesty. I just want you to be yourself."
Still self-conscious, I barely stroked him. "Myself doesn't know what the heck it's doing, Eric! I just, I want to it to be as good for you as it is for me, and I don't know how..."
He kissed me. It started lightly and grew quickly in intensity. When I tried to move my hand, he wouldn't let me. When I tried to move his hand to my breast, he wouldn't let me. Finally, I pulled away, breathless and confused.
He spoke carefully. "Sookie, I think we should take this more slowly. Obviously there is an attraction here, but we don't have to rush into anything."
I stared in disbelief. "You don't think I can keep up."
"Now, Sookie, I have demonstrated very physically," and here he ground into me a little, "that I think you are more than equal to the task. I just think on an emotional level, we should take a step back. I recently have come out of a long relationship, you also seem a little unsure of-" I pounced on him, knocking him back to the couch. "Sookie, what the hell?" he protested as I cut him off by hungrily pressing my lips to his.
I went on instinct, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. Holy mother of God, he was HUGE! I tried not to think about how he might not fit in me as I pumped him in long, hard, torturously slow strokes. Looking directly into his eyes, which were practically turning black, I asked innocently, "Mr. Northman, will you be taking a grade on this?"
He seemed to have a delayed understanding of words at that point because he didn't answer but only watched, fascinated as I stuck my tongue out and licked the weeping slit of his cock. He jerked slightly and then when I took the entire head into my mouth, he grabbed the couch and groaned. I noticed with satisfaction that he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of me.
My attention returned to the task at hand, literally. It felt like I was sucking on a ridiculously large jawbreaker. I went partly on instinct, partly on vague memories of some crude stories Amelia had told me about her own adventures, and tried not to let my teeth touch him as I took more of his hard length into my mouth. This seemed to be the right thing to do because Eric groaned again and moved one hand to my hair.
"Sookie, Jesus, God, feels so good..." he mumbled, tilting his head back.
I continued to suck and pump for a bit longer, and then totally removed my mouth and hands. He looked at me as if in a daze.
"Use your words to tell me what you want," I said patronizingly, in an echo of his teasing in the bathroom earlier.
Eric, however, was not amused. He stood, zipped his pants, and I rocked back onto my butt, thinking that maybe I had gone a little too far. But then he bent down and scooped me up. I asked him where we were going but he didn't answer. We entered what must have been his bedroom, and he unceremoniously threw me on the bed. Without giving me a chance to settle, he covered his body with mine, pulling my legs to cross behind his back, kissing me deeply, and grinding into me at a steady pace.
We are in Eric's bed. We are about to have sex, I thought wondrously.
Somehow we managed to twist, albeit messily, out of our clothes and suddenly it was just him and me, as naked as Adam and Eve. He was still on top of me, his erection pressing into my thigh as we kissed. Finally Eric pulled back and reached for something in his bedside drawer. I shook my head and whispered shyly that I was on the pill, and then slid up to the pillow. He joined me again, kissing me thoroughly before his hand moved between us. I drew in a breath as he guided his cock to my tight, slick entrance. He pushed the tip of it in slowly, and my head pressed back against the pillow. There was a small twinge of pain, but it was overshadowed by the insanely pleasurable feeling of being filled by him. He continued to ease himself in, swiveling a little so that he rubbed against my clit and I became wetter and more lubricated.
Once he was completely seated inside of me, I instinctively wrapped my legs around his back, as if to keep him there. My brain was on autopilot. So good, so good, so good, it repeated constantly. He looked into my eyes and said passionately, "So wet and tight for me, Susannah. Only for me. You are mine."
Never did I think that the caveman, possessive thing would do it for me, but boy-oh-boy had I been wrong. I moaned at his words, and then again, louder, when he pulled out a little and thrust in gently. At first, his size was so overwhelming that I couldn't move. His hand descended and his fingers played my clit. The next time he pulled out and thrust in, I moved my hips to mirror his. We did this a few times, until the depth of his thrusts increased and my hips started moving faster to met his in a steady rhythm.
"Sookie, Sookie, fuck, so tight, so good," Eric was practically chanting as he pounded into me and I rocked back eagerly against him. He was obviously the talker of the two of us; I couldn't vocalize a solid word, only breathy moans. I felt the most delicious pressure building in my belly and I grasped onto his shoulders, encouraging him as he rode me harder, faster, deeper. My eyes gazed lustfully and wantonly into his, and I finally had coherent thought. This is how it should always be. This is right. The thought ended as his hand moved back down between us and rubbed my pleasure center. I exploded, there was no other word for it, keening loudly. My inner muscles clenched around his cock, and Eric buried himself inside of me, roaring my name as he came.
He collapsed none-too-gently on top of me, and we panted as our sweat-slicked bodies slid against each other. He started to raise himself up, but I whimpered slightly and tightened my arms and legs around him. He stopped and instead wrapped his arms under and around me. I loved feeling his entire weight pressed onto me; it made me feel secure and happy.
Eventually, I released him. He rolled to his side and then moved to spoon me. I was so exhausted that I barely registered the kiss he placed on my shoulder. With his arms around me, I drifted off to sleep.
And unlike my first experience, I awoke blissfully sated the next morning, still in Eric's embrace.
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Coming up: Back to class! How will it be now that the weekend and honeymoon, so to speak, are over? And the much anticipated introduction of The Villain, who I didn't get to because Mr. Northman seduced me with promises of opportunities for extra credit :D