before you ask. I’m not sure how I feel about making it a communal activity.”
“But we are all of us just bodies,” Thor said. “Flesh and blood. Bones and sinew. Beautiful in our own ways.”
And there was something about the heat, the wet. It sank into him, smoothing out the edges of that hollow place in his chest. Or maybe it was her. His suspicious professor. Maybe it was something about the way Margot tipped her head back to look up at him, and didn’t seem to care that her mouth looked so vulnerable.
He had the disarming notion that it was entirely too possible that she didn’t know.
“Of course,” she said, but her voice had gone soft. Ragged. “Just bodies. Just a selection of interlocking parts. Nothing but a complicated handshake or two, the way people like to perform them.”
Thor wasn’t thinking. That was what he told himself, anyway. The water pounded down around them, locking them away in all the steam and heat. He reached over and found her hand, one and then the next. He laced their fingers together into a new kind of complicated handshake and then backed her up until she was pressed against the slickness of the far wall.
Her lips parted a little, just enough to drive him crazy. Vulnerable and challenging at once, and he...forgot himself. He bent his head and moved to fit his mouth to hers—
“No,” she said, though the word sounded like more of a question. “No kissing, remember?”
Thor didn’t want to remember. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to glut himself on her.
He wanted in ways as new to him as she was.
But he acquiesced, dropping his head to the line of her neck instead. And his hands rose almost of their own accord, lifting hers until he could pin them, one on either side of her head—and that mouth she continued to deny him.
“Thor...” she moaned as he made her shiver.
It was only sex. They were only bodies.
Or so he kept telling himself.
He didn’t want to feel hollow. He didn’t want to feel anything at all except sated. He dropped to his knees before her, finding her nipples again. He let go of one of her hands and traced his way down the length of her body as he sucked on one breast, exulting in the broken little moans she let out.
He found her pussy wet. Hot. And he didn’t wait. He plunged his fingers deep inside her, using his thumb to drag against her clit on the outstroke.
Thor didn’t know what he was proving. He didn’t know what he was trying to do.
But then he didn’t care, because Margot was so ripe and so lush and she came apart beneath his hands and his mouth as if she had been put on this earth for that purpose alone.
Just bodies, he told himself as Margot’s cries echoed off the tiles of his shower.
Thor told himself that was what he had wanted. Exactly that sound she made. The way she clenched around his fingers. The sweet velvet of her nipples, the way she threw her head back, the line of her throat as she gave herself over to abandon.
That was what he wanted. Nothing else.
Because there was nothing else, he told himself sharply, no matter how beautifully she came for him.
He stood and didn’t know what he meant to do next. There were too many competing things fighting for supremacy inside him. Too many of those layers he didn’t want to admit were there.
It took a moment for Margot’s eyes to open, but when they did, they were bright gold.
And she smiled—and this time there was nothing the least bit awkward about it. It felt a little too much like spring to a man who’d been raised in relentless winter.
She didn’t say a word. She simply knelt down before him and tipped her head back so he could see the exquisite hunger all over her face. She wrapped her hands around his cock, smiled again and took him deep into her mouth.
“Look at you,” Margot murmured after she’d sucked him in deep and then taken her time dragging her mouth off him again, scraping her teeth against the back of his head as she went. “You really do defy your own biology, don’t you?”
But she didn’t give him a chance to answer. And Thor couldn’t think straight when she took him deep in that mouth of hers again and again.
Her mouth was so hot. Her tongue moved against the plump head of his cock, swirling and dancing and sending that crackling electric current all throughout his body. He leaned back against the wall of the shower, slightly concerned his legs might give out, and anchored himself with one hand sunk deep in her streaming wet hair.
But he didn’t try to guide her. He wanted to see what she’d do, so he let her do her worst.
And Margot explored him. She licked him up and down as if he was dessert, and then she took him in deep, as if she was teaching herself how to deep throat right here in his own shower.
He meant to pull out. To give her warning or lift her up against him so he could ride her into completion again—but she didn’t stop. It was as if she felt his balls tighten, his whole body stiffen, and she took him in even deeper—
Then listened to him groan as he poured himself down her throat.
And when he pulled himself out of her mouth at last, she was still kneeling there, her face tipped up to his while the water fell all around her, her smile wide and pleased.
Something gleaming brighter than gold in her gaze.
And Thor knew this was more than a run-of-the-mill hangover.
His professor was trouble.
“YOU MUST BE HUNGRY,” Thor said with a kind of easy courtesy that reminded her who he was. What he did.
And why she was here.
Margot was grateful. She was humming inside, as if she’d been tuned to a station she couldn’t hear with her ears but could feel in every part of her flesh and deep into her bones. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but that humming thing made it impossible to find that as terrifying as she might have otherwise. As perhaps she should have.
There was some kind of magic in this place, she couldn’t keep herself from thinking, and it didn’t seem to matter that she was a rational woman of scientific inquiry who didn’t believe in magic.
There was some kind of magic in this man, too.
It wasn’t that Margot had ever disliked performing oral sex, per se, because she didn’t. She hadn’t. It wasn’t her favorite thing in the world to do, of course, but it was always the other aspects of the act that had gotten to her more than the main event.
Like the positions it required her to get into. Kneeling, for example. So submissive and problematic, especially when a man wrapped his hands
