Words of Lust Read Online Free Page B
Author: Lise Horton
looking for some of the titles Gia had already emailed to him. The Goth girl who worked there waxed rhapsodically about his choices, and her own knowledge of dirty books seemed pretty comprehensive. Maybe it was a female thing. He finally settled on Lolita , Tropic of Cancer and a book of the letters Gia had mentioned, figuring they’d be sexy and romantic. An unbeatable combo for a guy looking to impress a smart lady right into bed. He was more a Milton T. Burton, James Lee Burke kind of guy, but he figured for Luscious Luca, he’d happily dust off his brain and plow through some serious literature. Especially since it was guaranteed to make him horny. The salesgirl said so.
* * *
She stripped off her dress and underwear and slid into her comfy clothes before dumping all the pop quizzes she needed to grade out of her bag. After organizing everything at her desk and pulling out the dreaded red pen, she took a moment to listen to her messages.
Two from the dean, who’d emailed as well, begging her to take on another section because that professor had had an emergency appendectomy and was out for the remainder of the semester. She deleted them since she’d already spoken to him and agreed, though against her better judgment. Outside of Nabokov, the Russians were way outside of her comfort zone, literarily speaking, and she certainly wasn’t going to have the time to reread the entire zaftig canon of those dour gentlemen. Maybe she’d manage some Chekhov short fiction, some Ahkmatova poems and some of the shorter novels. War and Peace and Anna Karenina were not happening. She’d raised that point and the dean had agreed she should tweak the curriculum a bit, so she’d brought the printout home to decide which writings might be appropriate to replace the original selections for the remaining six weeks of class.
She deleted a few robo-calls preceding the final message, a titillating surprise that left her feeling especially breathy.
“Hi, Professor Luca. This is Nick Stellato. The foreman from the work site this morning? I just wanted to call and apologize again, and let you know it looks like the union is on our side in this. Boxer’s done. Figured you’d want to know, anyway. I was, also, well, how about I take you out to dinner to make up for all the abuse you’ve had to take from my guys? Which, by the way, I’ve put a stop to. I’ve told them from now on, they are going to be perfect gentlemen or else feel the pain. I’ll kick their asses if they so much as whistle, even if I have to take them on one after another. My cell number is 347-555-1212. I don’t know your schedule, but I’m free every night except tomorrow, Tuesday, so whatever works for you. Have a good evening and sweet dreams.”
His parting words were a particular surprise. They said sex, loud and clear, and a delicious shiver of desire sweep through her at the husky, intimate tone. He’d obviously left the message the night before. In the insanity of her day and the lingering tension from the morning’s altercation, she had completely forgotten to listen to the calls. Her friends thought she was nuts to even have a landline, but after the last blackout she’d decided she always wanted to be one of the lucky people with a hardwired phone.
Her finger hovered over the delete button. In the end, after a long minute of vacillation, she transcribed his number from the message. It was probably just a nice gesture on his part. An apology. Maybe to keep her from making a fuss. She would just call him back and let him off the hook.
She listened to his message again, then returned the call. The phone rang only once before his rich baritone startled her. She hadn’t even had time to prepare her speech and now there she was, all breathless again at the sound of his voice.
“Hello, Mr. Stellato. It’s Serafina Luca. From yesterday morning? I’m sorry—I was out late last night and I just heard your message now. It’s very nice of you to
* * *
She stripped off her dress and underwear and slid into her comfy clothes before dumping all the pop quizzes she needed to grade out of her bag. After organizing everything at her desk and pulling out the dreaded red pen, she took a moment to listen to her messages.
Two from the dean, who’d emailed as well, begging her to take on another section because that professor had had an emergency appendectomy and was out for the remainder of the semester. She deleted them since she’d already spoken to him and agreed, though against her better judgment. Outside of Nabokov, the Russians were way outside of her comfort zone, literarily speaking, and she certainly wasn’t going to have the time to reread the entire zaftig canon of those dour gentlemen. Maybe she’d manage some Chekhov short fiction, some Ahkmatova poems and some of the shorter novels. War and Peace and Anna Karenina were not happening. She’d raised that point and the dean had agreed she should tweak the curriculum a bit, so she’d brought the printout home to decide which writings might be appropriate to replace the original selections for the remaining six weeks of class.
She deleted a few robo-calls preceding the final message, a titillating surprise that left her feeling especially breathy.
“Hi, Professor Luca. This is Nick Stellato. The foreman from the work site this morning? I just wanted to call and apologize again, and let you know it looks like the union is on our side in this. Boxer’s done. Figured you’d want to know, anyway. I was, also, well, how about I take you out to dinner to make up for all the abuse you’ve had to take from my guys? Which, by the way, I’ve put a stop to. I’ve told them from now on, they are going to be perfect gentlemen or else feel the pain. I’ll kick their asses if they so much as whistle, even if I have to take them on one after another. My cell number is 347-555-1212. I don’t know your schedule, but I’m free every night except tomorrow, Tuesday, so whatever works for you. Have a good evening and sweet dreams.”
His parting words were a particular surprise. They said sex, loud and clear, and a delicious shiver of desire sweep through her at the husky, intimate tone. He’d obviously left the message the night before. In the insanity of her day and the lingering tension from the morning’s altercation, she had completely forgotten to listen to the calls. Her friends thought she was nuts to even have a landline, but after the last blackout she’d decided she always wanted to be one of the lucky people with a hardwired phone.
Her finger hovered over the delete button. In the end, after a long minute of vacillation, she transcribed his number from the message. It was probably just a nice gesture on his part. An apology. Maybe to keep her from making a fuss. She would just call him back and let him off the hook.
She listened to his message again, then returned the call. The phone rang only once before his rich baritone startled her. She hadn’t even had time to prepare her speech and now there she was, all breathless again at the sound of his voice.
“Hello, Mr. Stellato. It’s Serafina Luca. From yesterday morning? I’m sorry—I was out late last night and I just heard your message now. It’s very nice of you to
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