The Sex Trap Read online

  She grinned happily. “Oh, it wasn’t that good! We’ll have a much better time in bed tonight, I’m sure, now that we’re getting to know what each of us likes, I mean.”

  Holy Mother of God! Better than last night? Is she insane? That was the best sex two people ever had together…ever!

  A thought struck him. Was it possible the she was so good in bed that sex for her was that good every time? Was that why she was so sure that tonight would be even better?

  His mind reeled at the notion. He thought of Aaron, the ex-boyfriend and suddenly understood why he had been so adamant about holding onto Miranda. Who in their right mind would give up a girl like her--who could do what she could do with this perfect little body of hers--without a fight?

  “Can I fix you some breakfast?” she asked.

  “You cook too?” He was mesmerized by her.

  “Well, I can’t make fancy stuff like you do, French sauce and all that, but I can fry an egg,” She smiled at him. “That is…unless you’d like something else as a little appetizer first?”

  Her hand slipped below the covers and touched his limp manhood, which began to stiffen immediately. He looked at the clock. Class didn’t start for two hours.

  Come here, you little vixen,” he growled, gathering her small, delectable little body into his arms, wincing just slightly as his injured rib throbbed anew.

  * * * *

  Liam Donnelly plucked his scant mail from the pigeonhole in the English Department office and leafed through it, heading down the hall toward his classroom. He was whistling and smiling as he glanced at one unimportant envelope after the other.

  Smiling? Whistling?” a disbelieving male voice asked when he was halfway to his classroom door. “Who the devil are you and what have you done with our dour colleague, Liam?”

  “Very droll, I’m sure, Scott,” Liam looked up from his mail into the smiling face of Thomas Scott, one of his departmental colleagues.

  “Seriously, Liam, what’s got you in such a good mood?” Scott, always quick with a jibe or a quip—a young smartass, really--demanded.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Tom, just one of those mornings, I guess. Just woke up feeling quite chipper for some reason.”

  * * * *

  Miranda Calvin was feeling even more chipper than Liam at that moment. She was wearing only the old robe she’d found in his closet, sitting in front of the personal computer in his study, sipping a cup of excellent coffee and checking out his savings account, his IRA, his checking account, and his stock portfolio in great detail.

  “Fuck, too, Liam!” she was impressed as could be by the numbers she saw.

  She didn’t know what kind of side action this dude had going, but all of this hadn’t come from teaching at the local university, she was sure of that. The guy had two million dollars worth of holdings in his stock account, and it looked as if he was a very savvy, active trader, making it grow on a regular, almost daily basis. His checking account had nearly thirty grand in it and his savings account held another cool hundred K!

  “This fucker is loaded!” she sighed happily, clicking back onto the IRA and nodding approvingly.

  She shut down the stuff she’d been looking at and went into his history, deleting her recent activities, just in case dear Liam turned out to be a computer whiz as well as a rich professor. Satisfied that he couldn’t discover that she’d been peeking into his accounts, she put the pc back into the sleep mode she’d found it in and got up from his big, polished mahogany desk.

  Sipping more coffee, she wandered around the room, looking at the bookshelves that lined two of the walls, floor to nearly eight feet up, all hardbound books, not a paperback in sight.

  This place is like living in a fucking library. Bookcases in the living room, bookcases in Liam’s master bedroom, bookcases in here, and bookcases in that slick rec room of his, on the wall opposite the bar.

  She spotted six books at eye level, all featuring the same sort of jackets; different colors, but clearly issued by the same publisher. It wasn’t the jackets that had caught her eye; it was the author’s name spelled out in bold print of each of them that attracted her attention—Liam Donnelly!

  “Whoa! Maybe he’s, like, Clive Cussler or somebody famous like that!”

  Maybe that’s where all the loot comes from…royalties on bestsellers? She picked up one of the books.

  The title wasn’t promising, as far as bestsellers went. “Exploring Archetypal Symbolism in Poetry: Byron, Keats, and Shelley” did not sound like something that would exactly fly off the shelves like Raise the Titanic or something.

  She glanced at the other titles by Liam and saw that it was the same kind of dry, academic, dullsville, stuff. She put the book back on the shelf, unopened, and frowned.

  No, that wasn’t where his money had come from.

  Nobody in his right mind would buy those unless they were having a problem sleeping at night. One chapter of one of the professor’s books would put the average guy to sleep faster than if he had taken a pill or something…

  * * * *

  “Are you bringing a date to Jerry’s birthday party?” Percy asked Liam for a second time. It seemed that his friend had been woolgathering the first time he’d asked.

  “Uh, no, I doubt it.”

  “Julia’s sister, Emily, will be staying with us that weekend, if all goes as planned,” Percy said with a sly smile. “We could invite her along and pair her up with you, if you wish, Liam. She’s Julia’s younger sister and not bad looking.”

  Liam didn’t wince—he was much too well mannered and self-controlled for that—but he did hesitate, trying to picture what a younger version of Percy’s lantern-jawed, horse-toothed, thin-in-all-the-wrong-places, carrying-too-much-weight in all the places where thin would have looked better, wife might look like. It couldn’t be good. Julia was a nice enough woman, but she was no one’s idea of a centerfold candidate, and her sister was no doubt cut from the same cloth.

  “No, that’s all right. I have a girl in mind that I might bring, if she’s still around by that weekend. She’s a bit young for me, but very nice and quite…uh, attractive, I suppose you’d have to say.”

  “I have a girl in mind that I might bring, if she’s still around by that weekend. She’s a bit young for me, but very nice and quite…uh, attractive, I suppose you’d have to say.”

  “Still around? And attractive, you say?”

  “Uh, yes, very.” Liam knew that he could never bring Miranda to a party peopled with academic types; the poor girl would be totally at sea in such an environment, of course. “Yes, her plans are…indefinite, from what I understand. But I may ask her to Jerry’s party if she’s still here that weekend.”

  “Well, see that you do.” Percy clapped him on the back. “A lot of us would be happy to meet this mystery woman of yours, Liam.”

  He gave his friend and colleague a canny look. “Ellen’s been gone a long time. It’s time you found another woman to share your life. It’s well past time, really.”

  Liam chuckled at the thought of sharing his life with a kid like Miranda. His bed for a few nights perhaps, but his life? Hardly.

  He smiled at Percy and said nothing. If you could only see Miranda, old fellow, you’d be as amazed as I am to find her with me for any length of time at all.

  Chapter Four

  Sometimes, the best way to find out something that you really want to know from a man is to just come right out and ask him, especially if you’re a girl, and you happen to look the way I do.

  Miranda had just stepped from the shower. Toweling her long, wavy auburn hair, she examined her naked body critically in the bathroom mirror. She had very nice tits, not big but extremely shapely, round and full, and topped off with the cutest little pink nipples.

  She turned and looked back over her shoulder at her ass and smiled. Poor old Liam had just about shot his load last night at the very thought that she might let him put his big old dick in between those two tight little cheeks!<
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  Thinking back on how it had felt after she’d let him do that, she couldn’t help but smile again. As a rule, Miranda could take anal sex or leave it, but she had learned to do it really well because it was exotic…lots of girls wouldn’t let a guy do that to them at all. So when a sexy, hot-looking girl “oooohed” and “ahhhed” over it and told a man that she just loved it when he gave it to her that way, he was pretty much hers after that!

  The professor was the exception to that rule, she realized, remembering how great he’d made her come last night, anally. She’d gone off like a fucking skyrocket around his big cock! He’d played with her clit just right and had felt so good inside her back there…even as huge as his cock was…

  “Quit that!” she scolded herself aloud. He’s just another mark. It’s not like you’re some starry-eyed young bimbo who’s never had a great fuck before! It’s not like you’re falling for that tall, skinny goofball, with his house that looks like a library and his cool roadster and nice manners, not to mention that absolutely primo cock of his…

  Angry at herself for even having thoughts such as those, she went back to drying her body off, vigorously running the professor’s fluffy, absorbent towel over her skin. She had no time for daydreaming--that was for sure. There was money to be made here, and lots of it.

  * * * *

  “I’ve got two questions for you, Liam.”

  Miranda toyed with her food. They were seated across from one another. He had fixed filet of orange roughy for them tonight, complete with a lemon cream sauce that was to die for; some kind of gooey, creamy, cheesy potato dish that melted in your mouth, along with some done-just-right steamed veggies with a nice butter sauce—all accompanied by a Riesling that was so delicious she could barely believe it. This guy could cook like a fucking five-star chef!

  “Oh, and what might those be?” He smiled at her, sipping his wine.

  “One, how do you stay so trim, eating like this every night?” She grinned at him. “And two, how does a college teacher afford to live like you do? Do you rob banks on the side or something?”

  He laughed and colored slightly. “Well, it’s metabolism, mostly, in answer to your first question. I hike during the summer months occasionally, do a bit of swimming here and there; but mostly, my body has always seemed to just burn it off as quickly as I can take it in.”

  He went on to say, “As for question two, you nosy girl, I attained my modest wealth in the time-honored way. My father, who was a brassy, greedy, overbearing capitalistic pig of a man--whom I got on with very badly--, was nevertheless a very successful brassy, greedy, overbearing capitalistic pig of a man. When he died several years ago, he left me a bit of money. Not anything like he left my older brother, who grew up to be pretty much just like dear old dad, and was consequently the favored one between the two of us…but some.”

  “That sucks, your bro getting more than you,” Miranda said, drinking more wine.

  “He got the title too, being the eldest,” Liam replied with a rueful smile. “But I doubt that too many people would shed a tear for me. Arthur, my brother, got the title and the estates and something like seventy million pounds…that’s roughly a hundred and forty-some millions of dollars.”

  “Holy shit!” Miranda gasped, nearly choking on her wine.

  “Holy shit, indeed,” Liam commented wryly. “I only got ten million pounds or so, myself. But I’ve made do.”

  Miranda thought she might pass out! Over twenty million bucks—what she’d thought earlier…“loaded”? The term “loaded” didn’t come close to describing this golden goose!

  * * * *

  “Listen, I gotta make this fast, Aaron, sweetie,” she whispered into the phone two hours later, secure once again in the bathroom of her own room, both doors closed again. “I have to duck into the other bedroom in a minute and suck the professor’s little tiny dick for him again.”

  Aaron said something typically rude and redneck, and she gave him a phony laugh in return. “Yeah, well, they can’t all be hung like you, now can they, sexy?”

  She waited patiently for him to fire off another comeback that was neither clever nor funny. “Anyway, I’ve been doing some checking, and this guy has almost a hundred grand in the bank, babe!”

  Holding the phone away from her ear, she waited for him to calm down, and then said, “Yeah! That’s exactly what I thought. In any case, we’re gonna’ score big this time, sweetcheeks. You just be patient and I’ll show you how to pluck this turkey right down to the skin!”

  She waited again for him to run out of excited, off-color comments, and then said, “I’m going to be really busy, working my way right into this dude’s good graces for the next couple of days, so I’ll call you sometime this weekend, okay?”

  Aaron proceeded to get huffy about her not calling for several days while having a good time in bed with the mark every night. Shaking her head, she said, “Aw, baby, do you think I like letting him do me…instead of you? But it’s business, darling, pure and simple. Now you be a good boy and I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”

  She hung up, sighing in exasperation. “God, what a fucking idiot! What did I ever see in that lowlife asshole? Well, at least I’ll be rid of him soon.”

  * * * *

  Miranda slipped into Liam’s bedroom moments later, as naked as she had been the night before. The only difference was that he was waiting eagerly for her this time, sitting up against his pillows and headboard, smiling, his own naked frame visible in the soft light of his bed lamp.

  After dinner, they had enjoyed a few drinks while sitting at the bar, chatting about his boyhood in England, and how he had dug his heels in and insisted on going to school in America when it had come time for college, instead of attending Oxford, as his father and brother and whole generations of Donnelly’s had before him. She had in turn commented on how his many years in this country had impacted his speech; she had mentioned that his word usage and some of his phrases still sounded quite British, to her American ears, but added that he had lost almost all of his English accent along the way.

  “A conscious choice,” he had informed her, just before they’d gone upstairs, hand in hand, to bed. “A plumy English accent stirs too many different reactions among Americans; some love it, some hate it because it somehow makes them feel inferior, some automatically distrust it, along with its owner, but hardly anyone seems to be entirely neutral toward it—so I got rid of it, for the most part.”

  When they’d reached the top of the stairs, she gone into her room to “change for bed” and to use the little girl’s room and he had gone into his bedroom to do the same and to wait for her arrival. Now that she was here, he grinned at her happily.

  “Jesus! You’re so incredibly beautiful, Miranda.” He meant every word.

  Sometimes, this is almost too fucking easy. She almost laughed, seeing how excited he was just to see her naked again.

  * * * *

  “Do you like that, babe?” She looked at him over her shoulder.

  She was seated atop his groin, his big cock deep inside her, facing away from him in a position called “reverse cowgirl”. Liam’s handsome face reflected pure bliss, her smooth, unbelievably tight, slick little pussy moving up and down on him just as expertly as her practiced mouth had earlier, when she’d “made sure” that he was good and hard for her. As if he’d have needed any help in that department, with her in bed with him!

  “I love it, darling girl,” he murmured, his eyes heavy lidded, his breath ragged. “I love everything you do to me, Randa! You’re…as you would no doubt say…fucking incredible!”

  She giggled and fucked him some more, drawing a low moan of pure joy from him. Looking over her shoulder again, she flashed him a mischievous smile, saying, “I know you don’t like it when I say “fuck” so much, so I’m trying not to, okay?”

  “It’s all right to say it in the bedroom.” Liam gasped, looking as if he could hardly believe what she was doing to his cock at that m
oment. Her hips twisted in a corkscrew motion as she moved up and down, and she could see from his rapt expression that it felt like pure, undiluted, erotic magic on his throbbing dick.

  “Say whatever you want! Just keep doing that!” he begged her just then.

  She flexed her inner muscles while continuing her gymnastic ride, milking his imprisoned hard on with her well-trained inner muscles, drawing a long moan of utter ecstasy from him. She picked up the tempo just slightly, leaning forward, smiling to herself.

  Men are so easy! This handsome, sophisticated, intelligent guy is crazy about me—and why? Because I have a hot bod and I know how to use it! Men are so…

  Liam surprised her just at that moment, jarring her out of her reverie by rising up off the bed and grabbing her unexpectedly by the shoulders, pulling her backward. Miranda squeaked at the shock of it, as he continued to manhandle her, turning her over, pulling out of her, all in one motion.

  Now facing him, she felt him tug her down onto his chest and his left hand came up to urge her neck downward, her lips nearing his. He smiled up at her hungrily, reaching down with his right hand to find his gleaming-wet cock and set the head of it up against her recently vacated pussy mouth, his eyes boring into hers.

  “I’m crazy about you, Miranda,” he whispered, thrusting upward with his hips as he said it, impaling her balls-deep on himself. “I can’t get enough of you! You’re the prettiest, sexiest, most desirable woman on earth!”

  She started to say something, but he pulled her head downward and her lips came down on his. His tongue was in her mouth. A lightning bolt of pure sexual fury flowed from his pounding dick into the very seat of her womanhood. She gasped and her tits jerked against his pectorals.

  She moaned as he rolled her over onto her back; his cock never missed a stroke. Her fingers gripped his head, teasing his hair as she kissed him, her cunny going absolutely crazy around his steam drill of a cock! The mild-mannered college professor was now absolutely nailing her to the mattress and every stroke felt like pure heaven!