Tears, Hugs and Jack Robinson

Dimitri

Immediately I coiled back from the words with how wrong they sounded. I don't need to think of her young pussy riding my cock when I plan to drop her back safely to her apartment. It sounds so predatory. 

"I was just getting a cab," she says. "I don't want to trouble you." 

"It's no trouble Bellaza. Please let me give you a ride." I smile at her. 

She bites her bottom lip between her teeth, an action that distracts me for a split second when she lets it go with a pop. I imagine tracing that lip with my tongue someday, licking a path to the valley between her tits. 

No. She is still my student. I cannot and should not go there. Probably when she graduates but No. 

She opens the door, slides into the passenger seat of my car, and places a box of cookies I presume was for my stupid airhead brother on the dashboard. I roll the window back up, blocking the noise from the outside world as I drive through the busy traffic. 

She is quiet, so quiet that I turn on the stereo for a little noise. I glance at her face in the rear-view mirror. I see that she seems close to crying as her eyes are red. I turn on the stereo playing the songs that she told me she loved listening to just to brighten her mood. It seemed like it worked because she was looking much better when we got to her place. 

She lives close to my place and when I stop in front of her building, Arabella reaches for the door without a word. 

Hesitantly, I click the lock back shut, startling her. "Hey, wait a second. I just want to talk," I excuse myself before she can assume the worst. 

Her face relaxes as she leaned back in the chair causing her skirt to ride up her thighs "What about, Mr Rossi?" 

I move my eyes away from her thighs while she sighs, a breathy sound that is music to my ears. I drum my fingers tensely over the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry...for what Blake did," I finally say. 

Shaking her head, she says "It's not your fault," she exhales. "It's just my bad luck, Mr. Rossi." 

I feel uncomfortable as she calls me that. I wish she would stop calling me that. It sounds too sincere, and it only reminds me of every time she says 'Yes, sir' to me in college and how I yearned for her to respond to me in that manner when I gave a naughty order. 

I purse my lips tensely, as memories of her loud moans from Blake's room echo in my ears, and images of her wearing only his Tee shirt just to take ice cream with me flash through my brain. Then images of her crawling and kneeling on her knees, forced to do my bidding, which I force back down. 

Thoughts like this are the reason I don't keep girlfriends and get off by being a member of Private Affairs, an exclusive members-only kink club that is run by my close friend, Ren Kane. There, I can lose my inhibitions and get my fantasies to come alive, only without her. 

"Did he ever...hurt you?" I approach the subject with the question, wanting to make sure that I am not missing out on my brother's wild activities. 

"No!" Arabella shakes her head. "Never. He's not like that." 

Relief washes over my chest. "If he ever disturbs you again for a relationship, call me, okay?" 

Arabella stays quiet as she looks out of the windshield. The music on the radio dwindles and a soft romantic song replaces the mood in the car. I watch Arabella as her strong facade slowly breaks and she begins to let out soft sobs. 

"I'm...sorry..." she sniffles, rubbing her nose with her handkerchief. "I...I never cry but...why would he do this to me? Why am I never enough? Am I not pretty enough?" 

Is she kidding? She is so gorgeous like the drop-dead kind. The one-of-a-kind beauty. If I was her boyfriend, I would never let her leave. I would keep her with me. What the fuck am I thinking? 

"Arabella...my brother..he's a little messed up," I confess. "I'm not saying this to justify his actions but don't let him be the reason why you don't smile. You're -" 

I stop before I can say the wrong word and she snaps her eyes to me, my sudden halt alerting her to my potential slip-up too. Instead, I gave her a small smile 

"Thanks, Mr. Rossi.." She gives me a tiny smile. " And thank you for the ride home." 

"You're welcome Bellaza. Is there anything else you need? Anything I can help with?" I ask. 

"Well...I could use a hug right now but my best friend is not here yet" - she pointed to the apartment building - "so that would have to wait," she chuckles to herself. She turns and unlocks the door, moving to get out when I reach for her hand. 

She turns, looking at our joined hands, then at me. 

"I can give you a hug," I say, hoping it doesn't sound creepy. "I'm your friend too, right?" 

She stares at me, blinks swallows, and then speaks, "You're also my professor too. Professors shouldn't be touching their students." 

I immediately let go of her hand, pulling back. "Sorry, I forgot." 

She looks away from me but I catch her reflection smiling in the mirror. 

The door opens and she gets out. I pinch my forehead as I wish to obliterate myself from existence. What a damnable excuse to touch her. She must think the worst of me now. 

I force my eyes open when the door to the passenger side opens again. I look to find Arabella with tear-stained cheeks entering the car again. 

Maybe she forgot something. 

I watch agape as she crawls over on her hands and knees, her eyes puffy, throwing herself over me. 

She hugs me with a sob, her soft body volatile as it crashes into me for the second time that night. I am too frozen for a while as I let her curl her arms around my neck tightly, her nails grazing the hair at the nape of my neck while she buries her cries on my shoulder. 

Yeah, a literal shoulder to cry on because my brother is a shithead. 

Slowly, I manage to hug her back, my big hands curving around her fragile body. This is the closest we have ever been and yet this time, I am more liking the feeling of her finding a little bit of peace instead of getting turned on. I should thank my brother for this. 

I could have her hug me forever if she asked for it. We stay like that for a while until her sobs cease and she draws back. 

Her hair is wild, the strands curtaining us from the rest of the world, her hazel eyes filled with moisture. She is practically on my lap, breathing the same air as me, our faces inches apart. 

"Thanks, Mr. Rossi. That was a good hug," she whispers and kisses me on my lips. 

She scurries off my lap and is out of the car before I can say Jack Robinson. Surely, the kiss was a mistake. 

Vocabulary

Cagna - Bitch

Belleza - Beauty