Thursday, April 17, 2014

Sex, Fangs, and Murder and Seduction Inbetween

If he were anyone else, like say Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt then I could write it off as normal infatuation, but one didn't just write-off what that man did to a woman. It angered me and turned me on at how desired and lusted after he was. That man has had to have been with hundreds of women. He wore his arrogance and sexual prowess like a second skin. Every time he smiled and looked through those hooded thick jet black eyelashes, angels wept with wanting and he damn well knew he was Lucifer incarnate. Every girl in this class not to mention the university probably screamed his name with their B.O.Bs.
                I sit here in the same seat night after night following along even though I have read Madame Bovary more than a dozen times listening to his eloquent words and lectures on the book. Sometimes I look up at him to see him staring at me. I feel like he’s touching me; stroking his fingers against my hot skin. He scares me yet makes me as wanton for him as all the other love sick cows in here are, but he doesn't look at them the way he does me. Maybe I’m just nuts and I've put my hormones on ice so long that I’m becoming delusional, but there’s danger, freedom, and something wild in those eyes of his that promise more than seductive carnal nights. I've seen his type before; God knows my mother drove herself over the brink falling for men that looked as this man does. I won’t be taken in and possessed. Dante Notte will not cause me to fall as my mother did. I won’t let it happen.
          I just wish I could convince my body of it.
              Those eyes, the flex of his jaw, and the way he moves as if he’s some sleek jungle cat on the prowl make my body hum and burn. He draws near as one of the other students reads aloud. For a moment the rest of the world falls away and it’s just the two of us and in my mind I hear him say, “Come to me.”  And if I were any other woman, I probably would; on my knees kissing his feet. However, I’m not that type and as I try to calm my already racing heart, one of the others in class has dropped a book. The loud and disruptive CRASH to the floor has his attention and its off of me. I feel as if I can once again breathe. Class concludes and I gather my things up and head for the door but I have to pass him to get away. As I squirm and dart outside of the crowd that is suddenly around him, again that rich dark voice comes into my head once again and says, “You cannot run from me, I’ll come for you.”
           Part of me hopes he doesn't and the other part of me knows that if he does, I won’t have the strength to escape him.

               Dante Notte’s English Lit class that all the women and even some of the guys are dying to get into because Professor Notte is not only drop dead gorgeous, but he’s sin on a stick. Dante is a centuries old vampire that has first-hand knowledge of the subject he teaches.   He’s every woman’s deepest and darkest fantasy but he’s not interested in the countless women that pass through his classroom door, until one night a certain plain Jane who is as insulting as the day is long stirs something in him that is more than just mere curiosity or conquest.  
                Ariel Mathias has a complicated life. She is still reeling from the loss of her mother, a full class load, and she believes her step-father is a murderer. If all those things weren't enough, she has landed under the seductive eye of the school’s most notorious teacher, Dante Notte. Ariel doesn't have time for her hormones and sex drive to go into hyper drive nor can she have a relationship with him. However, the more she dismisses him and pushes Dante away, the stronger he come right back. There is also the problem of her step-father who isn't about to let his little cash cow get away from him, even if he has to get rid of her like her poor mother.

      Dante’s got some lessons in store for his little book worm, and reluctant as she may be, Ariel will not be able to resist him for much longer.