Catch and Release Ch. 02

The Brazilian beauty came towards them, her gaze fixed on Drew. "Drew," she purred in her seductive South American accent, "so good to see you again."

"You too Carmen. This is your last year isn't it?"

"Uh huh, I finish up my Masters in December."

Keeping his eyes on the curvy young student he pointed to Grace and said, "Carmen, do you know Miss Hawthorne."

Carmen held out her hand. Grace took it with automatic politeness. "Sure. Grace isn't it? You're new to the Mentor program. I did it last year, I've got too much on my plate this year."

"I understand completely," Grace said—even as she didn't. She didn't understand what Drew Maxwell was doing here, she didn't understand the sexual undercurrents buzzing between him and Carmen and she sure as hell didn't understand why she cared.

Drew turned to her—his steely gaze meeting hers as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.Damn him. He probably did.

The corner of his mouth hooked up in a slight knowing smile. She was torn between kissing and slapping him. He laughed once more and the urge to slap ranked slightly higher.

The young Grad student, oblivious to the odd play between Grace and Drew continued to chatter, "I'm here with Marli. She's doing the program—I'm just riding the free food and alcohol." She raised a glass and gave a chuckle that sounded like a melody. "You hate these things don't you? Why are you here?"

"Exactly what I just asked," Grace said and both women turned as one to face him. Carmen now stood at her shoulder. She looked across at the young woman and felt a brief moment of camaraderie. Lost the second Grace noticed the playfulcomehithersmile she shot at him.

"Networking."

Carmen laughed—the melodic sound throaty this time—making it both sexy and beautiful. Grace suddenly, without reason, hated her with a singular passion. "Networking? Hmmmm, well come find me later and we'll..." she ran a finger down Drew's chest, "network."

Drew grabbed the trailing finger and brought the hand up to his lips, turning over her hand and kissing the pulse at her wrist. "I'll do that."

Carmen laughed once more and then walked away, her hips swaying as if to a hidden beat. Grace narrowed her eyes and almost let out a hiss, the only thing that stopped her was the sound of Drew's chuckle.

"I'll leave you to your networking Dr Maxwell." She tried to leave but Drew took her elbow and tugged her back.

"Where's yourboyfriend?"

"He's on night shift."

"So it's morning sex then?"

"No..." her voice trailed off. She blushed at how easily she'd fallen into his trap.

His thumb massaged lazy circles on the soft skin at the bend of her arm. "Aaaah. No sex at all then."

"This is none,none, of your business." She pulled away. He let her go this time, his hand slipping away to a fall at his side. He sighed and then brought the hand she still felt on her skin up to run through his artfully styled gun metal grey hair.

"Yourboyfriend'sa fool. Working nights or not there's no way you'd have been less than twice daily roundly fucked if I was in charge."

In charge—the words sent a shot of heat straight to clench at her sex. "But you're not. You're not in charge," as she repeated the words it struck her that perhaps she done so forher, rather than his benefit.

She wondered if he too had noticed, she flicked her eyes up to meet his all too knowing gaze. "I don't want to play games Dr Maxwell."

"Really?" He leaned in until she felt his breath brush her just below her ear. Before thinking she arched her neck to him. He moved until his lips almost touched her ear lobe. "But you already are. Aren't you Miss Hawthorne?"

She didn't answer. She just let the awful truth of the question hang between them until he laughed once more and then walked away. She tried not to look. Tried not to care but she wasn't strong enough. She looked up and sure enough he was with Carmen, who had her hand on his arm, stroking it with a proprietary knowledge that burned in her gut.

Burned with jealousy. With anger. And a desire that she did not want to acknowledge.

A desire to see him with her. A desire to once more...watch.

As the shock of that knowledge hit her Drew looked over his shoulder and met her eyes.

He knew too. His hand strayed down to rest on the curve of Carmen's butt as his eyes fixed on Grace.

"Miss Hawthorne! Miss Hawthorne! We have a problem." Grace had never been so grateful to hear the harried voice of catering staff. She turned away from Drew and pushed all thoughts of the wicked Scot out of her head, focusing all of her attention back on her job—where it should have been all night.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. While it had been planned as a simple get together for University staff and the International Student Mentors there were of course official speeches to be made. With those out of the way and the bar open, music and laughter filled the room. Playtime was in full progress.

Playing—no doubt that's where Drew Maxwell was.

Grace had tried to work too hard to push him from her thoughts. She'd only succeeded in making herself exhausted. As tired as she was, thoughts of him slipped all too easily into her mind.

She had to get out. Get away from the cloying chatter of the all too happy crowd. Pushing through the doors of the Residence Hall Common Room she found herself yet again surprised by the wall of heat. Two months in it still shocked her pretty much every time she left the artificial coolness of the refrigerated air-conditioning. She veered off the path onto the grass. Her heels sank into the damp lawn so she took them off. Even the ground was warm. Like a stone left out in the sun it seemed to retain the baking heat of the day.

After a quick look around to check she was alone she stripped off her thigh high stockings and curled her toes into the carpet of grass.

To connect—with something. She needed to feel something real.

The slow breeze was heavy as if pumped from an aging humidifier. Damp and scented by the unfamiliar smells of the tropical night. A Curlew sounded from behind. The first time she'd heard the wailing cry of the night bird it had made her jump. It was a grief stricken sound, unearthly. Someone had told her that the indigenous people considered them to be the keepers of the dead, their wail sounding off each time a new soul appeared. Even now, knowing that it wasn't an evil spirit but a small brown gangly legged bird it still made her pulse race.

A blast of noise sounded, quickly muffled by the closing of the door. Grace looked over to see who had exited. Drew Maxwell—and the Brazilian student, Carmen. They were standing on the alcove near the entrance to the Hall. Bathed in the flickering light of the wall mounted fluorescents, they appeared unreal in their combined beauty—like a disjointed art film.

Grace watched from the darkness, too afraid to move lest she be noticed. That's the reason she told herself anyway, as to why she didn't leave.

Carmen mounted a leg high on Drew's hip. He grabbed her thigh like they were dancing the tango and dragged her up against him. He stepped back until he hit a bricked column and she went with him with fluid grace.

Carmen wore a full skirt. Drew's hand at her thigh had hiked it up until the round of her bottom was visible. Her caramel skin was bare. She wore a thong under the flowing red skirt—or perhaps nothing at all.

They did not kiss as Grace would have expected, each time Carmen's mouth edged towards Drew's he tilted her head back and sucked on the skin of her neck. Grace's fingers came up, resting on the very spot that Drew now feasted upon on Carmen's neck.

Her nipples beaded. So did Carmen's. The Grad student wore a tight white tank. Under the white fluorescent it appeared almost translucent. The dark circles of her areole were clearly visible.

It wasn't until her bare feet hit the sharp stones of the gravel path that Grace realized that she'd moved forward. Towards them. Drawn to their heat. Like a moth to the flame.

Drew had dragged Carmen around so that her back was facing Grace. His teeth grazed along the taut line of her neck. Grace swallowed and watched as though she had been compelled not to turn away.

"Come with me."

Carmen laughed. "As if you have to ask."

He wasn't asking Carmen. Grace knew it from the moment the low accented words were uttered. He was askingher. Or telling, not asking.

She was sure she was still hidden. Other than the light of the alcove the grounds were carpeted by darkness. There wasn't even a moon. She was back, near the side path away from the entrance—but somehow, sheknew...she just knew that he spoke to her.

"Follow me."

Carmen laughed again as if Drew were somehow playing a silly game with his short commands. He stepped back, held out his hand but did not look at her, rather over her shoulder, out into the darkness where Grace was sheltered.

Carmen took his hand and Drew led her around the side of the building. Grace followed. Her heart which felt as though it had migrated to her throat, beating out a faster pace than her bare feet. She didn't want to lose them, but she didn't want to be caught. She stayed just back, keeping to the grass as they flowed a winding path to the nearest set of on campus student apartments.

As the academic year had not yet started the apartments were silent and mostly dark. When Drew lead Carmen towards a garden nestled at the corner of the building Grace stopped. She held herself still in the darkness, questioning her sanity.

What was she doing?

What good could come of this? Following Drew Maxwell and a young student like some sort of deranged peeping tom. She still held her shoes in her hand. She slapped them against her thigh as if trying to beat some sense into herself.

She sighed and had all but decided to return to her car when she heard the first sound.

A moan. A needy wail that, like the sound of the Curlew quickened her pulse —not with fear but with desire.

Heat spiked through her body, landing hot and heavy in her stomach.

She heard Carmen cry out, "Yes. Yes," and as if she had no choice but to follow the sound she moved forward.

Carmen was on a park bench. She was lit by two small garden lights that shone decoratively into the greenery behind her. Her legs were spread wide, her skirt hiked up around her waist. No thong, she was bare beneath the red fabric—even of hair. Unsurprisingly the Brazilian sported a Brazilian.

Drew was between her thighs, on his knees, his mouth feasting upon her bare sex. Carmen held his head, her fingers threaded through the short silver locks. She pushed him at her bare pussy with an abandon that astounded Grace. She humped his face, her hips and hands working Drew's head as if he were merely an object for her pleasure.

Not that Drew seemed to mind. His large hands, those skillful fingers she knew oh so well, splayed at Carmen's thighs, pushing her legs wider.

Carmen shifted her legs to hook them over his shoulders. Her feet still encased in black spiked heels were an erotic sight as they dug into Drew's back.

The orgasm came hard and loud. Her head threw back, long black hair falling over the back of the bench seat as she moaned out her release in short choppy sounds.

It was like a dream. An out of body experience. Later Grace would wonder how she even got there, not remembering the steps taken by her feet to place her so close to the couple. There at that moment, that unreal fragment of time she did not think of how or why but sank into it, the feel of watching Drew.

After the student came Drew dragged her up out of the bench seat. He pulled her skirt down over her hips until it pooled on the ground. Carmen did not seem bothered by his actions—by being half nude in public—she laughed and stripped off her tank until her golden body was bare for anyone to see.

Drew took a moment just to let the sight sink in—Grace didn't blame him—she was spectacular. Curved and lithe, long legs shaped up to rounded hips, small waist and perfectly proportioned brown tipped breasts. Carmen held out her arms, reveling in being watched by him. He clamped his hands at her hips and spun her around to face the bench. He pushed her forward and if not for the back of the bench she would have fallen. She held herself up by gripping the high wooded back.

Again she did not seem disturbed. She flicked her hair and looked over her shoulder at him with a laugh. He brought his hand down on her shapely ass with a crack that sounded off like a gunshot in the still night air.

Grace gasped. The sound too loud for someone trying to hide. She clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Drew looked around, his eyes following the sound. She was hidden, back in the shrubbery. His eyes did not stop. They ranged over where she stood, but she was sure that he knew she was there.

Watching.

He brought his hand down again, Carmen rocked back and moaned as if chasing the hand that slapped her. Grace heard the sound of his belt buckle, metal sliding over metal. His black jeans slid down over his hips—Carmen was not the only one sans underwear. His pale skin glowed in the darkness, taut muscle easily defined even at the distance Grace stood. The jeans fell down to mid thigh. She saw him fish in his pocket and remove a foil square. He held his cock in one hand and rolled the condom on with the other. Carmen writhed as he did; impatiently rocking her hips back to rub against the hardness of his cock. He lay another slap down on the curve of her ass and then thrust inside.

From behind once more. The second time she'd seen him do so.

Grace wondered if this was his preferred position. Did he do it any other way? And just like that a montage of Drew in a multitude of other positions flooded her mind. But in the collage of her fantasy it wasn't Carmen he was fucking—it was her.

Her on top. Her underneath. Her on her knees. Her against the wall.

She clenched her eyes tight and shook her head as if she could somehow shake clean the images.

The sound of bodies joining, grunting and moans of pleasure filled her ears. She opened her eyes. Drew had one hand at the curve of her hip, the other held fast in the long black locks of Carmen's hair—as if it were reins.

Carmen rocked back as he thrust forward. An unmistakable wet slapping sound issued each time they connected. The sound of fucking.

"Do it," she heard Drew grunt. "Touch yourself."

Was he talking to her or Carmen?

Her hand slid down her stomach, her fingers resting lightly on her public mound. She tapped on the aching spot. Two layers of fabric lay between her fingers and her skin and yet she could still feel the heat.

Should she?

Could she? Touch herself?

Her hands slid down the soft silk of her pencil skirt. She looked down. Her fingers gripped the edge of the hem. One tug. One tug and it would be up around her hips. She could reach her pussy. Touch the ache until she came.

She had the skirt an inch up her thigh when Carmen cried out her orgasm. Grace looked up to watch her back bowed as she pushed back on Drew's cock.

Drew followed closely. After a series of mad fast thrusts he dug his fingers into her hips and grunted out his release.

She watched him slump, his knees bent. He pulled free of Carmen's pussy and bent to kiss her lower back before removing the condom and pulling up his jeans.

Grace still held her skirt in one hand—her fingers aching from the bloodless grip of her tight fingers. She watched as Carmen stood turned and stretched like a contented cat.

Carmen started to redress. The simple almost domestic action, seeing her slip into her tank top, startled Grace into action.

What had she done? What was she still doing? Watching. Watching thisgirl?

She turned and ran. Not caring if she was heard, she took the nearest path. The easiest way to get back to her car. To escape. Her feet slapped loud on the concrete. In the quiet darkness the sound rang out. He'd know now. He'd be sure that she watched because of that sound. She couldn't care. Not now. She cared about nothing other than getting away.

From him.

From the person she became around him.

Back at the Common Room she shoved her bare feet back into her heels. She scraped a hand across her face and entered the room to find her purse and car keys.

Keeping her head down she made her way through the crowd, avoiding all eye contact. It was easy enough. The party was in full force. The room was booked until 2 a.m. As it wasn't yet midnight few people had left.

Her purse was behind the bar. It took a moment for the bartender to find it and in that time Jules found her. "Hey! I've been looking for you. Where did you disappear to?"

No words came. Grace just shook her head.

"Sweetie? What happened?"

The bartender returned with her purse. Grace thanked him with a slight nod of her head and turned back to Jules. "Come home with me."

"OK."

"Brent's on night shift. He won't be home until after lunch tomorrow. Spend the night...like before."

Before they'd held each other all night. She'd slept in the comfort of Jules' arms.

"OK, honey," Jules said as he slipped his hand into hers.

He didn't question her. Didn't ask what had happened. Somehow he knew better than to push her right now, but she doubted that would last.

When they got home he'd want to know.

Could she tell him?

Yes. No. Back and forth her thoughts raced. She shook her head and tugged harder on his hand. All that could wait. For now she just needed to escape. He sped up to match her pace.

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Thanks as always to my Mistress Red Pen for whipping the text into shape. I'm really enjoying this story so I hope you are as well. Strap in for an interesting ride. I'm planning on bringing all these characters right up to breaking point. Let me know what you think and as always a little click on those stars makes my day.

darcysweet

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