Jennifer Probst: The Tantric Principle

“Makes sense.”

“She believed I was having an affair. Became irrational, stalking me and the students.

Began a chasm within the school until sides formed. Rumors started. I tried to talk to her, pulled back from my classes so we could fix it.” Grant kept his voice neutral though the old emotions still clawed at his gut. “During one of my classes, I was served with divorce papers. Things got nasty. She rallied the students against me and some females made accusations that weren’t true.” Their food came. Silence settled over the table while he forked up his pasta. Then he continued. “She ended up getting the school. My reputation was ruined as a teacher. I walked away with nothing and had to start over. So, I moved to New York and made a fresh start.”

“I’m sorry.”

She offered no more, but he spotted an understanding in her gaze that soothed him. Grant realized he had never told the story to anyone other than his close friends back in Florida. No one in New York had ever scaled the wall to learn his past. Somehow, Arianna had gotten past. On some strange level, he trusted her. So, he told her everything.

“She lied to me.”

Arianna blinked, seeming to realize the worst had not been told. “How did she lie, Grant?”

“She was having an affair with one of the students the whole time. While she accused me and took my school, she was screwing around with one of my senior aides.” Her hands reached across the table and interlinked his fingers as he’d done back in the studio. The warmth and softness of her flesh closed around him and chased away the cold. “It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “One of the principles you teach is correct. It’s your own karma that you need to account for. You didn’t cheat. You didn’t do anything wrong. And another principle I’ve learned in this life.”

“What?”

She smiled then, dazzling, sexy. “Life sometimes sucks.” He smiled back. “Sad story over. Now you know.”

“But I don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t know why you won’t take me to bed.”

Her words shot like cannon fire in the candlelit room. The waiter took their plates, brought two fresh drinks and moved on.

“I promised I would never have an affair with a student. Too messy. Too many lies to cover up.”

“I’m a grown woman with a mind and career of my own. I’m not promising love everlasting and white picket fences. You’re not married. I’m single. And we’re both dedicated to our careers. I just want you. For as long as it lasts.” His body shuddered in response. Grant fought the knowledge things too good to be true usually weren't. “Arianna,” he said softly, his hand tightening over hers. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want to make a mess of things again. I worked too hard to get back where I am.”

“I understand.”

Slowly, her fingers unraveled and she picked up her martini. He felt the distance close around her and knew it was his doing. Her body would be as open as her mind. He just needed to say yes. “Arianna—“

“No.” She shook her head. “I do understand, Grant. Life’s messy. I’m not going to chase you like some love-struck teenager. I work long hours and weekends. My smart phone is another appendage I can’t live without. I don’t want to change your life, I just want you in my bed. I’m even willing to let you set the rules.”

She waved a hand in the air. “But we probably wouldn’t fit. I’m direct and sometimes rude. I love sex and alcohol and red meat. I swear like a cop in Detroit and would probably side with a condo developer over saving some extinct bird species no one gives a crap about. I’ll still come to class, and I’ll finish up the weekend, but don’t play games with me.” He almost gasped. “Play games with you?”

“Don’t put your hands on me unless you’re ready for me. Got it?

Then he knew.

Grant grabbed the bill, threw down some cash and stood up. Arianna sat, almost sullenly sipping her drink, expecting a male temper tantrum. “Get up,” he said.

“Why?”

He leaned over and spoke against her ear. “Because I’m going to strip off your dress and make you come so many times you’ll beg for mercy. Don’t make me say it again.” He paused.

“Get up. Now.”

Arianna got up on legs that trembled and followed him out of the dining room.

The door closed.

Arianna walked toward the king size bed and put her purse on the bureau. She turned and he was beside her, his body heat rising to her nostrils, and like a horse in heat, a sound rose from her throat. She expected niceties, a glass of wine, some more conversation, but he reached behind her and unzipped her dress.

The black knit fell to the floor and left her in her thong and bra, her chest rising and falling as the excitement began to build as he stared at her. His gaze was hot and his hands large and hard as he smoothed his palms over her skin. He cupped her neck and moved downward over her shoulders to the swell of her breasts. Paused. Then over the lace to push in a gentle pressure that coaxed her nipples to harden and rise. Continuing down over her stomach, the curve of her hips.

He didn’t speak, just drank his fill as he knelt before her and explored her naked buttocks, sweeping down her thighs, the backs of her knees and calves to her feet. She lifted her foot to kick off her sandals.

His hand stopped the motion. “No, he said roughly. “Leave them on.” Grant straightened. Unclipped her bra. Then slid her panties down until she was naked.

Arianna stood proudly before him, evidently aroused, her breath hitching as she reached for him.

“Let’s play,” she said.

Her fingers flew over the buttons of his shirt as she ripped it off his body. Corded muscles rippled down his arms, his chest and stomach. His olive skin was warm and a musky, manly scent oozed through his pores—like sex itself. A pull of the belt loosened his pants and she pushed them down. His erection sprang forward and her hands coasted, caressed him from hilt to the tip and felt him shudder.

Her head bent and nipped at his shoulder, digging her teeth into his flesh. Her leg lifted to hook her ankle around his buttocks, feeling his erection tickle her, teasing her clit through the rough cloth of his underwear. His breath hitched hard, his hands grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up and yes, yes, yes. . . .

She waited to be thrown against the wall and taken on a hard, wild ride, but she felt the softness of the mattress on her back and suddenly her hands were clasped over her head and he pinned her beneath his weight.

Arianna gulped for air, shaking her head to come back to earth. “What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Slowing down.”

She arched upward then, grinning at his restraint. “You don’t have to. I like it quick, I like it hard, I like it—"

“I don’t play that way.”

Her legs lay splayed open on the bed, his shaft pressed against her entrance. “Grant, I want—“

“Baby, you don’t know what you want yet." He laughed then, a low, husky growl of sound. "But I’m going to show you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I practice tantra.”

“Please tell me that’s sex.”

He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck, biting the sensitive lobe of her ear. “Hell, yes.

But it’s better than regular sex. And I’m going to show you every step of the way.” He reached out, slid a drawer open, and took out a pair of velvet handcuffs. Before she could protest, he slipped her wrists into them and clicked the cuffs closed.

“Grant?”

“Shhh, trust me.”

Sliding off the bed, he dimmed the lights. He took off his underwear, then strode naked to the bed and lay beside her, one hand propped up so he could see her clearly. His fingers glided over her breasts, pinched her nipples lightly, coasted down on her stomach and traced the line of dark hair between her thighs. “Something tells me you approach sex like everything else you do.