IRE Scoville Scale: Sinfully Wicked














Never judge a book by its cover. This was certainly the case with Gabriel Kelley, a European historian tenured at Cambridge specializing in late antiquity. When he accepted an offer to become the department head at Durum College, tongues began to wag. No one had seen him; however his reputation as a studious perfectionist preceded him. Why he’d leave a glowing career at Cambridge to begin a five-year tenure of office at Durum, a small rather obscure school by comparison, baffled most of the faculty—none more so than Samantha Cross, a fellow historian of Western Mediterranean history. 


Sam had her eye on the department seat until her panel seats became more frequent and longer in duration. As were, she spent more time in an advisory role than she did in the classroom. This was sure to end when Dr. Kelley, as he preferred to be addressed, arrived. Given his formal nature, his arrival was sure to hark a new era of dullness.


He seemed to slip in under the cover of darkness. He’d been in office for a week before anyone was aware of his presence. It wasn’t until she noticed a strikingly tall dark haired gentleman standing in the rear of the auditorium from which she taught that it dawned on her. Outwardly he was the garden variety historian: black sports coat over a crisp white Oxford, dark trousers and loafers. Typical. The entire time she spoke, he scribbled on a note and his steel gray eyes only caught hers when she made a reference to the Notitia Dignitatum. With a raised eyebrow, he left. Obviously she’d struck a nerve.


He returned some days later. This time he sat and listened intently—even nodding on occasion. It wasn’t until the faculty mixer a week later that they were formally introduced. Sam, the seemingly shy cynic she was, hung to the back of the room and watched everyone kiss his ass. She hated these functions but it was difficult to fade into the background when you’re the only African-American in the department. She was more comfortable when her scholastic abilities were on display….social graces weren’t her strength.


The moment of truth came as Sam slunk towards the exit. Gabriel’s imposing mass and Dr. Phillips was all that stood between her and freedom. Dr. Phillips made the very Jane Austen-ish introduction complete with stiff bows. He continued to dribble on about something, but all Sam wanted to do was run, she wanted to hide, she wanted to die under Gabriel’s heavy stare. Finally, after ten minutes of banter, he stopped talking hence opening her window to exit. Clumsily, Sam bid them farewell and turned to leave.


“Do you always speak on topics you know little about?” She heard Gabriel say in his lovely British accent.


“Excuse me,” Sam returned to them. The playing field was now even.


“You were speaking about the dependability of the Notitia Dignitatum as an ethnic self-identifications source,” Gabriel turned his full weight of his attention on Sam. “You can’t make that argument.”


“You’re mistaken. I was referring to the Notitia as a historical source, nothing more.”


“Even still your logic is off base. It was compiled at two different times leaving gaps to be filled in years later by men….”


“Men.” Sam snorted.


“Yes, men, chanceries whose self-interest polluted the documents therefore it cannot provide a comprehensive size of all the units.”


By now Dr. Phillips was lost and decided to excuse himself before the screaming began.


“You’re right,” she smirked. “You’ve made my point. With the Roman army at the end of the 4th century, the document isn’t taking into consideration the defectors or duplication of troops. There’s little hard evidence to accurately give an overall size of the army given no one knows the size of each unit.”


“So you’re marginalizing the document as an indicator of the units pure existence?”


Sam’s ponytail bobbed up and down. “It’s nothing more than a bunch of pretty shields.”


Tiny lines formed at the corner of Gabriel’s eyes as his mouth turned to a smile. He stepped closer to Sam. “Watching you is like a feast for my senses.” To his surprise, she didn’t flinch.


“Do you want to touch?” She all but dared.


“Oh, I definitely plan on touching you, Samantha.”


“Is that all?”


He leaned close to her ear and crooned, “Shall we take this back to my place?”


Sam’s knees turned to jelly.


“I’ll take that as a yes.”



                                                               ******



Back at his place, there was little talking and definitely no scholastic debate. The only matter up for debate was which hole first. Butt ass naked, Gabriel made the judgment call.


“Kneel down in front of me. Take my cock into your mouth. Don't tease me, just suck me.”


Sam looked up into his eyes. “And what do I get in return?”

“Whatever you want,” Gabriel thumbed her jaw gently and fondled her bottom lip. “Now, on your knees, open your lips, and take me in your mouth.”


Sam fell to her knees. His cock was as lovely as he was sexy. She gazed up at him, pleased.


He smiled down at her and gasped when she took him in. Her hands clinched his muscular thighs. Her mouth was so wet, so warm, so good wrapped around his shaft, it caught him off guard. “Put your hand between your thighs—touch yourself for me, I want to see you masturbate while you suck me.”


One hand between her legs, the other stroking his cock, Sam sucked, slurped and moaned. He grew in her mouth, throbbing. She could’ve devoured him whole. He held the back of her head and watched his cock move between her lips…she gave him a full show until he began to pant.


“Let me see your tongue.” He ordered.


With one long suck she pulled free and licked the underside of his cock, sliding her tongue teasingly over and around the tip.


“I could cum in your mouth so easily. Suck.” He grabbed a handful of her hair. Her rhythmic sucks were like no sensations he’d felt before. Her lips slid, her mouth sucked, her tongue caressed, but what was her throat doing? He was in her throat, it massaged his head, milking him with a slow sensual hypnotic rhythm. Unhinged and mystified oral skills, he was going to erupt in her delicate throat. He watched her stroke between her thighs, she was so wet he wanted to taste her. “Fuck!” He pulled out of her throat sending her back on her bottom, choking and gasping for air.


“What the hell….?!” Before she could finish berating him, he lifted her, tossed her on the bed, grabbed a condom, flung her leg open and thrust into her. His weight bore down on her as he pumped. His powerful hands gripped her ass; he drove, filling her to capacity, touching places she hadn’t been touched in years.


He could tell, the wet sounds of their lovemaking, the ebb and flow of his cock, tickled his ears. Her ass cupped in his hands, pulling her ever closer, ever wider, her tight wetness surrendered, desperate to be had.


“Look at me,” Gabriel forced her face straight on. “Don’t take your eyes off me. Tonight you’re here to please me. Tonight you’re mine—mine to use as I please, to touch however I wish. You’ll do whatever I ask of you, whatever I demand of you,” Deeper he went. “You’re my plaything.”….Deeper still….“My whore.”


Sam gasped for air. His eyes were so intense she would’ve given him anything. “Oh God…” she took in as much air as possible between strokes. Yes, she nodded unable to speak.


Their gazes were glued to one another. He was just as aroused as she was. His skin pressed onto her skin. His face so close to her face she could hear his raspy, labored breathing. He leaned in slightly and nibbled her earlobe. “Beg me to fuck you and I’ll do things to you you’ve never imagine.”


Her body responded to it—all of it: His words, his pressure holding her down, his thickness ravaging her pussy. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe and it excited the living hell out of her. His tongue dipped into her mouth and then retreated. He nibbled at her lower lip when she whimpered a protest.


“Gabriel.”


“Be patient, beautiful. I’m going to make so good for you.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he claimed the sided of her neck.


His ravenous mouth sent her into a swirling fog of senses; she bit into rigid bulging muscles of his shoulder.


His piercing gunmetal gaze stared down at her. He flicked his tongue over her lips, groaned with approval and then whispered to her, “For that, I’m going to fuck you in the ass.” It wasn’t so much as a question, a statement or a request—it was a demand which he followed by swiftly turning her over, forcing her up roughly, placing pillows under her, lubing them both, and resting his cock against her asshole. He pulled her head backwards and leaned forward. “Don’t be afraid. I don’t bite, and if I do, I'm sure you’ll enjoy it.”


Suddenly she felt his head begin to slide inside. “Ooohhh God, please,” She called in a mix of pain and euphoric bliss. He slowed a bit but ignored her pleas for the most part. Deeper, her filled her--inch by inch, the pain drove her wild. She looked over her shoulder and mouthed, “Deeper,” A slick stream trickled down her inner thigh, she was cumming.


Smiling inwardly at her impatience, he thrust urgently in her greedy ass, grabbed another handful of her hair and tugged her head back hard, “Tell me!” He ordered “Tell me, you’re mine.”


She was so turned on—his fingers dragged her forcefully by the hair, juices splashed from her pussy. She was cumming again, she couldn’t stop it. “Aahh shit…”she cried. “You’re hurting me....”


Gabriel eased and asked lovely, “Do you want me to stop?”


“No!”


“I didn’t think you did,” He pounded hard and deep into her until she collapsed helpless under him. He cried out, his orgasm pulsed through him—so hard—so intense—his cock abruptly erupted in her ass.


That night, they slept peacefully in each other's arms. Sam never felt so safe or so thoroughly fucked in all her life.




The next morning Sam awoke to an empty bed and the sound of the shower going. She pulled the goose down pillow under her head and snuggled on her side watching the fog engulf the bathroom mirror. Minutes later, Gabriel emerged and stood with a towel around his waist wiping down the mirror as he prepared to shave. He looked in her direction and she pretended to be asleep. He shaved and she watched him through cracked lids.


Fully groomed, Gabriel walked to the bed, kissed her forehead and pulled the covers over her bare shoulder.


She opened her eyes slowly and gave a smile that could be labeled nothing short of sensuous. “Good morning, Gabriel.”


The muscles in his back twitched. He sucked his bottom lip and said wickedly. “Good morning, my dear.”