Hearts On Campus: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance
CONTENTS
Hearts On Campus
NEWSLETTER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
Collaborations
About the Author
HEARTS ON CAMPUS
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 233
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2021 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
HEARTS ON CAMPUS
Katelyn
The final term in my last year of college.
A holiday weekend before final exams for most but I’ve got nothing planned.
I never do.
The campus is like a ghost town and that’s just how I like it. No one to bother me and nothing to do for three whole days.
Until a chance meeting, a memory I hold dear comes knocking at my door.
Literally.
It can’t be him...but it is. Like he’s stepped right off the pages of one of my favorite romance books.
Stepped right out of my fantasy crush, right into my dorm, and into my heart.
He needs my help too, he wants me.
How can I possibly help an older, handsome man, the coach of the gymnastics team?
But how can I refuse?
Wesley
Another holiday weekend and another annual budget proposal due.
The only proposals I’m giving these days.
My computer goes down at a crucial moment, right as the week finishes and the holiday starts.
Who can I get to help? My neighbor, the Professor has a star pupil he knows can help, promises me she’s the best.
How am I to know she’s about to turn my world upside down?
It’s the golden rule for faculty: Don’t look and don’t touch.
But there are no rules for us that say we can’t, that we shouldn’t.
And there are a million reasons I can think of why we should.
How I must. How she needs me.
She’s finally come to me, my queen.
And I’ll be king, giving her a castle.
*Hearts On Campus is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
NEWSLETTER
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CHAPTER ONE
Katelyn
It’s my sanctuary, outside of the main campus library.
My dorm room.
I wouldn’t have made it until my final year if it wasn’t for this, having my own space. The only spare residential assistant room on campus.
It was an issue for all the other girls in the dorm until they decided amongst themselves that no one would want to share with me anyway, so they left me to my misery.
“Weirdo.”
“Nerd.”
“Lard ass.”
I can still hear it all muttered whenever I walk past anyone in my year.
Most people on campus, if I’m honest.
They snigger and giggle as they pass comments still, after four years they haven’t grown out of it, and I’ve never gotten over it.
Just learned to try to ignore it.
My room is my world when I don’t have to be out of it. The only place I feel safe and the one place nobody bothers me.
But an extended weekend, and everyone in the dorm leaving Campus except me?
Heaven.
It happens so rarely, I relish the idea and count the days until it’s finally the Friday before the weekend and there’s a sudden, almost eerie calm throughout the whole campus.
Throughout the whole world, it feels like, a majority of campus students and staff take three days off to do whatever it is they do outside of making my life miserable.
I’m caught up on all my assignments and there’s no need to study for finals any more than I already do.
Having a fuller figure and my own dorm room isn’t the only thing my fellow students hold against me.
This plain, slightly thicker nerdy girl is also no slouch when it comes to her grade point average.
Computer science is mostly a solo subject, but even my professors let me work alone on group projects because they know it’s just easier that way.
It does get lonely though sometimes but I have my books.
And not computer science books either.
My real books.
Books about real men, and how they treat their women.
How they spoil them. How they want them and most of all, how they pleasure them.
I used to think it was silly to fantasize so much about the ideal man, but when you’ve got nothing to work with but your imagination, it’s actually more rewarding than I first thought.
Except for the lack of a man in my life, but hey a girl can dream.
There is one real man on campus though.
But it’s silly.
I don’t ever dare think about that for too long. I’ve only seen him maybe once in four years.
He does sometimes pop up in my romance fantasies though when I read.
Sometimes.
Okay, like every time.
He’s the senior coach for the men’s gymnastics team. Don’t even know his name but every time I think about him I need to open a window, or my legs.
He’s an older guy, forty I’d guess. Built like a real athlete too, not like the football coaches who shout about their past achievements but only have a beer belly to show for it today.
No, this is a real man like I said.
Well over six feet, short dark hair, and a V-shaped torso that flexes under his tracksuit showing every inch of him is pure muscle.
I passed the gymnasium one time, taking a shortcut I daren’t repeat ever again.
It was after classes and he was on his own, didn’t see me watching him.
He’d stripped down to an athletic shirt and short shorts, using his huge powerful arms to mount the pommel horse after dusting his palms with chalk.
I held my breath, not daring to make a sound as I watched his powerful legs drawing closer together, his sho
ulders expanding as they took his weight.
The front of his shorts moving too, a different kind of weight moving there.
I shivered, feeling a slick wet heat forming instantly in my own front.
He used all his strength to hoist himself perfectly upright before he let out a disgusted cry of defeat and dismounted, clutching at his back.
Cursing himself for even trying.
His growl of failure met my own involuntary sound, more of a soft moan as I felt something deep inside me move with him.
Our eyes met, but only for a moment before I scurried off like some startled fat rabbit.
A guy like that, older or not. What could he ever possibly see in me?
It was safer for me from that day on to avoid the gymnasium and to stick to my classes and my own reading for cheap thrills.
The sight of a man like that up close was enough to make me rush back to my room an-
Well. I don’t really know what I would’ve done if I’d followed through on my instincts.
But I never forgot that day and often use him in my mind as a reference for what makes a real man.
And for the next three days, I don’t intend on doing much else apart from catching up on my latest novels and putting a dent in the stack of microwave food I’ve hoarded for the event.
It’s sweat pants and pumpkin spice latte’s as I shield myself from the world and the fall weather, which actually only gives me allergies for some reason.
Especially this extended weekend, with the grounds of the college having a scheduled major cleanup this weekend. Mowers, weed whackers, and leaf suckers having all started work mid-week.
Fortunately for me, they’re down on the other end of campus now so the next few days should be nothing but my favorite romance writer Flora Ferrari and plenty of rest for me snuggled up in bed.
There are the dying sounds of the dorm, the last few stragglers who either have someone collecting them or have waited for the lasts buses.
The halls echo with the final door slamming shut and then… silence.
I feel like it’s the only time I can truly relax. When there’s nobody for at least a hundred yards from the dorms.
Not wanting to rush, I take my time to relax, surfing my phone for a bit and pretending I’m checking for anything important.
Like I have friends or even family close by that needs to know something.
Pretending I have a life.
The rabbit hole of the web sees me watching a bunch of videos I have no idea how I got to when I hear the dorm doors open and close again.
I huff a breath out, screw my face up, and thrust both my arms down to my sides like a spoilt child.
Ugh, I thought they were all gone!
I shouldn’t be so mad, at least I’m not reading yet.
I haven’t really been interrupted.
The knock at my own door almost makes me shriek, a loud gasp escaping me as I cover my chest with my comforter.
Trying to hide from the world that little bit harder.
Another knock comes, and then a man’s voice.
A voice that seems to travel right through the door.
Right through me, and to my sweat pants.
All the way deep inside me.
“Uh… Hello? Anyone home?”
It’s a deep, rich voice.
Firm and commanding, with a smoky edge but also something soft in it.
Something that has me hooked and sets my mind racing.
A voice I know I’ve heard somewhere before.
If it was anything else, anyone else, I’d hide. Pretend I wasn’t here.
Pretend I’d gone like the rest of the girls from the dorm.
But it isn’t just anyone. It isn’t just any voice.
I feel myself moving up and out of my bed, watching my feet as they walk towards the door and turn the handle.
I feel my breath catch before I even open it all the way.
Sensing the presence, inhaling him, and feeling him inside me, savoring his cologne mixed with his own manly essence.
My eyes close, or do they roll back into my head?
By the time I straighten my head and open the door all the way-
Empty.
There’s nobody there.
I feel my hand go to my heart, a gap where the feeling he’s left should be.
Feeling cheated, I dart my head around the door frame, making a sort of squeaking sound once I see the back of him.
Hearing it turn to a low purr as he stops in his tracks and starts to turn, finally facing me.
There’s a second of recognition in his eyes, my eyes fixed on his until they stray down.
Straight to something I thought I’d never see again.
His perfect man bulge, right there in the hall.
And me, all alone for three whole days.
What on earth’s brought him here?
Who cares, just don’t let him leave without saying something.
Say something smart.
“It’s a girl’s only dorm,” I hear myself say loudly, sounding like a complete idiot.
Like someone who’s triggered in a very different way by the thought of a man.
He furrows his brow, then smiles to himself for a second before those intense dark eyes scan me up and down, settling on my chest as he lets out a low sound.
“I can see that,” he adds, his feet moving a little further apart as he stands his ground.
He’s not coming to me, I can feel it and I watch him getting closer as I gravitate towards him, sensing his eyes all over me as I move.
“I had campus security try to call you, let you know I was on my way over,” he adds absently. “Only staff here by the looks this weekend, apart from myself.”
I’m in my sweat pants and a thin t-shirt standing in the middle of the dorm hall. Something I’ve never done in four years.
And if it were anywhere else I couldn’t care less either. Something about this man just makes me want to get down on all fours in front of him and beg him to do what I know deep down I know needs doing.
I can feel my legs pressing together, the urge to touch myself, to be touched down there is overwhelming.
“I’m Mr. Heart,” he finally says, finding my eyes with his. “Professor Bernstein said you might be able to give me a hand?” he asks, his brow cocking this time as I stifle another whimper.
Oh, I have two hands I can give you, but I don’t think they’ll be nearly enough.
CHAPTER TWO
Wesley
Three days.
Three days of peace and quiet, letting me finally get around to the administration side of running the gymnastics team.
If we’re to have a budget for next year, I need to submit my request.
Trouble is, I don’t think my back or my computer can handle it.
I wince in pain as I check the computer cables again.
Nothing’s changed.
I’ve even switched it all off and back on again.
Still nothing.
Computers never were my strong point and I hate it because it makes me show my age when I don’t understand them.
Why does everything decide to break down on a long weekend?
A Friday afternoon after school hours too.
The budget proposal’s due first thing Tuesday and I need to get this done.
No distractions.
“You still here, Wes? Thought you’d be soaking up the sun somewhere already. Some pretty young thing hanging off your arm…” a familiar voice croaks.
Its Professor Bernstein, who lives across the hall from me.
I actually never thought to bother him with my problems, but seeing as he’s here.
I spin in my seat, wincing again from my back but smiling at his attempt at humor.
He’s always ribbing me about having women falling off me. Because it’s the one thing a guy that looks like me should have but doesn’t.
Neither does he though, he’s like eighty.
> Not that there’s anything wrong with being old.
News flash: Bernstein looks eighty and he’s a computer scientist. Chew on that, Wes.
“Bernie!” I exclaim. “Am I glad to see you, I really need a hand getting this computer going… so I can submit my department budget proposal?” I hear myself plead as I watch his face sour as he looks at his watch.
He sighs heavily through his nose.
“I’d love to, Wes. But I gotta go. My plane leaves in an hour and the car’s waiting,” he says dismissively, checking his pockets for the second time for the keys he’s holding and the glasses he’s already wearing.
I feel my heart sink, prepping myself for the walk of shame to the library, begging to use one of their computers, if there’s even any staff there.
“Try uhh… Ms. Webster. Katelyn. She’s top of my computer science class and I know she won’t be going anywhere this weekend,” he sniffs, muttering about his keys and glasses until I point them out to him.
“Ah! Here they are,” he sniffs again, and hearing the honk of a horn outside, I watch him shuffle off carrying a beat-up briefcase and overnight bag as he hums to himself before navigating the stairs.
Even Bernstein has plans for the extended weekend.
Still, if he has a student who can help, I’m all for it.
But where is she?
I call out as I lurch from my seat, gripping my back with one hand and sliding the window open with the other.
“Where can I find her?” I call out, down to Bernstein who’s patting his pockets again.
He looks up, with his glasses on he has perfect vision but still squints as he focuses on my voice.
He puckers his large lips and points absently towards the other end of campus before easing himself into his cab.
“Big help,” I sigh, not wanting to sit down again until my back’s stopped spasming.
It shouldn’t be too hard to find her. I’ve lived on campus long enough myself to know there’s only one dorm that houses female science students.
Hearing the professor’s cab pull away, I realize how quiet everything is.
My little campus apartment, the stillness of the late afternoon outside.
The emptiness of my whole life if I’m not coaching gymnastics or running the department.
Or trying to pretend I’ve still got it.