Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I’m not ready to see any of them.
Not a single fucking one.
I need a ring on my finger before I stare down the social circles of the NYC elite. It’s not lost on me that none of them have messaged me or even reached out once since the video was also emailed to their phones.
My blood runs cold, and I shake off the fucks I’m giving and stride down the hall, loving the sound of my heels. I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone… but I want a view of my fiancé’s ass.
Even if our relationship is fake, the fucking isn’t. And somehow, it’s making this entire charade worth it. I do need a ring, though… maybe I should add that into the contract I still haven’t signed.
I hear him before I see him. Even in the sea of students, the clacking of shoes on the hard floors, and the murmurs and chatter, his voice cuts through it all. What he’s saying doesn’t matter. His timbre echoes through my body.
Who would've thought him calling out that an essay was due by the end of the week would light every nerve ending in my body on fire?
Professor Wolf is hot as hell, and he’s all mine.
His class ends only minutes after mine, so I wait for the students to file out. I’m almost certain he has a lunch break after this. Just as I thought, when the last student has left, he strides out of the classroom and locks the door behind him.
“Professor Wolf,” I say as sultry as I can, and he turns to see me standing there, my carryall held directly in front of me with both hands. I sway just slightly, letting my dress sway along my upper thighs. It’s a bit skimpy but paired with the long camel blazer that extends past the dress, it’s somewhat appropriate for a daytime look.
And even if it wasn’t, I don’t dress for anyone but myself. I wear what I want. I always have, and I always will.
His gaze rakes down my body, and I consider slipping the jacket off now, yet I have a better idea.
“You look beautiful, my wife.”
“You keep calling me that,” I correct him, “It’s fiancée.”
He meets my smirk with one of his own before leaning closer and telling me he’s just practicing.
“Is this when I kiss you?” I tease him, and his eyes drift to my lips instantly.
Kiss me, my heart begs, but he doesn’t.
He glances down the hall, and I already know the answer. Wife or fiancée or whatever, making out in the hall is certainly not a good look for a teacher. Especially not with a student.
“I actually need you, Professor,” I tell him matter-of-factly before he can answer. Adrenaline races through me, hoping he’ll play along.
“What for?” he questions, and I turn on my heel, looking over my shoulder and requesting him to follow me.
“What are you up to, Brooklyn?” he questions.
I purr back, “You have a lunch break, don’t you?”
He stays to my side as I take him up the stairs to the upper level. The clicking of my heels stops as we enter the library, and I step on the carpet in the main section. It’s far less busy in the library, but there’s a back room that’s simply perfect. Inside, sheer delight at what’s to come takes over. I’ve daydreamed about this moment since last week when I first saw the room. I think Aspen was right, I have a new kink.
He whispers at the shell of my ear as we walk. “What are you doing in the library?”
“I was looking up a book on stars, not that it’s any of your business,” I retort. I guess I can thank my astronomy class for something productive.
Grabbing his hand, I take him through the rows of shelves while the warmth turns blazing hot with each step.
“A book of stars?” he teases as I open a door to a room of classics. The title just above it is worn.
It’s probably been here since the university opened, and this back room isn’t carpeted like the others. It's worn wood that hasn’t been updated, and the room smells of old books.
“Well, I was looking for a book, Professor, and I found this room that seems very empty … and back here …”
I check the six rows and find it vacant, then turn back to the door. A small lock is practically ancient, and Ro watches as I latch the door. I stalk back to him, and I love the way my heels sound like a tease.
“Right there, no one would see,” I point, then walk past him to the shelf.
“You know, before you, I had a stellar reputation,” he taunts as he stalks toward me. “I was from wealth and bred into this life,” he murmurs roughly as he slips his hand up my skirt, his chest to mine. My back presses against the shelf, and I love it. He plays with my clit as he continues the nonsensical thoughts I choose to ignore in favor of pleasure.