Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
He sits at the edge of his desk, his hands gripping the frame with an ease that suggests control, his legs casually crossed at the ankles. I’d say he looks relaxed if I didn’t know exactly what the sick fuck is capable of.
His long, lean fingers tighten on the desk, and I catch a glimpse of the veins at the back, prominent, pulsing with every flex, extending to beneath the cuff of his shirt. Those veins that tightened and tensed when he held my jaw, my cheeks—
No.
Not going there.
“You need to stop looking at me like that.” His slightly rough voice is low enough that none of the students passing by can hear it.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re thinking about last night. It’s making me hard, and this is not the appropriate place to come down that throat again.”
My fingers tighten around my notebook and the wound tingles beneath the bandage. There’s nothing I want to do more than grab his fucking head and smash it against that desk.
Spill his blood.
Cut his dick off.
But then, that would be impulsive. And I don’t do that.
Or didn’t—past tense. Because, really, since last night, I’ve been the personification of a ticking time bomb.
I let my lips curve in a smile. “That won’t be happening.”
“Let’s disagree agreeably.”
“What’s the definition of agreeably to you? A gun to my head?”
“If you want.”
“I want nothing from you. Oh wait, I want you to rot in jail.”
A twitch touches the corner of his lips. “Not a chance.”
“Because you can manipulate the justice you preach?”
“No. Because you’d be rotting right there beside me.” He rises to his full height. “I don’t have to tell you what I’d do to you in that cell, do I?”
Fucking creep.
I keep my smile in place, adopting a mocking tone. “Wow. I’m surprised you don’t have a PhD in psychotic behavior. Do you often prey on your students?”
“Only little monsters like yourself.” He approaches me and I remain still, refusing to give in to the authoritativeness he exudes with every step.
Like a robot—or a tank—that will smash everything in its wake.
Well, I’m the fortress facing the tank.
There will be no smashing. At least, not from his side.
He stops a few inches away, but I can still smell him. The faintest hint of wood and amber floods my nostrils and a string of memories follow.
Thrusting, gagging, choking, groaning, writhing for something, anything.
Stop.
“Tell me, Carson.” His voice is close now and so are his eyes that are peering into my soul. “How did you manage to hide that revolting personality until now?”
I look at him but say nothing. If he believes he can ruffle my feathers, he truly doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Punching down has never affected me.
And despite the massive headache and the constant screech of my demons for blood, I maintain my calm.
He cocks his head to the side, giving me a mechanical once-over, as if I’m a piece of art he finds unsightly. “The other professors can’t stop singing your praises. They said you’re so hardworking and loveable. The best student any professor could have. Either they’re excruciatingly blind or you’re just so staggeringly charming.”
“You don’t find me charming?” I let my lips form a mock pout.
His gaze slides down, zeroing in on the motion, and something flashes there before he meets my eyes again. “I think we’ve established that you have a magnificent ability to be grotesque.”
My lips lift into a snarl, but I force them into a smile. “I didn’t seem grotesque when you came all over my mouth. You enjoyed it so much, you kept coming on and on, I thought it’d never stop.”
“Your hole is the only useful thing about you.” I think I see a change of expression, but it’s so fleeting, I can’t read it as he continues, “But enough about that.”
“And here I was dying to keep broaching the subject.”
“Watch the way you speak to me. I’m your professor and will not tolerate any disrespect.” The firm edge in his voice sets my skin ablaze. It’s uncomfortable, this feeling that’s making me grip the notebook tighter.
“I have no respect for you whatsoever, Professor.”
“I’ll tell you this once, so listen carefully, Carson.” He stands taller, forcing me to crane my head back to look up at him. “I have zero tolerance for spoiled, rich little brats like you who believe they can rule the world through their daddies’ trust funds. If you don’t drop the attitude and watch your mouth, I will fuck it into submission. Are we clear?”
My teeth grind, chomping down on the demons that are trying to rush through and strangle the fuck out of him.
I’m thinking of an appropriate insult when he says, “Now that we have that out of the way. I have a proposition for you.”
“As a witness to your crimes? Sure.”