Page 66 of See Me After Class

26

Viktor

The late afternoon sun, a tipsy painter drunk on crimson hues, splashed its liquid fire through the glass panes of the greenhouse. Emerald streaks, long and languid, slithered across the humid jungle that cloaked the interior in a verdant embrace.

An hour ago, I had parted the fleshy curtain of creepers, their tendrils sighing like mournful wraiths, and waited for Dessie's grand entrance.

She was, as always, spectacularly late. I, it seemed, forgot how to breathe when she finally appeared, a vision sculpted from moonbeams and alabaster. Her eyes, the color of twilight storms, flitted like restless butterflies between John, Leon, and me.

Leaning against a moss-covered railing, she was a porcelain doll misplaced in a riotous Eden. Her pale dress, as fine as spun moonlight, clung to her form like a whispered secret, catching the dying embers of the sun like shattered glass scattered on velvet.

My thoughts were getting out of hand, apparently.

"We have something to show you," I announced, my voice echoing in the humid stillness. She didn't react but proceeded to fiddle with the ends of her skirt.

She'd think she was in control if she could tell how hard my heart was hammering. But no. We were the ones manipulating the situation, us men. We had the footage we needed, containing every depraved act, every whimper of pleasure, captured in stark detail. This was evidence that would shatter her carefully constructed front and expose the truth of her willing participation in the previous night's debauchery.

"Go ahead," she said coolly. Her eyes met mine with an unsettling blankness. "Show me."

I swallowed hard, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "This is evidence. It contains… things from last night," I forced out, shoving the data chip into her palm. "About what you did with us."

She stared at the chip, her expression unreadable. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sent it skittering across the cobblestones. It landed with a dull thud, nestled among the roots of a sprawling hibiscus.

"Keep it," she said, her voice flat. "I don't care."

My jaw clenched. "You don't care? Dessie, this is…" I sputtered, searching for the right words. "This is evidence. Proof that you…"

She cut me off with a cold laugh. "Proof of what, Viktor? That I enjoyed myself? That I'm not some fragile little victim you forced into their twisted games? You think I'm afraid of you, do you?"

Her nonchalance was like a slap in the face. How could someone be so nonchalant about something so… so violating? The image of her, flushed and wanton beneath us, burned behind my eyelids.

"Don't you understand the implications, Dessie?" Leon's voice cut through the tension, his face etched with surprise. "This could ruin your life."

She shrugged, the gesture careless and defiant. "My life was already ruined the day I stepped foot in this goddamn academy. Men like you—you've all taken turns chipping away at me. What's one more crack in a broken vase?"

Her words struck a raw nerve, twisting the knot of unease in my gut tighter. I saw ghosts etched into the lines of her face.

At that moment, I understood. This wasn't apathy. It was a shield.

"Dessie," I said, my voice softer now, "You don't have to be this way. You don't have to be so… broken."

A flicker of something akin to surprise crossed her face. Then it was gone, replaced by a cynical smirk. "There's only been one exception to the rule, Viktor," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "One man who saw me for who I was, not what I'd been through. And he's gone now."

Her words hung heavily in the air, a weight that pressed down on me. Who was this? Jealousy flared within, raw and ravenous. Was she seeing someone else?

John sounded irritated, too. None of us had thought Dessie would counter us this easily. "Enough of this sentimental drivel," he snarled, his voice dripping with menace. "Perhaps what you need is to learn a lesson about the consequences of disobedience."

Dessie's face hardened, but there was no fear in her eyes. "Bring it on," she replied softly, her voice laced with steel.

"Dessie—"

"Stop talking," she spat at me. "If you have something to say, then show me."

I didn't get a chance to finish my train of thought. She kissed me then, her slender arms encircling me like ropes of ivy, and I lost all capacity for coherent speech.

This wasn't like the other times. Something in me had changed, like I was surrendering to her, giving her more of myself. I let her kiss me harder, my hands desperately undoing the buttons of her clothes until she had nothing on her body except skimpy lace underwear. Her lips parted against mine, and I possessed her mouth with sheer abandon, suddenly afraid of losing her.

I removed her bra, urgently tossing it aside. I needed her, I craved her, I had to have her right now. My hands snaked up to her waist, pulling her flush with my body. I ran my hands up her bare back, leaving trails of hot kisses down her neck, over her shoulders, to the valley between her breasts. I cupped them in my palms, brushing my thumbs against her nipples, already erect at my touch, their tips deliciously pink.

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