Page 1 of Releasing Reenie

CHAPTER 1

Maureen

The glow of the red and green Christmas lights reflected in the window where I watched snow fall in thick, fluffy blobs. Everyone had cocktails in their hands, and there was happy chatter mixed with Christmas music, making the room buzz with holiday energy.

When Trent walked into the staff room, I watched his reflection in the window. Tall, with a confident gait, Trent commanded every room he entered. I admired that about him.

He was well loved too. As soon as he arrived, people rushed to greet him and their cheery calls pulled me from my spot by the window to move closer to the group—closer to him. I was the newest member of the group, so I was normally a bit reserved, but tonight I’d had a few glasses of wine.

This little party started a few years ago, off the books, as an impromptu holiday send-off. Potluck style, it was originally sans alcohol, but since no one outside of the department came to their building, and the students were long gone, it had morphed into something with more holidaycheer.

Trent strode right to the table where the plastic cups had been set up, glanced at the various bottles of liquor, wine, and mixers and poured himself a drink. Once he’d taken a liberal swallow, he spoke over the speakers currently playing,White Christmas.

“So… one of my students kissed me today.”

His words had a hush falling over the room. I bit my lip, watching his handsome face as he made eye contact with everyone around him. My stomach flipped when his gaze held mine a beat longer than anyone else’s.

The group of about fifteen or so staff members was a captive audience, me included. Trent was late to the party because he was one of the few professors who offered a late class on Friday evening. I had one too, but my students left as quickly as possible after my class, where his often hung back trying to steal a moment with him. And it wasn’t because he taught a more engaging subject either.

The man was gorgeous, had enough charisma for ten people, and a sex appeal that shouldn’t be legal. Even his male students loved hanging out with him. I’d often see him during a free block in the college lounge shooting pool or just hanging around with his students.

Despite this easygoing way he had, he still commanded respect. When he wasn’t happy with you, and you knew it with just one disappointed look, you’d do anything to get back in his good graces. On more than one occasion, I thought he’d make a good Dom, a Daddy Dom. It was a silly thing I did with people in general, putting them into BDSM categories.

“No way,” someone said, turning the music down to a low hum. “Was it a ‘Merry Christmas’ kiss?”

I moved closer, just as invested in the story as everyone else, knowing it would be amusing.

“What happened?” Daniel Fitzpatrick, the head of the physics department, asked, sounding a little past buzzed. He should definitely be a sub. He needed someone to keep him in line.

Trent held up a hand, looking serious, even though everyone knew he wasn’t.

“Don’t worry, it was one of my mature students.”

“Mature or not, it’s totally inappropriate.” This was said by Julianna Watts, also from the physics department. Her soon-to-be ex-husband, a professor from another department, had recently been caught having an affair with one of his students. The student was of age, but he’d still lost his job and his wife over it. Julianna would totally be a Domme. I cocked my head, peering at her as I took in her stiff shoulders, perfect posture, and no-nonsense tone.

Maybe she was. After all, they say it takes one to know one. And as much as I liked putting other people in roles, I knew my own. I was a Domme, for sure. Not a practicing one, oh no, the thought of actually topping anyone terrified me, but I could never be a sub. I could never give up the control I clung so tightly to in every area of my life. Not even if I sometimes wanted to.

“True. And gross.” Trent pulled a face, then hid a smirk behind his solo cup as he swallowed a swig of whatever he’d poured himself.

“Gross?” I questioned, feeling affronted as a woman in her late thirties. “How mature is this student?”

He winked at me. “Yeah, Boomer drooled all over my face.” He motioned to the area around his mouth where his perfect lips were currently curved at the corners and his dimple played peek-a-boo on his left cheek.

“What?” someone else asked, chuckling. “You’ve got a boomer in your class?”

“My student’s guide dog, Boomer. The old boy’s at least twelve, that’s mature for a Labrador, and he’s been to every class. He’s probably absorbed more of my curriculum than some of my human students.” Trent faked a grumpy look.

We all laughed, which was exactly what he was aiming for.

“Cute,” someone murmured and turned the music back up.

A short time later, and another drink in, Trent’s eyes landed on mine. And when he made his way toward me, my heart pounded the closer he got.

“Hi.”

I bit my lip, chewing off the strawberry lip gloss I’d just reapplied. “Hi.”

“A little more crowded in here tonight, yeah?”

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