Page 33 of Thorns of Malice

He was in with another coed, unbuttoning her blouse. Dyer took one look at me and was too happy to let her go.

I told him I'd meet him at the event, thinking it would be better for me to scope out the landscape before he entered the scene. My heart almost stopped when I saw Dax. But I reminded myself, just like now, that he's the enemy.

It's not helping that my urges are taking over. My pussy's pulsing with an intensity I loathe right now. So, as much as I hate Dax, all I've wanted to do since Professor Dyer mentioned it is take him into the bathroom.

My urges are increasing every day, but I have to fight them. I tap into everything they preach to do at Sex Addicts Anonymous, but nothing could have prepared me for this situation.

Dyer pulls out a chair at a table in the second row.

Dax calls out, "Don't sit there. You two come sit at my table."

I freeze, my heart beating faster.

Dyer puts his hand on my waist, creeping me out again.

It's a necessary evil,I remind myself and don't brush off his touch.

Dyer arrogantly states, "I thought you'd never ask."

What happened between Matt and Dyer?

A new panic hits me.

I shouldn't be here.

Stop being scared.

Put on Avery's face.

I coyly smile at Dax, inquiring, "Isn't your table full?"

"Not anymore. Come." He steps in front of his table. It's right in the center, at the front of the room. He pulls out a chair. "Sit, Ivy."

I obey.

Dyer tries to sit on my left side, and Dax orders, "That's not your seat."

"I'm sitting next to my date or we'll stay at the other table," Dyer threatens.

Dax points to the other side of me. "That's your seat."

Dyer glances at it and back at Dax.

Dax gives him an equally arrogant, challenging stare.

Professor Dyer finally caves and sits on my right side. Dax sits on my left, facing the stage, so we're both centered.

Dyer puts his arm around me, and I try not to cringe. He murmurs in my ear, "The slit in your dress is convenient, you fucking slut. I want that pussy of yours right now."

I turn to look at him, playing the game, and smirk.

Dax puts his hand on my thigh, and tingles race over my skin. I turn to him.

"Ivy, we have to talk," he insists.

"Go ahead and talk. I'm listening," I state, smiling and gazing down at his hand.

When I glance up, there's a fire in Dax's eyes, and I know there's a matching one in mine. The air's electric between us. It's always been that way. Nothing has changed in that area.

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