Page 49 of Broken Princess

Ithought I knew what I was getting myself into by going to work in the dean’s office. Making copies and filing paperwork sounded easy. But then, I learned each document needs a receipt stamp, a cover sheet, and a folder. I make a second copy once the dean signs it, and then outgoing correspondence has to be carried down to the mail cart three times a day to be picked up by the local mail service. One envelope is fine. Stacks of forty each trip is an upper arm workout.

Then there’s The Guild, where I’m a reporter and photographer, so the days I work in the dean’s office are my late days at the paper. I’ve also got schoolwork, homework, and class projects. I think I’m averaging four hours of sleep each night and I feel tired, wired, and a little stressed.

Logan’s here tonight, going over an article that’s supposed to be featured in this week’s paper. Most of the staff left two hours ago. I hit backspace for the third time, deleting another line that sounds like shit. I can’t seem to get my brain to work this evening, and I don’t know why.

I drop my glasses onto the desk and stand, just as Logan walks by. He gets hit in the shins by my runaway chair.

“Tryna cut me off at the knees and steal the bi-line above the fold?”

“If I were trying to take you out, I’d aim higher.”

“Like at my heart?”

“Your dick. If I injurethat, it’s guaranteed to take you out of commission.”

“Spending a lot of time thinking of my dick, are you?”

“None at all. I just know how very fond you and every other man is of theirs.”

He steps close enough for me to smell the mint on his breath and the wood-burnt smell of clay on his skin. He must’ve been sculpting before coming here.

“You’re fond of it too,” he says with all the confidence of a man who knows he’s good in bed.

“I was, but then again, I didn’t know any better. I guess that was the point, right?” I ask, shoving by him. My skin prickles at the thought of how much of a fool I was for trusting him. And yet it’s also electrified from where our arms grazed when I walked by.

I’m pacing the hallway outside of the newsroom, trying to get my thoughts and feelings under control. I wanted to pick up that chair and bash him in the head with it when he mentioned our history. A tingle of awareness slips down my spine. I turn around to see him walking towards me. Of course he followed me out here to continue pestering me.

“Are you okay?”

“Like you give a shit!”

The closer he gets, the more I feel like I’m trapped in a box. I run to the end of the hall, pushing through the exit door that leads to the stairwell. He’s right on my tail. I’m flying down the stairs, trying to outrun him which proves useless because he’s skipping stairs three at a time. I reach for the door on the second landing, but his hand closes around my arm, pulling me towards him before I can get it open.

“Let go.” My chest heaves with each labored breath.

“Not until you tell me why the hell you’re acting so bitchy tonight.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation about shit.”

I push against his chest, trying to kick him to get him off me. He grips my hands with one of his, wedging his knee between my fused thighs, unbothered by my feeble attempts. His free hand goes to his waist. I hear the soft swish of his belt being pulled from the loops of his jeans.

“What the hell?” The words tumble from my mouth in a gasp when he lashes my wrists together, then turns me away from him, threading and securing the belt around the handrail.

“You wanna fight me. Fine. We’ll fight.”

“Then untie me so I can kick your ass.”

“That’s not the kind of fighting you want.” He whispers thickly against my ear. “You know what struggling does to me and you just did a fuck ton of it.” He’s close enough that I can feel his erection against my ass. I should be putting space between us, but my body arches towards it.

His hands are in my pants, palming me. On instinct, I rub my pussy against it, desperate to be touched.

“Wet for me, already?”

“Not you, the hottie in my game theory class. He’s nice to me.”

“My cock is about to be nice to you too.” He shoves my jeans down to my ankles, pulling my hips back. The head of his cock presses against my entrance. I’m so wet, I take half of him in one stroke.

“Heaven.” He grunts, and somehow as keyed up as I am to fight, just feeling him inside me calms the maelstrom raging within.

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