Page 30 of Kiss the Villain

If eyes were lasers, he would’ve burned me on the spot.

I repress a smile as my composed voice carries on. “There is substantial evidence—witnesses, DNA, and the victim’s medical report—suggesting the crime took place, but there is no clear memory from the victim, as she was in and out of consciousness, and there are conflicting statements from other witnesses. The defense is challenging the sufficiency of the evidence, claiming that there is reasonable doubt about whether the victim was truly assaulted or if it was a planned interaction.”

Carson’s scribbling picks up in intensity, but there’s still no broken pen.

Pity.

“I’ll email you all the case material, but now, I’ll randomly assign roles. If I call your name, please stand.” I go through the not-so-random list I have. “Meyers, Jones, and Omar, you’ll be the prosecution team. You’ll focus on building a strong narrative of the crime, utilizing the victim’s testimony, the DNA evidence, and witness accounts. The prosecution needs to prove that the defendant intentionally assaulted the victim and should be held accountable for his actions.”

All three students stand up with a gleam in their eyes. They’re the smartest kids in this class and have a true talent for law. Carson is smart, too. Onpaper.

But his motives are wrong.

Not that I should judge. I never pursued law for philanthropic reasons.

“Carson.” With an icy tone, I pretend to read his name from my monitor, and he slowly stands up, still clutching the pen. “You will act as the defense attorney for James Rutherford. Your role is to prove that there is no clear evidence that your client is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”

This time, the pen breaks in his hand, and I let my lips twitch in a smile as I call other students’ names on autopilot, assigning them as junior members of the defense team—all the idiot ones—and the smarter ones as jurors and witnesses.

“Your job is to scrutinize every piece of evidence, every testimony, and to come to your own verdict, just as you would in an actual courtroom. You’ll have a week for pretrial preparation. We’ll start with the opening statement next week.” I turn off the screen. “Class dismissed.”

I gather my belongings and exit the classroom before the students. Many of them fall into step on either side of me, particularly the prosecution team, asking follow-up questions about the assignment. The others are only using the assignment as an excuse to vie for my attention.

They’re barking up the wrong tree. One, I prefer women my age. Two, I’d never fuck a student.

Except for the one I catch a glimpse of in my peripheral vision who’s standing at the front of the class and watching me instead of listening to those surrounding him.

Though I don’t particularlywantto fuck him.

I’m actually straight and have never found men attractive.

So how come the thought of filling Carson’s pretty face with tears as he chokes on my cock makes my dick twitch in its confinement?

Power.

Control.

Breaking someone into their subhuman form.

Those elements are clearly more important than actual sex or attraction to me.

Though I’ve never had an erection for a man I wanted to break. Hmm. What is it about Carson that’s…so alluringly titillating?

The tears streaming down his face when he was choking on my cock? The way he sucked me roughly, giving me much of the pain I was giving him?

I am into fucking mouths, that’s for sure, but most women are delicate, and I’ve always been careful not to take it too far, so I’ve never really fucked a throat that hard.

Never had vicious, violent lips trying to suck my cum dry.

And I, honest to God, didn’t give a fuck that it was a man’s lips. Maybe because it doesn’t matter whose lips?

No, that’s wrong. I was consciously aware of his male scent, his sharp jaw, and his ruthless big hands.

I knew he was different from the usual softness I’m used to, and I…didn’thate it.

Some might say I enjoyed it way too much, to the point that my cock is twitching at the memories.

But I digress.

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