Page 19 of The Professor: Ep. 2

Would that part bother her? Would it bother me?

As I spun to face her fully, I found I couldn’t answer that question. I was too busy living in the here and now, indulging in a fantasy I would forever cherish.

I caught her by the back of the neck for what felt like the millionth time tonight and yanked her against me, my mouth seeking to destroy hers.

She let me.

Just as she let me drag her through the entire downstairs to the master suite at the back of the house.

Just as she let me lift her and push her up against the back of my bedroom door.

Just as she let me steal every breath from her lungs and claim her in a way that should be illegal.

This girl. This perfect fucking girl. I couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t think beyond her boot-clad ankles locking behind my back. Couldn’t consider anything else other than the soaked lace situated between her thighs.

“Fuck, Kayla,” I breathed, threading my fingers through her hair and holding her to me with a ferocity unlike any of my existence.

This girl could never be mine. Not completely.

And yet, I wanted to keep her. Just for a few more days. Take her as though I had every right to own her.

It made me no better than my father or the other men in my elite circle.

She had a life ahead of her. A life that had nothing to do with me. A life she had to experience on her own. But I would give her memories to last the rest of her days, ensure she remembered me when other men touched her, and supply her with enough dreams to haunt her for years to come.

Her nails bit into my shoulders, tugging at the fabric of my sweater. I paused to remove the barrier, needing to feel her against my skin. She groaned in approval as the fabric hit the floor, followed swiftly by my undershirt, leaving me bare from the waist up.

I had a requirement of hers to fulfill.

And tonight I would do just that.

I kicked off my shoes as I moved her away from my door, carrying her down the hall and past my sitting area to the four-poster bed beyond it. Her lips never left mine, her hands exploring my shoulders and upper back along the way.

I set her on her heels beside my mattress and captured her face between my palms. “Take off my pants, Kayla,” I demanded. “Then I want you to wrap those swollen lips around my cock and let me feel that devious tongue of yours.”

“Yes, Professor.” Her breathy reply went right to my groin, the innate submissiveness exactly what I craved tonight. Especially after Dustin’s visit and the feelings his presence had provoked.

We were best friends because our families demanded it. And times like this proved it was all about wealth and elite business, not about truly caring for the other.

Requisite heir.

Fuck. That.

My father could die knowing that I had no desire to continue our family name.

As though I’d ever subject another innocent to this world.

Maybe that made me ungrateful for everything he’d given me growing up. Maybe that made me no better than him, too.

But as Kayla dropped to her knees before me, I realized that I just didn’t care.

All that mattered was her loosening my belt and drawing the zipper down my slacks. And that sexy little tongue peeking out to dampen her lips.

God damn, she was beautiful.

I threaded my fingers through her hair, my muscles tightening as she pushed my pants down my thighs. My boxers soon followed, leaving me in nothing but a pair of socks—socks she took a moment to remove, leaving me fully naked before her.

Another gift, I mused.

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