Page 74 of Wicked Surrender

With him, I didn’t have to be a good girl.

Like this, I could distract myself with what made me feel good.

Gazing up at him with his cock stretching my lips, I wished that his sated, lopsided smile could mean something more than his appreciating my jumping on him like this to give him head, with no explanation.

I wanted to know I was worthy, not second-best.

Not just as his current fuck buddy, but as the one woman he’d always want.

Just me.

So much for not thinking past the present, huh?

If I wasn’t careful, he’d start to get too close to my head and trick me into falling for him.

Even though we focused so much on sex right now, when I was with him, I realized that he was the ultimate motivation to fight for what I wanted.

And I wanted him. All of him. Even when he wouldn’t own up to why he ever chose me to bully in the first place.

Someone who made me feel this good, this powerful, and this wanted like he did couldn’t have a reason to want to cause me pain.

24

JASON

The following week, I accepted the medical philosophy paper from my instructor. She smiled at me and pushed her glasses back up her nose.

“I’m impressed,” she admitted.

Most students assumed she was blind as a bat and halfway out the door, but she was still sharp enough to remember all of her students. She’d been particularly invested in me, viewing me as an underdog.

I lowered my gaze to the grade and raised my brows. “So am I.”

“It looks like the academic recovery program knows how to turn around the trajectory of even the worst slackers.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You should thank those coordinators for arranging the help that got you a B again.” She tapped her wrinkly finger on the paper.

With this A, my grade shot way up. All my classes were slowly improving, but this old med philo professor was wrong.

I didn’t owe a single word of thanks to that academic recovery program.

“That’s the magic of having a good tutor,” she added before turning away to speak with another student.

I agreed with her on that point. My tutor was nothing short of fucking magic. Of dark magic, to match my need for hard fucks and still want more. Of sweet magic to make me lose sight of my anger in the few moments where she made me feel peace.

Those short spells of peace came when she was coming for me, or after I’d found my release in her.

That wasn’t it, though.

I left the class, looking forward to telling Laura about this good grade. She’d be proud, and that felt like a damned good reward to do my best. But it wasn’t like she was tutoring me. I was doing this work on my own, because every time I was with that raven-haired smartass, we were learning every inch of each other with hot, torrid fucks.

But it was still more than that. Every time I anticipated meeting her, my heart felt lighter, like I knew deep down in my bones that something good was coming my way. Then when she crossed my mind at random times throughout the day, my lips would tug up in a smile.

Each time I recalled an argument or how she explained the proper steps of something I’d gotten wrong, I wanted to sigh and just appreciate that she was giving me attention.

Her claims of my quitting had died out weeks ago.

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