Page 39 of Wicked Ends
“Big talk, Mr. Bailey,” she finally murmured over her shoulder and flexed her ass back against me. It sent me deeper still. “Let’s see if you have the goods to back it up.”
A laugh ripped from me. I held her ass cheeks in both hands, fucking her harder, shaking the bed.
“Yes, let’s.”
Arianna
When I wokeup at Kenna’s, head pounding, mouth dry, and body aching, it took a full minute to remember last night. It came back in a rush. The dinner and the wine, going for a late-night sandwich, and Marcus strolling in. His hand covering my mouth, right here in this room. I looked around, reassuring myself that he was long gone.
I sat up, my body tingling in the best way, and pulled back the sheet. I was naked. Hickeys decorated my bare breasts, some with teeth marks on the edges. My stomach was covered in white, flaky cum that had dried overnight. My mouth felt bruised and swollen from his kisses. My pussy tingled, well used and still wet. Even my asshole felt—different. His fingers weren’t small at all, and he’d had one all the way?—
I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling like I might scream. I had been telling him he was driving me insane, and he’d acted like it was a joke, but it was frighteningly possible. I didn’t know how to reconcile the part of me that woke up to him holding me down andliking it, with the woman I had to be in class.
His teacher.
One thing was for sure, and I couldn’t lie to myself about it: When I’d woken up to find him in bed with me, my drunkenness had already worn off, so I couldn’t even blame that for how excited I’d been. I’d wanted him in all his perverse, fucked-up, twisted-game glory. A man who didn’t need anyone to leave the door open to get to me.
A stranger stared at me from the mirror opposite the bed. Who was this woman who broke the rules and dared to want something she shouldn’t? I didn’t recognize her.
After changing the sheets and putting the dirty ones in the washer, all while Kenna was still asleep, I headed back to the Night Owl to get ready for work. I dumped my bags, stripped down, and headed straight for the shower.
Last night was scored into my memory, and I didn’t think I’d ever forget it. Not the nice dinner or too many drinks, not the sandwich at the Chickadee Diner, or hanging with Kenna… Nope, all of that would fade away with time.
What I’d never forget was waking up to Marcus looming over me in the dark, his tongue on my body, his weight pinning me down.
I ran soap over my skin, my breasts heavy and my pussy still buzzing from the encounter.
It was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me. He was young and gorgeous and so goddamn determined, it was jumbling me all up. No one had ever pursued me like this. No one had ever wanted me like this. He seemed to be insatiable. Insatiable for me.
It’s because you’re his professor… forbidden fruit.The voice in my head that loved to burst my bubble sounded an awful lot likemy brother. Of course it did. Dead or alive, Dale would haunt me forever.
The water started to get cold, so I hurriedly finished my shower and got out, toweling off quickly. I had to get to campus early to prepare for my classes. I hadn’t even looked at the performance preparation files I’d taken from school yesterday. Tangling with Marcus was distracting as hell, and I didn’t have time to be distracted right now.
Maybe after last night, he’d back off. What had he implied at the Chickadee? One more night, and he’d lose interest. One more night of giving myself completely to him, and he’d find someone else to fixate on.
Of course he would. The man was a walking, talking, hockey-playing sex god, and I was just me… sheltered and traumatized, overweight and unconfident, broken in more ways than I could count.
I stood in my towel and shivered at the memory of Marcus kissing the scar on my shoulder. Dale had pushed me through a glass coffee table when I was eighteen and refused to let me see a real doctor, just his pal, an Army vet. The old guy had stitched me up the best he could, but there would always be a scar.
“You want to be like everyone else? Scars are beautiful. They tell a story. Your story… and it’s fucking fascinating, birthday girl, just like you.”
How could he be so arrogant and obsessive, demented in his demands and refusal to take no for an answer, and so heartbreakingly kind all at once? I’d never met anyone like him before, and I had a feeling I never would again.
Trying to push thoughts of Marcus out of my head, I got dressed, taking care to cover up well. He might make fun of me for trying to look prim and proper, but it was the only way I could counter the absolute filth of last night. I felt like a fraud: straitlaced professor by day, and wanton woman by night, sleeping with a student.
I cringed at the reminder. I couldn’t do this. It was wrong. I had to hope Marcus understood that by now.
I drove to school and parked, heading over to my class and skipping the staff lounge this morning. When I got to my classroom door, a gangly, fresh-faced student waited for me, looking nervous.
“Can I help you?” I asked him.
“I had to give this to you,” the boy stammered, shoving a paper bag in my hands before practically running away.
I peeked inside the bag. A thick rectangular box sat at the bottom. I unlocked my classroom and went inside, dropping my purse on my desk and taking the box out of the bag.
It was a brand-new phone, top of the line. I stared at it before turning it over in my hand. There was a pink Post-it on the other side.
Open me.
