Page 47 of The Professor
He cupped my face, still buried deep. “That’s one fucking way to start the day.”
I stared into his eyes. They were alive with desire, with passion, and something else I couldn’t put a name to.
“Are we done once my father has paid up?” I asked through panting breaths.
He released me and stepped back, leaving me empty and with my legs spread. “I’ve wanted you for years, you think one quick fuck on the table is gonna sate me?” He bent and retrieved his clothes. “I haven’t even fucking started, babe.”
He left the room, and I lay back on the table and stared at the ceiling that could do with a lick of paint. I then slipped my hands to my pussy and spread his cum around, entered myself,fingered my still-tender clit. If that was him barely even started, what else did he have in mind for me?
I could hardly wait to find out.
Chapter Twelve
Chelsea
Andrew returned carrying a tray of tea and toast. “Here.” He set it down then placed a pale-blue dress on the table. “And get dressed.”
“Why? Where are we going? You said I had to be naked.” I stood from the bed.
He licked his lips, and his attention dropped down my body. “I’d like you to be naked for the rest of our lives, but that would require me not wanting to kick the fucking shit out of anyone who looked at you, which isn’t going to happen. So eat up and get dressed. We’ve got somewhere to be.”
“We have? Where?”
“Just do it, I’ll be back in ten.”
“Can’t you stay?”
“No.” He frowned. “You’re too distracting, and I can’t let my dick get in the way of this.”
I smiled and bit my toast.
He glanced at the crumbs that had tumbled onto my tits then turned and left the room.
An hour later, we were at a place called Memorial Park. There was hardly anyone about, just a distant dog walker in a yellow hoody. It was early, six o’clock, and dew sparkled on the grass.
I stood between Andrew and Cillian. The big guy was back, Phil, and Jamie, the posh one, was in the Merc that had driven us here, presumably waiting as a getaway driver once they had the money and had given me back to Dad.
They all had their masks drawn up. They all wore exclusively black. And they were all carrying—I’d seen that withmy own eyes when we’d left Rose Cottage. It spoke volumes about them meaning business, about their professionalism and their determination to see this through.
I shivered in the cool morning air and stared in the direction everyone seemed to be focused on.
A huge black Range Rover came around the corner. It was one I recognized.
Dad.
As I spotted his outline behind the wheel, a sense of dread churned my stomach. Everything Vince had told me came rushing back. There was no way I couldn’t have a conversation with him about Mum and where he was on the night of her death. I’d know in his eyes if he were lying, I knew him too well.
“That him?” Andrew asked.
“Yes,” I said. “But…don’t hurt him. Please.”
Andrew’s hand on my upper arm tightened. “Stay cool. Don’t say anything. Let us do the talking.”
I nodded.
My father parked up, got out, and began to walk toward us. Even at this early time he was dressed impeccably in a navy suit and dark burgundy tie. His arms swung stiffly; he wasn’t happy, not one bit.
“Sweetheart,” he called when he was close enough. “Are you hurt?”
