Page 55 of Damnation
“Relax. We don’t have to do that right now. When you’re ready, you’ll tell me. So…” He smiles, lowering himself down to my breast to nibble my nipple before sucking it so hard I gasp. “Until then, I’ll just enjoy taking you from behind the old-fashioned way.” With one movement, he flips me over onto my stomach and lifts up my hips. I shift my weight onto my knees and let out a small cry mixed with a laugh when he bites my ass cheek and slaps it.
“You have the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen; you can hardly blame me for dreaming of making it completely mine every time I see you like this in front of me.” He leans over me, caressing the cleft of my butt. I shiver, trembling. With one hand, he pulls my hair away from my back and grasps it in his fist. He pulls me back, forcing me to tilt my head, unconcerned with being too rough. With his other hand, he strokes my belly, reaching down to my clit and beginning to stimulate it. He slides one finger into me, and I grip it tightly. He pulls it out and then penetrates me again, deeper this time. Every time he repeats this movement, my body is more and more inflamed. I move my hips eagerly against him, pulling a low, guttural groan from him. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Ness.”
He bows over me, licking my neck, grabbing my hip with one hand. I love Thomas’s voice when he’s deep in his arousal. It’s enough to make my legs spread automatically. I clench the sheets in my fists, and then, with a short thrust that leaves me breathless, Thomas is inside me.
Fourteen
It’s been four days since I moved into the frat house, and things with Thomas seem to be going weirdly well. We’re both busy at school with classes and practice, but we manage to make time for each other. When I’m working, he comes to the Marsy with his friends and waits for my shift to end, and then we go back to the frat, where we spend every night together. It’s like neither of us can do without the other anymore, and that sense of belonging to one another only gets stronger each day.
I’m so happy, it feels like I’m walking on air, even now when I’m climbing the last of the steps leading to the dean’s office. That is, until the thought of what I’m about to face brings me back to earth.
I lift my skirt up a bit, so I won’t step on the hem with my Converse. In my other hand, I hold a paper cup full of steaming coffee. Arriving in front of a closed door, I take a seat on one of the empty chairs in the hallway, waiting. I cross my legs and check the time on my wristwatch: 9:45 on a Thursday morning. My appointment is at 9:50.
I take a deep breath and sip my coffee. I tap my feet nervously. I take another sip, set the cup down on the chair next to mine, and gather my hair up into a messy bun. Then I think about it for a minute and realize that I can’t show up in front of the dean looking like this. I undo the bun, detangling my hair with my fingers and tucking it behind my ears, trying to play it cool. I drain the last bit of my coffee and toss the cup into the trash can on my left. Damn, I’m nervous. I have no ideawhy the dean has requested to see me, and the urgent way he summoned me only makes me more anxious. I check the time again: 9:48. I stand up and start pacing.
I’m guessing it has something to do with the student loan I inquired about. Maybe he wants to tell me that, unless the rest of my tuition for next semester is paid, I won’t be able to attend classes. That would be terrible. What am I talking about? That would be anightmare.
I don’t have time to formulate any other thoughts, because then the office door opens. I turn and am faced with the secretary, who invites me in with a wave of her hand. “Miss Clark, please come in; make yourself comfortable.”
Dean Campbell is on the phone, leaning back in his black leather chair and staring up at the ceiling. With a grave expression, he gestures for me to sit down. The secretary goes over to a pitcher of water on a table in the back of the room and fills two glasses. Then she returns, placing them on the desk in front of us before leaving us in total silence. I sit down hesitantly in the chair in front of the dean, separated only by an expensive-looking desk with paperwork scattered all over it.
After a few minutes, during which he continues to talk to the person on the phone about a potential reorganization of campus security, the dean gives me an apologetic look and a “be patient” nod. I look around, tapping my fingers on my legs and turning my attention to the framed pictures hanging on the wall: degrees, various certificates, different portraits, and some family photos. Including one of his two daughters in formal wear, immortalized on prom night, and another of him looking happy and carefree with a woman who must be his wife.
“Miss Clark.” The dean’s sharp voice makes me jump. I sit up straight and give him all the attention I can muster. “I apologize for the wait, but today seems to be a day full of inconveniences that I have to prioritize.” He straightens the knot of his tie and puts both hands on the desk. “So how are you doing?”
“Good, I think, thank you.” I give him a very tense smile. I’d like to dispense with all these pleasantries and get right into it. The dean runs a hand through his gray hair before deciding to get to the point. “It’sbeen more than a week since we talked about the difficulty you’ve been having in paying your tuition.” He gathers up some loose papers from the desk and puts them in a folder. “If I remember correctly, I advised you to apply for a student loan. Is that right?” Oh my God, I knew this was going to be bad news. I can’t believe it; I’m about to be kicked out.
I nod to him, trying not to show the anguish coursing through my body. But it doesn’t work, because when I finally speak, my voice is clearly shaking. “Yes. I’ve been researching, and I have an appointment with the financial aid office next Monday.”
“So you haven’t started the process yet?”
“No, but I will do it as soon as possible.” I wring my hands as panic overwhelms me more and more.
The dean throws his hands up triumphantly. “That’s great news, Miss Clark!”
“Excuse me, h-how?”
He picks up his glass of water and takes a small drink. “Yesterday afternoon, something rather unusual happened. The university received a check from an anonymous benefactor. As requested in the accompanying letter, we’ve used this check to pay the entire remaining balance of your tuition as well as your room and board.”
My jaw practically hits the floor.
“What?” I hiss, in a state of shock.
Dean Campbell nods and hands me a packet of papers. “Here, this is your transaction receipt and invoice. The fee has been paid in full, which means that from this moment on, you are free to use all the related services on campus. No worry about grades either, although even if there were, it wouldn’t be an issue. I know for a fact that you are an excellent student.” He says it so proudly that it sounds like he’s talking about one of his daughters.
I leaf through the documents, my mouth still open in shock, as I try to listen to what the dean is saying while also focusing on the words on the pages. I shake my head. “I–I…don’t understand. My scholarship doesn’t cover room and board. Besides, I don’t know anyone who has enough money to pay the entire balance…” I lift my head. “This isdefinitely some kind of mistake.”
“Are you Miss Vanessa Clark?”
I nod, bewildered.
“Then I can confirm it is no mistake.”
“But.…can I at least know the name of this benefactor?”
“Along with the check, we received a formal request to remain anonymous. We are required to protect the donor’s privacy, or we would be in serious trouble.”
“I still don’t understand; this feels absurd…”
