by Layla Frost
The kind who was no longer sane thanks to an asshole professor, that was who.
I offered him a smile that was likely bordering on Girl Interrupted-levels of unhinged as I unlocked my box. “Nothing, sorry.”
He seemed to relax marginally, returning his focus to his mail.
I did the same, pulling out stacks of to-go menus and credit card offers. There was a key underneath with a sticky note attached to it.
Knew you couldn’t resist.
-DC
Bastard.
Slamming the mailbox closed, I checked the time. I was already so late, it didn’t make any sense to go to my first class. That gave me just enough time to swing by Damien’s office, push the key under the door, then go grab the biggest bucket of coffee I could before heading to my next class.
As I moved through the halls, forcing myself to go slow so as not to draw suspicion, I mentally wrote the snarky note I wanted to leave with the key. I knew I wouldn’t, though. As much as he deserved a snide comment about how I didn’t have time to meet, no matter how short it was, or a reiteration of how he could go ‘luck’ himself, the probability that someone else would find the note was too high.
He may have been fine with risking his career and livelihood, but I wasn’t. Not for something as childish as that, at least.
My ingenious plan was to ‘accidentally’ drop my mail in front of his office. I’d bend to pick it up and push the key under the door.
It may not have been the cleverest, most stealthy plan, but I’d never had aspirations of evil villainy or intrigue. I was nervous enough as it was, I didn’t need convoluted.
I needed foolproof.
Nearing his room, my heartbeat grew more erratic, and my movements turned stiff and robotic. I gripped a small stack of junk mail in my sweaty hand, the key strategically placed at the bottom. Reaching my designated spot, I held my breath and dropped my mail.
And the freaking key.
Foolproof plan, my ass.
Rather than of lithely dipping to gather my envelopes and discard the key in one fluid movement, I ended up on my knees, sprawled forward to catch the key before it bounced into view of anyone else.
Hey, stupid, it’s just a key. No one knows whose it is.
If it weren’t for the fact I was ass-up in the freaking hallway, I’d have laughed at how illogical my instinct to hide the key had been and how ridiculous I must’ve looked, flailing around on the floor.
Scanning the hall as I gathered my things, I was relieved to see that no one had witnessed my failed covert mission.
I can still pull this off.
I should’ve known better than the tempt fate with my optimism because just as that thought flitted through my head, the unmistakable sound of a door opening came from behind me.
Directly behind me.
I closed my eyes, my shoulders slumping. There was no way I was leaving with the scrap of dignity I’d been clinging to.
“I spent the morning so hard, lack of blood flow to my brain must’ve killed me. That’s the only explanation for this view of paradise,” Damien said, his gruff voice low but in no way quiet enough.
Looking over my shoulder, I raised my brows. “You think you’re going to heaven?”
“No, my depraved angel, I think you’re giving me a glimpse of heaven before you lead me to hell.”
“I don’t think I need to lead you there.” I gave him a saccharine smile as I stood, ignoring the helpful hand he offered. “I’m sure you know your way home.”
His rich laugh swirled around me, weaving and tangling with the heat his words had caused.
Damien had a habit of saying sweetly sinful things in such a nonchalant way, it left me speechless. It never came across as corny or forced. It was just honest.
Which, if I were to also be honest, freaked me out because I liked everything he said far too much.
Stepping aside, Damien gestured into his office, but I shook my head.
“I’m not staying,” I said. “I just came to—”
“Figured you’d be here fifteen minutes ago. Silent argument with the key run long?”
He knew me well, usually better than I knew myself. But even I didn’t believe he could guess that.
“It was the mailbox, actually.” My eyes narrowed. “Were you watching me?”
“Although that’s my favorite pastime, I wasn’t near there.”
“There’s no way you could’ve predicted I’d come here. I didn’t even predict it. I wasn’t gonna get the key.”
“And yet you did.”
“You were watching.”
“No, I was on the other side of campus getting you coffee before waiting for you here.”
“You were not.” I looked around him and saw a medium hot coffee sitting on his desk. A pleased smile spread across my face.
Ha, at least he doesn’t know everything.
Clearing his throat, Damien kept his eyes on me as he shifted to the side to reveal another drink on his desk.
A massive, perfectly beige iced coffee.
It wasn’t my previous go-to, but I’d been ordering them more and more.
Moving on autopilot, I walked into the room and set down my stuff as I side-eyed the cup.
Lotta inanimate objects incurring my suspicion.
I whipped around as he closed the door. “You’re a stalker.”
“Enthusiastic researcher.”
Rolling my eyes, they landed on the coffee again. It wasn’t just my regular iced coffee with whole milk. “What is it?”
“Iced coffee with cream, raw sugar, and equal parts vanilla and white chocolate syrup.”
Exactly what I loved for a treat.
“You’re insane,” I told him.
“So you’ve said.”
“And I’m sure we can find four out of five doctors who agree with my diagnosis.”
He laughed at my insult. “And the fifth?”
“There’s always a random Doctor Harleen Quinzel.” At his lowered brows and head tilt, I said, “Harley Quinn. She was a psychiatrist.”
Like a lion hunting a gazelle, Damien approached, stopping only when his body was nearly touching mine. His large hand spanned my hip and pulled me to him, closing the minimal distance and pressing his erection against my belly.
How is he so damn hard when I’m insulting him to his face?
Every inch of my body came alive at his touch, a reminder of how built up I was. My blood sizzled in my veins, heating me from the inside out. The air around us crackled with a current of tension.
“Was this before he corrupted her?” he asked, heavy meaning in his words.
Shaking my head, I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and slowly released it.
His gaze darted down to watch raptly, his hold on me tightening.
Breathless with need and the heady power his desire gave me, I explained. “The Joker didn’t corrupt her. Harleen was the one who manipulated circumstances so she could meet him. Deep inside, she knew she wasn’t Doctor Harleen Quinzel. It was…” My words trailed off as I mentally stumbled, hit suddenly by the parallels.
Neither of us were abusive psychos, though Damien did have a penchant for spanking and sexual manipulation. But like Harley, there was a darkness deep inside me that being with Damien forced me to face.
My palms flattened on his chest as I lifted onto my toes. “It was wrong and dysfunctional, but she was his Harley.”
I was going to kiss him, but all my best laid plans went awry when he beat me to it. His head lowered, his lips taking mine in a brutal kiss that said more than words could. Moving his hand from my hip to my lower back, his hold was unyielding. His other hand splayed across my cheek, his fingers digging in and his thumb on my jaw pressing until I opened my mouth, his tongue invading.
When I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and twirled my tongue with his, the already wild kiss went completely unhinged.
Damien went unhinged.
Gripping my ass, he lifted
and put me on his desk, knocking over his coffee and God knew what else. He pushed himself between my legs, his hard cock pressing against my pussy. My moan and his groan mixed in our kiss.
Violently, he tore his mouth away like it physically hurt. “Untuck my shirt,” he ordered as his lips moved to my neck, nipping before licking the sting away.
I did as he said, careful to do no more and no less, even though my hands shook with my need to touch him.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered hoarsely, the praise filling me with a bubbling happiness. “Now undo my pants button.”
Again, I did only what he said before waiting for his next order. My reward that time was a brushed kiss against my collarbone. When I unzipped his slacks, he cupped my breast. I pulled down his boxers enough to free him, he pinched my nipple through my bra, squeezing hard enough that the barrier was useless.
“Wrap your hand around the base of my dick.” He ended on a groan as I eagerly did as he said before he’d even finished speaking, although my fingers couldn’t fully encircle him. Still caressing my breast with one large hand, his other covered my pussy over my leggings. “Squeeze harder, angel.” His breath hissed out and his hips jerked forward. “Fuck, just like that.” His thick middle finger pressed between my lips, bringing my panties and leggings with it. The soft cotton felt like sandpaper against my hypersensitive clit as he used the barrier to his advantage.
Nothing was in me, yet I felt so full and so empty all at once.
Something akin to a whimper and whine escaped me though I tried to swallow it down. The small noise made Damien’s eyes blaze, and he attacked my clit again, unrelenting and determined, like his next breath depending on me moaning.
Grasping on to the last vestige of common sense I had left, I tried to shift away before someone heard us. Or worse, walked in.
But Damien was having none of it. Releasing my breast, his fingers speared into the back of my hair and fisted, holding me in place. Holding my eyes—mine clouded by lust but his sharp and intense. Holding my secret darkness.
“Don’t fucking move unless I say so.” His jaw clenched. “Understand?”
Without thinking, I nodded, but he didn’t loosen his hold on my hair or move with me. The resulting tug made my scalp sting.
His ministrations on my clit stopped. “Say it.”
“I understand,” I breathed, practically vibrating from restraining myself.
He didn’t resume his heavenly torture, and just stared at me expectantly.
“I won’t move unless you tell me to,” I tried.
His hand left my pussy, and my hips lifted to follow, breaking the agreement I’d made less than ten seconds before.
Thwap.
It took me a moment to realize Damien had slapped me between my legs. Not hard, and if I were honest, more pleasurable than painful, but the unexpectedness made me jolt. Self-preservation had me releasing his cock and scurrying back even as desire pooled where his hand had connected.
Thwap.
I thrashed.
Thwap.
I tried to close my legs.
Thwap.
I froze.
That time when he took his hand away, my hips didn’t shift an inch. I barely even breathed.
“That’s my girl,” he rumbled again, the pride in his tone outweighing the sting from his touch. Tugging my gathered hair, he tilted my head back and lowered his face to mine. I could feel the heat from him, taste his minty breath as my own came in short bursts. “Say it.”
“I won’t move.”
“What do you call me?” he bit out. His tone was harsh, but he wasn’t mad.
He was desperate.
It seeped into his voice. It shone from his eyes, wild and manic. It tightened his body, his muscles so tight and cut, he had to ache.
I ached.
“I won’t move, Damien.”
Thwap.
My clit pulsed, a current of pleasure knocking out any hint of pain as I convulsed, so close to the edge it hurt. My desperation matched his as I frantically cried, “I don’t know what the fuck you want. Tell me and I’ll do it.” My chest heaved, tears burning in the back of my eyes.
“What do you call me?”
Realization dawned, and the current of pleasure became a tidal wave, powerful and dizzying. “Professor Caine?”
He didn’t answer verbally, but his cock jumped and his fingers returned to my pussy, gentler than before.
I don’t want gentle.
My eyes widened and his narrowed.
“What were you just thinking?” He studied me intently, as though I held all the answers to the universe. His question was more than curiosity. He wanted to dig into the far corners of my mind and learn my each and every thought, even the ones I didn’t want to face.
Especially those.
At my hesitation, he inched his hand away.
A threat.
A warning.
A promise.
“I don’t want gentle,” I admitted before shakily adding, “Professor Caine.”
His groan was enough of a reward, seeming to skim across my skin like the deep bass sound waves were corporal, but he gave me more. His middle finger stroked me, grinding the bumped seam of my leggings into my clit. “Wrap your hand back around me, angel.”
I fisted his hardness, loving the way it jerked.
“Harder,” he grunted before taking my mouth in another searing, untamable kiss.
The tighter I squeezed, the harder he stroked me. I worried I was hurting him, but he only spurred me on, rocking his hips.
I didn’t stroke him.
He fucked my hand.
Used it.
Used me.
And we both were getting off on it.
I was close. Barely breathing. Unable to grasp a full thought though they raced in my muddled mind.
And then it all stopped.
Came—or not, in my case—to a screeching halt.
The orgasm that’d been swirling, twisting me higher and higher, was snatched away just as it approached the breaking point.
All that built-up power ricocheted back through my body, leaving me shaking.
“Noooo,” I cried, latching my legs around him before I thought better of it. I braced for the punishment, but not in fear.
In anticipation.
Likely knowing a light tap would be enough to push me over the edge, Damien didn’t give it to me. He tugged my hair, arching my neck to near painful levels. My breath caught as I waited for his hard kiss, but he didn’t give me that, either. His fingers left my hair, and he easily broke free of my hold. He tucked his erection back into his boxers at an angle that must’ve been painful before fastening his slacks and belt. Putting some distance between us, he grasped the lock on his door but didn’t turn it.
He’s hesitating.
“You have class starting soon,” he said, though the huskiness in his tone belied his dismissive words.
“No.”
His brow arched. “As you’ve pointed out, my stalking skills are well-established. I know your schedule better than you do.” He glanced at his watch, the simple action giving me hand and forearm muscle porn. “And you have a class starting in less than fifteen minutes.”
I shook my head, the short jerks almost frantic. “No, I mean, I’m not leaving until I come.” As if to prove my stubbornness, I put my hands on my hips.
Damien’s own massive frame went rigid, making me feel as though he were towering over me despite the space separating us. A muscle in his jaw ticked from how hard he clenched it.
The steel in my spine wanted to melt, but again, my reaction wasn’t born of fear or intimidation, though that would’ve been smart. Normal.
But I was wrong. I wanted to listen so I could get his praise. See his pride.
Be his girl.
I was disgusted with myself, but not enough to leave. Self-righteousness could keep me company on long, sleepless nights, but it wouldn’t get me off.
&n
bsp; Begging might, but my ego wasn’t ready to concede.
That left me with stubbornness. Unabashed, bold, wily stubbornness.
“Class, Eden.” He began to unlock the door, and I panicked.
My palm slid from my hip to cover my breast, caressing it like he had.
His hand stayed on the lock, but he didn’t finish turning it, his expression impassive and unreadable.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Hoping my other hand looked sexily alluring and not nervously trembling, I lowered it to cup myself between my legs. The contact made me flinch, my breath catching.
Damien still didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Although his face remained blank, his eyes were an inferno. There was a challenge in them.
He’d started the battle, and he was daring me to finish it.
Stubbornness. Unabashed. Bold. Wily.
Desperate.
I plunged my fingers into my bra, zeroing in to circle and tweak my nipple. It felt so good, my eyes wanted to drift close, but I pried them open. Partially because I didn’t trust what Damien would do, but mostly because I was drunk off the heat that burned in his gaze as he watched me. I didn’t want to miss it. Not even for a second.
When he still didn’t speak or move, I did. “I’m not leaving this room until I come. If you won’t do it, I will.” I wanted to shove my hand down my pants and get it over with, but I wanted Damien to do it more. Giving him time to step in, my splayed fingers skimmed along my waistband.
C’mon.
Back down.
Say chicken.
I hadn’t thought it was possible, but his bulge seemed to grow, jerking against its confines. The only other changes in Damien were the more pronounced tick at his jaw and the subtle arch of his brow.
The challenge and the dare. And doubt.
Driven by ego and desperation, I shoved my hand down my leggings and panties. A long, quiet moan came from someplace deep inside me. My fingers were instantly soaked as they skimmed along my seam.
Releasing the door, Damien stalked toward me, commanding and intense. Powerful. Intimidating.
