by V. F. Mason
“Your actions are inappropriate, Professor MacAlister, but you’re new, so maybe you don’t know.” I push the drink closer to the edge of the table. “Professors don’t buy their students drinks.”
Thank God no one can see us and what he did from this angle. Or a magnified rumor would spread across campus within seconds.
And any kind of rumors concerning me have the tendency to get to my brother sooner or later.
“I’m sure they don’t,” he replies, twisting the display on his watch as if setting a timer, the sound ringing in the air, and goose bumps break on my skin. “But you aren’t just my student, darling, are you?” His husky voice swirls around me, creating a twisted web designed to confuse me and make me think about forbidden things that would be my undoing.
Deciding to act clueless, I want to tell him to shove that drink down his throat and not to dare come near me again, when his gaze lands on a gaping Josephine as she swings her head from side to side, studying us both.
Just what I needed.
For her to know I have some weird stuff going on with my professor or whatever this thing between us is called that’s beyond bizarre.
Friends or not, she belongs to the elite, and my brother taught me a long time ago to never give any of them a weapon to use against us. People tend to hurt you when you least expect it, so it’s better not to give them the opportunity.
Ryder, though, nods at Josephine. “Have a nice evening, ladies.” And then he strolls toward the exit, capturing more stares on his way. Some girls even fan themselves, which makes me madder than I already was.
Why wouldn’t they though?
It’s not like anyone has any claim on the man, especially not me.
Palming my head, I mutter, “Ugh.” I hate all the emotions that are creating an inferno in my soul and pulling me in two different directions, giving me no definite answers.
My whole life was a carefully structured world built of stone, and nothing could shake it, but then Ryder came in and destroyed it all.
Arrogant, confusing professor who should rot in hell for all he’s done to my head, although hell is probably a favorite place for the likes of him.
Josephine pokes a finger to my forehead and orders, “Spill.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She rolls her eyes. “Our new professor just bought you a drink and spoke to us outside of class. I might be self-absorbed, but I know he didn’t do it for my paper.” She taps on her chin. “And all these innuendos. So spill. What’s going on? You screwing the new professor?” She whistles. “Wild.”
“No!” I shout, and several people look in our direction, so I mouth, “Sorry,” and place my hand on the side of my face to block their view as I whisper, “Nothing of the sort happened.”
“But something did happen?” She shakes my drink in the air, the red liquid sloshing from side to side, making the ice inside it rattle. “He bought you a pomegranate juice.” She winks. “Are you guys role-playing Hades and Persephone, with him chaining you to his bed?” She laughs, finding the idea hilarious, and sips more of her coffee while I still, seeing the drink in a different light.
Pomegranate juice.
When Hades trapped Persephone in the underworld, he offered her pomegranate seeds to eat, which since then became a symbol of an unbreakable marriage.
Is he implying he intends to draw me deeper to the dark side and finish what he started in the classroom two weeks ago?
And that no matter how much I run, there is no escape from this all-consuming need? My body sighs in relief while my mind once again rebels.
“We have no rules against a professor and student dating, by the way.” Josephine breaks through the panic slowly creeping toward me and pats my hand. “So if you ever want to explore whatever that is, you can do it easily.” She ponders her statement and adds, “But be careful though. Keep the affair secret.” She studies her nails. “People are jealous creatures, after all.”
Why are we discussing my hypothetical love life anyway? Or do I seem so desperate I would jump in bed with any man who pays attention to me?
“He just bought me a drink because of our discussion. Nothing happened. Have you seen the women he goes out with?” Or rather—the ones at all his business functions he attends with.
She frowns, wanting to protest, not that I need her to reassure me in my looks department.
I know my strengths and weaknesses and accepted them long time ago, feeling comfortable in my own skin.
Or that’s the excuse I use to stop myself from checking out who he’s dated before; although based on what I know, he’s never been spotted with anyone he’s truly dated.
Morgan comes back and drops on her seat, reaching for her milkshake, and must notice the tension in the air, because she asks, “What’s going on?”
“Estella might be screwing Professor MacAlister in the future.”
Morgan chokes on her drink, her eyes watering, and she grabs a tissue to wipe her mouth, gazing at me in shock.
Great.
Now my best friend would probably judge me for being so unromantic and trying to get in bed with—
“Does this mean he will be more lenient with us, then?” What? “I wouldn’t mind getting an A on that stupid paper of his.”
Josephine laughs, and Morgan smiles, covering her mouth, since my glare must burn holes in her.
I can’t believe she is basically following in Josephine’s footsteps!
“I’m glad my nonexistent love life makes you both so happy.”
“Oh, come on!” they both exclaim at the same time, while I shake my head at them.
My phone vibrates once again. Quin must have gotten impatient with my lack of reply, so I grab it, ready to give him an answer, only to blink at the text flashing back at me.
Ryder.
How did he get my phone number?
Doesn’t it border on insanity to stalk a student like this? And why does it send a thrill that makes me feel cherished in every cell of my body?
What sane woman reacts this way to something like this anyway?
Warmth travels from the roots of my hair to my toes, enveloping me in a lustful haze, welcoming his claim of ownership over me, proving to me that he wants me even if it’s wrong. While, at the same time, it soothes the cracked pieces of my soul that another’s careless words destroyed.
She’s not mine, just like that bastard of yours! You fucked us both. You probably fucked the gardener too, didn’t you? Take your daughter and leave. Your son still has to pay the debt, though, for me tolerating your whoring ass all these years.
I scrunch my eyes, willing the painful memories to disappear from my mind, and then my earlier feeling hits me again, pulling my gaze to the window, where Ryder stands by a statue in the distance.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me when his fingers type another reply.
Plans?
Butterflies erupt in my stomach; everything in me urges me to accept his proposition and jump off the cliff by doing something bad for the first time in my life.
Or rather what goes against social norms.
Because his powerful frame will catch me.
My fingers hover over a display, ready to take the leap, common sense be damned. Then a woman stands in front of him, hiding him from view.
A long-legged, tall brunette wearing a pencil dress that shows all her curves. She’s stunning and probably gets attention wherever she goes.
They would look great together, and this realization boils my blood, igniting fury throughout me.
Maybe because it pulls me from my haze and serves as a crushing reminder of how worlds apart we truly are.
An experienced, sophisticated man could never truly be interested in a naïve fool
like me.
Despite being engaged in conversation with the woman, he still sends me another text.
How does he even know about the date? And how does he know I haven’t canceled it already? Did he somehow hack my phone too?
Well, then.
I bristle at his commanding tone. The jealousy present in me whispers in my ear that all my dreams are impossible anyway, and maybe he just has a bet with someone to seduce me. Or worse. To use me to hurt my brother—he wouldn’t be the first who tried.
I text Quin as determination fills me.
Ryder MacAlister will not dictate to me or consume my thoughts. They always say to get over one guy, you have to get under another one, right?
Not that I have any intention of sleeping with Quin, but still. Who knows?
One date might cure me of my crush that seems more like an unhealthy obsession.
I forgot one thing though.
Life has a tendency to prove me wrong.
And if you poke a beast hard enough… it will retaliate in the most unexpected way.
Chapter Five
“She became my obsession.
And as such, I’m going to claim every inch of her delectable body.”
Ryder
* * *
Ryder
When God was asked for a perfect, haunting beauty designed to drive men insane, he created her. He gave her a voice to lure them and a way of moving that’s a temptation in itself.
Mesmerizing poetry in human flesh, an art form, a siren.
Although now the possessive beast raging inside me will have to kill any fucker daring to admire or even dream about my obsession, which consumes me more with every breath I take.
Vulnerability and sweetness have a certain kind of smell vicious hunters learn to recognize, and unfortunately, Estella reeks of them, polluting my mind so much I can’t wait to trap her and bind her to me forever.
Her slender body moves flawlessly through the library as she holds a large stack of books, placing each one on the correct shelf before running her fingers over the book’s spine, double-checking her work. A smile curves her plump lips, indicating to me her mission has been successful.
Despite belonging to one of the wealthiest families in the country, the girl is taking her new extra-credit job at the university library quite seriously, and satisfaction pours from me, for I made sure she got it.
Opportunity doesn’t come to those who sit around and wait for divine intervention to help their plans.
And my plan has included claiming her as my own since the moment I saw her, plus pulling her out of her comfort zone—a place where her brother put her—where the poor thing can’t even breathe properly.
Instead, her eyes beg me to snatch her away and introduce her to the dark world where forbidden desires, sins, and wicked thoughts rule, and all cravings have only one destination in sight…
Pleasure.
Estella thrives here among the dusty old books, occupying the place that most people forgot about, and happiness flows from her, inviting you to join her in her bliss.
In fact, the library is almost empty other than the three students sitting in the far left corner, studying for an upcoming test, judging by their whispered arguments.
Estella flips her blazing red locks back. The straight hair, which reaches her waist, billows a little under the AC humming through the enormous space. Her blue dress emphasizes every delectable curve of her body that my hands are itching to touch and my mouth craves to bite.
Every sway of her hips, her jasmine-mixed-with-roses scent, breathy whispers, and squeals of joy whenever she finds the information she seeks scream feminine and irresistible, turning me on to the point of insanity.
My nights are filled with images of those long legs of hers wrapped around me, her head thrown back as I fill her, watching her dripping pussy take every inch of me as I claim her over and over again.
So, no one will ever so much as look in her direction, let alone talk to or touch her.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
However, someone has dared to look and even intends to touch and talk.
And not a day will go by that a man thinks she is fair game and can put a permanent claim on her. That’s my claim.
Madness has existed on this earth since the creation, and it holds a special allure to the wicked monsters who have been stripped of anything human.
Because compassion and mercy don’t exist for the likes of us, and madness allows us to be consumed by our darkest desires and act on them without any trace of guilt.
Especially if one possesses the money, status, and power this world flocks to. In these cases, you are almost untouchable, and isn’t that great?
Estella sneezes loudly and then waves away the dust flying in the air around her. The thick book in her hand must be heavy, because she winces a little as she raises her arm, straining on her toes to put it back on the top shelf.
The action pulls the top of her dress against her full breasts and her heart-shaped ass, making me groan inwardly and send a warning glance to the nerds, but they stay oblivious to my beauty.
Good. After all, their lives depend on it.
The thick, brown glasses on her nose hide her emerald-green eyes that always spark in curiosity and need whenever I’m in her company. She drills her stare into me when she thinks I’m not looking, but whenever my eyes focus on her, fear replaces curiosity, and she quickly glances down, pretending to be interested in something or someone other than me. She’s hoping our encounter means nothing and I won’t pursue anything else with her, yet her entire being begs me for more, silently demanding the passion and pleasure only I can give her.
Ah, my naïve girl.
As if it can help you or stop me from pursuing what belongs to me.
In the last two weeks, I’ve made it my mission to show up at the university early and daily, talking to people I don’t give a shit about just to be in her company, even from a distance. I listen to her soft-spoken voice that manages to calm the constant raging fury in my soul, which has been attached to me since birth.
Multiple cameras on her couldn’t give me the same results, and who would let a day go by without seeing her?
No sane man, and there’s nothing sane about me anyway.
Estella Reed sealed her fate when she entered my auditorium, her cheeks flushed, her perfect breasts rising and falling, her voice barely audible.
A delicate creature who ended up in hell without her knowledge.
While I couldn’t hear shit through the ringing in my ear and my dick straining against my zipper. Unfamiliar possessiveness and anger flashed through me, demanding I hide her away from everyone so no one would think they had a chance to steal her without facing my wrath. I long to mar her skin with my marks of ownership, to feast on her flesh and teach her body about the pleasure only I can provide.
Two weeks of watching her nibble on her pencil as she listens to the lectures or bite her lower lip when she concentrates on the assignments.
Sending daggers my way when I complimented other students and flipping her hair back when she disagreed with my rudeness.
Watching her is an art, demanding time and resources.
For two weeks, I’ve watched her waltz in and out of my auditorium in her short dresses and skirts bringing attention to her round ass, and I’ve resisted the urge to punish the male students who salivate over her. Especially when she has glanced at me, testing my reaction, before gracing those clueless idiots with her smiles. My tempting redhead doesn’t even realize what she’s doing, completely clueless to the effect she has on the opposite sex, her innocence showing in every confused sigh whenever I ignore her actions.
However, you don’t become the vigilante who roams the streets and possesses the amount of power I do without knowing about the
virtue of patience.
Some prey are so skittish and delicate they need extra time and care. Besides, fucking my student would go against my code, and although I would have gladly broken it for her, she has been too nervous and eager about her classmates accepting her into their circle. I’ve relented and given her time to develop a deeper friendship with that other girl.
With Josephine’s confidence and reputation, she will give a needed boost to my girl to handle anything, even rude comments despite no strict rule of dating between professors and students, although I’ll take care of that.
I don’t need this job to survive, and they won’t be able to say shit once I put a ring on her finger. Still though… I’ve waited.
Almost an unheard of thing for me, as I’m not used to denying myself anything, but she is worthy of being an exception.
Two weeks of endless torture and I’ve taken it all as long as Estella has understood our silent agreement, because the sexual attraction floating in the air electrifies everything around us.
But today, she dared to break it, and I’ve fucking reached my limit.
The monster never learned to be patient and considerate, even for his most beloved prey.
I will no longer be denied what rightfully belongs to me, everything be fucking damned.
Estella twirls around with the book but stops abruptly, the hardback suspended midway to the shelf, when Elvin, one of my students, notices me and says, “Hey, Professor MacAlister.” He waves a little, and two other students do the same. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Why is that?” I ask, throwing my jacket and briefcase on the nearby desk while the object of my obsession studies me warily, pressing the book to her chest and taking a step back. Goose bumps appear on her skin, and her raspy breath gives away the true emotions washing over her at my presence. It’s inevitable, after all.
A grin shapes my mouth, which only makes her bristle. She lifts her chin in defiance as fire blankets her green orbs.
Ah, my little prey. I will enjoy stripping you of it and listening to you beg me to bring you relief, only to deny it time and time again.
