Page 40 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Before I picked up her underwear?

Before I walked back in here naked, determined to see how much damage she’d suffered?

Before I began examining her like a Jane Doe on an autopsy table?

Definitely before I split open her thighs, push up her hoodie, and press my lips against one hip bone, then the other.

She’s bewitched me like a siren. I’m helplessly drawn to the center of her body, where warmth spills out and coats my skin when I drag my fingertips through her slit.

I lick my fingers like that morsel will be enough to satiate me, but it only makes my hunger fiercer, my cock harder.

Pre-cum soaks into my sheets as I lay down between her legs, and I buck against the silky fabric with a quiet groan as I nudge my nose against her pussy.

My tongue darts out to taste her. Not hesitant, but torturing myself with the anticipation of how her deepest core will taste.

Jesus, she doesn’t disappoint.

I dry hump the bed as my tongue spears into her.

Despite the tranquilizer, Haven lets out a tiny mewl.

“Hush, Haven,” I murmur, drawing back to stroke her clit with my thumb. “I’m going to make you feel so much better.”

At the sound of my voice, Haven’s lips part, and a tiny frown appears between her brows .

I give her pussy a long, hard lick. “Let me take your pain away, baby.”

The tip of my tongue delves deep inside her, Haven’s arousal coating my lips and chin, the tip of my nose as I eat her pussy.

She whimpers, a tiny flicker racing through her body.

And fuck, that’s when her pussy starts clenching.

“Christ,” I groan, catching a ragged breath. “I’m going to do something I’ll regret if you keep making those noises.”

As if she’s spurring me on, Haven’s breath hitches.

“Fuck,” I grate, turning to graze my teeth over the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

How badly I want to leave my own fucking marks on her skin. Would she even notice them? With her hoodie pushed up even further, I can see the bruises on her hips.

Playing rough with her like a cheap toy.

…I’m not a victim…

Silly girl. Of course she’s a victim.

First his.

Now mine.

“You’re soaking wet,” I growl against her cunt. “Even drugged, this body knows who it belongs to.”

But it’s when my fingers slide in all the way, as deep as I can go, and I tease her clit between my teeth, that’s when she starts moaning. When I can’t control myself anymore.

I eat her like I’m starving. Like she’s my last meal. Her unconscious whimpers only make me harder, make me finger her deeper.

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me. Show me how much you need this.”

When she starts clenching around my fingers, I have to grab the base of my cock to keep from coming. Even that’s not enough, because I’m too close to her cunt, her scent whipping me into a frenzy.

I sit up, my cock in one hand as I finger Haven’s unconscious body with the other. Thumb stroking my dick’s slippery crown with each pass, I jerk off inches from Haven’s dripping wet pussy.

Another shudder courses through her, a soft sound of pleasure spilling out of her slack mouth.

“My fingers not enough for you? Want a proper fucking, sweet girl? This thick cock stretching you open? Tearing you up?”

I stare down, watching as I stroke my cock, my fingers widening inside Haven’s pussy, opening her up as I drop my hips and get ready to thrust into her tight, wet core.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice is mine.

My conscience, maybe…what’s left of it.

I’m not on the bed. I’m standing beside it, cock in hand, watching her sleep.

How long have I been standing here?

Haven stirs, and I shove my dick back into my sweatpants.

“Professor?” She looks up at me, pulling the sheets up to cover herself as she sits up against the carved wooden headboard. Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks rapidly, as if to force herself wide awake.

I switch on the lamp, running a hand through my hair. “You were having a nightmare, I think.”

She gives me a slow scan, her eyes sticking on my bare chest. “Oh? What did I say?”

“Just ‘please.’

“Please?” she repeats, her cheeks flushing.

“Yeah. Over and over.”

I run a thumb under the elastic of my sweatpants. “You need anything? Water? More pain pills?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good, thanks.” Hesitant at first, her body relaxes as she settles down on my bed again. “Sorry that I woke you.”

“I’ll survive.” I smile at her as I turn to leave .

I collapse on the sofa, elbows on my knees as I put my hands in my face.

Her scent is all over my hands.

Which is fucking impossible, because none of that shit just happened.

I gave her ibuprofen, not a tranquilizer. I never licked her wounds. I tucked her in and came to sleep on the couch.

The whiskey knocked me out, and I had another sleepwalking episode. They’ve plagued me since childhood, a simple trauma response that went hand-in-hand with night terrors that would have me screaming until my voice gave out.

I woke up before I touched her.

Everything before that happened in my sick, twisted mind.

Just another perverted fantasy that I was thankfully ripped out of before I could come.

The scent lingering on my fingers came from her underwear when I wrapped it around my knuckles. The dampness could be sweat. The taste of copper on my tongue could be my own blood, drawn from the ragged inner lining of my lip.

“Jesus,” I whisper, clapping a hand over my racing heart. Thank God she was too disoriented to notice the fucking tent in my sweatpants.

I fall back on the sofa, drag my fingers over my nose, lips, and chin, and tug my cock out of my pants so I can jerk off to a visceral replay of the things I just fantasized doing to that sweet girl.

The fact that she could walk out of my room, that she could catch me in the act, only makes me come that much harder.

I refuse to be robbed of such a glorious climax.

Sometimes, release helps with the compulsive thoughts.

With the obsession.

Except when it adds fuel to the cruel fire burning inside me.

Spent, I try to force myself to sleep, but they don’t call it post-nut clarity for nothing. I stand, padding silently to the bedroom and willing myself not to look at Haven as I walk into my bathroom .

I swipe a finger over the vanity, and stare at the crumbs of white powder spotting my skin. Then, I retrieve the first aid kit and take out the bottle of pills inside.

Forcing a swallow, I hunt around in the bag as quietly as possible.

“Where is it?” I mutter to myself, absently rubbing my finger against my gums. “Where the fuck is it?”

I find an empty ibuprofen bottle in the trash. I have no idea when I tossed it in there, but it was buried under more used trash.

My hands shake as I check the first aid kit again.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe?—

No. No…

The bottle of tranquilizers glows orange in my hand.

I drugged my student. Ate her unconscious pussy. Almost fucked her.

Left scratch marks on her skin and tasted her blood.

Tainted her.

And I’m going to do it again.

I won’t rest until I’ve claimed every inch of her.