Page 65 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Bastian

The fitting room curtain swishes closed behind me.

I pause for a moment to compose myself, a task made nearly impossible when I pick up on the sound of Haven’s shaky breathing on the other side.

My cock is still painfully hard, pressing against my zipper like it wants to tear through the fabric and claim what’s mine, but thank God the store clerk is fussing over the display nearby and not looking in my direction.

This is all that fucking taco boy’s fault.

The way he looked at Haven, like she was something he could have. Like I wasn’t standing right there with my hand on her back, marking my territory in a language even a simpleton could’ve understood.

But worse was the way he looked at me .

There was recognition in his eyes.

Not of who I am, but of what I am.

Most people see the professor. The philanthropist. The man who gives generously to college scholarships and helps struggling students. Because that’s what I want them to see.

That little shit saw the wolf. And instead of being impressed or afraid, he was disgusted. Alarmed. Like I was someone Haven needed protection from.

As if she doesn’t crave exactly what I am.

I adjust myself again, wincing at the friction. Christ, I nearly came in my pants when she tried to slap me. Such defiance, even while she stood there in her cheap underwear. Still fighting even as her body betrayed her.

The wet spot on that red silk will haunt my dreams.

No. Not dreams. Plans .

After this insipid gala, I’ll explore all the different ways I can force Haven’s body to betray her mind until I discover just how wet I must make her before she stops fighting and starts begging .

“Are you done?” comes Jennifer’s sickly sweet voice. “Or did you need more time with you’re, uh…” She trails away when I tilt my head, mentally instructing her to go on.

She doesn’t dare.

My jaw clenches. Even she sees it. The impropriety. The wrongness.

Good.

Let them all see. Let them whisper about Professor Rooke and his scholarship girl. Let them wonder what happens behind closed doors. Let them judge while secretly wishing they had the balls to take what they want the way I do.

“We’re done.”

I force my face back into the benign mask everyone expects. The helpful professor. The generous benefactor. The lamb’s wool I wear to hide the teeth underneath.

But Haven knows better now. She sees what I really am.

And it only made her wetter.

I push open the fitting room curtain to find Haven dressed again in those pathetic rags she calls clothes.

Pupils dilated.

Hands shaking as she buttons her hideous blouse .

A flush across her chest that has nothing to do with embarrassment.

She’s aroused. Still. Despite everything. Or because of it.

“Ready?” I ask, my voice perfectly pleasant.

She nods, not trusting herself to speak.

Smart girl.

Jennifer handles the transaction as any professional would. Not even glancing in Haven’s direction as some ridiculous amount of money disappears from my account.

I get it.

Haven looks like I fucked her against a wall.

She can thank her lucky stars I didn’t.

The ride back to Agony Hollow is silent, and I spend it relishing the scent of Haven’s arousal. It’s more intoxicating than top-shelf bourbon. A better high than coke.

She thinks she understands what’s happening. That I’m just some garden-variety man who wants to fuck his student.

Fucking her would bring all of this to an end. Render her useless.

The pleasure is in the chase. In the foreplay. It ends once I’ve sunk my cock into her.

After that, the thrill’s gone, and what arrives in its place is something I wouldn’t wish on Haven in a million years.

Something awful, yet damn near inevitable, if I don’t get my fucking head straight.

“You’re angry,” she says, breaking the silence.

I glance at her, quirking an eyebrow. “Am I?”

Her hands wring in her lap. “That guy, Milo. He pissed you off.”

Perceptive little thing.

“He wanted you,” I say simply.

“So?”

I pull over. Right there on the side of the road. Put the car in park and turn to face her fully.

“So?” My voice is soft. Dangerous. “You think I’m the sharing type, Haven? ”

She swallows hard. “We’re not...I’m not yours to share or not share.”

I laugh. Actually laugh. Because she still doesn’t get it.

“Sweet girl, you became mine the moment you walked into my classroom. Everything since has been foreplay.”

Her breath catches. “You’re insane,” she scoffs.

“That wet pussy that’s been aching since I touched you begs to differ.”

Her eyes go wide, but she seems at a loss for words.

I start the car again, pulling back onto the road. “You’re going to the gala tonight. You’re going to wear the dress I bought you. And eventually, you’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

“Never,” she mutters.

That word hangs between us for the rest of the drive.

A challenge. A lie.

A promise waiting to be broken.

Just like her.