Page 10

Chapter 9

Deirdre

“And so being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.” Edgar Allan Poe

M onday morning came far too quickly after a weekend of being cooped up in the university library with Claire, drowning in every Poe article and book they had…reading and analyzing every word until my eyes practically bled.

I have always been a perfectionist when it came to academics and writing, which is why it saddened my father so much when I had to turn down colleges after he got diagnosed. I would never leave him behind to take care of himself, so I put my dreams on the back burner until the night he begged me to leave to escape the hell Trevor was putting me through.

Trevor. I still need to tell Kieran about him.

It’s too new. Don’t run him off yet, D.

Shuffling through my closet, which is mostly jam-packed with Claire’s clothes, I settle on a white, off-the-shoulder sweater, which I loosely French-tuck into a high-waisted black skirt, and pair it with my favorite studded booties. As I slip on the last boot, Claire sits up in bed, eyeing me from head to toe.

“Well, someone’s trying for extra credit,” Claire teases, sipping from a water bottle. “Trying to impress Professor Broody today?”

I shoot her a look in the mirror as I adjust my skirt. “I’m just in the mood to look presentable today. It has nothing to do with him.”

“Uh-huh,” Claire responds with a knowing grin. She knows I am lying straight through my teeth, but the more I deny it, the less likely it is for rumors to fly around campus. Not that I think Claire will say anything, but I just can’t take that chance.

We leave our dorm and make our way to the campus Starbucks. The line of people is already snaking toward the door.

Typical Monday. Either hung-over college kids or those exhausted from pulling all-nighters.

Claire yawns dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Do you think it’s possible to be hungover from studying too much? Because I feel like my brain is broken.”

I roll my eyes and laugh.

“Only you would compare studying to partying,” I say, grabbing my white chocolate mocha off the counter. I probably should avoid anything that makes me too jittery, considering what I have planned for after class, but drinking liquid courage at eight a.m. before your literature class has to be frowned upon somewhere.

Claire grabs her iced latte from the barista and shakes it as if it is a celebratory cocktail. “Well, I can’t wait to turn in that paper on Wednesday so we can go to the Kappa Theta Nu initiation party. We deserve a little fun.”

Fuck, I forgot about the party.

Surely, Kieran won’t mind.

Nooo, my moody professor, possibly boyfriend/Dom won’t care if I’m surrounded by a bunch of drunk guys. What could possibly go wrong?

I raise an eyebrow as we step back outside, coffees in hand. “Are you forgetting about a certain bartender?”

Claire’s grin widens mischievously. “I have to keep my options open. Can’t get tied down in my prime.” She winks.

I let out a laugh as we make our way to the Scholar’s Auditorium.

Inside, the room is buzzing with the energy of students either groaning about their workload or whispering about their weekend adventures.

Kieran enters the room promptly at eight a.m., and like always, his presence causes a hush to fall over the entire classroom.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet. “I trust you’ve all been working diligently on your analysis papers. Let me remind you, late work will not be accepted. I don’t care if it’s rush week, a party, or an alien invasion.”

The class groans collectively, and Kieran looks up from the podium with amusement. “Oh, I love the sweet sound of disgruntled college students. So, I take it, we’re ready to turn in our papers today?”

A resounding “NO!” echoes off the walls from every student in the auditorium. His lips curl in a smug twist.

I think he gets off on torturing his students.

Oh, God. Is he going to torture me, but like in a different way?

Kieran launches into a grueling lecture dissecting Poe’s recurring themes of grief and madness. His intensity is palpable, every word precise, and every question sharp.

“Since this course emphasizes comparative analysis, your next assignment will be to select one piece by Edgar Allan Poe and one by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I want you to examine and contrast their themes, symbolism, and other literary elements. This will appease the university’s requirement on comparative literature, and this assignment will also serve as your midterm grade.”

This time, the class knows better than to respond negatively.

As the lecture nears its end, I gather the courage to raise my hand and put my plan into action. My voice is steady, but my heart is pounding in my chest.

“Professor McKnight?”

Kieran pauses before speaking again to acknowledge me, his eyes narrowing in my direction. “Yes, Miss Ravencroft?”

“I was wondering if I could discuss the assignment after class?” I add a slight emphasis to the word assignment to pique his curiosity.

Claire whips her head around, staring at me in shock. “What could you possibly have to discuss with him?” she whispers.

I shrug, keeping my face neutral. “I just have a question about part of my interpretation before I turn it in. I’ll be back at the dorm soon.”

His curiosity piqued, Kieran tilts his head slightly, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Of course, Miss Ravencroft. I’ll be available.”

As the class ends, students file out, groaning under their breath about the newest assignment. I remain seated in my chair, waiting patiently until the last stragglers exit the auditorium.

Claire shoots me a look as she passes by, her voice dripping with curiosity. “Good luck with…whatever this is. I want details.”

Ignoring her, I gather my books and shove them into my bag, then make my way down the steps toward Kieran’s desk as he gathers his notes. His focus is entirely on me as I approach him.

I walk around his desk to stand next to him. Leaning against the edge, I cross my arms casually, squeezing my breasts together, which, based on his wandering eyes, does not go unnoticed.

“I’m ready,” I say quietly, my eyes locking with his as he hears the words come out of my mouth.

Kieran straightens his posture, standing over me, his expression a careful mix of authority and desire. A look that sends a thrill down my spine. He glances around, ensuring the auditorium is completely empty before stepping closer.

“And what is it that you want, Miss Ravencroft?” he asks, his tone low and teasing. “Use your words.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I refuse to falter. I have literally practiced this in the bathroom mirror all weekend.

So, I do something bold without hesitating, something that I think even blindsides me.

I kneel.

I kneel on the cold floor before Kieran, staring up at him, waiting for his next move.

His jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle jump. His hands fist at his sides like he’s fighting a war with himself.

He looks to the glass doors, unlocked, with students walking outside, completely oblivious to the heated moment taking place inside this auditorium, the very place where we sit for class every single day.

“I want you to teach me everything. I want you to be my Dom, Kieran,” I say firmly.

He leans forward slightly and tightly fists my hair, pulling my head back.

“You belong to me now,” he says. His voice is low and fierce. “And I protect what’s mine...no matter the cost.”

His words feel like a vow of a man standing on the edge of his own damnation and choosing to leap anyway.

My breath catches from the weight of everything, the finality of our dynamic changing. Everything we’re doing. It should be terrifying, yet it’s the safest I’ve ever felt.

“If you’re mine, Deirdre, I will take you any way I please. Understand?”

His breathing is ragged now, uneven, like he’s holding on by a thread that’s fraying with every second.

“Yes,” I say, breathless.

He pulls back, looking down on me. “What are you supposed to say?”

I grin mischievously. I know what he wants, but I give him something more unique to us. “Yes…Professor.”

He chuckles in response.

“I need you to be a good little student for me. Stand up,” he demands.

Slowly but obediently, I rise to my feet. My hands graze against his slacks, feeling him hard against the fabric.

A low rumble escapes his throat at my touch.

He quickly grabs me by my waist and props me on his wooden desk on top of his papers. He spreads my legs apart and stands between them. My breath becomes rapid as his hands caress the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. His touch lights every nerve ending on fire.

“You have no idea,” he says hoarsely, “what you do to me.”

One hand leaves my thigh, and he runs his thumb across my mouth. I part my lips, wordless, aching, and desperate for more.

“You test every ounce of control I have, Deirdre.”

His thumb drags along my bottom lip again, but this time it lingers. Teasing me.

My body sways toward him instinctively, seeking the contact, and the nerves on my skin hum in satisfaction.

“I shouldn’t touch you,” he grits out. “Not here. Not like this.”

The truth is written all over his face, the battle between who he’s supposed to be and what he wants .

“Just one pair of wrong eyes peering in those doors could ruin both of us.”

“I don’t care,” I whisper.

We’re being reckless and way too bold, but I will take every consequence if it means feeling his body on me.

Kieran’s hand squeezes the top of my inner thigh just enough to make me gasp. His other cups my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“We’re playing with fire,” he says, voice rough, almost broken.

“Then we burn together, Professor.”

He slides his hand delicately down the sensitive skin and carefully brushes my hair away from my neck, and lowers his mouth closer to whisper in my ear.

His other hand has now made its way under my skirt to the apex of my thigh, and he delicately slides two fingers over the fabric of my panties.

“Are you ready for me now?” he whispers again, his voice hoarse with desire. His thumb presses against my sensitive clit and moves in slow circles, increasing pressure with each swipe.

The sensation building inside me elicits a whimper, and I gently rock my hips into his hand.

“Yes, please.”

“I am going to love watching you squirm while you come, Deirdre,” he murmurs as he slides my panties to the side and slowly plunges two fingers inside me.

“Your pussy is so wet for me.”

Grabbing his wrist, I hold it in place and grind against his hand, needing a release.

Kieran’s gaze darkens, a flicker of desire flashing across his face. He brushes his lips against mine, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“As much as I want to, Miss Ravencroft, you are not going to come for the first time with me on my desk.” He shows his strength and pulls his fingers away from me, and I lose my grip on his hand.

My breath catches in my throat, and my body aches at the empty feeling. My pulse continues to pound in my ears.

He straightens his posture and brings his fingers to my lips. “Open.”

I haven’t even come yet, and my mind feels delirious, but I do as he says. Wrapping my lips around his fingers, I can taste my arousal.

“Suck them clean, Deirdre.”

I eagerly run my tongue around and through his fingers, my insides quite literally melting at the thought that his fingers were just inside me.

He looks satisfied as he watches. He pulls them from my mouth and softly kisses my lips, running his tongue over them. Groaning, he looks down at me when he pulls away, “Your taste is addicting.”

The air between us is still crackling with electricity. “Come to my house tonight,” he orders, his tone firm but inviting. “Nine o’clock. Don’t be late. You know I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

I hand him a slip of paper that is folded in half. He glances at it and quickly realizes it is my number scrawled on the yellow sticky note.

He smiles and tucks it into his chest pocket.

“Yes, Sir.”

Standing up on my toes, I gently brush my lips against his cheek and revel in his light scruff scratching against my skin. Pulling away from him, I turn to walk away, and I can almost feel his eyes burning a hole right through me. Every nerve ending on my body is on fire, and I don’t know if I am going to be able to make it until tonight.