Page 33 of Play Dirty

And if I will bleed for anything, it will be for June. Each step builds my confidence, my shoulders sit upright, and my neck is stretched. Holding my head up high, I walk towards his red door.

A golden mask sits on his face, no Asher this time. Just my naked professor wearing a mask as if it could hide his true identity. “Come lie here, princess,” he says, patting the empty spot beside him. From the corner of my eye, I watch the button blink red, and I swallow hard. Trying to perform to the best of my ability— to make him feel wanted.

Make him sing to me while I fuck him to oblivion…

Chapter Thirteen

Nico

One of the many things I hate about Velarium is being their errand boy and doing their dirty work. Sure, sometimes it feels good to fuck shit up, release all this pent-up anger— so does stalking my English professor.

I watch him from a distance as he slips inside the back of a club with one of the workers. Bad move. No one should be here, not tonight, or I would be able to enjoy free time riding on my R1 and not fucking be here.

Since most of them are married, engaged, and have important careers, the gatherings at the club only happen on Saturdays and randomly every once in a while during the week. And if you need it before then, for private events, from what I know, you need a council meeting. I've sat through many, on my knees with my mouth stuffed.

Humiliated as they talked about the new prospects.

Which reminds me, I need to talk to my guy, Elijah. First year and with great potential. Too bad potential doesn’t mean shit in places like this. Unless you have a strong will or sense of self. Whatever potential you thought you had will be shattered by the time they're done breaking you. I have to hold on to the hate to get me through each painful lesson; what’s worse is that this arrangement has morphed my body. My psyche.

I don’t understand pleasure anymore.

I come when I don’twant to.

I get touched when I don’t want it.

It’s sick.

Yet, I still hold on.

My phone pings, Zander signals me that the petal has arrived.

Zander

The flower has arrived at the garden.

You don’t have to use code words, dumbass. This isn’t a James Bond mission.

Bubbles appear.

Then disappear. Just as I’m about to put my phone back in my pants, his message comes in.

Zander

She’s a blonde.

Most of the girls here are blonde.

His bubbles appear and then…

Zander

It’s Shiloh Johnson.

I don’t write back; instead, I look at the building, ready to call it off and walk away. What better revenge than to allow her to be broken the same way it’s been done to me?

“No, Nico,” June's voice echoes in my brain.

Professor Xavier has been on red alert ever since they found out he was abusing his students, the hypocrisy of them. It’s like all of a sudden, sexual abuse and exploitation had a code to follow, at theirdiscretion, of course. This is being one of the higher-ups' kids; is a whole different ballpark.