Page 24

Kai

My office is quiet, the faint hum of campus life filtering in through the door. Most of the halls have cleared out by now, except for the occasional footsteps of a late class letting out.

I forced down Nicole’s walls and warned her not to run. And for four weeks now, she’s been taking back the control I stripped off her. I let her.

Every other day, just after the halls clear out, she walks in here without knocking, drops her bag on my desk, peels off whatever’s in the way—clothes, papers, her common sense—and fucks me like she needs it to breathe. Like it’s the only way to keep herself from falling apart.

She’s using sex—my body, my hands, my mouth—to wall herself off.

I feel it every time I’m inside her. The way she takes and takes, devouring sensation like it’s a drug, chasing the high so she doesn’t have to feel whatever’s clawing at her beneath the surface.

But it’s not what she needs.

Nicole isn’t built for casual hook ups. She thrives on sparring, banter and connection—real connection. Now? She comes, she fucks, and she leaves.

I could break down her walls again. Make her tell me what she’s hiding, but I don’t just want her submission. I want her to trust me enough to lean on me and give me her secrets.

Leaning back in my chair, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Papers clutter my desk—half-graded assignments, finance reports, a reminder about some faculty meeting I’ll probably skip. None of that matters because Nicole is late. She should have been here half an hour ago.

She’s making me wait for her.

My phone buzzes. It’s David. I connect the call, grateful for the distraction.

“You were wrong,” he says instead of a greeting.

I arch a brow. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Primal Fit is a fucking hit.”

I straighten. “Come again?”

“You said it’d take at least twelve months to build traction. We’re not even twelve weeks in, and we’ve already got a waitlist.”

A waitlist. For a gym in Valencia. I drag a hand over my jaw. “How the fuck did you pull that off?”

David exhales, like he still can’t believe it himself. “Some college chick applied to rent the studio. She came highly recommended by Lana.”

I freeze. Keeping my voice neutral, I ask, “So what happened?”

“And I gave her the studio—for free, obviously—and now half the damn town is obsessed with Primal Fit.”

“Really?”

“You bet. At first, when she came over all innocent-Barbie and big blue eyes, I admit I thought it was going to turn out to be another dumb favor Lana roped me into. But, man, that woman’s a fucking cannon ball.”

Heat and pride swell in my chest.

“She started with one injured kid and a few jugheads from the rich-kid business school up in North Orange County. Next thing I know? Half the moms in town are lining up to enroll their kids.” He snickers. “Even the ones without scars are probably searching their kids for old bite marks just to qualify.”

The door creaks open and my pulse fucking spikes as Nicole steps inside.

She’s wearing one of those soft, flowing skirts that skim her ankles—the kind that makes it impossible not to wonder how it would look bunched up and tucked into the band at her waist.

A fitted long-sleeve shirt hugs her curves. Her honey-blonde hair is loose tonight, tumbling over her shoulders, a few waves catching the light.

My grip tightens on the phone.

She drops her brown leather bag onto my desk with a soft thud, then lifts her gaze to me, lifting a single eyebrow with an almost bored expression like she’s not aware of the thick, pulsing tension coating the room now.

I hold up a finger. Wait.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, she hops up onto my desk and kicks off her flats. She crosses one leg over the other and leans back onto her hands, waiting.

After a beat, she shifts. Uncrosses her right leg—the beautifully scarred one—then places it onto my thigh.

My track the movement as my hand drifts down, resting against her bare skin. I roll the pad of my thumb along her calf, ignoring the way my groin tightens when she sighs softly.

David keeps talking, oblivious. “And that’s not even the best part. She’s got ideas, man. Good ones.”

I press the speakerphone.

“Say that last part again.”

“I said she’s full of ideas. Can you believe she’s trying to drag me and Alan Thorne—one of the State Board of Education members—into a partnership? She’s asking me to provide free PE kits in exchange for rolling ad placements for her charity in the state bulletin.”

Nicole goes still as David continues, “The more exposure she gets, the more Primal Fit does. It’s a fucking win-win-win!”

I arch a brow at Nicole, watching the blush creep up her neck.

“So anyway. You called it wrong about Primal Fit and Valencia. It’s a fucking goldmine. It was just waiting for the right miner. Cheesy, I know, but hey, I’m smiling all the way to the bank.”

A beat of silence. Then he chuckles. “Well, I gotta run. Just wanted to update you.”

I hang up, still watching her. “Alan Thorne?” I say, my tone deceptively calm. “As in—”

“Barry’s dad.” She pulls her lips between her teeth in an almost shy gesture.

“I see.” My jaw tightens. I told her to network. What I didn’t expect was for her to web the whole fucking town together.

“And the beefcakes?”

She giggles, flicking a loose strand of hair over her shoulder. “They’re Theo’s friends. Their friend fucked up with the sex tape, and according to your public fiasco, they assumed Theo dumped me. They felt sorry for me and offered to help, so I milked it for all it was worth.”

Jesus. I rub my jaw in fascination.

“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You’re getting Barry’s dad to promote you, leveraged on pity points for free labor, and turned a favor from Lana into a Valencia-wide power play—without a single dime changing hands?”

She shrugs. “I’ve got a great teacher.”

“Well, you’re shaping up to be one of my brightest.” I reach for her, pulling her from my desk into my lap. “You just needed a little handling and spanking.”

“Speaking of shaping,” her lips graze the skin of my neck, “You spent a godawful amount of time stuck behind the lectern today.”

I go completely still, memory slamming into me like a freight train.

She strolled into my lecture today ten minutes late, and then spent the whole class sucking on the end of her pen, her tongue flicking out, licking and wrapping around the plastic. I tried—and failed—not to look, imagining something far better in place of that pen.

By the time I realized my students were staring at me, waiting for me to finish a sentence I couldn’t even remember starting, it was too late.

I waffled through the rest of the lecture like a goddamn first-year intern, hard as a rock the entire time.

Nicole giggles, her mouth trailing along the edge of my jaw before she nips at my earlobe.

“Nicole,” I warn, my voice rough. “Do you have any idea how close I was to doing something that would’ve outed you and me to the entire class?”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, not sounding even a little bit sorry. “I’ll be better next time.”

“Liar.” My hand fists in her hair, yanking her head back until her throat is bared to me. My gaze drops to her smirking mouth—red and pouty, just like it was when she wrapped those lips around her pen.

Blood rushes straight to my cock, obliterating every thought I’ve had about holding back and connecting with her mind first.

“Why don’t you show me just how sorry you are.”

Heat flares in her eyes as she slides off my lap and sinks gracefully onto her knees between my spread legs.

I groan, my head tipping back against the chair as her fingers skim over my belt.

Nicole works slowly—unbuckling, unzipping. When her knuckles graze my cock through my slacks my hips jerk, chasing the contact.

She pulls my pants down. And then, I’m out.

I inhale sharply at the press of cool air against my heated skin and—

She moans.

Loud. Unfiltered. Like she just saw something holy.

I look down, and—fuck.

Her lips are parted, her pupils widening as she stares at my cock like it needs to be studied.

I smirk, dragging a lazy hand through her hair. “Something on your mind?”

Nicole swallows, then looks up at me through her lashes. And God, she looks positively diabolical when she’s turned on.

Her breath fans over me, her fingers trailing up my thighs, light and teasing.

I fist a hand in her hair, my pulse hammering. “Enough playing. Get to work.”

She smirks. “Playing? I haven’t even started.” Then she leans in and licks me, a slow, torturous drag of her tongue from base to tip.

My whole body tenses and a low growl rips from my throat. “Suck it.” My fingers tighten in her hair, but she doesn’t stop teasing.

She hums against me, sending vibrations straight through my spine. Then she kisses the tip lightly. Just when I’m about to lose it—her mouth opens.

Heat. Wetness. A fucking furnace closing around me. I curse, my hips jerking into the warmth of her mouth.

Her hands slide up my thighs, nails lightly scratching as she hollows her cheeks and takes me deeper.

My head tips back against the chair. Jesus Christ.

Her tongue swirls, her lips tightening around me, but she keeps her rhythm slow and controlled. She pulls back just to flick her tongue against the tip a few times before sliding down again.

She’s dragging this out. Making me suffer.

I tug her hair roughly, forcing her to look up at me.

Her eyes are black with need.

Cockdrunk. Already.

Beyond my limit, I growl. “Open the fuck up and take all of me.”

Her nails dig into my thighs as she lets me hold her head still. Then I thrust—slow and deep.

She gags, her fingers gripping my thighs harder, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she moans, and the sound vibrates through my cock, shooting straight up my spine.

Her fingers slip lower to cup my balls. Her other hand slides up my stomach, nails raking against my abs.

I keep her right on my cock, letting her gagging throat massage the shit out of me until my vision starts to blur at the edges.

Christ, the way she randomly submits, trusts me with her body even as she fights me in her mind—it’s unraveling me.

I pull her off me, tilting her gaze up to mine. Her lips are swollen, her chin slick with spit. She blinks, dazed.

“Take a few breaths, my gorgeous, messy girl, then get back to work, and don’t you dare stop until you’ve swallowed every drop.”

She drags in a few breaths, then bends to take me in her mouth again.

The office door rattles with a knock.

“Mr. Mitchell?”

I freeze. There’s only one person refuses to use the honorary title of Professor to refer to me.

At seven fucking p.m.?

Nicole’s eyes go wide with panic and she rears back. “Oh my God, Kai”

“What?”

“I didn’t lock the door.”

For a second, I expect her to scramble to her feet and wipe her mouth like a sane person. She doesn’t. Instead, she bites her lip. And shuffles backward.

I narrow my eyes, a silent ‘don’t you fucking dare.’

Nicole just smirks, then like the menace she is, slides under my desk.

“Just a moment,” I call out, praying for precious seconds to drag the witch out from under the desk, stuff my hard-on back into my pants, and present a decent excuse for this unorthodox meeting.

No such luck. She shrinks back just as the door flies open, and the faculty dean walks in.

Seeing no other choice, I roll my chair flush against the desk. Instantly, Nicole’s hands settle on my thighs, lightly stroking.

Dean Halloran’s pinched, sour face scans the room, his perpetually scowling gaze settling on me like he’s debating whether to launch into a lecture.

“Sorry to barge in this late,” he says with a slight sneer, “but your Ferrari is still in the lot, so I assumed—“

I go rigid, unable to hear the rest. Because Nicole has taken me into her mouth again. I fist her hair roughly as a warning, but she only sucks me harder.

Looks like I’m fucked.

“Keoni borrowed one of my business textbooks last semester,” Halloran says, his voice like a distant echo.

Her tongue flicks rapidly over the head of my cock, and I lock my jaw to stifle the groan clawing up my throat.

“. . . get it back?”

Jesus fucking Christ. Why the fuck is he still talking? “What?” I bite out.

“I need it for my grad seminar.”

I grab a pen off the desk—just to do something with my other hand—to stop it from joining the other at her nape and control the pace. I spin the pen between my fingers while I force a blank, unimpressed look onto my face.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask again.

Nicole hums around my cock, all long and drawn out. The witch fucking hums, and two things happen at once.

The pen snaps in my hand, and Halloran’s head swivels toward the sound.

“Did you hear something?” Halloran asks, just as a wave of pleasure shoots straight down my spine.

I shake my head, sweat already beading along my forehead from the strength it takes to keep a straight face—and not lift my hips into her throat. Nicole’s mouth is a goddamn suction furnace.

“The book,” Halloran repeats, impatience creeping into his tone.

She takes me deeper until her throat tightens around the head of my cock.

I tense, my entire body twitching with the need to just thrust—to fuck her mouth until she chokes on me. Which is precisely the worst thing that could happen right now.

I need this man to leave.

“Sure, I’ll get it to you, Dean,” I rasp, forcing the words through a throat tight with restraint. My balls are already drawing up hard, my body screaming for release. I clench my fists, fighting every instinct not to come.

Halloran narrows his eyes. “It’s right there,” he says, pointing at the shelf behind me.

Oh, for the fucking love of hell.

“Grab it yourself,” I growl.

I can’t fucking move. If I shift even one inch, I will lose every shred of control.

Halloran blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

I clench my jaw, my vision tunneling.

She’s going to make me come. Right fucking here. With Halloran standing less than six feet away.

My spine locks up as she sucks harder, dragging her tongue up my length in one slow, torturous glide then smoothly glides back down, not stopping until I’m fully lodged in her throat.

Heat detonates low in my spine and shoots straight down my cock. I grip the desk, hips jerking violently as I spill down her throat.

I might have kept my face blank, but anyone with half a brain could read the uncontrollable shudders wracking my body.

Nicole swallows every drop.

I cling to the desk like a lifeline, glaring at Halloran while aftershocks pulse through me.

“The book. On the shelf.” My voice is so rough I barely recognize it. “Take it.”

Halloran hesitates, his frown deepening. He shifts, eyes flicking briefly to my desk—right where Nicole’s shoulder bag sits.

His brows furrow, suspicion stirring behind those beady little eyes.

“What’s with the—”

“Take the fucking book and get the fuck out!” I roar.

Halloran flinches. His mouth opens, then closes. He scurries behind me to snatch the book off the shelf, but his eyes snag on the bag one last time as he turns to leave.

The moment the door clicks shut, I collapse back into the chair, dragging a hand over my face.

Beneath the desk, Nicole stifles a laugh before crawling out, a devilish grin curling her lips. “Tell me that was not the dean?”

I snatch her wrist before she can move away, tugging her forward until she sprawls across my lap.

“You’re insane, you know that?” I mutter, my voice still hoarse. “A certified maniac.”

She laughs breathlessly, then straddles me with ease, her hands bracing against my chest. She’s still buzzing with a mix of adrenaline and arousal, same as me.

“I can’t believe I didn’t lock the door,” she whispers.

My hands dig into the curve of her ass. “You think that was funny?”

She shrugs. “It is, a little. How much trouble am I in, Professor?” She whispers, her voice dripping with mock-innocence.

“That depends on what your priority is—your ability to sit, or walk for the next couple of days.”

She inhales sharply, her fingers flexing against my chest. “You wouldn’t!”

I shift her weight onto the desk, stand, and stroll to the door. With a loud, decisive click, I flip the lock. “Try me.”