Page 42 of Wicked Surrender

I had to know that she couldn’t be this impervious to pain.

This dismissive of me.

If I shared that video, I bet that would do the trick. Something kept me back from blasting that online, though. It was as though I knew that would break her, not merely hurt her.

“Sorry I’m late, icy brat,” I greeted as I joined her.

She nodded, not making eye contact. “Yep. Icy as ever.”

I narrowed my eyes, taking a seat at her dull tone.

“I’m not sorry,” I added, just to be an ass.

“I know.”

“I bet you’re sorry you ever agreed to tutor me, huh?” I laughed as I pushed her neatly lined up row of pencils apart, scattering her tidiness.

She didn’t bat an eyelid, shrugging. “Too late to think about that now. You’re here. I’m here. May as well carry on.”

Fuck that.I didn’t want to just carry on.

I tried another angle. Leaning closer, I noisily scooted my chair closer to hers until I could whisper in her ear. “Are you really that frigid?” I taunted.

“Guess so,” she replied flippantly.

“You’ve never had a big, thick cock deep inside your pussy to thaw you out?” I grinned, waiting for her blush.

It didn’t come.

“Nope.”

“Never.” I raised my brows. “You and lover boy never fucked?”

“We did.” Still nothing. The same dull, monotone, whatever voice.

I furrowed my brow, realizing what she’d let slip there. “Wait. Are you admitting he had a tiny dick?” I couldn’t help a laugh.

“Sounds like it.” She didn’t flinch or turn to face me, not even seeming bothered that I could run with what she said and torment her, and Ethan, even more.

But what was the point if she wouldn’t react at all?

What was I accomplishing when it didn’t seem like she was telling Dean Chen what a bully I was?

“So, this paper?—”

I gripped her chin and turned her to face me.

“You’re fine with that?” I taunted. “You’re fine with admitting all you’ve ever had in your pathetic life is some tiny dick that couldn’t even get you off.”

She drew in a deep breath through her nose, and I waited, excited for her to lash out.

She didn’t. “As I was saying.” She dodged my grip and faced forward again, leaving me to stare at her profile. “Your instructor emailed me your draft of your term paper for medical philosophy and?—”

I grabbed hold of her chair and twisted her to face me fully.

“Fuck that paper.”

“It seems that is your intention,” she deadpanned.

---