Page 38 of Stalk Me

I force myself to stand, smoothing my uniform with trembling hands. I have to end this before it goes too far. Before Belle's curiosity gets someone killed. But how do I stop someone who's already seen too much? Someone who hates me?

The answer comes to me as I pass Professor Austin's classroom. He's alone, grading papers with that familiar furrowed brow. His computer sits open on his desk, displaying lines of code I don't understand. But I don't need to understand it. I just need to use it. And if there's one thing I learned from my parents, it's knowing exactly how to use people and their resources when survival is on the line.

I check the hall—empty except for distant voices and the echo of footsteps. Then, squaring my shoulders, I step into his classroom. Time to fight fire with fire.

Back in Control

"Miss Queen." Professor Austin's voice carries a note of surprise as he looks up from his grading. The wire-rimmed glasses slip slightly down his nose, giving him that unintentionally vulnerable look that makes him appear younger than he is. "I don't have a class until this afternoon. Did you need something?"

I close the door behind me, the soft click echoing in the empty room. "Actually, Professor, I think we need to talk."

His eyes track me as I move across the room, each step deliberately measured. I can already see the memories flashing behind his eyes—our last encounter, the party with Dougie, Belle's little stunt with the video. His throat bobs as he swallows nervously.

"I have office hours tomorrow if you'd like to discuss your grades," he offers weakly, already knowing this isn't about classwork.

"We've already made sure that my grades are fine." I perch on the edge of his desk, letting my uniform skirt ride up just enough to be distracting without being obvious. "I'm more concerned about a… personal matter."

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, putting a few more inches of distance between us. Smart man. But not smart enough. "Miss Queen, if this is about what happened the other day, I assure you, I won't let?—"

"It's not about that. At least not completely." I wave his words away like annoying flies. "It's about something much more important."

I lean forward slightly, watching his eyes dart briefly to the V of my shirt before he forces them back to my face. The power in this subtle dance is intoxicating. If he just gives in and follows my lead, we could both win.

"I need your help, Professor Austin," I say, my voice low and intimate. "And I think you're going to want to help me."

His brow furrows deeper. "I don't understand."

"I think, by now, you know I can reciprocate," I hint. His dark eyes widen, finally realizing my point. I reach out and trail my fingers along the line of his jaw, catching his chin and guiding him back to look at me. "But I can give you more. So much more."

His jaw tightens under my palm. "Miss Queen, I think you misunderstand?—"

"Oh, I don't think I do." I meet his gaze squarely. "I think you're trying to be strong, and I respect that. But how about we skip all that, and I give you the pleasure you so much crave? In fact, since the favor I need from you is of a personal nature, I'm willing to make this encounter particularly memorable."

His breath hitches at the invitation, and the flush in his cheeks deepens.

"I know you want to. I can see it every time you look at me, every time I sway my hips in your direction. You think I can't feel the tension between us, but I do. It's electricity, this thing between us. Hot enough to light up the fucking sky."

For a moment, his mask of dignity threatens to crumble. I know I have him. It's only a matter of going in for the kill.

Before he can change his mind, I straddle him, my legs framing his narrow hips. I brace my hands on his shoulders, my lips inches from his, and whisper, "Come on, Professor Austin. All I want is one kiss. A taste, a sample. Nothing major. Then, if you think you can control yourself, we can go back to ignoring this throbbing tension."

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, his body betraying his need even as he tries to push it down. "Miss Queen…"

"Do you feel this?" I roll my hips, gasping a little as the friction sends fire through my veins. "I'm not hiding it. I'm willing to show you everything. I'm offering myself on a silver fucking platter. And what do I get in return? A single kiss. That's it."

"Luna." He meets my eyes for a brief moment, and the aching, swirling depths of longing nearly steal my breath away. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" I press against him, feeling the evidence of his desire. "Because last time you didn't say no to a blow job."

He shakes his head, a movement I match until our lips are practically touching.

"Just give in," I say with a sultry voice. "It's easy. No one will ever know."

His resolve seems to crack. "Just a kiss."

"A kiss. A taste. Then you'll leave it up to me."

He nods—agreement, encouragement, capitulation. With a pleased smile, I lean in, capturing his mouth with mine. The way he kisses back is anything but professional, his tongue tangling with mine, his hands coming to rest on my hips with a surety that leaves me breathless. This isn't about control; this is a gift freely given. It thrills me like nothing has in a long time.

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