Page 47 of Dean's Delinquent

Man. Wouldn’t Marnie laugh to hear about this? Such an absurd dream, no doubt fueled by our desperation to ferret out the secret society on campus. How is it my brain twisted this all about until it was some underground sex ring?

But then, that would also explain why Doctor Andrew is here. It was his list that started this whole damn thing. But where did the ropes come from? And how did the hulking Russian man who looks more at home in an action flick instead of this opulent castle appear?

“Ashleigh?” A soft voice whispers in my ear, but I can’t seem to understand it. Can’t seem to respond. “Ashleigh!” This time, it’s a bit more forceful, followed by a firm shake.

Whose voice is that? It takes several blinks before a masked face swims into view. Instead of the calm, steady gaze of Dean Anderson, it’s someone else. Someone familiar.

“She’s in shock.”

Doctor Andrew. Fuck. This isn’t a dream. Shaking my head, I look at all the concerned eyes staring down at me—male and female alike.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Really, John. I do think it’s best to remove her from the situation for a moment. She needs to catch her breath, at least.”

“Can Chastity look after her?”

“Not even for a moment. I’m afraid this interaction has had a detrimental effect on my Chastity. As it is, I’m going to have to put her in my cage for at least an hour. Once everything is in hand here, I will take her home.”

In that instant, everything clicks. “Oh my god,” I whisper. “She’s your client. I knew it. I knew there was something more to it.”

His lips quirk up into a smug grin. “You know nothing, Miss. Hartwell. Anything you think that mind of yours might put together as fact is most likely wrong.”

“Chelsea,” the stranger with the softer Russian accent snaps out. “Take her to the back room. The one close to the bathroom. No funny business unless you want to show this new girl how a Russian punishes hisLastachka.”

Any hope of this being a dream leaves the instant I hear the unknown Russian word drip from his lips. A dream is just your brain trying to make sense out of reality. When in the hell have I ever heard Russian or tried to speak it?

Tingles shoot down my hands as my gut flips back and forth until I’m about to be sick. Hand on my stomach, I lean forward a touch as bile rises in my throat and threatens to suffocate me.

“Catch her,” Doctor Andrew murmurs as I pitch forward. “Next time, don’t lock your knees. You will do well to keep that in mind for when he eventually puts you on the cross.”

“Enough, Andrew,” the dean bellows out as he scoops me into his arms. “Take Chastity home and make sure she’s okay. Luke, get your fucking head out of your fucking ass or so help me, I’ll let Andrew do whatever the fuck it is he wants to you.”

“Fuck this,” Luke hisses. “We’re out.”

“Good,” the dean growls behind me. “It’s better that you cool off now before things get out of hand. She meant you no disrespect. And trust me. She’ll learn to mind sooner rather than later. I can guarantee you that.” A heavy sigh rips from his throat as he turns to the Russian guy. “Grigori, if you can spare Chelsea, I’d be grateful.”

“Do you want Melody to join you as well?” Another familiar voice calls out.

Great. Someone else I know in this secret cadre.

As much as I detest feeling this weak in front of everyone, the feel of Dean Anderson’s arms as they wrap around me, holding me tightly, turns the churning back into butterflies. Shaking my head, I press against his hands and ease myself down.

I can’t act like this. I can’t let this existential dread and overwhelm keep me from doing what I intended to do in the first place. There’s certainly no way I can gather intel while burrowed in Dean Anderson’s chest.

“Please,” I murmur, keeping my voice soft so only a few can hear. “Sir, I would like to stand up again.”

For a moment, he seems to hesitate, as if he’s not going to honor my request. But then, from what I’m gathering, I have no power here. I’m helpless, ineffectual, and completely at his mercy.

As if my brain comes back online, everything becomes crystal clear. I wanted this. I wanted him. Granted, even with all the research, I didn’t really know exactly what I wanted. If I’m being honest with myself, I still don’t. What I do know is there is absolutely no way I’ll be able to learn while up in Dean Anderson’s arms.

Eventually, he sets me back down but holds onto my shoulders as Doctor Andrew steps closer. “Her pupils seem fine now. Let her go.” The instant the dean releases my arms, I miss the warmth of his hands on my body. Thankfully, however, I don’t sway back into him, seeking out his touch. “She seems stable enough. You still might have Bradley look her over to make sure everything is okay physically.”

“I’m not letting him touch her.” There’s an odd note to the dean’s voice. It’s a quaver of possessiveness if I’ve ever heard it. “Now then, are you sure you can walk?”

“Yes, Sir.” I whisper, doing my best to mimic the other submissives growing restless around me. “You have other responsibilities that have nothing to do with me.”

“Listen to me closely. As of right now, you are, unfortunately, my highest responsibility. You’ve thrown yourself in my path in the worst way, and you will rue the day you forced my hand.”

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