Page 6 of Dean's Delinquent

I just need to fuck the girl and get her out of my mind.

Storming over to where she’s sitting, I hold out my hand for the paper. As she hands it to me, she rises, but I instantly motion for her to sit back down. “I’d like to take a moment to look this over without your input or interference.”

Is it my imagination, or does her foot tense just a touch as if she wants to stomp it down on the floor and throw a tantrum? My cock twitches at the idea of such juvenile behavior. Out of all the students and submissives I’ve disciplined, none have brought out these urges nearly as strongly as she has.

It’s almost as if she’s seen into my mind, pulled out every fantasy I have, and is bringing them to erotic life. I can’t let my cock rule my emotions right now. Even if I wanted to bring her into my fold, now is certainly not the time. There are far more important matters to attend to with her blatant salacious article being at the forefront.

As I turn to leave, she stands and plants her hands on her hips. “I don’t understand. Nothing I’ve said in this article is incorrect. I’ve checked the facts myself.” She pulls out her phone and frowns. “I’m far closer to the printing deadline than I’d like to be. Can’t I just come in and plead my case?”

“I don’t care if it’s due to the President of the United States for him to read over. A concern was brought to me making this my problem now. And if it’s a problem for me, it will surely become a problem for you. Now sit.”

With a humph, she plops back down into the chair and crosses her slim legs, causing her skirt to ride up enough for me to catch a glimpse of her creamy thighs. Insanity indeed. This girl will be the death of me. I’m sure of it.

Off to the side, Shelaine covers her mouth with her hand, but not before I catch that irksome knowing grin. Brat. Just because she belongs to Luke now doesn’t mean I can’t put in a text for him to deal with her.

As I stride past, I flex my free hand where she can see. Almost instantly, she sobers and goes back to work. At least she hasn’t forgotten the taste of my strap when I was the one seeing to her discipline.

Fisting the paper in my hand, I make my way over to the desk and slide on my glasses. There, in bold, just as the picture showed, is the blasted headline—Murder Most Foul. Just as when I was out in the hedge maze, my anger rises as my stomach plummets.

Thankfully, as I skim through the article, it has nothing to do with the actual murder. It’s about that damned overdose. Granted, there’s not much to it. However, both that and the headline are too inflammatory.

Tossing it to the desk, I press my intercom, instructing Shelaine to allow the reporter to come inside my office. Her pale cheeks are quite flushed as she bustles in, as if she’s the injured party here. With a flounce, she sits across from me and folds her arms into a defensive stance.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I slide it over to her. “Care to explain?”

“What’s there to talk about? A death happened on campus, and I’m duty-bound to report it.”

“And are you also duty bound to place such a salacious headline?”

She leans over and squints at the paper before giving me a lackadaisical shrug. “It’s made to grab attention.”

“It’s obscene, and you know it,” I snap back, taking the page away from her. “What were you thinking putting something like this here? You know people are going to jump to the wrong conclusion.”

“Is it wrong though?” She insists, jumping up from her chair. “Of all the people I interviewed, none of them considered him the type to do drugs. It’s very suspicious, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you, though. No one did.” With a heavy sigh, I slide back into my chair.

I can’t fault the girl. Not really. She’s only saying what we all were thinking. Chase had a bright future. He wouldn’t throw it all away like that. And definitely not with Fentanyl.

“Change the article,” I finally grind out. “Put something else in there. I don’t really care what.”

“You cannot be serious right now.” Her voice raises with every word until she’s just below actually screaming at me.

“Sit. Down. Has it ever occurred to you that this might be an ongoing investigation? Did you not think that if he was murdered, this might cause the perpetrator to go into hiding? Is the anguish his friends and family might feel from reading this worth the sensationalism you’re trying to cause?”

“Sensationalism? So your answer to all of this is to censor me because you don’t like my method of reporting.”

A headache forms at the base of my skull as I stare at the girl across from me. Her eyes blaze with righteous indignation as she taps her Louboutins against my wood floor. Nothing will make her see reason it seems.

“Yellow journalism will not be tolerated at Loftry University. Either you pick a different article, or you’re not publishing. It’s as simple as that.”

“You honestly think you can suppress the truth and I won’t fight back against it?” she hisses, planting her hands on my desk.

My vision blurs for a moment as I picture her bent over, her pretty skirt flipped over her hips so it can expose her backside.

“The truth? I counter. This isn’t truth. This is a sensational slant to get readers. Admit it. That’s all this is. A ploy to solidify The Loftry Lantern and start making a name for yourself. Pure and simple.”

The way her lips part as she gapes at me has my pulse pounding in my cock, making it twitch with every breath, every heartbeat.

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