Page 62 of Dean's Delinquent

“Andrew.” The name comes out as a warning growl, but the man ignores it.

A heavy sigh slips through my lips as I hand him the knife. Without any preamble, he holds the sharp end against Ashleigh’s neck, effectively quelling her movements.

“You’re a smart girl,” he murmurs, digging the tip into her delicate flesh. It’s not hard enough to cut her, but enough to make her go ramrod. “You understand if you keep fighting, you’ll hurt yourself. Yes?”

“I don’t-“

He cranks up the angle even more, effectively cutting her off. “A simple yes, Sir or no, Sir will suffice. There is no longer a need for all these dramatics.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very good. I know you’re not scared. You’re not fooling anyone. This is for your conscience only. This way, you can tell yourself you tried. You truly, truly tried. You’re still a good girl. The bad, naughty, wicked man is the one making you stand before me naked. Not you. Am I close?”

“How...” She turns to look at me, her gaze both uneasy and in awe at the same time.

“It’s a gift. Now then. Won’t you please do us the honor of stopping all this nonsense?”

And in that moment, I find myself envious of this man. The only thing keeping me from ripping the knife from his hand is knowing that he doesn’t want her in any way. I don’t even have to look down at his crotch to see the lack of erection. All he wants is his Chastity.

Just like all I want is my Ashleigh.

“Agreed. Enough playing around. Ashleigh, you will submit to me willingly and take your punishment, or I won’t fuck you tonight.”

As much as the idea of not draining my balls into her pains me, making sure she is safe will always win out.

Always.

“Well? What is your answer?”

ChapterTwenty-Four

Ashleigh

My answer? He wants my answer? What answer can I possibly give him when my whole brain threatens to combust at the sound of his voice?

Off to the side, Doctor Andrew stares me down. Somehow, his expression never changes. It’s that same quizzical lift of his brow as was in his office. For some reason, I get the feeling that I’m a bug to him. A squirmy bug under a glass for him to toy with and dissect.

When I first met him for the appointment, I didn’t think much of it. I merely thought he was an odd guy, like anyone else in his profession. Now that I know this aspect. Now that I know what runs under those still waters, my gut churns with unease.

“I haven’t got all day, Ashleigh,” my dean murmurs as he lowers his fingers to my pussy lips. “I’m desperate to fuck you. But I’m more anxious to know you understand the full ramifications of what’s about to happen here. We are not nice men. We are not the good guys. We’re not your fucking white knights about to deliver you from the dragon. I am the mother fucking dragon.”

Again, that soft moan slips through my lips as my knees threaten to buckle. It’s not fair. No matter what he does, I crave it as desperately as a bitch in heat. The only thing keeping me even close to grounded right now is that lethal blade of metal against my throat.

“I’ll submit.”

I hear the words as they ring out around my ears. I feel the air as it slips past my lips. I can almost touch them with every soft vibration of the syllables vibrating against my skull and breastbone. But it doesn’t feel real. It’s almost as if someone else says them and I’m merely a conduit.

“Subspace already?” Doctor Andrew murmurs. “I must say, I’m intrigued.”

With a soft turn of my head, I blink at him, doing my best to comprehend his words. They’re fuzzy, as if he’s rubbing a bit of rabbit fur over my brain and lulling me into this odd liminal space where time has absolutely no meaning.

“She’s perfection.”

This time, it’s Dean Anderson speaking into my ear as he continues to caress me, touching me so intimately, yet somehow keeping just detached enough that it leaves me begging, screaming for more.

“Please.” Did I actually say the words? Or did I merely think them in my head?

“Please what, my little troublemaker?”

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