Page 42 of The Professor
“You bastards close your eyes!” There was a scrape of chair legs then the deafening bang of fists slamming onto the table. “I’m warning you. Don’t fucking look at her.” Fury dripped from Andrew’s voice. “And if you do look I’ll gouge your eyes out with a goddamn soup spoon.”
“Got it, Prof. Keep you hair on.” Irish Guy chuckled.
“Yes, we hear you.”
I turned, seeing for the first time the posh guy and the Irish one. The others had gone. Andrew stood between them, his cheeks red and his eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing wandering around naked?”
“Ah…” I cocked my head. “You thought not having clothes would keep me trapped.” I laughed. “Guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”
“Here.” The woman passed me a jar of Marmite. “For your toast. I’m Bridget by the way.”
“Thanks, nice to meet you, I’m—”
Suddenly I was in Andrew’s grip, and he was carrying me out of the kitchen.
“Hey, my toast, I need to fucking eat.”
“You will, it was my next bloody job, okay.” He marched me back to the spanking room and sat me on the bed. “Just stay there, will you. I’ll get food.”
“More than toast?”
He frowned. “What do you want?”
“Pizza, a veggie one. And some garlic bread.”
His mouth was a tight line. “I’ll see what I can do.” He leaned forward, index finger extended. “But you have to promise not to do that again. I don’t want those guys, or any other guys, seeing you naked.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Because you’re mine, all fucking mine. I want to be the only one who sees your body, touches your body. You hear me?”
“What I hear is this is some kind of fucked-up relationship going on, or are you relying on me getting Stockholm syndrome?”
He made a strange growling sound and leaned closer. “Let’s just get through this, okay, and then…”
“And then?”
He straightened, pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes.
“And then we can fuck each other stupid?” I asked, leaning back, arms locked, tits poking up. “Is that what you were going to say?”
He opened his eyes; a muscle flexed in his cheek.
“Andrew.”
“Just stay here…okay.” He strode out, locking the door behind him.
With the windows deadlocked, I had no choice but to do his bidding and stay just where I was.
Chapter Eleven
Andrew
I sat back down with the guys. Anger swarmed in my very core that they’d seen Chelsea without clothes. It made me sick to my stomach and curled my fists with the need to thump something. But it couldn’t be them I thumped, it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t Chelsea’s either, since I’d shredded her clothes from her, not that I’d thump her, ever, I wasn’t that sort of creep
