Page 196 of Broken by my Bully
Most people see the professor. The philanthropist. The man who gives generously to college scholarships and helps struggling students. Because that’s what I want them to see.
That little shit saw the wolf. And instead of being impressed orafraid, he was disgusted. Alarmed. Like I was someone Haven needed protection from.
As if she doesn’t crave exactly what I am.
I adjust myself again, wincing at the friction. Christ, I nearly came in my pants when she tried to slap me. Such defiance, even while she stood there in her cheap underwear. Still fighting even as her body betrayed her.
The wet spot on that red silk will haunt my dreams.
No. Not dreams.Plans.
After this insipid gala, I’ll explore all the different ways I can force Haven’s body to betray her mind until I discover just how wet I must make her before she stops fighting and startsbegging.
“Are you done?” comes Jennifer’s sickly sweet voice. “Or did you need more time with you’re, uh…” She trails away when I tilt my head, mentally instructing her to go on.
She doesn’t dare.
My jaw clenches. Even she sees it. The impropriety. The wrongness.
Good.
Let them all see. Let them whisper about Professor Rooke and his scholarship girl. Let them wonder what happens behind closed doors. Let them judge while secretly wishing they had the balls to take what they want the way I do.
“We’re done.”
I force my face back into the benign mask everyone expects. The helpful professor. The generous benefactor. The lamb’s wool I wear to hide the teeth underneath.
But Haven knows better now. She sees what I really am.
And it only made her wetter.
I push open the fitting room curtain to find Haven dressed again in those pathetic rags she calls clothes.
Pupils dilated.
Hands shaking as she buttons her hideous blouse.
A flush across her chest that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
She’s aroused. Still. Despite everything. Or because of it.
“Ready?” I ask, my voice perfectly pleasant.
She nods, not trusting herself to speak.
Smart girl.
Jennifer handles the transaction as any professional would. Not even glancing in Haven’s direction as some ridiculous amount of money disappears from my account.
I get it.
Haven looks like I fucked her against a wall.
She can thank her lucky stars I didn’t.
The ride back to Agony Hollow is silent, and I spend it relishing the scent of Haven’s arousal. It’s more intoxicating than top-shelf bourbon. A better high than coke.
She thinks she understands what’s happening. That I’m just some garden-variety man who wants to fuck his student.
