Page 8 of Let Us Prey
His unnerving focus is now trained on me, and even though he’s across the room, still seated behind his desk, I feel the overwhelming urge to drop to my knees. I’m dying for him to notice the mark I’ve left on the board—eager for his anger to be directed at me again.
What in Hera’s name is wrong with me?
He rises as I approach, and I see the ruler is now in his hand, which does nothing to stop Niagara Falls from gushing between my thighs. I halt in front of him, my tongue darting out to nervously lick my lips as I await his orders. He doesn’t move a muscle—so many freaking muscles—but his eyes are tracking my every movement, and I swear his nostrils flare the tiniest bit.
Please don’t tell me he can smell my…
“Do you think I have time for this?” His tone is collected, although I suspect this doesn’t mean I’m safe.
Clearing my throat, I defiantly lift my chin, determined to keep my voice steady. “That depends on what you’re planning to do with me.Sir.”
I swear, the ghost of a smirk twitches his lips, but it’s gone before I can be sure. “Well, Miss Drew, if you were hoping for a spanking, I’m sorry to disappoint you.” With a purposeful motion, he sets the ruler down on the edge of his desk. “But there’s always next time.”
I notice he’s placed the ruler directly in front of where I sit, like a visual reminder of his subtle threat. Even more infuriating is that I think I really,reallywant him to follow through on that threat—if the puddle between my thighs is any sign.
This time, he takes an exaggerated inhale that ends in a satisfied chuckle. “Try to behave on Wednesday, Blondie. If you can. And don’t be late for my class again.” With that, he sweeps past me, smoothly unlocking the door and letting it slam behind him on his way out.
Why, that no-good… oooh!
A cocktail of confusing emotions simmer beneath my skin as I angrily gather my books and stomp after him. Of course, Mr. Pussy Tease is nowhere to be found once I get outside, so I tell my lady boner to calm down and head for the Shirdal Arts Building.
There’s nothing on my schedule until right before lunch, so it seems as good a time as any to get my Admissions paperwork completed. Apex doesn’t require you to declare your major prior to your sophomore year, but I’ve been leaning towards something in the performing arts since my tour last spring.
That’s a decision that has absolutely nothing to do with the sexy red-haired professor who helps with set design, I’ll have you know.
Recalling Professor Nicodemus pressing his lean body against mine in his art studio does nothing to calm down my hussy vagina. Our encounter would have been completely unacceptable had it been anyone else—well, besides Bash—but the fox seemed more flustered than I was by what he’d done.
I wonder if I can get him to corner me again?
Flinging open the glass door of the Shird with more force than necessary, I feel my tension immediately dissolve at the sight of two familiar faces.
“Girlfriend!” Rufus shouts, startling the crow shifter passing by into half-shifting and awkwardly flap-tripping away. “Get your fine ass over here. Cori and I were wondering if we’d have to come drag you out of bed in order to see you today.”
The honey badger looks like he just came from a Toasters concert. Technically, he’s wearing the required sophomore uniform—royal blue pants and crest jacket with a white button-down and black tie—but he’s punkified the ensemble, for lack of a better word.
His pants are cuffed to show off his Duck Martens boots and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal a mess of nonsensical tattoos covering his forearms. His black hair features a bleached streak down the center, and the man is wearing more eyeliner than all the Heathers combined.
Like a magical rainbow sent to counterbalance the broody rocker vibe of her bestie, Cori’s hair is a swirl of sherbert pastels done in a salon-worthy ombré. “That’s right,” she adds, her sunny smile glowing against her darker skin. “Bash stopped by to tell us you might need some guidance at the Shird today, so consider us your fabulously gay happy helpers!”
As hardened as I’d become since prom night, my heart almost bursts out of my chest at their words. Not only did Bash watch my back all summer and find me a new room in the CHUM—despite his questionable methods—he made sure I had help navigating my new world. That Rufus and Cori seemdelightedto step in makes me want to burst into tears at the unexpected kindness.
Of course, it’s only a matter of time before the other shoe drops.
Smiling broadly, I do my best to match their bubbly energy. “Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it. And there was no need to drag me out of bed today. I had Shifting Studies at 7 freaking AM—it was torture.”
“Oh, isthatwhat caused the aroma you’re blasting out like an olfactory foghorn?” Rufus barks, dramatically flapping his hand in front of his nose as Cori winks conspiratorially at me. “And I get it, trust. It is a special kind of torture to stare at Professor Cash’s tight ass, knowing he’s straighter than the pole my mama dances on.”
His joke makes my embarrassment immediately evaporate. I’m gun shy with trusting anyone, but Rufus and Cori are so confident in who they are—I wonder if hanging out with them will allow me to do the same, without worrying if I’m good enough.
I also wonder if Cori will dye my hair like hers…
Putting my frustrating encounter with Cassius behind me, I allow my new friends to lead me deeper into the Shird, hoping I at least get a little time to enjoy their company before it all inevitably goes to shit.
SIX
Suddenly Seymour
Delores
