Page 31 of Shattered Stars
“Hmmm,” she says, running her hands over her body, her skin flushed with pleasure. “I don’t think so.”
“What?!” I say incredulous. “You don’t think so?”
“No, Professor,” she says, reaching down to pick up her clothes, her back still turned towards me. “I think I’m going to leave you right where you are and head back to my dorm room.”
She peeks at me over her shoulder, giving me a bratty smile – one she’s worked out drives me wild.
“You can’t leave me like this!” I whine. I want her so badly, I think I might combust, set this bed and this shack alight and blazing.
“I think I can.” She blows me a kiss. “I’ll see you in our tuition session tomorrow, Professor.”
She sashays out of the room, hips swaying in a damn provocative manner. How the hell did she learn to do that? She shuts the door behind her. Through the thin walls, I hear the rustle of clothes, then she calls to the pig and both their feet pad towards the door.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” I call out.
“Goodbye Professor,” she says, the door slamming.
I let out a string of curse words, then fling my head back onto the pillows. A smile spreads across my face and I can’t help chuckling.
What a brat!
But I think I may have deserved that.
9
Rhi
“You crept in late last night?”Winnie says as we climb into our uniforms the next morning.
“Did I?” I say as innocently as I can.
Winnie comes to stand next to me at the mirror, bumping her arm against mine.
“You did. And is that another love bite on your neck?”
“Shit,” I mumble, moving closer to the mirror for a better look.
Winnie bumps my shoulder again. “Jeez, Rhi. I was joking. There’s no love bite. But I’m assuming …”
“Assume all you like, Winnifred Wence. I’m under strict instructions not to tell you every little detail of our love life.”
“Hmmm,” Winnie says, sounding unimpressed. “Men do not get to interfere in the ways of women and one of the fundamentals of such ways is: you must tell your best friend all about your love life in excessive, lascivious detail. Even if those men are the authorities’ enforcer and one of the academy’s hottest teachers.”
“Hottest teacher,” I correct with a grin.
“Want to tell me how hot?” she says with a third bump.
But before I can, there’s a rap at our door.
We both look at each other. We know by now whenever someone comes knocking on our door, it isn’t a good thing.
“I’ll get it,” I say, plopping my beret on the top of my head.
When I swing back the door, I’m greeted by the groundsman clutching a gigantic package in his arms.
“It’s for you,” he says, gruffly, obviously unhappy he’s been forced to deliver the thing to my door. “Where do you want it?”
“Inside, I guess,” I say, standing to one side to let him in.
