Chapter 16

DIMITRI

My moral conscience has gone down the drain.

There can be no legitimate reason otherwise for how glued I am to Anya Renée. Even dropping her off at her apartment feels more like a withdrawal than something a gentleman would do.

I am by no means a gentleman. I never was.

The rod in my pants agrees. It wants in the game, wants to slide right back inside her warm walls, shoot a hot load inside her pussy, and mark her as claimed because condoms suddenly feel overrated.

Taking her bare would be more addictive, though; it would obliterate any sanity I could still hold on to.

But a part of me doesn’t want to hold back now. This game is too far gone already.

“Your kisses are addictive,” Anya murmurs as if reading my mind.

With my mouth grazing on her neck, I kiss her smooth skin, letting my lips linger against her. Her arms circle my neck, and her fingers twist the hair on the back of my head. She arches from her seat, forgetting that we have already reached our destination, her destination.

“Are they?” I hum in a velvety tone before I bring my mouth back to hers, twist my tongue with hers, and mold her tits with my hands from over her T-shirt.

She can only moan her response as the kiss heats up.

It takes all my strength to rip myself away, and I pant heavily as I adjust my cock inside my pants and then sweep my fingers through my tangled mess of hair.

Anya watches me with a clouded look in her eyes, a little smile playing on her lips. She is back in her T-shirt and jeans, not giving a glimpse of the tease she had been tonight at the club.

We went through various rounds of sex, only stopping when I knew her shift was over and she wouldn’t go back to having other men linger around her for the night.

She is making me lose all sense of morality. I am so done.

“You know that this will be just between us, right?” I remind her, tasting bitterness on the back of my tongue as the reality of what we are doing comes back to haunt me. “No telling people.”

Anya rolls her eyes, shifting to sit straight. “What makes you think I’ll tell anyone?”

“Just making sure. I’d be in trouble if you did. The college takes these things very seriously.”

If it gets out that I have been fucking my student, I will be the one taking the wrath of the board. It is ironic, considering they just appointed me as the chief advisor; I am the one who punishes others for doing the same things I am doing with Anya.

I am a disgrace, but what can I do now?

The rebellious genes that live in my body are jumping at the opportunity to break more rules and embrace the thrill of danger, which only serves to make things with Anya more exciting. This is probably why I was drawn to a life of crime in a gang.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens as Anya shifts in her seat beside me.

“Don’t worry, Professor. I’ll be a good little student for you,” she taunts seductively, placing one hand on the door handle. She catches my reflection in the rearview mirror, a quirk raising her lip. “As long as you fuck me in return.”

Before I can whip my head to give her a disapproving look, she shimmies out of the car, resting the strap of her bag on one shoulder as she rounds the front. I follow her movements, watching her hips sway as she comes to my side and knocks on the window.

After I roll it down, she places her hands one over the other on the molding, resting her chin on top.

“You’re a dirty girl,” I say. “Did anyone ever tell you that?”

A wicked glimmer appears in her eyes, escorted by that same modest smile. “You mean like your son?”

Her casual mention of Blake, even if playful, effectively kills the mood. Clenching my teeth, I growl her name, my tone more warning than I intend.

She jerks her head off her hands and stands straight. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it!” She picks at the rubber trim for a moment before she says, “Well, I gotta go.”

I grab her before she can turn away. She looks at my fingers curled around her smooth wrist, and the pad of my thumb brushes the skin not covered by her sleeves.

Keeping my voice soft, I say, “No more being a serving girl at the club, okay?”

She scrunches her nose at the request, twisting her lips to give me a look that tells me she is offended. Yanking her hand out of my grasp, she crosses her arms under her full, firm tits and stands tall. “None of your business, Dimitri.”

“Anya,” I exhale, feeling grumpy, a dull throb forming at the back of my head from her insolent tone. “I’m serious.”

“I am too,” she retorts. “Look, here’s the deal—we fuck, we kiss, we go home to our own beds without interfering with each other’s lives. Got it?” Her eyebrows touch her hairline as she waits for me to approve the deal.

Holding her stare, I clench my jaw as I wonder what this would bring. Nothing good, I am sure of that. I rub a frustrated palm over my face then take a glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I look like shit.

I sigh. “So what do you want me to do when I see another asshole put his hands on you?” I ask her.

She isn’t the least impressed by my hardened voice. “They won’t. I have the privilege card of a certain member.” Her shoulder lifts and drops in a subtle shrug.

“You better not let anyone touch you, Anya,” I say. “I mean it.”

Anya laughs, surprising me by leaning her head inside and planting a quick kiss on my cheek. “You’re so cute. Bye!” She turns and walks away, stalking inside her community gates and waving me bye.

I can’t help but watch as she enters the building, says something to the guards, and goes into an elevator. My fingers thump against the leather of the steering wheel while I wait for the lights in Anya’s apartment to turn on.

A moment later, the window of her bedroom is illuminated, and her shadow dances against the curtains, moving swiftly. I imagine that she is getting into the shower, and then I imagine that I can see into her bathroom.

She would be standing under the water, soaping her neck, her breasts, and between her legs. She would play with herself as she thought about me, all the while not knowing that I was watching her.

~That is stalking, not watching~, I tell myself, and despite the shame that nags at my mind, my cock hardens, straining against the fabric of my pants.

Movement at her window catches my attention, and I notice that her silhouette is crisper than before.

She is naked, I bet that is why.

My erection bulges, and my hand goes to it. With fingers on my zipper, I glance around, buzzing with excitement that I am about to do something bad. The dark surroundings and faraway hum of traffic on the main street assure me I am alone.

~Just me and her~, I think and dart my gaze back to her window while undoing my fly. I am back inside her bathroom and watching her shower. My mind now forms a perfect likeness of her body, drawing not from my imagination but from my memories.

As soon as I free my cock, I begin to stroke it, but a vibration in my pocket startles me. In a panic, shamefully aware of what I am doing, I shove my softening meat back into my pants. I could have stayed here all night, I realize with mild horror.

~What is this girl doing to me?~

The continued buzzing of my phone has me rattled as I pull it out. Blake’s photo showing on the screen clears away any lustful thoughts I have about Anya. Anya, my son’s ex, my student, and the woman I fucked hard tonight.

Clearing my throat from the guilty tension, I glance at the time. It is late, and Blake only calls this late because he is in trouble. I clench my fingers around the device and answer. “Blake? What did you do now?”

“Um…hi,” the voice that isn’t my son’s says. “Uh, I found your name in this guy’s phone under ‘Dad,’ and I’m calling because he needs help.”

My body straightens in the seat, and a sickening feeling settles deep inside my gut. ~Cazzo! What in the devil has Blake done?~