Chapter 7

Seven

MARISSA

That night, I lock my balcony and tug the blackout curtains closed. On top of schoolwork and dealing with a breakup, I have no brain energy left to consider how to handle my stalker. I know I’ll have to think up a plan, eventually. Just not tonight when I want to be sad and wallow.

After only a few hours of fitful rest, I wake up again. Visions of James and Jackson together keep me wrestling with the sheets. But like a break in the gloomy clouds, memories of Xavier’s thick cock interrupt those thoughts, until I find myself humping my pillow. Picturing Xavier reading all my diaries, my cheeks flame. Shame fills my belly thinking about him finding out my family’s dark secret: my uncle, the child rapist.

The only reason I get out of bed is the incessant growling in my stomach. And, ugh, it’s almost time to get ready for my first class. A hot shower, a warm wool sweater, and strong coffee are just what I need to start feeling normal again. Darling Sharice always stocks our fridge with healthy foods, and today there’s a pan of protein bars inside with a sticky note that says, “Eat Me.” So I do.

With the painting well underway, I feel like I can face Mr. Hall’s class. Pouring some pain into the paint yesterday helped. I’m just secretly begging the universe that I won’t run into James today. Ugh…or Jackson. Definitely not Xavier. Usually, I don’t cross paths with him on campus, so I hope today is not an exception.

After morning classes, I avoid the quad (and James) for lunch, opting for the grab-and-go boxes in the cafeteria. Part of me is sad that I’ll have to skip out on having meals in the sunshine, but at least I don’t have to hear the rumors from everyone. Slumped against the wall outside the door to my last class, photography with Mr. Hall, I munch on the mushy sandwich mindlessly. Mr. Hall’s tall body is visible above all the students’ heads as he strides toward the room. When he spots me, his eyebrows raise slightly. Pausing near the door, he looms over my head with a serious look on his face.

“Miss Matlock, good to see you. We should discuss your semester project this afternoon. Are you free right after class?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know. It’s in my calendar as my verbal lashing time.

“Um, yeah. I’m free then. I have some ideas of what I’d like to do.” I don’t, but I hope to think of something during class.

In the auditorium, I slide onto a hard plastic chair next to Madison, another photography major. As casually as possible, I glance over at her notebook as she scribbles. Is it possible to cheat on your project ideas like it is an exam? Madison always gets positive comments written under her works in the studio, even from Mr. Hall. I bet she has her project completed for the year already.

Her hair smells of coconut when I lean in to whisper, “Hey, sorry. Do you already know what you’re going to do for your semester project?”

With a slight turn to her head, she murmurs, “Yeah. I started on it last week. Why?”

Figured. “Oh, no reason. Just trying to come up with ideas.”

Her lips quirk subtly in a knowing smile. “You should talk with Mr. Hall. He’s very helpful with that kind of stuff. Getting you started and helping you achieve your goals.” What does that mean?

The sound in the room gets deadly quiet when Mr. Hall stops his lecture and stares us down. Both of us straighten in our seats as embarrassment flushes my cheeks. Madison taps on her paper with the end of her pen and writes me a note instead.

Have you been to his studio yet?

As slyly as possible, I shake my head. She scribbles again.

You should go. It’s very inspiring.

Her eyebrows wiggle up and down, and an involuntary sneer curls my upper lip. That’s the last thing I really want to do, but if it will get me the grade I need, maybe it will set me up for the future.

After the lesson, I wait outside the door for Mr. Hall while nervously picking at my cuticles. Spotting me, he nods toward the first-floor staircase, and I quicken my pace to stay next to him. The way he carries his tall body covered in stylish clothes makes me feel like a child as we stroll toward the faculty area.

“It’s nice and sunny out for September, don’t you think?” I ask with a smile, trying to make small talk, but only end up feeling more awkward than before.

With a curt hum, he sets his lips in a grimace and opens the door to his office.

Taking up my usual seat in the large leather chair across from his desk, my eyes find Mr. Hall’s piercing ones. Leaning forward with his elbows on his desk, he peaks his fingers in front of his mustache and continues to assess my face without speaking. Squirming, I scramble to find something to say to fill the void in conversation. Before I can, however, he finally speaks.

“I’m going to level with you, Miss Matlock. I think you have genuine, natural photographic talent. It’s one reason I want to push you so hard. However, you never put in the extra effort it takes to rise to your potential. It feels like you’re waiting for something to happen instead of taking the first step yourself.”

I begin to protest, but he interrupts. “Let me finish. I could help, but you must be willing to work hard and sweat a little bit. You haven’t taken me up on any offers to participate at my studio, and I’m afraid if your semester project doesn’t blow me away, you may fail my course.” Some of his black hair sprinkled with gray falls forward as he lowers his head like he’s waiting for my reply. But I don’t even know how to respond.

Standing, he walks around his desk and leans his butt on it right in front of where I sit. His zipper is at eye level, and as I lift my eyes to meet his face, I can make out a firm bulge in his dress pants. It seems he’s dropping some serious innuendoes, but maybe I’m reading into things too much. Is Mr. Hall…erect for me?

A full-body cringe makes me shiver. Instead of staring at his intimidating body, my eyes focus on the bookcase behind him. “Um, I am willing to put in the work. I decided to take you up on that offer to watch you in the studio. I’m available whenever you are.” Let’s face it. It’s inevitable that I visit him there. I have to pass this class.

“I’m glad to hear that. But how much energy are you willing to put in today to get your grade up?” Reaching out a long finger, he strokes across my cheek. Everywhere he touches makes the skin crawl. Wrapping the digit around my jaw, he raises my face, so I have to look him in the eye.

He’s being creepy. Is he going to say the actual words now? Is he going to force me? If someone recorded the audio of everything he just said, he could easily play it off, saying he was only encouraging his student. I don’t know if he’s done anything I can report. Nothing anyone would believe anyway. Maybe he’s just trying to be kind and helpful.

My lashes flutter timidly as I glance at him. Towering over me, he rubs along my jawline until my stomach knots. With a rough swallow, I gather enough breath to squeak out, “I mean, what do I need to do to get my grade up?”

With his free hand, he reaches down to his crotch and undoes his pants while the nausea seizing my insides threatens to come up my throat. Pulling out a skinny but hard penis, he grunts. Then he grips my face and pulls me toward it. “Mmm, you want to get an A in this course? You have to get in deep. Be willing to go all in for this job.” The head of his dick edges closer to my closed mouth.

Those upperclassmen got stars in their eyes when talking about “visiting” Mr. Hall in his studio because they wanted to fuck him. He had fucked them. They got good grades. He got co-ed pussy–it was a win-win. I can do that, right? I could be one of those girls, too. I want an easy grade.

Sticking out my tongue, I lick the tip of his dick. When I taste the salty end, he drops his head back and groans. “That’s it, Marissa. Just need you to put in a bit of extra effort.” His large palm moves to the back of my head and persuades me to take more of him.

With my eyes closed, I focus on a mantra just to imagine I’m somewhere else: Easy grade… Just a blowjob… Graduation… If I do this, Mr. Hall will stop torturing me. I can hang some photos in the hall like other students. I bet he’ll comment beneath one, saying how amazing my collections are, and then people will see me as a real photographer. Like Madison. Like the other girls… Easy grade.

As his fingers dig into the back of my scalp, my mouth opens, taking his warm cock inside. Flattening my tongue, I stroke up on the underside of the tip. When I peek into his flat brown eyes, they fill with a hunger for me. Just suck this dick, and I’ll be okay the rest of my time in university. It’s not that big of a deal—just a blowjob.

Taking one shuffled step closer, he forces more of himself into my mouth, shoving my head onto his length. “That’s it. Work hard. Mmm, Marissa, I think your grade is already improving. You definitely want that A, I can tell.” Twisting my tongue around his dick, I suck harder, trying to get him to come faster.

Mr. Hall’s an attractive older man: salt-and-pepper hair and a good body for a forty-five to fifty-something. Deep in the open buttons of his dress shirt, I spot some chest hair peeking out that gives him a rugged appearance. I can do this. I can suck him during office hours, maybe let him fuck me once. I mean, I’m already doing it… I’m sucking his dick. His dick is in my mouth.

I’m sucking my professor’s dick for an A.

“I can’t do this.” Sitting on my heels forcibly, the back of my hand swipes at my mouth. I think I’m going to be sick. Scanning the room for a trash can, I spit out, “I just can’t. I don’t want this. I’m not like those girls. I can’t suck you for an A. No.”

When I stand on weak legs, he grabs my upper arms and swings me around, bending me over his desk. With my arms held tightly behind my back, he humps my ass, still covered with tight jeans, as I squirm against him. Moving my arms from two of his hands to one, he reaches around me to fumble with my button and zipper.

Screaming, I yell, “Stop! Don’t! No!” But his hand slaps across my mouth, cutting off my voice. I don’t want this. Kicking my legs, they only meet air as he continues to lay his body on top of my back.

“You little cunt. Teasing me for a fucking year. You’ll take my dick and thank me for your grade later.” Giving up on my jeans, he rears one hand back to spank me. Using that opportunity, I shove back enough that he stumbles, and I snatch my bag. A whimpered gasp escapes as I run to the door, the knob not twisting in my sweaty hand. Finally, I throw it open.

Sprinting down the hall, I round the corner and end up colliding with a man’s solid chest. As I look up, formidable arms envelop me. My eyes meet a pair of icy blues, filled with concern and security. Not able to hold back the terror any longer, I let the tears spring free.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” Xavier asks, his gaze narrowed at the room down the corridor. Mr. Hall peeks out, his lips forming a solid line at the sight of us before he marches back inside and slams his door.

Xavier’s perfect white teeth flash when he asks, “Did he hurt you?” I’ve seen Xavier annoyed, but the look in his eyes is downright murderous. His chest heaves with consternation.

I snuggle closer in his embrace to suppress a shiver, taking solace in his possessiveness. It’s a strange feeling to be relieved by his presence, but I’m glad he’s here at the right time. Maybe being Xavier’s isn’t such a bad thing.

Despite his firm hold around my body, I don’t want to talk about what happened or what I’ll have to do. Just the thought of police reports, university senate talks, the gossip mills, ugh…the news? My entire body shakes all over. It’s overwhelming. All I want is to escape. Pretend nothing happened.

Just like when I was little.

Xavier’s thumb raises to brush back a tear from my cheek as he waits for my answer. His face is warm and inviting, despite the look of menace behind it.

Almost in a whisper, I ask, “Please, can I just go?”

When he nods, his black hair falls in his eyes, but he guides me with a firm arm around both of my shoulders out of the building to the parking lot. It feels oddly safer under his arm and comforting to have him protect me.

He walks us right to the specialty reserved spaces. Of course the heir of Cardell Enterprises would have a front-row spot, while all the other off-campus plebs have to park miles away. We stop in front of a bright blue bullet of a car. I’m sure it’s expensive, just as Xavier’s clothes, watch, and backpack are. When he opens the passenger door, the thing looks like it’s going to take flight. Calling me with a wave of his fingers, I stumble closer until he helps me get situated, buckling my seatbelt, then storing my bag in the little trunk.

Once he’s inside, I point to all the complex buttons and panels. “What is this thing?”

A corner of his lips twitch as he pushes a button to start the engine. “A Maserati MC Twenty.” The power of its rumble makes my pussy tingle on the seat until my thighs involuntarily clench together and his smirk turns into a full-blown, butterfly-inducing grin. “You like that?”

“It looks like a rocket ship.”

“It drives like one.” With a swift turn of the wheel, he flies out in reverse, then swivels us around, motoring off like a stunt driver. My belly flips and a scream rips from my chest as I grip the door, all while Xavier just chuckles. His laugh is infectious, the sound lessening my worries. And from the look of sheer joy on his face at my terror, his ire seems to be dissipating.

Cutting through the back roads of town, he drives us out into the country, using curvy lanes to show off his car’s prowess. Before we reach the edge of Northview, his warm palm glides over my hand, which is gripping the seat as he takes a sharp turn. He laces our fingers together and places them on his lap, tucking them in like they belong there. Every touch he gives me makes me feel like I’m high.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened back there?” Xavier’s eyes dart to the rearview mirror before he lifts our hands to switch gears. His lips threaten to lift into a snarl.

“Um, Mr. Hall asked me to suck his dick for an A. When I stopped him, he tried to pull down my jeans.” Keeping my head looking straight ahead, I avoid his reaction. But after a minute of silence, I glance over. His jaw clenches tight, as if the bitter pill he sucks is sourer today. With a dismissive sigh, I tell him, “I think I should have just gotten it over with. It’s not worth the trouble.”

The air in the cabin of the car seems to condense. Xavier’s rage is palpable. “Excuse me? You think it would have been okay? For what, a grade? Fuck that, Marissa.” Through closed teeth, he grits out, “He will pay.”

Revving the engine, he guns it around another corner.

Mainly to myself, I mutter, “I don’t even want to report it. It’ll all be so draining…the reports, the news. Maybe I can try to switch advisors again.”

I tried to switch last year, but Mr. Hall intervened, saying I needed him since I was interested in portrait photography. Maybe now he’ll be so disgusted with me that he’ll let me go. I bet I could even blackmail him, threaten to report him if he doesn’t. If I go back to his office, I can record us and then I’d have some proof.

Turning my head, I mindlessly stare off at the rolling hills of the fall countryside, but after a few miles, my breathing becomes caught in my chest. We’re way outside of town. With everything that just happened, I was so focused on running away that I hadn’t considered who I was escaping with. Glancing at him, his brow furrowed over his eyes, hand still gripping mine tightly, I realize I have no idea where this stalker is taking me.

Have I just escaped one predator to be snared by a more dangerous one?

My throat dry, I swallow before whispering, “Where are you taking me?”

As his expression softens, he takes the time to scan my face with some care, then raises our hands to place his lips on the back of them.

“Home, kitten.”