13. Brooke

Stepping into class without panties felt like a bold act of defiance, even though it was a punishment dictated by Bradley. I was embarrassed, feeling every gaze more acutely than ever before, yet part of me was inexplicably thrilled by the act. And when I caught Bradley's eye, his reaction was unmistakable—a look that mingled surprise with something I could only describe as approval. It was unsettling to realize he knew I had followed his orders, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. Despite the discomfort, I forced myself to focus, to not let his reaction dictate my composure.

Bradley began his lecture, his voice filling the room, a stark reminder of the dual role he played in my life. "All right, everyone, let"s focus on what"s ahead," he started, his tone shifting to one of strict professionalism. "The final exam will cover everything we"ve discussed this semester, with a particular emphasis on the last four chapters we"ve just completed." He paused, allowing the information to sink in before continuing. "It"s going to be comprehensive, but fair. Expect a mix of multiple-choice questions and short essays. Make sure you understand the key concepts and can apply them to real-world scenarios."

I took notes diligently, trying to concentrate on the words and not the man speaking them. "And remember," Connor added, his eyes sweeping the room, momentarily locking with mine before moving on, "the final is a significant portion of your grade. It"s an opportunity to show what you"ve learned, to show how you"ve integrated the knowledge into your understanding of the subject matter."

His lecture continued, a detailed breakdown of what to study and how to prepare, but my mind couldn"t help but wander. His presence commanded the room, and despite everything, I couldn"t deny the efficacy of his teaching, nor the unexpected respect it fostered within me.

When class ended, I reflected on the surreal nature of my situation. Being both Bradley's student and his unwilling guest was a balancing act of emotions and reactions. The thrill I had felt at defying him, even in such a small, imposed way, was a glimpse into the tangled web of power, control, and defiance that defined our interactions. Despite the discomfort and the challenges, there was a part of me that was learning to navigate this new reality, to find a strength I hadn"t known I possessed.

"Westwood, stay behind," he called out, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

My heart sank.

"Why is he asking you to stay behind?" Minka whispered, concern etching her brows.

I could only shrug in response, my cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and apprehension. I prayed my discomfort wasn"t as visible as it felt.

Levi shot me an annoyed glance, a silent question in his eyes that I had no answer to.

Damien Sinclaire didn"t miss the opportunity to stir the pot. "She's always staying behind," he said. "I wonder what she could have done this time. Are you a secret bad girl, Westwood? Does Hanson know about this?" His words hit closer to home than I cared to admit.

"Shut up, Sinclaire," I retorted, rolling my eyes to mask my growing concern.

His observation echoed my own fears. If Sinclaire was noticing a pattern, it was only a matter of time before others did as well. The thought that my reputation could be at stake, that whispers and rumors might begin to circulate about my relationship with Bradley, was a chilling prospect. Despite the power my father wielded, he wouldn"t be able to shield me from the fallout if suspicions arose about my interactions with Bradley.

"I'm sure it's just something about my dad," I lied to Minka, hoping to offer her, and perhaps myself, some reassurance. Her skeptical look told me she wasn"t entirely convinced, but before we could delve deeper into the conversation, Levi took her hand, and they both left.

I waited, a storm brewing within me, until the last student had filtered out of the room, leaving only Bradley and me in the charged silence.

Left alone in the classroom with Bradley, I braced myself for whatever was to come, my mind racing with possibilities and the nagging worry about what staying behind might imply to those watching.

My patience snapped, and with it, any semblance of restraint I had managed to hold on to. I stomped down to his desk, the anger and frustration that had been simmering all morning finally boiling over. "What the hell was that?" I demanded, my voice a sharp accusation. "You can't keep ordering me to stay behind. People are going to get suspicious."

"What do I care?" Bradley retorted, his nonchalance infuriating me further. Leaning back in his black leather chair, he looked every bit the part of someone who had accepted his fate. "My reputation is already ruined. Might as well take someone down with me. Even better that it's you."

"You're an ass," I spat out, unable to hold back the disdain curling my lip into a sneer.

He shrugged, unaffected by my insult. "Sit on the desk," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

"What?" I balked, taken aback by the audacity of his command.

His pale blue eyes met mine, a warning clear in their depths. He didn"t repeat himself.

With a mixture of reluctance and defiance, I dropped my book bag to the floor and took a seat on the edge of the desk, positioning myself in front of him.

"Well?" I demanded, striving for a confidence that felt paper-thin against the rapid beat of my heart. Despite the outward show of bravado, I was acutely aware of the precariousness of my position, both physically and metaphorically. I was at the mercy of Bradley"s whims, navigating a situation that was spiraling further and further out of my control.

"Spread your legs," he said. "I want to see your bare pussy up close."

Immediately, my face turned even redder than I thought it could. I didn't need to look at my reflection to know this.

"I —"

"I'm not asking," he said firmly.

I hated him.

I fucking hated him so much. If my only other option wasn't Leo fucking Wolfe, I would have run for it.

Slowly, so slowly, I spread my legs, just like he told me too.

The cool air between my legs sent a shiver down my spine as I complied with his command. My heart pounded in my chest, but I refused to show my fear or embarrassment. I couldn"t. Not with him watching me so closely, his eyes never leaving my exposed flesh.

There was hunger in his eyes. Want. He could hate me. He could ruin me. But that didn't take away the fact that he wanted me too, even after everything. As much as I hated it, that was power.

And honestly?

Part of me felt the same way about him.

Without warning, he leaned forward so his face pressed against my mound. He inhaled deeply, the sound unseemly, causing my cheeks to pinch.

"You smell fucking edible," he murmured before pressing a kiss on the inside of my thigh. I gasped at the caress. "And you're so fucking wet. Look at you, dripping on my desk like some kind of puck slut."

I glared, prepared to shut my legs in Bradley's fucking face when his hands pressed against my knees, stopping me.

"Don't you dare," he growled. "I'm not done with you. Let's see if you feel as wet as you look, shall we?" He slid a finger inside my pussy, causing my eyes to roll back.

Fuck, I had forgotten what his finger felt like.

I moaned, fighting to keep my legs spread as he slowly thrust his finger in and out of me, his gaze never leaving mine. The sensation was overwhelming, and the mix of pleasure and embarrassment made my face even hotter. I couldn"t believe I was lying here, spread wide for him, but I couldn"t deny the truth of my wetness or the heat between my legs.

"What are you doing?" I managed, my voice shaking.

He just grinned, his lips curling in satisfaction. "I"m getting you ready for what"s next."

My heart pounded in my chest, and I knew that next wasn"t going to be pleasant. "What is next?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I"m going to fuck you, Westwood," he said, his voice low and threatening. "You"re mine, remember? And I've always had this fantasy of fucking you on my desk, calling me professor."

I swallowed, but my mouth was too dry. He had fantasized about me, even when he hated me?

As the harsh words sunk in, I couldn"t help but feel a strange mixture of confusion, fear, and exhilaration. Bradley had always been unpredictable, but he"d never expressed his feelings so openly before. His lustful gaze was both terrifying and arousing, as if he was undressing me with his eyes.

"On your desk?" I managed to gasp, barely able to breathe.

He smiled cruelly, his face twisting into a mask of pure aggression. "Yes, Westwood. My desk. The same one you"re sitting on right now. I want you to feel my cock deep inside you while I watch you squirm."

The thought of being fucked on his desk was both repulsive and enticing. I"d always imagined what it would be like to be claimed by him again, but never like this. As much as I despised him, I couldn"t also couldn"t deny that the thrill of it excited me.

His eyes narrowed on my face as he slid in a second finger, stretching me even more.

"So tight," Bradley murmured. "And here I thought you'd be fucking loose because you were with Hanson."

"J-jealous?" The word stuttered, but I didn't care. I managed to say it, and that was all that mattered.

Bradley's eyes narrowed further, his jaw ticking. "Fuck no," he said. "You're mine now. Or did you forget that? The only one fucking you now is me."

"That's not part of the contract," I said, ignoring the way his fingers began to curl now that he knew I was used to the sensation of him inside of me. "I can fuck whoever —"

Bradley cut me off with a cruel laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, you really don"t get it, do you?" He leaned in close, his breath hot on my cheek. "You see, you signed a deal with me, belonging to me. That means in whatever manner I see fit." He paused to look me in the eye. "Always have, always will."

He pushed a third finger inside me, stretching me even more, making me gasp. "So, yeah, that no-name rookie, he doesn"t matter. To me, you"re still mine." He pulled his fingers out, leaving me exposed and vulnerable, and I could feel the stickiness between my legs. "And right now, I want you on my desk like the puck slut you are. So, open your legs wider, and let me see your hot, wet pussy."

I shuddered at his command, but I obeyed, spreading my legs wider to reveal the wetness that he demanded to see. My heart raced as his eyes drank in the sight before him, and I knew that this was not just about sex or power play anymore. This was about something much deeper, something that neither of us could deny.

"So wet," Bradley murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "You"re so fucking wet, it"s almost disgusting."

His words should have hurt, should have sent me running from the room, but they sent a spark of excitement coursing through my veins. I couldn"t deny the truth of my arousal, the way my body was betraying me with every delicious sensation that I felt.

"You want me, don"t you?" he asked, his eyes never leaving my exposed pussy. "You can hate me all you want, but your pussy is crying for me."

I couldn"t speak, couldn"t deny the truth in his words. My heart pounded in my chest, and I knew I was his.

Before I knew what was happening, his hands were on my knees and his face was between my thighs. His tongue slid against my slit, moving back and forth at a practiced pace.

"Fuck," I whispered, more to myself than to anyone else.

My breathing became shallow, and I couldn"t help but clench my fists as he tasted me. His tongue moved in a way that no one else had ever done before, like he knew exactly what would drive me wild. I fought to keep my legs spread wide, to give him access to everything he wanted, even as the conflicting emotions warred within me.

Bradley"s hands gripped my thighs harder, pulling me closer to him as he licked and sucked at my clit. I moaned, unable to stop myself from falling deeper into this twisted game. I should have been afraid, but the pleasure was overwhelming, taking me to a place I couldn"t escape.

"You taste so fucking good, Westwood," Bradley growled, his voice muffled by my flesh. "I"ve missed this."

I missed it too.

Fuck, it was only one time with him, but I missed it too.

His tongue flicked against my clit, sending shivers down my spine as the pleasure washed over me. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, knowing that Bradley could destroy me, but he also had this power over me I couldn"t deny.

"You want me to make you come, don"t you, Westwood?" he asked, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault.

"Yes," I whispered, closing my eyes and surrendering to the pleasure. I didn't want to fight anymore. Not right now. "Fuck, I do."

His fingers joined his tongue, sliding inside me as he continued to lick and kiss me. My body arched, my hips bucking against his face as I felt the tide of orgasm building.

"That"s it, Westwood," he growled, his voice low and rough against my sensitive skin. "Come for me. Let me taste your pleasure."

"Professor," I said. "Oh, please, Professor!"

My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. My body convulsed, my muscles clenching around his fingers as if trying to draw him deeper inside. I could feel the wetness between my legs spraying against his face, my juices coating his fingers.

He pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at me, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Fuck, so responsive for me," he said, his voice low and seductive. "Sit up and clean my face off with your tongue."

I did as he commanded, sitting up slowly and leaning forward to use my tongue to taste myself off his face. Our eyes met as I licked and sucked, savoring the taste of our twisted intimacy.

"Mmm," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair, hands resting behind his head. "That"s the best part of making you come, Westwood. The aftermath. When you"re all wet and messy and still shaking from your pleasure."

He smirked as he watched me. There was something undeniably erotic about this whole situation, despite the fear and confusion.

"Now, turn around," he commanded. "I want to see your ass in the air and begging for me to fuck you."