Chapter 35

With a few strides, he turns me around and pins me upright against the cement wall. He grasps my chin and tilts my head up before peering down at me under the faint moonlight. His eyes darken, widening as shock flashes across his face.

I twist harder in his arms, and he tightens his hold on me automatically.

"Surprised, Professor?" I spit out. "Didn't expect to see me here, did you?"

Seeing him inches before me, a looming god against the haunted moonlight, his hair disheveled, his muscles flexing, his face twisted in shock, has fury racing through my insides, joining the party. He is fine with fucking a random woman who looks just like me and to deny everything between us.

The chaos. The storm. The whirlwind. Our hearts beating as one.

"You wanted to fuck a brunette who can pass as a college student. Well, here I am."

He flinches at my words and releases his hold around my waist, and I sag against the wall.

He rakes his hand over his hair and clenches his jaw. "I don't know how you got in here, Millie. But I'm not doing this with you. You're leaving."

Ryland reaches out and grabs my wrist and I shake him off. "No. I'm an adult. What I do in my own time is none of your business. You can either stay or you can leave. I'm sure there are plenty of patrons who want to have a kinky rendezvous with a college coed in the dark."

He snarls, his eyes turning feral. "You wouldn't dare."

I get up on my tiptoes and whisper, "Watch me."

A vein pulses on his temple and his nostrils flare. He pants heavily, his breath fanning across my face, and the air thickens with tension, a heavy accelerant only missing the tiniest spark to combust. I watch his eyes snake to my mouth as my tongue swipes my parched lips. A muscle flutters on his jaw.

"You staying or leaving?" I rasp, my eyes snagging on his beautiful lips.

I feel his body heat enveloping me, blanketing me in warmth. His scent is like an aphrodisiac and with each passing second, my breasts feel heavier, more tender, my nipples beading into hard buds, saluting him, inviting him.

I want him. So much. My heart pounds in response.

He's so still. Quiet. Lethal like the hunter inside him. He doesn't move a muscle, almost blending into the night. The seconds pass by, ticking like a timer on a bomb.

But nothing happens.

It's anticlimactic.

Disappointment snakes through me and I shake my head. Again. He's saying no, again. "Coward. You're a coward, Ryland Anderson."

I step to the side to get out from under his grasp, my eyes burning, and I feel the telltale sign of incoming tears. My heart splinters, the frissons widening with each step I take away from him.

I won't beg him to be with me. I have my pride. I've done all that I can.

A shaky sob slips out from my lips as I head in the direction I came from, my steps feeling heavy on the ground. The night didn't turn out the way I thought it would. What did you expect? Him to give up his morals for you?

I murmur to the darkness surrounding me, "I'll find someone else. Someone brave enough. Someone who deserves me."

A few more seconds pass by, the forest eerily quiet except for the sound of crickets and the occasional chirping of birds.

With a roar, he reaches me in a flash, grabs my arm, and spins me around to face him. "Don't. You. Fucking. Dare."

He reaches up and curls his hand around my neck before hauling me to him and crushing his lips on mine. His kiss is savage and possessive, each suction and swipe of his tongue melting my defenses, my hurt, my tears. Our tongues duel with each other as I drink in his poison, his antidote, his elixir, all in one. It's violent, it's aggressive.

It's heaven.

I bite his bottom lip, a punishment for what he's put me through, and a metallic taste bursts on my taste buds. He lets out a hiss as he returns the favor, the sharp pinch sending shock waves to my pussy.

"How dare you!" How dare you sign up to do this with another woman. How dare you ignore what we have. How dare you push me away. I claw at his chest, digging into his hard muscles, scratching, fighting, unleashing the months of anger I have bottled up inside me. "You asshole."

He growls and spins me around so that my back is plastered against his front. His hand knots mine to my front as he kicks my feet apart. His motions are rough and dominant.

He's unraveling before my eyes.

The thought sends another burst of pleasure through my body and I arch my head back, needing his taste again.

He ignores my silent plea, his other hand reaching under my dress and swiftly wrenching my panties to the side and cupping my wet heat. I'm so slick for him. It'd be embarrassing if my mind were actually online.

Swallowing a moan, I try to head butt him.

"You're so fucking wet for me and your fight is turning me on."

I bite back a whimper as I feel him palm my slit, his finger rubbing circles around my clit, playing with the swollen nub, and I let out a keening wail.

I need more. More. More. More.

I need everything.

Flailing against him, my body is thrashing, battling, refusing to surrender to him yet wanting to succumb to his tempest, his tornado in dark skies. My legs tremble and he tightens his hold on to me so I don't fall to the ground.

"Say the safe word, Millie. Stop this madness," he growls in my ear and with one hard yank, he tears my lacy panties away, baring me to the cold air. "Stop me, Millie. Stop. Me."

I flinch at the burn, but every inch of my body is already on fire. My legs widen and his fingers travel down to my core, teasing the entrance. Sparks alight into a wildfire.

"Safe word, Millie."

My head falls against his hot chest, my panting loud in the night. "No. Fuck me, Ryland. Fuck me, please."

"Shit. Fucking shit."

He releases my hands and pushes me to the ground so I'm face down and pressed against the damp grass. I thrash under him as he covers me with his hard heat and body weight. It's like trying to move a mountain. He dominates me, all raw power and ferocious energy, and I can't help but grow wetter, my body needing him inside me.

"Safe. Word," he grunts, his hands bunching my dress around my waist.

"No!" I arch against him, rubbing my butt over the seam of his pants, my pussy needing more friction. It isn't enough. I feel so empty, so wet and achy for him.

I feel the cool air against my ass, sliding in between my legs. He shuffles and I hear the telltale sound of his zipper.

Then, I feel him.

Every hard, steely inch of him pressed up against my ass. He grabs my thighs and tilts my ass up in the air before pinning me with his body once more. More wetness seeps out of me, leaking down my thighs and my fingers find purchase on the grass, gripping the damp blades, trying to claw on anything that'll allow me to push back against him, to angle that cock of his where I need it to be.

"Fuck. You look so good under me, Millie. On the ground. Helpless. But you aren't helpless at all, are you, little lark? You're the fucking snowy owl pretending to be a lark. You're a fucking phoenix."

He grunts again and I feel his thick cock sliding between my pussy lips from the puckered rosebud to my clit. It feels like a brand. I let out a cry, gyrating harder against his throbbing heat.

It's not enough. Too many clothes. Too much distance. I need more.

"Are you going to be a good student and let your professor stuff his thick cock into your tight little pussy?"

I whimper as he rasps in my ear.

He reaches underneath me and grabs my breast, his fingers pinching my nipples. Plucking, teasing, kneading. I let out a wail from the pleasurable pain.

It's like he knows exactly what I need. Every kiss, every stroke, all sending me toward oblivion.

I can't think. I can barely form words. My mouth is muffled against the grass, and all I can manage is a raspy, "Yes. Ryland. Yes."

He lets out a guttural groan as his hand leaves my aching breast and curls around my neck. Then, with his other hand, he widens my legs even more and nothing can prepare me for the sensation of his steel rod slamming inside me in one full stroke.

I mewl as his hard cock spears me in half. There's no finesse, no soft touches or gentle caresses. This is a rough claiming, a hunter who has captured his prey, dominating her, having his way with her. I moan against the ground as my body widens to accept him, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a heady cocktail.

"Fuck, your pussy is sopping wet for me," he groans as he retreats before slamming in again. His hand holds steady around my neck, his fingers pressing into the tender flesh, like he's marking me, telling me who's in control. "You need this. Just like I do."

I arch under him as he pistons inside me, his thrusts picking up in speed. My knees scrape against the pebbles on the floor and I'm sure I'll have scratches and bruises later, but I don't care. Every nerve ending is in tune with the man behind me and the pleasure he's wreaking on my body.

"Mine. You're fucking mine. Remember that," he rasps, his voice violent and intense.

His words send me into a tailspin, and I grow wetter between my legs.

He completely overpowers me, his hand controlling my breathing, his body restricting my movements. All I can do is just lie underneath him and take it. Take each harsh, punishing stab, accept the sharp pleasure he's giving me stroke by stroke, thrust by thrust.

For the first time in my life, I'm not in control of anything. Not my emotions, not the feelings I show on my face. I don't have to worry about taking care of the people around me or putting on a brave face. I'm a marionette, and he's my puppet master.

Ryland is wrenching everything away from my mind—guilt, worries, doubts, fears—everything ceases to exist other than him and the way he's pistoning inside me, ramming his hard cock in to bury himself deep in me, each stroke hitting the sensitive spot no one has ever reached before.

"No one else gets to fuck this tight little pussy, you hear me?"

I whimper, my body bucking against him, and he growls. "You hear me, Millie?" His cock thrusts deeper, harder and I let out a scream.

"Y-Yes…I'm yours."

"Fucking yes." His motions grow wilder, and I can feel his unwavering focus on my reactions, moans, screams, and whimpers, every movement from him driving me out of my mind with pleasure.

Heat builds in my pussy, and I dig my fingers into the grass, trying to get away from the overwhelming, mind-blowing pleasure. He bears down on me harder, forcing me to accept him, his grunts loud in the darkness. He's an animal rutting in heat.

My moans and screams join the lurid slapping of skin against skin, and a thousand sensations coalesce at our point of connection. My legs throb and tremble, my nipples as hard as diamonds, raking across the rough earth with each slam of his hips on top of me, the scraping adding onto the firestorm brewing and incinerating my insides.

As if sensing I'm close, he tightens his grip around my neck, so I have to fight for each breath. My mind feels hazy, my vision blurry, and every cell in my body is focused on the throbbing building between my legs as my lungs clamor for air.

"Fuck. Take it, Millie. You're taking me so fucking well. You're so fucking perfect. I've dreamed of this and nothing compares to reality. Feel how fucking hard I am for you."

Dirty words spew out of him and I barely register them as my body floats to the precipice between heaven and hell, the pleasure so painful and addictive at the same time.

"Your cunt is clamping down on my hard cock like it can't get enough."

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.Sweat trickles down my body.

My entire body starts spasming. I'm so close, so damn close. I can see nirvana ahead.

"Milk my cock, you naughty little girl. Come on my cock like my good student." He releases my throat, his fingers reaching down my body and pinching my clit.

I detonate.

My scream echoes amongst the trees as my body splinters into a million pieces, the pleasure overtaking all my senses like an inferno. My lungs rake in greedy gulps of oxygen, the sudden flooding of air prolonging my high, making every sensation one thousand times more visceral.

With a few more punishing thrusts, he slams his body on top of mine and a guttural groan tears from his lips. I feel his cock pulse inside me, unleashing streams of hot cum, sending me into another spiral of pleasure.

The loud sounds of our breathing blend and slowly, he clasps my hand in his, twining our fingers together as the pleasure bleeds out from our pores. He is still on top of me, covering me from behind, his hips gently moving, prolonging our connection, and I don't feel like I'm suffocating underneath him.

I feel treasured. Protected. Safe. I can let go with him and he'll take care of me.

He's still my professor and I'm still his much younger student. Everything is still wrong and yet…nothing has ever felt so very right.

How can we walk away from this?