Chapter 39

I blow out a deep breath before I step through the classroom door.

I'm late today. On purpose. A dramatic entrance, if you will. But part of me is nervous because of what I'm about to do. I'm pulling out all the punches, throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks.

Taking a risk.

Knowing him, he won't let it get too far in public. And because I have faith and trust in him, I know this is a risk worth taking.

Silence sweeps through the room as heads swivel in my direction. I feel his heated gaze on me almost immediately.

Holding my head high, I stride inside. My face twitches, and I bite back a smirk at Chloe's jaw dropping open. Tossing my thick hair, meticulously curled into loose waves, over my shoulders, I turn toward Ryland, meeting his intense stare, his stormy eyes flashing, but this time, instead of anger, I see a mixture of lust, admiration, and frustration swirling in those murky pools.

Under his unwavering attention, my skin feels sensitive. The wide neck sapphire sweater wrap dress, the color matching my eyes, feels rough against my skin, even though it's made of cashmere.

Belle dressed me up this morning to kick off Operation Vixen, lending me one of her brand's luxurious wrap dresses, which highlights the swells of my cleavage, tapers around my waist, and lands mid-thigh, showcasing my lean legs clad in thigh-high leather boots, with an enticing sliver of skin showing between the tops of the boots and the hem of my outfit.

She also helped me with my makeup, a gray smoky eye that doesn't look over-the-top for daytime but makes my eyes pop, three coats of mascara, a perfectly done cat eye, all paired with an orange-red lipstick. The seductive outfit is unusual for me, someone who's more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, but now watching him staring at me, his eyes tracking each sway of my hips as I make my way toward him, all the preparation has been worth it.

But what's most unusual about today, outside of the care I put into my makeup and dress, is the little scrap of lace between my thighs. Amore is what McKenzie's Little Secrets calls this innovative underwear—an open-back panty made from the sheerest lace with delicate floral designs, two barely there straps crisscrossing over the cheeks of my ass, which is bare all the way to my puckered rosebud.

But that's not all. Under the tiny scrap of cloth covering my slit lies a thin vibrator with two nubs, one nestled comfortably against my clit, and another, longer one, which resembles a mini dildo, inserted inside my entrance. I can barely feel it any more than I can feel a tampon, but the fact I'm wearing that under this sexy dress has me wanting to clench my thighs.

As if he senses the wayward direction of my thoughts, Ryland's dark eyes flare and a pulse flutters in his throat. His hands curl into fists on top of his desk as I step closer, reaching inside my tote to take out an analysis that is due today.

Leaning toward him slightly, I whisper, "Sorry, Professor, for being late today. It won't happen again."

I hand him the stapled packet, watching his eyes drift from my face to my cleavage, his throat rippling as he swallows, then the pinch of his brows when he realizes I not only gave him my assignment, but also a tiny, thin remote, small enough to curl inside the palm of your hand.

"Take a seat, Ms. Callahan." His voice is rough, the deep timbre sending a shiver down my body and my nipples prickle into hard points, saluting him through my soft dress.

I give him a saucy wink and he frowns as I step away and saunter to my seat in the first row, sliding into the cool chair gingerly, my pussy throbbing when I jostle the vibrator in the process.

"You look amazing, Millie! What's going on? Hot date?" Chloe whispers and nudges me.

I glance at her, finding her curious eyes darting between me and Ryland, who's staring at me like he's marooned on an island, famished for his next meal, and I'm a scrumptious buffet.

"Something like that," I murmur noncommittally.

Ryland is glaring at my assignment now and I see him discreetly looking at the remote I gave him before his eyes flicker up and find mine. I arch my brow. I taped a small label to the top of the device: Press me at your own discretion.

His brows furrow even more before I see him slide the remote into the pocket of his dress pants and address the class. "We were going over the latest evidence in the Professor Archer case. Fred, continue."

Fred clears his throat, his eyes darting away from me, his skin flushed, as he responds, "A social media post from another student showed Professor Archer and Tammy in an embrace in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Upon further interviews, Professor Archer admitted he knew Tammy before she was a student in his class, but nothing untoward happened."

"Why would they be hugging if nothing is going on?" Chris, another student, asks.

"The university ran a deeper background check on Professor Archer, which was allowable per his employment contract, and they found out Tammy was actually his stepsister. Professor Archer claimed that was why they were hugging, because they were family."

"But that makes no sense…" A few other students chime in, but I barely pay them any attention as my gaze pulls backs to Ryland, who is studying me again.

I think back to what Belle told me—drive him crazy using his other brain…get him out of that beautiful, complicated mind of his.

Holding his gaze, my tongue darts out and makes a leisurely swipe over my lips before dipping under my teeth in a seductive lick. I arch my brow again, my head cocking to the side. Press the remote, Ryland.

His nostrils flare, a muscle twitching in his cheek, and I see his hand sliding under the desk toward his pocket, and I hold my breath.

A few seconds later, a vibrating sensation appears between my legs, the sound quiet and unnoticeable amidst the conversation in the room. A sharp pleasure shoots from my core straight to my nipples and other erogenous regions, and a sharp exhale escapes from my lips as my breathing quickens. My thighs clench together involuntarily as the rolling sensations tease my swelling clit, the mini dildo moving in a small rotating motion.

Heat quickly gathers below as the pleasure rises like a tidal wave. I grip the edge of my desk, my knuckles stark white and my eyes flutter shut from the onslaught of sensation.

I'm not sure if Operation Vixen is getting him out of his mind, but it's definitely driving me crazy.

Snapping my eyes open, my mouth parted, my gaze finds his again and what I see on his face sends a renewed flush throughout my body.

His eyes are stark. Fevered. So dark I can't see the grays from where I sit anymore. His undivided attention feels like a caress as he takes in my struggle to contain my shudders, his eyes darting from my face to my tits, to under my desk, where my legs are twitching and I squirm in my seat.

A second later the vibration grows stronger and I pitch forward on my desk, my shaking hands feeling my fevered skin.

Sweat beads on my upper lips and I hear Chloe murmuring, "You okay, Millie? You don't look so good."

I shake my head. "I think the milk was bad in my hot chocolate this morning. It'll p-pass," I rasp.

My eyes snake toward Ryland again, and he looks like the hunter I saw at Noire that night, the muscles tight on his shoulders, rippling in his corded throat, the throbbing vein on his temple looking like it'll burst at any moment. His eyes flash with voraciousness. He looks murderous.

A few seconds later, the sensations quiet again and I breathe a sigh of relief, my wetness already drenching the panties. I know he'll stop before it gets out of hand. And I know he's turned on. I thank Belle's wisdom for making me wear a dark-colored dress in case any mishap happens today.

If I even survive today.

"So Professor Archer and Tammy are step-siblings? Why did they hide this from everyone?"

The discussion in the classroom draws my attention away from Ryland.

"Apparently, there were circumstances leading to an estrangement, and they didn't realize each other was at NYUC until the quarter began and they found themselves in a professor and student capacity," someone answers.

"But shouldn't they have disclosed their relationship the moment they found out?" Fred asks.

I take a calming breath and raise my hand, watching the students turn their heads toward me.

"P-Perhaps they didn't want there to be any prejudice against them—his reputation or hers. Nor do they want their private matters opened for public discussion among the university staff," I answer. "Just because they have a relationship doesn't mean there'll be favoritism. Life isn't black and white. Plus, Tammy's class is a prerequisite to graduation. If she drops out, she'll need to stay behind longer to graduate. That hardly seems fair to her."

My classmates mull over this response, and the next thirty minutes pass by in a blur, the JEAP committee clearly invested in the case.

Soon, the end of the class is upon us, and Ryland instructs, "Good discussion today, class. Remember your required reading for the next class and also bring your interview notes."

The students filter out of the room and I slowly pack my things into my leather tote, my pussy still slick and tender with a relentless, unsatisfied ache.

"If I didn't need to run to a group project meeting right now, I'd wrangle the answer out of you and find out why you're dressed up like you're out to bamboozle the hearts of anyone with an XY chromosome," Chloe says, smirking at me, "But I like the look on you."

She leans in. "If this is for a certain broody professor who looks like he's seconds away from a having a heart attack, then I think you were very successful."

My face heats and she laughs before giving me a friendly shove and darting out the door.

After the last of the students walk out of the room, I hear the quiet click of the door shutting behind them, and suddenly, the vibrations flare back to life, more intense than before.

"Ryland," I moan, clutching the hem of my dress, the throbbing between my thighs strong in rolling waves, the vibrator hitting my clit at precisely the right way and the dildo pulsing in my pussy in steady bursts. Wetness seeps through my panties and my breasts swell as I look up, the sounds of my heavy breathing filling the air.

"Come here, my dirty girl."

Ryland's voice is a low growl and I rise to my feet, my legs trembling, barely keeping me upright as the sensations grow into an inferno between my legs.

"Fuck," I whimper.

I stop after a few steps, a fresh wave of pleasure freezing me to the spot. I grip my tender breasts and bowl over. The sparks coalesce into a sharp pressure and the walls of my pussy start to flutter.

God, I'm so close.

"Oh my God," I moan, my thighs clenching, my hands involuntarily kneading my puckered nipples, and I try to ride out the sensations.

The vibrations lessen and I heave out a ragged exhale, my mind turning into mush, my vision blurring at the edges.

These panties will get a five-star rating from me.

A second later, a strong pillar of heat hoists me up and carries me across the room before slamming my back against the closed classroom door.

"How dare you jeopardize your future with a stunt like that?" His eyes flash with lust and anger.

"I-I knew you wouldn't take it too far because you'd protect me."

His nostrils flare and I repeat, "You'll protect me. I'm safe around you."

Ryland delivers a toe-curling lick from my chest up my neck to my ears as his hands wrap my legs around his butt. He tugs open my wrap dress, baring my tits.

"I should be angry, but fuck, I can't bring myself to be mad at you," he growls, his breath fanning over my breasts.

"Fuck me. No bra today." He palms my tits before sucking a beaded nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened tip and I slam my head back against the cool door, his suctions sending pulses of sensations to my clit.

His other hand snakes up my thigh and cups my wet pussy. "You naughty, dirty girl. Looking so fuckable in that dress. Your nipples beckoning me to suck them in front of everyone. Giving me a vibrator remote, you vixen. Making your professor so hard for you in class, he couldn't even stand up from his desk because everyone would see the steel rod in front of his pants leaking pre-cum for you."

He thrusts his erection in between my thighs and saws his pant-covered dick up and down my wet pussy.

Shards of heat build between my legs at a rapid speed—the moments before a volcano eruption. This is what I've been missing these last few weeks. Him letting go. Him embracing me. Us coming together.

The doorknob rattles and we freeze.

Knock. Knock.

"Professor Anderson, you in there?" an older masculine voice asks.

Our breathing is loud against our ears, my heart threatening to give out behind my rib cage as my gaze flies to him.

Ryland's eyes are grim as he slowly grinds his erection on me, fanning the flames of my lust while panic tries to interrupt the party.

Digging my nails into his back, I whisper urgently, "Let me down, Ryland. Someone is looking for you. We can't get caught."

Shit. I shouldn't have tempted him publicly. What if he loses everything because of me?

I claw at his arms, my eyes widening, pleading with him to let me down. He can't get in trouble because of me.

Instead of answering, he dips his sweat-covered forehead toward me, his voice deep and raspy in my ear as he says, "Perhaps they should catch me. Punish me for being a bad professor. For violating every ethical line there is. For trying to capture the beautiful lark in the skies."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Anderson, you there?"

My legs flail against his body, my body still hovering above the ground. "Ryland, please. Don't do this to yourself. If anything, this is my fault. I tempted you."

The doorknob rattles next to me as cold panic sweeps through my body like an avalanche, dulling the embers of lust coursing inside me moments ago.

He renews his gyrations, his cock hitting harder against my clit, and I can feel the flames burgeoning once more as he grunts in my ear.

The sparks intensify and I bite my tongue to leash down the whimpers threatening to tear out of my throat.

"Let go, Ryland. P-Please," I sob, my arms still clutching him as my legs try to touch the floor. It's as if my body can't decide if I want us to burn together or to save him from immolating himself. "You'll protect me, right? You always do."

He swallows, steps back, and lifts his head. His breathing is labored, and an aching anguish is reflected in his soulful eyes. With trembling fingers, he wipes my face, and I belatedly notice a panicked tear has slipped out onto my cheek.

"Always," he rasps.

Ryland nudges me to the corner of the room and straightens up before adjusting himself. His pants are dark colored, masking the wet spot that's no doubt there. He rakes in a deep breath and runs his long fingers through his hair before smoothing on his cold, apathetic expression again. He opens the door and steps outside.

"Sorry, I was on a call. The door was a bit stuck. I need to call maintenance to fix it."

"No problem, I want to get your thoughts on this research I'm doing…"

Their voices soften as I hear their footsteps treading away from the classroom.

I sag against the door, my dress sticking to my sweaty body, my skin still feeling feverish and sensitive, and wholly unsatisfied. My heart twists as I remember the forlorn expression on his beautiful face moments ago, when he was prepared to give everything up, to get the punishment he thought he deserved, stopping only when I reminded him I may get into trouble.

Oh, Ryland.

Five minutes later, my phone buzzes.

Ryland

Eight o'clock tonight at Noire. Same outfit.