16. Nyssa

16

NYSSA

BAD INTENTIONS - NIYKEE HEATON FEATURING MIGOS AND OG PARKER

"You have a scar on the inside of your thigh," Professor Adler says, tracing his fingers along the mark. His dark eyes sweep up to meet mine. "It's shaped like a banana."

The sound that tumbles out of me is half laugh, half snort. "A what?!"

"You heard me. A banana. I'd say a lightning bolt… but that's cliché."

"A lightning bolt and a banana are very different in shape, Professor."

"Don't," he says, climbing up the length of my body. He drops a kiss flush on my lips, then peers down at me, his unruly hair hanging over his brow. "Don't call me professor when we're like this."

"Like what?"

It seems like I'm teasing, being difficult, but it's a relevant question. Given what happened last night— all night long —we're treading new water.

We've hardly had time to sleep let alone discuss what it is we're even doing .

"When we're in bed," he answers, kissing me again. More softly.

I hum, tipsy just from his lips on mine. "But you loved me moaning professor last night when you had me against the wall."

"In the heat of the moment—yes. In the aftermath—no."

"What happened to call me Professor Adler. Just Professor Adler." I mimic his stern voice from the first day of class only to erupt in giggles. He's run teasing fingers against the sides of my ribcage.

"That was in the classroom, Miss Oliver," he scolds, gripping my hip. "Pillow talk is different."

"Mmm… pillow talk. Tell me more, Professor."

Laughter tumbles out of me all over again as he returns to squeezing my side, exposing how ticklish I am. Seconds of torture ensue, where I'm trapped under him, tangled in my wrinkled bedsheets, subjected to his payback.

On a Saturday morning like today, slivers of light peeking through my bedroom curtains, there's not much else to do.

Once he's had his fill, he settles beside me, still stroking my bare skin. Any part of me he can, as if he's aware this could be his only chance.

"You know what pillow talk is," he says huskily. "Though it wouldn't surprise me if the guys your age skip that part altogether."

"I have to be honest. Samson didn't strike me as the type."

His fingers travel up my stomach, past the swell of my breasts, reaching my shoulders… and the scrape on my collarbone. He spends a second studying the purplish mark that's slowly begun to heal, and it's in this moment th at I pick up on the same darkness from Halloween night.

The side of Professor Adler I hadn't anticipated.

"I didn't realize he'd left a mark," he mutters.

My hand covers his, forcing his gaze to mine. "It's okay. You came in time. And I handled the rest."

"The… rest…?"

"Let's just say, Samson won't be going to the police. He won't ever mention it again."

"What did you say to him?"

"It's not important," I say. "But he got the message."

"He knows you're done with him?"

A smirk quirks at my lips. "Jealous, Professor?"

"Professor?" He raises a brow.

"Theron. Happy?"

"I won't be happy 'til you tell me you're done with him," he insists, his fingers curling at the base of my throat. He peppers me with more quick kisses, sending a warm current through the rest of my body.

I get what he needs. He needs to hear me confirm it's over.

"Samson and I were never serious," I say. "He was a means to an end."

"How so?"

I pause a second, caught between my truth and the act I've put on. No one knows why I'm doing what I'm doing except for Mom. And Peaches.

As far as anyone else knows, I'm really friends with Heather and the others. I was really dating Samson Wicker. I'm really in Castlebury to climb the elite social ladder and curry their favor.

Theron has no clue that as he poses his question, my memory takes over, and I hear Mom's cries all over again .

"Gone!" she sobbed on the floor of our living room. "All because of them! They did this… he… he did this…"

I was on the floor too, playing with my Lego blocks and stuffed animals. But I didn't understand why she was crying. She gasped for air like she couldn't breathe and more tears poured from her. Sounds of grief I wouldn't make sense of 'til I was much older…

"Nyssa," Theron says, shaking me slightly. "Are you lost in thought or am I that boring of a conversationalist?"

"Oh, I was… the first one…"

"It does make me wonder," he thinks aloud, "why you were with him. Why you're friends with a twit like Driscoll."

Where I was considering vulnerability a split second ago, now I snap back to my role. "Because sometimes people click, Theron," I say. "Sometimes different people connect. If you're going to judge my relationships, then maybe this was a mistake."

"What you call judging, I call curiosity. Honesty ." His palm slides up the side of my neck 'til it's framing my face and he's close enough for another kiss. "You know damn well what I mean. A girl like you—so witty, so bright, so interesting—and the likes of them . Opposite of everything you are."

My offense fades for a faint smile. "I didn't know you thought so highly of me."

"I've had many thoughts about you. Some pure. Some… not-so-pure."

I giggle. "Okay, honestly, that feels like an accomplishment. I've worked so hard for your approval."

"Have you?" He raises a thick brow and strokes his thumb along my cheek .

"Mhmmm. Do you think I answer first in every class I'm in? I wanted you to notice me."

"Well, you did a damn good job at that."

"Thank you, Professor."

The mood becomes playful again as he plants a deep kiss on my lips and my nails rake down his chest. The hairs speckled there tickle the pads of my fingers and turn me on—so does the solid, masculine feel of the rest of his body.

Theron's not some muscular gym rat bench pressing hundreds of pounds, but he's in impeccable shape in other ways. His muscle tone's modest but defined and his build is trim and lean. He's got a happy trail that travels from his navel down the center of his pelvis, straight to his penis.

I grip him and stroke him and listen to the throaty groans he releases as I do.

He makes me feel sexual.

Hungry.

My body pulses with desire in ways it never has for Samson. For almost any other guy I've dated.

We kiss with tongue, the heat dialing up. He hardens in my grasp, his dick so velvety and silken yet stiff and hot. I need no other invitation than his erection to throw my leg over his side and mount him.

His eyes darken, his jaw clenched as I sink down 'til he's buried deep inside.

We're already so familiar and comfortable with each other that we slip into motion at once. He drags me back down to his mouth and I bounce my hips.

Theron fills his hands with my flesh. He encourages every undulation as I work my body and ride him.

I sit up, my head angled toward the ceiling, my lungs empty.

His dick deep .

Hitting all the right spots. Setting off the thousands of little nerves inside my pussy.

I come like this, bouncing on his dick 'til I'm clamping down and unraveling. My orgasm jets through me like a spout of water erupting.

Then Theron's throwing me off him. He's pinning me down and slamming back into me. We're gyrating amid my breathless screams as he crushes his lips to mine and drills deeper. He fucks me hard and fast without regard, his hands everywhere at once.

I can only shudder and take every punishing thrust.

In a matter of minutes, we're spent all over again. We lay side by side, gazes on the ceiling, without a thought in our heads.

Peaches purrs from my bedside table, nosy little face turned toward us. She's never seen her mother so… frisky.

She's curious.

And concerned.

But Professor Adler— Theron —does something no other guy has ever thought to do. He sits up slightly and clicks his tongue, patting his hands on his thighs.

My sweet little ginger girl leaps from the bedside table straight into his lap. I sit up too, eyes widening at the sight before me.

Peaches nuzzles Theron, then settles into the crook of his arm.

"Am I in the Twilight Zone?" I ask. "She's… never done that with a guy before."

"We've come to an understanding."

He smirks, looking so damn sexy with his floppy dark hair and lean muscles on display, cuddling my cat.

Before I can decide if I'm more endeared than I am disturbed, the lock clacks in the front door. It opens no more than a second later, and Mom breezes through calling my name.

"Nys baby! Are you home?"

SHIT!

I scramble to get out of bed while Theron's brow creases in confusion.

"My mom," I hiss, rushing to throw on clothes.

"She has a key to your apartment?"

"No… yes… she doesn't usually come by. Make yourself invisible!"

I dive for the door once I'm in sweats and a T-shirt.

Mom's still hovering in the small space that's in between my kitchen and the living room. Her round eyes brighten at the sight of me. She smiles and holds up a tote bag full of Tupperware.

"I packed you some meals, Nys," she says. "Sorry to drop by on short notice. I happened to be in town for once, so I figured I'd make sure my baby girl was good and fed."

"Oh… wow… thanks. You didn't have to." I swallow down my shock, though my breathing's still irregular. My hair's a mess and I'm sure I drip with guilt.

Especially in the eyes of a mother.

Predictably, Mom stares me down head to toe. "You alright, Nys? You seem startled."

"Just surprised you came by so… so unannounced," I choke out. "Remember how you said you'd call first?"

"But I was just stopping by real quick to bring you food?—"

"Mom," I snap, "I'm an adult. This is my apartment. I pay for it. Respect my space. You said you'd call first."

Her plump face dims. My heart almost breaks. She glances around like she's searching for an excuse, then she spots the men's tweed jacket hanging off my sofa .

"Who's that belong to?" she asks.

My blood runs cold. I open and close my mouth, fuzzy on words. "It's… my… um…"

"Thank you, Miss Oliver, for letting me use your bathroom," comes Theron's voice. He appears suddenly from the hall fully dressed and composed. He's radiating the authoritative, refined energy he usually does in class. The professor who scolds students with a withering look. "I appreciate the last minute accommodation. I'll be on my way."

Mom and I gape at him as he strides toward the tweed jacket and shrugs it on.

"Uh… who are you?" Mom asks.

Theron arches a brow, pausing slightly, then steps forward with his hand extended. "I suppose I could ask you the same. I'm Theron Adler, Professor of Criminal Law at Castlebury University. Your daughter, Nyssa Oliver, is a student of mine. One of the brightest."

"Hmmm," Mom hums in naked suspicion. She doesn't shake his hand. "And what are you doing in my daughter's apartment ?"

Theron chuckles. "Didn't I already make it obvious? I needed to relieve myself. Thankfully, your daughter let me use her bathroom."

"And what were you doing here in the first place?" Mom's hands notch at her wide hips, her face sharp with accusation.

"Mom, seriously? Stop," I scold.

But Theron has it covered. He's relaxed and confident as he flattens a hand along his tweed jacket and then starts for the door. "Actually, it's my fault. You see, when I was grading papers, I accidentally gave your daughter the answer key. I was coming by to pick it up and I happened to drink too much coffee. Unfortunately, nature calls at the most inconvenient times. I'm grateful she let me use her bathroom so I didn't have to use the gas station around the block. Do you have any more questions, Ms…?"

"Oliver," Mom answers. "Brooklyn Oliver."

"Ah, I see. Well, you should know your daughter is top of my class," he says, briefly glancing at me. "She's quite impressive, in fact. You should be proud."

"Hmmm." Mom says nothing else, peering at Theron like he's the antichrist.

I clear my throat and interject myself. "Anyway," I say, "Professor Adler was on his way out. Thank you for clearing that mix up."

"Of course. See you in class, Miss Oliver."

Theron gives a polite nod to the both of us before he walks out. Mom waits 'til he's gone before she rounds on me.

"Professor Theron Adler?" she asks. "Do these mix ups happen often?"

My jaw falls open in offense. "Mom, stop right now!"

"Baby girl, I'm worried. I'm afraid you're letting these people in too deep. You don't know what you're dealing with."

"Can I point out you're not supposed to even be here?"

Mom releases the breath she's inhaled, then tugs her lips into a smile. Her hands come up to cup my face like when I was a kid. "I'm just worried about my baby girl is all. You're out here living on your own. You're trying to avenge me. But there's real danger out there, Nys. These people will protect their own. Now it seems the Valentine Killer is back…"

"I can handle it all. Trust me, okay?"

Mom brushes a stray curl away from my face before something else in her periphery catches her eye. Her hand drops to her side and she breezes past me. I turn around to track her through my apartment.

The stack of old Castlebury newspapers.

She scoops up the edition sitting on the top. The paper's wrinkled and tinged yellow with age while the ink's begun to fade, but these things aren't what bother her most. She reads the headline aloud.

"Valentine Killer Claims Another Victim in Professor Anton Vise."

"Mom," I groan.

"Baby girl, why do you have this?"

My skin prickling with heat, I wrench the paper out of her grasp. "Because it's my right to! I've told you I'm doing research about the time period you and Dad went to school. Part of that research includes the Valentine Killer. But it's not your right to snoop in my apartment. After turning up unannounced!"

"If you want to know about your father and what the Valentine Killer did, I'll tell you myself. Not some newspaper?—"

"Get out, Mom!" I boom, thrusting a finger at the door. "You've got to go."

Mom tries several times to bait me into a conversation about the old newspapers I've dug up from the library archives. I'm so heated, so irritated, that I don't let her. I nudge her past the threshold as she resorts to once again warning me about what I'm getting mixed up in.

"You don't know these people like I do," she says. "Any one of them could be Valentine. Baby girl?—"

"Goodbye!"

I slam the door shut in her face, effectively cutting her off .

My face falls into my hands as a rumbly noise vibrates from my throat. To say I'm frustrated by what just happened would be an understatement. Not only did Mom turn up unannounced, she came by while Theron was here.

She proceeded to treat him rudely and then turned her nosy endeavor onto the old newspapers from twenty years ago. How could she think it was any of her business?!

There's a boundary issue between us.

There always has been. But I've cut her slack because of what she's suffered.

The way the community in Castlebury treated her sickens me to my stomach. It was beyond unjust. Some fucked up cocktail of racism, misogyny, and classism that culminated in her expulsion for daring to hide her pregnancy and my father's murder at the hands of the Valentine Killer.

That included years of painful harassment and mockery for the both of us.

Mom seems like she'd rather take the high road. She wants to put the past behind us.

I'm simply not so forgiving or forgetful.

I wouldn't be dedicating years to this cause if I didn't believe in my heart I needed to avenge my family.

I needed to make everyone who had a hand in our destruction pay. The Driscolls, the Wickers, the Rothenbergs.

The Valentine Killer.

"It'll be sweet," I whisper to myself, setting the old newspaper back on top of the stack. "It'll all be worth it."

I wish I could say I was sensible enough to leave my hookup with Professor Adler as a one-time-only thing.

My body shakes uncontrollably, my orgasm exploding within. He grips my curls tighter with one hand and palms my ass with the other. His dick's so deep, I'd swear he were about to split me in two until he's tumbling over the edge with me.

I face plant into my pillows while he half collapses on top of me.

We huff air into our lungs, breathing like we've run several miles. The intense sex we've had is close enough.

The more I experience him, the more I learn Professor Adler enjoys getting a little rough. I enjoy it just as much.

A week has passed since that evening in the museum and we've made a habit of meeting up after hours. Always my apartment. Always under the veil of secrecy.

Mom hasn't dared drop by again.

It wouldn't matter if she did; I replaced the lock in the door.

Each night he shows up at my place, my body's left tingling with satisfaction after it's all said and done. I'm left getting the best sleep I've had in months.

But this isn't just sex—lying in bed by the moonlight streaming into my dark bedroom, we have some of the best conversations I've ever had in my life .

Professor Adler— Theron —is so easy to talk to it's almost frightening.

We talk about school. His class. Specifics on cases he took as a working defense attorney. I pick his brilliant mind for his opinions and input on criminal law.

We talk art and philosophy and about our quirks.

I even bait him into a conversation about pop culture .

"C'mon," I laugh. "You expect me to believe you don't watch TV ever?"

"Other than the news and documentaries."

"Professor," I say, aware of how I'm inciting him by using the P word. "I don't believe you."

He growls, leaning over me and grabbing me by the throat for a hard kiss. "What did I tell you about using that word?"

"Not outside the classroom or the bedroom… which we're technically in, by the way."

"And you know what I mean when I say bedroom."

"Coitus!"

He eases back, still lying on his side, a lopsided grin on his normally brooding face. "Are we sure I'm the forty-two-year-old? I'm not sure even I would use the word coitus ."

Another easy laugh tumbles out of me. "Don't change the subject. Tell me one show you watch."

He thinks on my demand, then begrudgingly says, "I suppose the Wire was good."

"The Wire?!"

"Are you surprised? I'm a criminal law professor. If I do have to engage with TV, it's usually a crime drama."

"Actually, it makes sense when you put it that way."

We're interrupted by the loud bleat of a horn outside. Some delivery truck has almost run into a pedestrian scrambling across the road. We tense up for the paranoid half second it takes us to realize it's a false alarm.

It's never lost on us how wrong things could go if we really are caught.

Theron thumbs my bottom lip. "We should meet at my house next time. It's farther out of town. Less chance we're seen."

"You mean more opportunity to hide me? "

"Have you forgotten you're my student?"

"I thought the forbiddeness is what turned you on," I tease, poking my tongue out. I swipe at the pad of his thumb, my dark eyes alight with mischief.

I can feel his body temperature rise. Practically see his pupils dilate. "Is that what turns you on?"

"It definitely makes things interesting."

"I won't pretend I haven't imagined fucking you over my desk. Or swatting you over the ass with one of my rulers."

"Female students talk," I say. "And plenty of them think you're sexy as hell. But I don't think any of them realize you're so kinky."

He nips at my lips while reaching below to fondle my pussy. "I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Oh?"

"You're the only female student I've got my eye on, Miss Oliver."

"Mm, let's keep it that way."

"On your stomach. Ass up. I want to eat that pussy… again."

I'm scrambling to obey. Mere moments after our last romp, I've got my face buried in the pillows and his buried in my pussy. I grind my hips back against his mouth 'til his tongue is wedged deep inside me and I'm sobbing my pleasure.

I could get used to this.