20. Nyssa

20

NYSSA

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET - NESSA BARRETT

Heather frowns when she takes her seat beside me in class. "Nyssie, why are you sitting like that? Cramps? Such a bitch, right?"

I swallow against the thick feeling in my throat and give a stiff nod. "Yep."

"I've probably got some Midol. You should've ditched like I do. Who cares about mens rea or whatever?"

Heather's words go in one ear and out the other. My focus is on getting through the next hour and a half.

The plug's so deeply entrenched in my ass that no matter how I sit in my desk, I can feel it. But my skirt's so short and I'm without panties, so I'm preoccupied on multiple fronts. I clear my throat and grip the edges of the table, my posture straight as a board.

The rest of the class has finished sliding into their seats. Professor Adler enters no less than a second later, commanding the attention of the room.

The breathlessness I've been feeling only intensifies at the sight of him.

And the secret that hangs between us .

It's a wicked little secret that just might be our undoing.

In a room of twenty-four people, we're the only two who know about the plug inside me. We're aware of just what we were up to minutes ago in his office.

He tosses down the two textbooks he's carrying with him. The heavy books produce a loud thud hitting the hard wooden surface. Several students like Hannah Fochte in the front row flinch. The bespectacled, green-haired girl stares at him as if she's about to flee the room.

His energy transforms the entire vibe in the room. His frustration becomes its own feeling that surfs the air and prompts a few people to exchange glances.

But what no one knows is that his frustration is my frustration—as Professor Adler straightens his glasses and peers at the room with a clenched jaw, I'm clenching too. I'm clutching the small L-shaped surface of my desk and squirming as subtly as possible in my seat.

My pussy, still so slick and wet, throbs away. The soreness in my backside refuses to be forgotten while the dull ache the plug creates feels like cruel torture.

Professor Adler's dark, brooding gaze meets mine for the briefest second, a telepathic connection existing between only us, before he looks away and finally starts his class introduction.

A little sigh puffs out of me. Both frustrated and aroused, I flip to the page in the textbook we'll be covering today.

Every minute turns into its own eternity.

Where I'd usually be thoroughly engaged and following every word, my head's polluted with thoughts of Professor Adler. I'm recalling what it felt like to have his thick fingers knuckle deep in my pussy and how he'd slammed the wooden paddle into my ass as he made me answer his questions.

My imagination blooms into thoughts about what could possibly come after this class.

I lick my lips and notice how I immediately draw his attention. He goes from lecturing the class, practicing steady eye contact around the room, to his gaze snapping straight to mine the instant my tongue makes a brief appearance.

A subtle little moment that, again, no one else notices, but it means everything to me.

It's the awareness of the power I hold.

He may have punished me—the plug buried deep in my ass is proof of that—but I can punish him too.

I wield a unique power over him that no one else does.

The room retreats into studious silence as Professor Adler issues a reading and essay assignment. He returns to his desk to recollect himself, the muscles in his jaw pulled tight. He's barely composed enough to make it through this class.

Something tells me he's giving his all to stave off an erection. He's doing his damnedest to keep himself together.

I decide to make it that much harder.

I cross my legs and arch my back, sitting up like a sultry siren at my desk. At the first hint of movement, his attention's snapping back to me again. He noticed in his periphery and immediately shifts his gaze to me from across the room.

My lips form a pouty line while I hold him hostage with my sultry, low-lidded stare.

Any thoughts about what others will think—or say if they notice—go out the window .

My fingers drum against the top of my desk 'til I slide them underneath. Professor Adler's gaze dips right along with me. I let my hand rest on the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to the hem of my skirt…

His jaw squares from how hard he's biting down. His hands ball into fists and his already brooding glare darkens to new levels.

My pussy quivers at the thought of how angry and aroused he is.

He won't even step out from behind his desk now…

I smirk at him in challenge, uncrossing my legs to spread out. My fingers gently trail up my bare thigh 'til they're disappearing under my skirt.

Heat splotches his neck and reddens his ears. He slams both hands down on his desk, making students jump in alarm.

"Class is ending early today," he announces in a booming voice. "Gather your things, finish the reading and essay assignment on your own, and be prepared to speak to it next class."

When no one moves, shock pinging through everyone in the room at the abrupt dismissal, Professor Adler thrusts a finger at the door.

"NOW!" he barks. "Get your things and go! Class is ending early today. Only today."

The room goes from completely stunned and still to a flurry of movement. Two dozen students quickly jam their books and laptops into their bookbags and practically run each other over making it to the door.

I've sat up straight again, removing my hand from down below, trying to pretend I'm as shocked as everyone else .

Heather nudges me. "Coming? Early dismissal? Let's go shopping."

"Can't," I say. "I have a thing with my art group. Sorry."

Heather seems vaguely disappointed until she notices Claude Wesley on his way out and she scurries after him.

In a matter of sixty seconds, the room has emptied. The silence becomes poignant and deafening. Professor Adler hasn't moved. He's said nothing, his glare telling enough.

A cool shiver courses down my spine. I've done it now…

"Come here," he says finally. "Now."

I slide out from under my desk and do as he says, starting toward him. My short skirt flits about my thighs, a distraction as he watches me approach. The instant I'm within reach, he's grabbing me by the throat to draw my face to his.

Wedged in between him and his desk, I have no choice but to meet his ire head on.

"You think you're so clever, don't you, Miss Oliver?" he hisses. "Did you really think it was smart trying to tease me in the middle of class? Answer me!"

I blink innocently at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Professor."

His grip tightens at the base of my throat while he shoves his other hand under my skirt to roughly grope my pussy. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Miss Oliver. I see going easy on you with the small plug was a mistake!"

My heart beats faster in excitement, but before I can respond, the door's tugged open. I'm shoved under the desk and Professor Adler desperately reaches for some papers to pretend he's shuffling them.

"Theron!" calls Dean Rothenberg obliviously. He starts down the steps that lead toward the front of the lecture hall. "I hoped I'd catch you. But I saw your students out in the halls. Have they been released early?"

Professor Adler takes his seat. I scoot further back underneath his desk and realize why once he does—he's sporting a huge bulge in the front of his pants. I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from releasing the petty giggle bubbling up inside me.

If that's not the definition of holding power over a man as composed and put-together as he is…

Clearing his throat, Professor Adler says, "Yes, I released them a few minutes early. I have an engagement to go to."

"I see. Already ahead of the course material, eh? You've always been one of Castlebury's brightest. Even when you were a student here."

"Yes, well, I aim to educate."

As the mundane conversation carries on above me and the butt plug aches no less inside me, I prop myself up on my knees and decide to finish my provocation. After what I've been put through, it's deserved as far as I'm concerned.

I reach for Professor Adler's zipper and tug it down. His hand shoots to mine to stop me, but he can't do much more than grip my hand if he doesn't want to rouse suspicion from Dean Rothenberg, who's prattling on and on about the school. His hard erection springs free and I quickly come in close to swipe my tongue against its veiny, velvety length.

Professor Adler hisses, then coughs to cover up the sound.

My lips curl into a little smile before I'm wrapping them around his thick head. I run my tongue across the top, tasting the light salt in his glistening precum.

Above me, Dean Rothenberg's moved onto talking about Professor Adler's father. "Thurman was an excellent legal scholar. As much of an asset as Vise was. It's no wonder he's had as much success as he has. Shame he retired early…"

My tongue twines around his thick girth before I take him in my mouth. He tenses up in his chair, his voice strained when he answers Dean Rothenberg's next question.

I stroke him and suck away, making it extra slick and wet, doing my best to push him to his limits.

It's a strange sense of power I have on my knees torturing him with my mouth, almost making him lose control. I bring him right to the edge, where his dick's throbbing and twitching inside my mouth and he's one flick of my tongue from coming…

"I'm guessing you can't meet with me and some of the other faculty and board members this afternoon. We really need to get a hold on this Valentine business. I'm sure you remember from last time how it damaged the school's reputation."

"If this is about Jackson Wicker, it does seem he was targeted for a reason. The news report stated they found him stripped naked with a teddy bear and his personal laptop open to the hundreds of children's photographs he had saved over the years."

"Well, we have no control over the personal lives of our board members."

"I think you and I both know, Dean, there are certainly ways to clean house," Professor Adler grits out, barely holding on.

His fingers dig deep into my curls 'til my scalp's prickling from sharp pain, and then he shoves my head all the way down against his groin. His dick slides straight toward the back of my throat and I almost choke .

The simple act of breathing becomes complicated as I struggle to breathe through my nose.

"I suppose," answers Dean Rothenberg. "Well, we'll have to figure something out. We can't afford any more scandal."

"Perhaps. But if you have nothing else to add, then I believe we're done here. As I said, I have an engagement to get to."

"Right, Theron. I'll come by some other time. I'm serious when I say we can't afford any more trouble with Valentine. You know that more than anyone."

I'm thrashing under the desk, my hands on Professor Adler's thighs to push myself up. He doesn't let me, forcing my head back down every time I try. I grow lightheaded, thinking about how I never imagined I'd pass out with a butt plug in my ass and my professor's dick in my mouth…

The door closes behind Dean Rothenberg. Professor Adler scoots his chair back and yanks my head back by his fist in my curls. Saliva drips from my swollen lips and my eyes are bleary peering up at him.

His dick gleams with my saliva, standing tall and fully erect.

He surprises me with a crude grin. "You never fail to impress me, Miss Oliver. Are you aware?"

"No, Professor…" I breathe.

He thumbs my wet bottom lip. "I can't even be mad with you when you're so damn brilliant. But this is still not over. There will be consequences for your disobedience. We'll start with you finishing me off. Right now."

I gasp for one more breath as he forces my head back down on his stiff, engorged dick…

It's nightfall by the time we're so sore and spent, we're rolling over in a daze on my bed. The afternoon blurred into a mad dash to my apartment where we proceeded to wrench each other's clothes off and make the most of our private time.

Professor Adler delivered like he said he would, ensuring I was sufficiently punished for acting out. He happened to have the medium plug in his satchel, which he proceeded to insert into my tiny, aching hole and forced screams of pleasure from me as he jerked it deep.

We fucked on the floor of my living room, then on the sofa, his hips bucking aggressively as I buried my face into a throw pillow.

Now, as the clock inches toward nine, we have nothing else to give.

I can barely bring myself to move, laying back against the pillows. He's the same, on his back with an arm folded under his head. The other grips my thigh like he still can't help himself, even in exhaustion. His hair's as wild as mine, rumpled and hanging over his brow.

"So…" I murmur, tilting my head to the side for a look at him. "Dinner?"

His fingers drum up my thigh, then across my stomach. "I wish we could have a real dinner."

"Is takeout not real dinner?"

"You know what I mean, Nyssa," he says, circling my navel. "At a sit down restaurant. A nice one. Out in public."

"You mean you want to take me on a date, Professor?"

He glowers which makes me laugh and then straighten up my act. He's being serious right now while I'm determined to keep things light and playful. I give a clear of my throat and then try again .

"Theron, I get it. We can't exactly walk the downtown streets together."

"But we should be able to. In a just world."

"What about outside of Castlebury? We could go to Madison?—"

"Too risky. Anyone from Castlebury could be in the area."

"You sure you're not hiding me? You don't have a wife and kids, do you?"

"Hide you?" Offense thickens in his tone. "Why in the world would I ever want to hide you? Do you hear yourself? Do you realize how special you are? How privileged I am?"

The breath I release has a note of humor. "Theron?—"

"I'm serious," he interrupts sharply. "I don't think you grasp how… you don't understand your worth, Nyssa."

"I'm a human being. Just like anybody else."

"Not to me." He grips my chin and plants his lips on mine in a kiss that's so abruptly passionate, my head reels. I find myself seeping into the kiss, seeking out more despite the fact that my body aches from our previous sessions. He kisses me 'til he's satisfied, then draws back to peer much too deeply into my eyes. "If you were just fifteen or twenty years older, you'd…"

I laugh at the frustrated sigh he lets out. "I'd… what? Be perfect for you? Theron, I think it's safe to say that ship has sailed. We've established our ages don't matter. But what does matter is what our hearts and minds want."

His thumb glides along my cheek. "I love that you included mind. The fact that you did proves what I said. You're brilliant. More brilliant than you realize or give yourself credit for."

"If you keep going, you'll give me a big head. Then I'll be like Heather Driscoll, and that won't be good for anyone. "

"Heather Driscoll is the equivalent of swine next to you. You understand that, correct?"

"You say that, but she's rich, blonde, and has the right family name. Societal rules say she wins."

"Who gives a damn what society says? You're worth a thousand of her."

"I needed you when I was a kid. Hearing that would've helped."

"Tell me about what they did," he says, propping himself up on his elbow. He links his fingers with mine and stares down at me like I'm the most fascinating subject in the world. "You said you were seeking revenge for your family?"

Aware this is the pillow talk he's referenced in the past, I take my time answering. I've never been the sharing type, and I have to tread lightly. Nothing comes before my mission and Theron seems determined to chip away at my resolve.

The problem is, things have become more complicated.

Real feelings have started to form.

It's made me more conflicted about what I'm doing. How can I carry on when I've developed genuine affection for this man?

"I grew up in Castlebury," I say with a tense, unnatural shrug of my shoulders. "At least for the first few years of my life. We eventually moved. Before that… kids at school made my life hell."

"Heather Driscoll?"

"And her minions," I finish. "Her stepmother was friends with my mother. Their whole posse turned on her when she got pregnant freshman year of college. It wasn't a good look to be a teen mom. Especially back then. Especially as a young Black woman in an affluent circle."

His brows crease. "Your mother went to Castlebury U?"

"Both of my parents did. My mother was ostracized. My father was a victim of Valentine."

"He… was?" Theron says, the healthy color in his complexion fading slightly.

"Yes," I answer. "But once my mom was expelled and my father was murdered, I no longer belonged either. The kids at school made sure I understood. Heather taunted me about my ‘broke mommy and dead daddy' as she called it. I was shoved into the ground and laughed at. I spent a lot of time getting knocked down back then. Some of the scars you've noticed… guess how they got there?"

I gesture to my thigh where the small, banana-shaped scar has served as a lifelong reminder of the bullying I endured. Theron's eyes follow, tracking my naked skin 'til he winds up where my hand rests on my thigh, pointing out the mark.

I feel his anger. His offense on my behalf.

As silly as it sounds, it's validating. Someone else gets it too. He sees how fucked up it was.

"Anyway," I sigh, "I've worked my whole life to make these people pay, Theron. I'm not about to stop now when I'm so close."

"And that's why you've been mimicking Valentine?" he asks.

Hesitantly, I nod. "I want them—him—to know they didn't get away with it. The real Valentine most of all."

A stretch of silence goes by where I'm certain a number of things could happen. Theron could get up and get dressed and insist we're done here. He could express offense that I've admitted to targeting the community he's known his entire life or threaten to turn me in .

Or he could do the thing I'd dread most—he could understand.

My stomach sinks as he chooses the latter.

"I'll help you," he says. "Get your payback. I'll do what I can. It's only fair."

"No," I say quickly. "This is my own thing. Not yours."

"I'm already involved. The night in Jackson Wicker's penthouse saw to that."

Shaking my head, I laugh at how absurd it is. "You can't help me."

"Too late. How about we order Thai and you can tell me all about your plans for Heather Driscoll?"

He hardly waits for my answer before he's getting out of bed. Peaches leaps onto his shoulder, where she remains affectionately perched and meowing. I sit up in shock watching Theron Adler walk out of my bedroom in his boxers to refill her bowls and then order us some takeout.

I'm even more stunned thirty minutes later when the paper bags are delivered on my doorstep and we settle down in the kitchen to eat over discussions of revenge.

I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. No one has ever been so supportive, so open to backing me up, that it terrifies me. Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I'm reminded how this will only complicate things.

This could backfire on me.

And how, as I seek revenge for the past, no one else poses a threat like Professor Theron Adler. He very well could be my demise…