There were voices close enough that I could differentiate men and women, but not hear what they were saying. I felt invincible.

I ripped the zipper down on my pants and hefted her up on the wall.

“This?” I said against her mouth while I pulled my cock out. “This is what I wanted to do to you that first night.”

“Yes,” she hissed, scoring her fingernails against the back of my neck. Keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her back, I found the edge of her underwear and wrenched it aside. I didn’t have the mobility to let go of her so I could test her, but I didn’t fucking care. And neither did she. Adele was just a writhing mass of impatience, shifting down so that the head of my cock lined up with her. She shoved down while I shoved up and my balls slapped against her ass.

I fucked her against that wall, the way our movements were limited making it nothing other than a rutting, thrusting, dirty thing. I could still taste the tang of beer on her tongue when I sucked it into my mouth, and it made her pussy clench in tiny pulses when I did it.

“God, Nathan,” she moaned. “Fuck me. Harder, harder.”

So I did. Who could’ve said no to her? I slammed into her, over and over, until I couldn’t hold back the racing fire in my body. She stiffened and cried out, clenching my dick in an impossibly tight fist. With one last thrust, I came, groaning into her mouth and then sinking my forehead into the crook of her neck. When I pulled out, the rush of liquid that followed gave me a sick sense of pleasure. We had no way to clean up, so she’d feel me like that, coating the insides of her thighs while the stupid little boys in the house gawked at her.

She was still slumped against the wall, breathing hard and smiling. “That was pretty epic, Professor Easton.”

I shushed her, even though no one could have heard her. Her face was flushed, and I traced my thumb along her cheekbone.

“Have I ever told you that you look exceptionally gorgeous after you come?”

She laughed, leaning in to hug me. We stayed that way for a couple moments, stealing a sweet embrace in the darkness.

“Can we go home now?” she asked when she finally pulled back. “I don’t want to share you anymore tonight.”

“I don’t want to share you anymore, either,” I said back, and the truth of those words didn’t feel as scary, hidden as we were. I placed the mask back over my face and wrapped my arm around her while we walked back toward where we could hail a cab.

When the yellow car was pulling up to the curb, she turned back to me and smiled. “You realize that we’re going to have to do that again, right?”

“What?”

Right before she opened the door, she leaned up and whispered in my ear. “You. Fucking me in public.”

“Get in the car, Alice,” I admonished with absolutely no heat in my tone. When she turned to slide in, I grinned. Because hell yeah we were doing that again.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

November passed quickly, the red and gold leaves curling up and turning brown and brittle. Between class, picking up a few extra shifts so I could pay for the Wi-Fi I had finally signed up for, and trying to sneak in time with Nathan, I’d barely registered that winter was on the horizon until I’d slipped on my ass on the sidewalk in front of my apartment, landing on ice. My hand had hit knuckles first into the ice and the sharp sting of the blow made me loudly groan, “Mother fucker!”

I tried rolling over to my knees to pull to standing but that resulted in another swear. My knees were bruised from the blow job I’d given Nathan in his shower, the blow job I’d purposefully taken a very long time in giving—just so he could experience an explosive orgasm of his own. He’d given me so many, after all.

But then I’d been stuck on the floor, my knees bearing imprints of his tile. We’d laughed as he’d picked me up and set me on the counter to dry me off, but days later they were still bruised and aching.

I pulled myself to the steps to my building and pulled off my glove, checking my knuckles for bleeding. They were red, maybe beginning to swell a little, but when I flexed them, I didn’t feel pain apart from the stretch in the tissue where I’d hit.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Celeste: What’s your major again?

I stared at my phone, puzzled. Either Celeste was looking to drag me down for what she called my “fake” major or she genuinely couldn’t remember. The former would be her acting like a bitch and the latter would be her being an uncaring bitch. One way or another, I wouldn’t win.

Me: Creative writing. Why?

Celeste: Ah, that’s right. I just wondered if you’d changed your mind yet.

I had to bite my tongue to keep the anger from taking over.

Me: Why would I change my mind?

Celeste: Dad would be more than happy to support you, financially, if you were going to school for something that you didn’t already know how to do.

I resisted the urge to throw my phone across the ice, mostly because I couldn’t afford to replace it at the time. Because Celeste was right; I wasn’t supported financially because of my choice of study. When I’d announced my major, my dad had been silent, as usual, but he hadn’t offered any kind of financial support—the only thing he could have offered me.

And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been tempted by the idea of changing my major to have his help. Being broke and living meagerly was stressful. But I’d stuck to my guns all the year before and this year—too proud to admit I needed anything from him. But Ramen and toast for the majority of my meals was getting old. And the student loans looming over my head were another reminder that post-graduation, the Ramen and toast situation wouldn’t likely change.

Celeste: Mom worries about you. And Dad wanted me to let you know if you changed your major, he’d support you fully. Tuition and rent.

Fuck. The word dragged out in my head. The offer was tempting. But I couldn’t give up writing, not when I loved it as much as I did.

Me: That’s nice.

It was the only reply I could come up with. I clicked back to my list of messages, glancing my eyes from Leo’s unread message from days earlier. I only saw a preview of it: I think we should…

I wasn’t ready to read what he thought. I was miles away from where I’d been when I’d sloppily kissed him. I’d been confused, lonely. Now, I was being thoroughly fucked by my professor and getting high off just being around him. So I continually put Leo off, hoping that by Thanksgiving I’d yank the tail out between my legs and apologize.

I clicked on Nathan’s name.

Me: What are you doing right now?

His reply took a minute and I tucked my hand into my jacket to warm up my fingers until his message popped through.

Nathan: Waiting for you to come to my office.

Me: Oh?

Nathan: I recall you wanting me to bend you over my desk once.

My thighs clenched in excitement. Gingerly, I stepped around the ice and made my way to campus, a smile on my face.

“Come in,” he answered my knock.

Entering the office, I took in the lone light from his desk lamp. The rest of the room was washed in darkness. “Nathan,” I said softly.

He lifted his head from his book and peered at me, eyes traveling the length of my body. “You’re quick.”

My lips twitched. “I can be.”

My innuendo didn’t go unnoticed. Swiftly he stood, coming around his desk and reaching behind me to lock the door. He turned me around and pulled the zipper of my coat down, pulling it off me quickly and gracefully. He tossed the coat into the chair and turned back to me.