I nearly shout as I’m engulfed in heat, my hand landing in Trevor’s hair and my back bowing as I stare unseeing up at the roof of his car. I’ve never had fantasies about a theoreticalboss railing me over a desk, but hearing Trevor bring someone else’s dirty dream to life was hot as fuck. And knowing this Daniel will watch him, will get off to Trevor’s cock and his voice?
Fuck.
It’s a vicious sort of thrill, someone coveting what’smine.
I wrap both hands in Trevor’s hair as he works to make me come, his lips and his tongue driving me absolutely feral. He doesn’t seem to mind my tight hold, his hand snaking up my shirt to caress my skin, so soft compared to the way he’s sucking me down.
“I want you to swallow,” I tell him around labored breaths. “And then I want you to clean up that mess you made on your steering wheel. And then I want you to kiss me and…ha. And remind me who you belong to.”
Trevor’s answer is to plant his hand on my abdomen and swallow me to the back of his throat. I let loose a litany of curses as my orgasm barrels down on me. My eyes slam shut, my body floats into nothingness, and then I’m coming so hard I lose my breath. The tight clasp of Trevor’s mouth keeps me spiraling for what feels like an eternity, but his touch never lets me lose sight of where I am.
He’s with me, this gentle soul very few ever truly see.
How did I get so fortunate?
Trevor’s lips press to the inside of my hip as I catch my breath. He uncurls his massive form, meeting my eye before holding out a hand. Still floating, I clasp his palm. Trevor pulls me and the seat upright, not yet letting go. Instead, he drags my hand toward his steering wheel, using two of my fingers to swipe up the cum that escaped his fist. I let loose a soft laugh. Cheeky fuck.
He sucks my fingers into his mouth, cleaning them off. Then he pulls me close, kissing me so thoroughly I have no choice but to taste us on his tongue.
Drawing back only an inch, his eyes hold mine, his voice once again the one I know so well. “Every piece of me is yours. I’ve walked through flames, and now I’m branded with them. I am yours.”
“Again,” I demand.
Trevor’s lips curve into the softest smile, his hand holding my jaw so I can’t escape. “Yours, my brat. All I am, all I will be, belongs to you and you alone.”
I let out a sigh, uncaring that we’re half-naked in his car right outside my house. I curl a hand around his wrist, letting my eyes slip shut.
With the rest of the world so very far away, I let myself believe that could always be true.
Chapter 18
Trevor
Being called to a professor’s office never bodes well.
I arrive five minutes before our scheduled meeting, forcing myself to wait another two before I knock. The professor calls me in.
“Mr. Slade,” he says dispassionately, waiting until I close the door to give me his full attention. He steeples his hands, judgmental eyes that I’ve become accustomed to staring at me for a long moment before he speaks again. “I assume you have some idea why you’re here?”
“I…don’t,” I tell him truthfully, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. I keep my spine straight but relax my posture, making myself as unassuming as possible.
His lips purse as he slides a piece of paper my way across the desk. “You plagiarized your most recent work. I trust you know that’s grounds for failure in my class and possible expulsion.”
My heart sinks. “I didn’t.”
He taps one side of the paper, as if having expected my rebuttal. “This is your work, handed in an hour after”—he taps the other side of the paper—“this student’s project right here. As you can see, they’re identical.”
My eyes scan the screenshots on the printout. On the left is a portion of my project. The one on the right, as he said, looksthe same, apart from a few formatting differences. “I didn’t steal anyone’s work,” I say again. “I wouldn’t.”
“Then how do you explain this? I don’t take plagiarism lightly, Mr. Slade.”
My mind reels as my professor watches on, likely thinking he’s caught me squarely in a trap. I remember leaving my laptop at my seat the other week when I stepped out to use the bathroom. Did someone…steal my work during class hours while I was gone?
“I can prove it,” I tell him, swinging my backpack around and pulling my laptop free.
“Mr. Slade…”
“Please,” I say, opening it without pause. “Give me two minutes to show you proof.”
