Dulce

18

Ishove the paper inside my binder and slam the door shut behind me.

Must not kill, must not kill, must not kill.

That damn teacher has it in for me, and it has nothing to do with my academic ability. I know this because I’ve already taken this course and come out on top of the class.

No, Miss Smith’s issue is one of two things. Straight-up envy, because I’ve seen her blatantly dragging her eyes over my body and face inappropriately. Well, inappropriate for somewhere other than here, apparently. Guess I can’t pick and choose which faculty members I’m okay with objectifying me when I was more than happy to have one of them eat me out.

And if it’s not envy, it’s jealousy, and not over a certain dark and deadly headmaster who keeps everything strictly professional in public. I figured out right away that she loves the attention only a teenage boy can offer her.

She dresses professionally, but with a hint of slut. That’s not a dig. I think she rocks the look with tight skirts that look like they’ve been painted on and low-cut silk blouses that show the swell of her breasts, a flash of her bra, and are so thin, you can see how chilly it is in her classroom.

Her style is banging, but her attitude is horrendous. She’s the grown-up version of Cassandra. It makes me wonder if this is all a vicious cycle. Was she once a girl like the queen of the bitch brigade, or was she more like Louise, always on the outside looking in? A girl who remade herself in the image of what she thinks men or boys want?

I’m sure it’s worked for her in the past. With her looks and confidence, she must be like honey to a bear. Or a pussy to a sex-starved penis-carrying member of society.

Pausing for a second, I wonder if she likes girls too. Maybe she’s being a bitch to me so that I’ll stay after class and ask for help. Maybe she’ll offer me something better than an F if I give her an O.

“And maybe I need to lay off the porn,” I mutter, wondering if I should bother reporting this shit. Her attitude suggests it’s the norm.

I know all these kids are at least eighteen, so it’s not illegal for her to play hide the sausage with her students. But that doesn’t mean she has to wield it as a weapon. Though I’ve noticed she gives the guys preferential treatment.

With a sigh, I head toward Dmitri’s office. Might as well let him know what I think of the woman. If he does nothing, that’s on him. But if I do nothing, it’s on me, and that’s something I’ve never been good at dealing with.

It will be hit or miss if he’ll even care. This place isn’t a high school or a college or whatever the hell they are presenting themselves as. There is a reason it’s not topping any lists with awards and accolades. It doesn’t matter how pretty it is or the clientele it attracts, this place is a straight-up reform school dressed up with a designer bow.

Rounding the corner, I slam into a wall that I swear to God wasn’t there last time I was here.

I topple backward. Before I land on my ass, arms reach out and catch me, steadying me and then letting go quickly as if my skin burns them.

“Watch where you’re going,” Cain snaps.

“Oh, I’m sorry, King Eveson.”

He rolls his eyes and moves to shove past me before his eyes land on the sheet of paper sticking out of the top of my folder, the giant red F on display for all to see.

He laughs, bending down to pick up the folder from where I dropped it, snagging the paper before handing the folder back to me.

“Cain.” I reach for it, but he steps back. Holding it out of my reach, he scans the paper. I decide I’ll sweep his leg out from under him because I’ve reached my asshole limit, but then he frowns and scowls at me.

“What the fuck is this?”

“My assignment for Miss Smith’s class,” I tell him slowly, like he’s dumb. It’s pretty freaking obvious what it is since he’s in the same damn class. Of course, he got to bail early today for something.

“But these answers are right.” He shoves the paper at me, which I hastily take before he slides his backpack off his shoulder and rummages inside for his own paper.

A-minus. Of course it is. He holds it out and urges me to do the same.

“Our answers are virtually the same. Honestly, yours are better, so if anything, it should be me with the lower grade. But either way, neither paper deserves an F. What the hell did you do to Miss Smith to end up with this?”

“Have a D-cup, apparently,” I answer wryly.

His eyes drop to my chest before snatching my paper once more, spinning on his heel, and storming away.

“What the fuck, Cain?”

“How is it that you always know which of us you’re talking to?”

“Well, that’s easy. Abe is such a sweet boy compared to you,” I tell him as I hurry after him.

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s Abe. Mr. Fucking personality. Nice try, but even if what you said was true, you know who we are before we even open our mouths.”

I shrug when he looks over his shoulder at me.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” I’m not gonna tell him it’s because I’m exceptionally good at picking things up when it comes to people, little nuances and traits, like a poker player reading his opponent.

“You could try, short stack. I’m sure it would end with my cock inside you, but there are worse types of foreplay than fighting.”

“First of all, fighting is the best kind of foreplay,” I tell him as I grab his arm and yank him around to face me.

“Secondly, I’m not short. Everyone here is just freakishly tall.”

He pushes me against the wall, his front pressing against mine as he pins me in place, both of our bags dropping to the floor.

“Doesn’t bother me how small you are as long as you’re small where it counts.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, original. You think that up all by yourself? Guess it’s not too hard to figure out how you got your A-minus. Tell me, how does Miss Smith’s pussy taste?”

His lips hover over mine as he grabs both my wrists and pins them above my head.

“How about you tell me?” he whispers before his lips are on mine.

In the next instant, his tongue is in my mouth and my leg is wrapped around his hip as he grinds his hard dick against me just right.

My skin heats and my heart beats out of control at the sudden turn of events, but the undercurrent of hostility that has been running between us since the beginning threatens to spill over and ensnare us both.

“Mr. Eveson, Miss Sinclair, my office, now!”