Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 33 I park in the shadow cast by my Land Rover, glancing up at GAZ's first-floor windows. All but the last is shut, and I stare at it through my windshield like I stand a snowball's chance of not exiting this fucking car. My phone pings with a new notification. @parker.melissa In class But I'm Haven's first class on a Tuesday, so that clears up exactly fuck-all. I read the message I sent Melissa, in case I wasn't fucking clear. @rooke.bastian Is Haven Lee with you? She's not answering her phone. If only Haven would answer her damn phone.

I've been ringing her for over half an hour since receiving her cryptic message. Pills? Could be anything from MDMA to Adderall. It's Tuesday fucking morning, but popping molly during the week isn't exactly uncommon, even for sorority girls. Haven has already proved that she can't withstand peer pressure. I tongue my bottom lip as I wait. Kai's bite mark is healing, but I can still feel a faint ridge. Parker eventually starts typing another message. For her sake, she'd better be elaborating on her non-explanation, because the last dregs of my patience are on the verge of evaporating.

I was holed up in my office on campus when I began messaging Haven this morning. My class starts in a little over an hour, and instead of prepping, I'm parked on Greek Row trying to dissuade myself from breaking into Gamma Alpha Zeta. But I have no choice. @parker.melissa She's at GAZ, prob sleeping @rooke.bastian Someone there who can get her to answer my call? It's important. @parker.melissa Nope Muscles in my neck that haven't relaxed since Saturday morning finally loosen.

My eyes flick back up to the window, my jaw clenching as I will myself to put the Tesla in reverse and get the fuck out of here. Haven's not on drugs, she probably just took a sleeping tablet to catch up on some rest because she partied too hard. I left Saturday night's party early, before either her or Kai could spot me, but who knows what time those two staggered home? And I know there was an afterparty at Kai's frat house, so what's saying there wasn't one at Haven's? @rooke.bastian Pls ask her to call me when you get back. Melissa starts typing a reply, but then stops.

I wait for a few seconds, gaze darting from the window to my phone. Haven's fine. I should leave. But I have no choice. I get out of the car, scanning the street to check if anyone's around. Greek Row is deserted, everyone on campus, or still recovering from the weekend's bender. The Rain Dance has that effect. Either way, no one's around to spot me trying to open GAZ's front door. It's locked. Good for them. Bad for me. Another quick scan to make sure no one's appeared in the street, then I'm sidling through the narrow, wrap-around lawn on the side of the house.

I duck under a bougainvillea, wrench open the side gate, and let myself into the backyard. I brush leaves from my jeans, chin out and shoulders back as I head for the back door. Do anything with confidence, and people rarely question your authority. Bad for them. Good for me. Surprisingly, the back door is also locked. But it only takes me a minute or two to find a spare key hidden under a fake rock in the nearby flower bed. I unlock the door, return the key to its hiding place, and close and lock the door behind me.

The hush that surrounds me as I pause in the kitchen is strangely comforting. No chatting, no giggling, just a rare calm. I take my phone out of my pocket and switch it to silent as I stride over the tiles and into the sorority house's foyer. Melissa's last message never came through, but perhaps she had nothing to add to the conversation. It's the first time I've messaged her since she sent me a photo of her tits, so maybe she still feels awkward. If anyone was around, they'd hear me coming up the creaky stairs. But no one pokes their head out to demand what I'm doing inside.

It seems Haven is truly alone. Only two doors in the hallway are unlocked besides the bathroom. One is empty, the other isn't. Haven is sprawled over the floor on her back like a homicide victim, face slack, sleep shirt hiked up one side all the way to her ribs. I'm on my knees beside her in an instant, heart hammering inside my chest as I press my fingers to her throat. She's cold, but there's a faint thrum under my fingertips, and her eyelids flicker at my touch. Not dead, just lost in a medicated fog. I scan the room, spotting a bottle of pills on Haven's nightstand.

I grab them, rattling the bottle. Still pretty full. Doubtful that she took enough to overdose. Which means she's fine, and I should leave. I should fucking leave. But I don't have a choice, do I? I lift her from the floor, frowning at the weight. She's heavier than she looks and ungainly in sleep, her head lolling against my shoulder, her legs tangling with mine as I stand. A professor finding his student like this in her sorority room has only one reasonable course of action. I should tuck her into bed and walk away. But the hunger her limp body has summoned inside me disagrees.

As does my cock. It stiffens against my zipper like it always does when she's close. Even wrecked and barely conscious, she sets me burning. Especially now, like this. No arguing, no sneering. No attempts to turn my games back on me. She just sinks into me with the slow, helpless surrender I've been chasing from her since she walked into my class. I lower her to the mattress. My hands should let go, but they don't. One lingers at her waist, another flat against her belly until I feel the soft rise and fall of her breathing. There's no version of this that ends well for anyone.

But every time her belly rises under my palm, I get harder. I picture myself leaving. Rising from her bed without waking her, closing the door behind me, pretending this never happened, that I was never here. Like I'm a respectable man, doing the respectable fucking thing. But Haven Lee will never be respectable, and neither will I. The dark in me craves the dark in her. When I rise and go to the door, it's not to close it behind me. It's to lock us inside. Prey caged with predator. Her...with me.

I stalk back to the bed like my namesake, sliding my knees onto the mattress beside her still form. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ fındnovel.net "What is it about you, Miss Lee, that renders me incapable of doing the right thing?" I growl as I brush hair out of her face. A chill slithers up my spine when I feel hidden eyes on me. I don't bother checking if I'm alone, because this always happens when I'm about to go over the edge.

I presume it's what's left of my conscience, the tiny sliver of humanity that watches with morbid fascination as I take what I want without giving a fuck about the consequences. Like the world already knows what kind of man I am...and it's waiting to catch me at it. I've learned to lean into the sensation. To embrace it. These days it only makes the ache better. It won't make me stop. I can't stop. Haven's thighs are warm, pliant, unresisting when I ease them open. I pause at the sight of a dark stain on her panties. Another man might have hesitated, tempted to respect biology's red light.

But I'm already sinking down, breath hot against the inside of her thigh, mouth salivating. I nose into her wet, coppery heat, tongue pressing against sodden cotton, then nudging it aside, finding the slick blood-salt tang beneath. Blood. A taste that stays with a man forever. Haven stirs, and I glance up from between her thighs. Her lashes flutter, eyes hazy and unfocused as she peers down her body at me. "You..." she breathes. I wait for a scream, a fist to my face, a hand twisted in my hair to jerk me aside. Her thighs twitch, her eyes slowly blinking.

When her mind eventually registers what's happening, her lips tremble as she fights the drugs she took. "What..." she breathes, her voice thick with sedatives and fear. Christ. That flicker of panic sends a surge of lust through me. This muddle of half-conscious resistance, this is the point where a sane man withdraws. But the only move I make is to tip over the edge, free falling into sin. My mouth hovers just shy of her pussy, so close I can still scent her blood. Close enough that she knows what's coming, even in her incapacitated state.

"Shh, sweet girl." My lips brush the inside of her thigh. "I'm going to eat this sweet, bloody pussy whether you're sobbing my name or screaming for someone to save you." "B-but you can't..." she stammers through slack lips. I tug her panties to the side, exposing the entirety of her stained pussy, and drag the pad of my thumb against her clit. Her protest dies with a small, mortified whimper. "Good girl." I let the edge of my teeth graze bare skin until I'm right by her entrance. My tongue darts out, twisting, my teeth clamping down.

The sound she makes when I slowly tug out her tampon is the stuff of lurid fantasies. I drop it inside one of the empty glasses on her nightstand, barely taking my eyes off her, savoring every ounce of horror and inevitability in her dilated eyes. Then I take a slow, luxuriant lick over her pussy. "Christ, you taste so good I could eat you alive," I murmur, eyes locked on her cunt. I can't tell if her whimper is protest or encouragement. I take it as both. "That's it, sweet girl.

Feed me every sweet drop." There's the faintest flutter as her thighs try to tense against my shoulders when I force them wider. I'm too busy violating her limp body to indulge her efforts in fighting me. I tongue the seam of her pussy, taking another long drag of salt and copper, the taste heavy on my tongue when I spear inside her. I catch sight of the bedspread near the foot of the bed-its feminine pastel colors, the too-cute bedskirt where monsters lurk. Too young for this. Too young for me. Adorable. Fragile. Mine. I've ruined her for guys her own age.

Their clumsy, inexperienced hands, hands, their quick-draw cocks. No one her age could tease her like this without coming in their pants. Could taunt her this mercilessly without being compelled to stick their dick inside her and come seconds later. When I flatten my tongue against her clit, a helpless little cry spills past her lips. Arousal vibrates somewhere low behind my ribs at the pathetic sound. Her clit swells beautifully under my tongue, pink and needy and tangy with want. I pull back only to press my tongue lower, thrusting into her entrance where the heat is fiercest.

Her slit weeps blood for my tongue as I flick my way in and out of her pussy. Instead of recoiling, I lap at her, nose buried against her flesh like I want to drown. "That's it, girl. Clench around my tongue like the eager slut you are." I eat like a starved man, savoring every ounce of her sweetness, and she just lies there, watching through her lashes, unable to stop me as I use her limp body for my every filthy need. This is sin by inches. A slow rot down my spine. Every one of her weak shivers, every mewled protest, just spurs me on.

I should have walked out the moment I found her breathing. Should've let her sleep it off. Instead, I'm dragging her deeper into the dark with me. She's shaking, confused, bleeding in my mouth, and still her body betrays her, heating around my fingers like it was waiting for this. And God help me, I want to see how far that betrayal will go. I push two fingers inside her entrance, just enough to breach. "I'm going to wreck your pretty little cunt," I murmur, locking eyes with her as I dip my fingertips inside her. "And tomorrow, you'll put on a sweet smile like nothing happened.

We both know just how much you enjoy this." The sound she makes at the intrusion is high and helpless, a half-moan, half-sob. Her lids flutter, too heavy to fully open, yet her body betrays her again. Her pussy clenches down, sucking me deeper in like she doesn't know how to refuse. Haven thinks she's a locked door, but my fingertips are the key. The shiver running through her as I press deeper inside is the tumbling of pins inside the lock. I don't drive my fingers in. Not yet.

I wedge them wider instead, pulling them apart by gradual, merciless degrees, splitting her open against her own resistance. Watching the raw stretch of her pussy, the stubborn give. "Oh, you don't like this? Then why the fuck are you dripping down my hand? You're lying with your mouth and begging with your cunt." Her thighs tremble weakly against my shoulders as I force them wider, the soft, pale skin so fucking fragile under my teeth. I sink in just enough to bruise, biting her tender flesh until red blooms like a brand. Haven whimpers. Her legs twitch.

She should be closing against me, knocking the intrusion away, but she can't. That sound isn't only pain. There's something else in it. Something hungry she hasn't learned to hide. "So fucking innocent. Pure and untouched. Let's fix that, shall we?" I hold her open, studying every quiver her body makes, and then lean over her as I let saliva gather in my mouth. Her mouth quivers as she watches, a blubbered, "N-no," spilling out. But I don't have a choice. I need her dirty, filthy, obscene like me.

I spit deep inside her bloody, stretched open pussy, and have to fight the urge to come at the sound she makes-half horrified moan, half desperate mewl. Her whole body flinches. A shudder ripples through her limp frame, but still her hips rock just enough to prove there's something wanton lurking beneath the shame. "That's it, girl. Swallow down my filth." Her eyes squeeze closed, and a sound she shouldn't be making leaks past her bitten lip. The body tells the truth. Her body knows who it belongs to.

I tighten my spread, stretch her wider, watch her quiver at the pressure, knowing the moment I let her tighten down around my cock, she'll unravel completely. "Christ, you're so fucking needy." I draw back, showing her my fingers glistening with blood and saliva and arousal. "Look how you're gushing for me like a wounded thing." I bring my hand down in a stinging slap right on her clit. Her limp body jerks faintly, flesh jiggling under my palm. She mewls in protest, but a violent twitch betrays just how much she craves my abuse, even under sedation.

I duck down for a last lick, a quick thrust with my tongue, and then I'm crouched over her still body like a nightmare as she struggles to focus on my eyes. I lower my face to hers before she can attempt another breathy protest, and press my mouth down on her slack, trembling lips. It isn't tenderness. It's theft. My tongue invaded her mouth the way my fingers just invaded her pussy. I taste myself smeared on her lips-spit and salt and blood-and force it back down her throat.

For a heartbeat she goes rigid, caught between refusal and shock, but the sound she makes when I suck her lower lip into my teeth is such a pathetic confession. A whimper, raw and unwilling, a sound she can never take back. By the time she drags in another sob of air, I've left my mark on her mouth as surely as I've left it inside her pussy. She gasps when I shift to unzip my pants and free my cock, a ragged little sound that threatens to have me coming in my fucking hand. Then her eyes are closed again, like she can will me away with the power of her mind. "Open your eyes, girl.

Look at the cock I'm about to shove inside your tight, bloody little slit." I stroke it just for her, and her eyes flick to my hand, her chest rising and falling in quick, sharp breaths. Her trembling thighs drag together instinctively when I try to sink between them, but she doesn't have the strength to close them. Nor the desire. That flush on her cheeks isn't just shame. It's arousal. Need. "I don't ask for permission. Not now, not ever.

Best you get used to it, girl." I press forward, slow, deliberate, and the moment my cock breaches her wet, bloody entrance it feels like desecration and devotion all at once. She cries out, not all pain, not all pleasure, her pussy clamping down on me like it doesn't know the difference. Her nails rake slowly at the sheets, her head weakly turns away, but her thighs relax open. Traitorous, desperate, welcoming. Wrong, so wrong, and I can't stop. I never wanted to. She belongs to me now-branded, stained, owned. Kai submitted. Haven succumbs.

And in her final surrender I claim the ownership of a god. "I'll fuck the no out of you until the only words you know are harder, Sir." I drive into her ruthlessly deep, relishing the pained whimpers and mewls she makes under me. All the patience I held crumbles, leaving only brutality behind. She takes me, all of me, is torn open for it because she has no choice, just as I had no choice but to drive down here, break in, climb the stairs, and take what's mine. Her chest heaves beneath me, her hands flutter to push and then fall away. But we both know resisting now is utterly pointless.

The sight of her nails clawing at the sheets only makes me grind in deeper. There's no gentleness left, no worship dressed as mercy. Just corruption and ruin. Just the brute violence of claiming what no one else ever should. When tears leak out behind her shivering lashes, I'm there to lick them from her skin, whispering, "I love making you cry, pretty girl," against her mouth. The taste of her salty tears makes it impossible to hold back. I come with a deep-seated growl that's possessive and furious, my thick shaft churning that seed into a thick, pink cream when it mixes with her blood.

Thighs that had been spreading open for me suddenly snap against my waist. Weak, but still trying to keep me in place. I lean back, grabbing her throat as I slam into her pussy, keeping my cock buried deep inside. "Please..." she mumbles through slack lips. But I stay buried, unmoving, taunting her. "Now you're begging me to let you come? Make up your mind, girl." I tighten my grip on her neck, watching her face flush, her lips part, her eyes widen in fear. Then, and only then, do I grind the heel of my free hand over her clit, pushing her over the edge with a relentless pressure.

Her eyes flicker, lips trembling as she fights, fights-and breaks. The ragged sounds she makes as she comes brands itself in my mind. I drop my head, my fingers sinking into her hair as the room spins around me. Drunk on the heat, on the pain she can't hide, on the wet clutch that seals around me like it already knows I'll never fucking leave. "That's my girl," I murmur against her throat. I stay inside her, relishing her wetness and her warmth. But her silence is the loudest thing I've ever heard. The room feels hushed, holy, wrong. Haven won't be the same again. Kai will never be the same.

I've dragged them both over a line they can't ever cross again. She will remember how she unwillingly came undone. And I will remember the way she fought, her skin flushed with shame while her body dragged us both deeper into the dark. This is the truth. This is what I'm built for. Not tenderness. Not love. Ruin. I grab the edge of her pastel quilt and drag it closer, wiping it over her wet, bloodstained pussy. Ruining the fabric, just like I ruined her. "You're damaged goods now, sweet girl.

Broken, branded, fucking mine." I slide my free hand up her limp torso to her throat, wrapping fingers around the delicate column. Not crushing, but just enough pressure to feel her pulse stutter and flutter weakly against my palm while her body arches in a helpless spasm. She's so small, so breakable, that faint choke drawing a mewled gasp from her lips, her shivers turning frantic as if begging for air and more all at once. I lean over her, caging her in, unable to move, unwilling to. It's enough for now just to feel her clutch me as though her body itself refuses to let me go.

Not obedience. Not submission. Succumbing. And it's enough, for now. "My sweet, perfect girl," I rasp against her lips before kissing her as brutally as I just fucked her. Her body lies limp beneath me, but her lips move against mine-desperate, urgent...eager. I smile as she kisses me back, my cock already hardening again inside her bleeding hole. I don't have a choice but to fuck her again. ...Neither does she.