Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Ashleigh
F or a moment, my heart stutters in my chest. Run. I know what that word means. Hell. I even know it in Latin. Curr . The precursor to things like current. But more importantly, I know the other form of it. The one I’m sure the dean is using.
Fugere.
To flee
To run from danger.
Run.
The dean’s breath rasps hot against my skin as he leans down and nuzzles my cheek with his lips. “So what is it then? Having second thoughts? Don’t want my cock to invade that perfect little pussy of yours?”
“Y- you don’t know it’s perfect,” I wheeze as I take a step forward in a pathetic attempt to break out of this spell he weaves around me.
Instead of letting me go, he slides his hand around my waist and under the flap of my robe. Somehow, his touch feels molten against my cool skin. Goosebumps explode over me as he dips his fingers lower to tease the edge of my underwear.
“It belongs to you. Thus, it’s perfect. At least it will be until I destroy it.”
Another wanton moan slips from my lips as I lean back into his touch. Every inch of me throbs and aches, desperate, needy for the feel of his fingers on my clit.
“Please.” That one word whispered into the night punctuates the gathering mists.
“You did some research on what Doctor Andrew gave you, yes?”
Here I am, a babbling, nearly incoherent mess, and somehow, this paragon of manliness seems to have all his fucking faculties. “Yes? But what does that-“
“I’ll ask the questions,” he growls, sending another shiver down my spine.
His grip tightens even more, nearly painful, as his fingers dig into my mound. So fucking achingly close to my clit where I actually need him. So close, yet so fucking far.
Soft, ragged whimpers seep from my lips as I grind my ass back against him. Despite his coherency, his cock is hard and rigid as he rocks it against me. Huge. That’s the only thought that pummels my brain as I try to make sense of what I’m feeling through the robe.
Can I take all of him?
Will it hurt?
God, I hope it does.
“I’m waiting.”
“Yes,” I finally gasp out. “I did research.”
“And what did you learn?”
“I learned... Well... I guess it depends on what aspect. He gave me a lot.”
“Master and slave.” His voice is like granite against my ear. Just as implacable as the man behind me. “Discipline kink.” This time, the volume drops just a touch, turning the words lethal. “Brat. Masochist.”
“That’s still a lot,” I cry out, as his fingers curl into me again.
“Tell me you like this,” he rasps against my ear. “Tell me you crave this. Tell me you need this.”
The instant his fingers let go of me, I turn in his arms and stare into his serious, fathomless gaze. “I need you,” I finally manage to whisper.
“Then run.”
He drops his hands to his side and slides them into his pockets. In the surrounding light, I can get a better look at the bulge in his pants, but it still doesn’t show me everything I want to see.
A grin lifts his lips as he runs his palm down the front. “Don’t worry, my pet. You’ll see me soon enough. All of me. I will count to thirty to give you a head start.”
“It’s not fair, though.”
“What’s not fair?”
“You know this hedge maze. I don’t.”
His brows furrow into a frown. “And?”
“And you’ll find me easily enough. Where’s the sport in that?”
Around him, the others laugh. Each harsh sound punctures the night and grates upon my nerves until I find myself shaking again.
“Well, first of all, it’s not meant to be fair. Nothing about this is fair. And once I’ve caught you, fucked you, and made you sign my contract, it will never be fair again. But I think you like that, don’t you? You want to be at my mercy?”
“I do, but...”
“But what? What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“I don’t want you to catch me so fast. I actually want to try to make it to the center.”
“My dear. Just because I know this maze doesn’t mean I know where you will be in it. I don’t have cameras in here. I can’t see where you are at any given moment. If you don’t want me to catch you right away, then it’s in your best interest to keep your wits sharp and your eyes open. Avoid me, if you can. But at the end of the day, you will be mine. Make no mistake. I’ve wanted this from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I’ve paid my dues in waiting for you to give me a way to claim you.”
“And if I change my mind?” Not that I’m going to. I just need to know. I need to understand the full ramifications of what’s about to happen. But then... he doesn’t know that.
Another wicked slash of his lips crawls up his face as he slides his hand down my underwear again. This time, he doesn’t stop at my mound. He goes all the way down until his hand cups me fully.
The heat of his fingers is intense as he drags them through my lower lips. Unbidden, another moan wrenches free as I buck my hips against him. Unfortunately, he pulls out almost as soon as he eased in.
“Open your mouth.”
For once, I don’t even think of defying him. As soon as my lips part, he plunges his fingers past and wipes them on my tongue. The taste of me explodes in my mouth, filling it with a slimy tang. It’s unfamiliar, exotic, and addicting. However, what’s even more so is seeing the way the dean’s eyes narrow as he watches me.
I think I might be able to come from that alone.
“Now then. This will be the last time I say this. Run.”
Flee.
Fugere.
Fucking run.
Still, my feet don’t move. I’m glued to the spot as I watch him ease the tip of his tongue over the pad of his thick index finger. The same finger that touched me so intimately.
“One.”
He’s counting.
Why is he counting?
“Two.”
Flee .
“Three.”
Fugere .
“Four.”
“Fucking run girl,” the guttural Russian explodes into the night as sharp as the crack of a gunshot. “Your knees won’t like the taste of gravel if he takes you down here.”
My feet finally move into action. Everything whips about as if in a haze. Leaves, foliage, trees, and branches bite at my skin at every turn. Dirt clings to my feet with every step I take.
Where can I go?
Where can I run?
“Five.”
Even now his voice still somehow booms out into the night where I can hear it.
Am I just not running fast enough?
“Six.”
No. I’m running plenty fucking fast. Though I don’t hazard a glance down at my arms, they’re already damp and sticky. Blood, no doubt, or dew. Hopefully, just dew.
How am I going to explain that to Mom?
What is Dad going to think?
“Seven.”
Do I even care?
“Eight.”
Eight. Fuck. Nearly a fourth of the way there, and I can still hear his voice clear as a bell.
“Nine.”
Dead end.
Fuck .
Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.
Whirling around, I go back the way I came and take the other route.
Why the hell did I think this was going to be easy?
“Thirteen.”
His voice is a touch softer, but not by much. Still, that means I’ve lost out on a few more precious seconds. But this is good. The softer his voice, the further away I am.
My fingers tremble as I run them over the leaves, hoping to somehow find my way.
This is insanity.
Pure and simple.
“Seventeen.”
Oh god. His voice is even louder now, as if I’ve somehow backtracked and I’m right next to him. It’s as if I can reach through the leaves and touch his arm.
“Eighteen.”
For a moment, I stand there as I catch my breath. I’m not going to escape him. There’s no way. All that thought does is cause arousal to slide down my inner thigh and slicken my skin as I pull away and go down another path.
“Nineteen.”
Finally sounding further away again. Perhaps I’ve made a correct turn?
Turning another corner, I nearly bounce against a wall of muscle. A startled scream clogs my throat as I stare up at the Russian behemoth.
“Exit only. Turn please.” His eyes seem to only hold curiosity and no condemnation. “Right. Left. Left. Left. Right. Right Left. Repeat what I say.”
“I- what?”
“Dean fucks girl with no sense or hearing?” he grumbles, pulling out a pen. With quick strokes, he writes a series of r’s and l’s against my palm. “Hurry. He’s twenty-five. Good luck.”
Without pausing to thank the strange gentleman, I tear off into the path and go down the trails as the letters on my hand dictate.
Right .
“Twenty-seven.”
Fuck. Close again. No. I have to trust that I’m going the right way.
Left .
“Twenty-eight.”
Softer again.
Left .
“Twenty-nine.”
His voice is barely a whisper on the breeze, a tickle on the back of my neck.
Left .
“Thirty,” I whisper out loud as I turn to the next right.
So far, I haven’t hit another dead end. The Russian must have been right.
I’m so close.
So fucking close.
Right .
As I turn, a long path yawns before me. The end is so far away. Off in the distance, the others call out. I cannot tell if they’re trying to locate me or flush me out. Placing my palms against my thighs, I lean forward a touch and pull in a gulping breath of air.
I can’t stop now. I’m so close.
Even though I can’t fully see the end, I know it’s different from the other paths.
It can’t just be a dead end.
It can’t.
The wind picks up again, stinging against the exposed bits of skin revealed by the open flaps of my robe. My fingers tremble as I pick them up and wrap them around me, but it’s too late. Goosebumps explode over my skin as my body and brain finally collide.
I’m out here practically naked with just a bit of fabric to cover me. It was hot, downright erotic at the beginning, but now, all I want to do is curl into Dean Anderson’s heat and stop shivering.
Footsteps pound around me, setting my head to aching. I can’t tell where they’re coming from. Are they close? Are they far?
Are they him?
As I look behind me, I see nothing but trees and shadows. They’re nearly the same as what stretches out in front of me. Even though I’m out in the open, it feels as if the trees close in, hovering ever nearer.
A startled bark of panic rips from my lips as I force my way forward. This has to be the way. I have to be almost there.
As I reach the end of the path, however, my heart sinks as I lower myself to the frigid ground. Nothing. Just a wall of leaves.
Was I really so na?ve to think he’d be telling me the truth?
“Giving up already?” A deep voice growls out from behind me.
Dean Anderson.
Though I know he’s come to devour me, I can’t help but picture him as my devil in tarnished armor sent to rescue me first. Turning, I tip my face up to the chill and smile at the man but stop short. Instead of some polished, put together instructor about to bend me over a desk for being naughty, it’s as if some erotic demon stands before me.
Gone are the suit, tie, pressed shirt, and slacks. Now, he stands there in front of me with a parted robe and another mask that conceals the upper half of his face. Despite all of that, I still know it’s him.
Nothing can change the heat in his eyes when he looks at me.
Nothing .
“Come, my damsel. Allow me to put you into further distress.”