Chapter 32
LUCY
Things seemed to calm down a bit after that.
Between classes, studying, practice, and sneaking around with Blake, the next couple days were too busy for me to worry about Professor Putrovski.
In class, she was especially cold with me, but didn’t go out of her way to embarrass me or make me look bad, so I decided she had listened to Coach’s threat and let it go.
Coach and I fucked all the time, in his home office, his office in the arena, in the locker room, even in a utilities closet at the arena one late night, only to be almost caught by a janitor.
Every night, he’d pick me up and take me to his house, where we’d fuck some more, and then he’d hold me all night, murmuring to me about how much he cared.
He never said he loved me, though, so I never said it, either.
The day before the gala, he handed me his credit card and told me to go out and buy a stunning dress.
“For what?” I asked.
“For the alumni dinner, obviously,” he said. “You’re going as my date.”
I gaped at him. “I’m going as your what?”
“My date.”
“I’m sorry, did I miss something? Did they change university policy about professors and staff fraternizing with undergraduates?” I asked in shock, and if I was honest, excitement.
“We can play it off as me bringing you as my ward, but I want you there. In a gorgeous dress. So take my credit card and go get one.”
I decided not to point out to him that I had plenty of money to go buy my own dress. I had no idea how he was planning on pulling this off, but if he thought he could, I’d believe him.
I took Leslie to Pixie, a size-inclusive boutique in town, one of the few stores that sold dresses that would actually fit my large breasts, trying on and discarding dress after dress until I found the perfect one.
It was all black and seemed demure from the front, with a high neckline and a long, straight skirt.
But when I turned around, my back was entirely bare, all the way to right above my ass.
Blake would lose his mind over it—I couldn’t wait.
The dress was thousands of dollars, and I considered paying for it myself, but Blake called me while I was in the dressing room and reminded me to use his card.
“If you don’t, I won’t let you come for a goddamn month,” he warned.
I didn’t like the sound of that, so I used his card.
The next night, I stood in Blake’s bedroom, eyeing myself critically.
“Red lipstick or pink?” I called where he was shaving in the bathroom.
The sound of the electric razor stopped, and he peeked his head out.
“Pink—ah fuck, look at all that bare skin,” he growled, coming to stand behind me and wrapping his arm around my waist under my breasts, tugging me tight against him. “You’re fucking stunning, and we’ll be lucky if I don’t end up beating someone up for looking at you.”
“You can’t,” I told him, a little breathless from how gorgeous he looked in his tux, freshly shaved. I was captivated by how good we looked together, his short, dark hair and green eyes contrasting sharply but harmoniously with my blonde waves and brown eyes.
He nodded, his eyes on fire. “You’re right. But we’re going to be late, so I’m soothed by knowing my cum will be inside you the whole time.”
“We’re going to be late,” I told him.
“I don’t care. Bend over, sweetheart.”
I did, pressing my right hand against the mirror, balancing as well as I could with a brace still on my left wrist. Blake unzipped his pants, lifted my dress, shoved my panties to the side, and fucked me hard and fast, watching me through the mirror through the entire time, eyes intense on mine until we both came.
When we walked into the alumni dinner, conspicuously late, we drew everyone’s attention.
Alumni, board members, and hockey players were dressed in black tie, sitting and laughing at tables covered in white linen with large candelabras.
The laughter died as they saw us. Blake’s hand had been resting on my back, but I moved away from him, aware of people’s eyes, their shocked whispers.
In the corner, Professor Putrovski sat next to Trey, her disapproving glare trained on me.
Based on the fact that Trey was sitting next to her, that was our table.
“I changed my mind,” I murmured. “Let’s go back home. This is too much.”
Dimly, I was aware I’d called his house “home,” and tried not to recoil at how that must have sounded to him, like I’d just assumed it was ours when he’d never—
Blake moved next to me, whispering in my ear. “The only word I heard you say was home. Because you’re right, it is home. Our home.”
Oh.
Well.
I straightened my shoulders. If Blake considered his house ours, then who was I to argue?
Tossing my hair, I said, “Let’s do this.”
Standing tall, I made my way over to the table in the back corner, doing my best not to let my professor’s cold stare affect me.
I took comfort in Blake’s warm, solid presence behind me.
When we reached the table, Blake pulled out a chair, which I sat in as gracefully as possible, a smile glued to my face.
He pulled out the chair next to mine, sitting in it close to me so that his thigh pressed against mine.
It was a reminder, we were a team, he had my back, and I didn’t have to worry because he’d take care of everything.
It was hard to believe it, especially when Trey raised an eyebrow and said, “Interesting choice of date.”
“I wanted to bring someone important to me, and Lucy’s important to me,” he said simply.
“Well, she is your ward,” Trey said, trying to dispel the awkwardness.
“That’s not why I brought her,” Blake said.
The professor said nothing, but her pursed lips said everything.
I opened my mouth to say something, also wanting to break the ice, but Blake squeezed my thigh under the table, and I shut it.
The four of us were silent as waiters placed salads in front of us. Blake flagged one down before they walked away.
“She’s allergic to carrots,” he said. “Please go make her a salad with no carrots, and make sure it hasn’t touched carrots.”
He knew about my allergy? Although I guess he did have that dossier on me.
As if he sensed my surprise, he said, “I know everything about you, Lucy. Everything.” He said it loudly, his eyes trained on Trey and his sister, as if daring them to say anything. Neither did, although the professor’s face looked even more sour.
They still didn’t say anything when the waiter brought me a salad, and Blake began to eat. I ate too, calmed slightly by the feeling of his hand on my thigh, and the knowledge that I still had his cum inside me.
The people across the table from us, unaware of the tension, tried to draw us into conversation.
Blake chatted and joked with them easily, and usually I would have too, but I was too deep in my emotion and wonder.
I loved the way he took care of me, the way he knew me, from the big things to the little details, to his solidness and steadiness and control.
I especially loved the way I could make his control snap.
I loved him so much, and I wanted—no, needed—to tell him.
Even if he didn’t say it back, I was going to be brave, because I was always brave.
I wasn’t hiding from it anymore, and if he broke my heart… well, better now than later.
But first I needed to pee and then psych myself up.
I excused myself from the table, Coach’s eyes trailing me, a concerned question sharpening their deep green color.
I waved him off and walked out of the ballroom, steeling myself against the whispers.
Coach and I had made an entrance, after all, and while some people might wave it away as a kind thing he’d done for his legal ward, others may have sensed the sexual tension between us, seen the way he’d placed his hand on my back, and made other, more accurate assumptions.
In the bathroom, a lavish affair with plush seating and ornate gold bordered mirrors, I peed, a little mystified by just how much of Coach’s cum had dried between my thighs.
I really should have been grossed out, but instead it filled me with pride.
I felt claimed, felt owned in a hot, safe, and perfect way, and I was going to cling to that feeling as I told him how I felt.
After finishing up, I flushed and went to go wash my hands, rehearsing the “Blake, I love you” in my head when someone joined me at the sinks. Glancing in the mirror, I froze, my professor’s harsh glare staring back at me.
“You look lovely,” I offered, because what the fuck else was I supposed to say?
“You look like jailbait,” she said.
My mouth fell open.
“Big, perky tits, long blonde hair, longer legs…no wonder he wants you. A lot of men would turn into animals when it comes to a hot eighteen-year-old willing to spread her thighs for the slightest hint of affection. Girls with daddy issues.” She tsked. “Men fall for it every time.”
My teeth were clenched so tight, my jaw hurt. “Do you have a point?”
She laughed, cruel and wicked. “They fall for it…at first. But see, while they may be attracted to youth, they get bored quickly. At the end of the day, they want a partner who can match them, hold a conversation with them. Make them laugh. Let me give you some advice from experience you’re too young to have had yourself.
Being a slut only gets you so far in life, and the man or men you’re a slut for now will disappear later, leaving you with nothing. ”
She grinned at herself, satisfied.
“Professor, thank you,” I said.
She turned to me, confused, expecting…I don’t know what, tears? “For?”
“For giving me an excuse to do this,” I said, and then, fisting my right hand like I’d seen Coach do, with my thumb on the outside to protect it, I slung it in her direction, punching her directly in the nose.
She screamed. It was really satisfying, although not as satisfying as the blood dripping down her nose, pooling at her chin, making her pretty face look macabre, and well…
not quite so pretty. Honestly, it made up for how fucking much my right hand hurt, and it hurt a lot…
worse than my left wrist, which was still in its brace.
I’d never punched another woman in my life, but she’d fucking deserved it, and I felt not even a speck of remorse.
Shaking out my hand, I turned to leave, ignoring her pained, shocked cries as she covered her bleeding nose with her hand. Then, I stopped and turned back to face the mirror, catching her glance.
“Professor? You’re a real cunt. I honestly hope you learn how not to be, or you’re going to be alone for a very, very long time. You can take your intercollegiate veterinary program and shove it up your ass next to the stick there. I bet it’s the most action you’ll get.”
With that, I blew a kiss at the mirror and left her crying in the bathroom, making my way back to the ballroom. I had a man to tell that I loved him, after all.