Chapter 47 Xade
XADE
It's barely morning, but time already limps by, one excruciating minute lumbering into the next. The sisters have settled in their seats, but not Avalynne. Her empty desk takes a cheese grater to the remains of my nerves.
I check my watch. She's cutting it close this morning, though that in and of itself is not unusual. The girl has a penchant for it like she gets a morsel of masochistic enjoyment from toeing the edge of the line.
I still blink at her uninhabited seat when a body bumbles through the door, sending it smacking into the wall. I look up to find Avalynne floundering, her shoes skidding on the slippery stone floor.
I check my watch once more.
One minute to spare on the dot.
Of. Course.
She better not think that just because we fucked, I'll let her skimp in class. I feel the grater shredding my nerves down to the core.
She steadies herself and walks to my desk. With two fingers, I push a steaming cup of coffee over to her.
"You're late, Clarissima Stella," I grumble as the nuns busy themselves.
Avalynne's bright blue eyes settle on me, and that perfidious organ misfires beneath my ribs. Fingers wrapping the coffee cup, she leans across the expanse of the desk and peers down at my watch, reading it upside down.
"I'm not late." She smiles at me, all bothersome sunshine and radiance. "I'm right on time."
She brings her coffee close to her chest and winks at me. "Thanks for the coffee, Professor."
I blink at her.
The strawberry-blonde hellfire did not just argue with me about this.
If I say she's late, she's late.
If I say the moon is purple, the moon is purple.
If I say the damned world is a hexagon, the world is a fucking hexagon.
This. Is. My. Domain.
"Arriving to my class with less than a minute to spare is late," I retort. "You need to be in your chair, books open, and pencil at the ready when class begins, Ms. Immorier."
Her decadent mouth falls open before one of the nuns sends a tower of books toppling to the floor. As Avalynne turns her back to me and walks to her desk, I mentally tabulate all the ways I plan to teach her time management.
One—I'll screw her nice and slow and have her count the seconds until I allow her to come.
Two—I'll spank her ass pink with my ruler while she watches the clock.
Three—I'll have her deep-throat my dick while I stop-watch the seconds until I let her breathe.
I savor the daydreams too much before the stiff plank of wood beneath my ass reminds me I'm in my classroom. In front of a flock of nuns.
Calm down, Xade.
Now, I've never been one to partake in the whole student-professor fantasy, but something about the girl in white in the front row brings out all my idiosyncrasies. It was a deviance that's metamorphosing into a full-fledged fetish.
I love how she looks at me, all adoration and naughty thoughts, before she purrs the word Professor in my ear.
And how she bites her lip and grins from her seat before raising her hand.
And how a blush arcs across her freckled cheeks when I tell her to be a good girl and do her work.
Remember where you are, Xade!
"Professor Thatcher," Sister EllaMae calls from the front row, "could I ask you about The Codex Amiatinus, please?
The fucking what? I double-blink at her, trying to recall my brain back to this plane of existence.
"Of course," I manage.
The sister prattles off a series of questions, and by the end of our nearly thirty-minute discussion, I sincerely doubt my competency to teach anyone anything at any point going forward.
My impertinent thoughts refuse to be corralled and remain preoccupied by my vexation on the front row.
Sister EllaMae's questions begin a shitty day, one during which I am distracted to the point of utter incompetence. Granted, Avalynne's not spreading her legs and showing me her pretty pussy this morning, but she asks more questions than she ever has.
"Professor, could you help me with this math problem?"
"Professor, I don't understand this passage."
"Professor, I'm confused about the Law of Attraction."
P.S. There is no Law of Attraction, and we both know it. It's pseudoscience at best.
Her cannonade of questions continues for hours until, finally, at nearly the end of the day, I want nothing more than to drag her from her desk, press her to the wall, and show her the consequences of playing with fire.
But I can't.
Not yet.
Not until …
The room clears for the evening, and as the door closes, her ocean-laced irises rise to mine, and she raises her hand.
"Yes, Ms. Immorier?" I say, cocking a lone eyebrow at her.
"Professor," she says, the word honeyed, "will you help me with …"
I rise abruptly from my desk, my chair yowling as it scrapes the floor, and stride toward her. I raise a hand to stop her question.
"Don't finish that." I stalk closer. Mere inches of the desk divide us now. "You may ask me one more question today, Avalynne, and I suggest you make it worth it."
She smiles, showing a sliver of teeth between her parted lips.
"Professor," she murmurs, her gaze hooded, "will you kiss me?"
Fuck.
I lean across the desk and grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, bringing her in close. The warmth of my breath skirts her lips with my words.
"Only good students get rewarded, Avalynne," I tell her, "but you can beg me for it."
Then I turn away from her, leaving her gawking at me.
"Where are you going?" she sounds to my back.
"My quarters." I gather my belongings from the desk and head for the door. "Wait ten minutes after I leave, then follow."
Then, still without turning, I leave her alone in the classroom and walk back to my quarters. I leave the door unlocked as I head inside.
It's smaller than my place back in the city, but I have my own bathroom, bedroom, and kitchenette. Most importantly, I'm far away from the sisters' wing on the first floor.
I discard my jacket on the leathered wingback chair and loosen my tie, leaving it to dangle around my neck. Then I take a seat and wait. An eternity seems to pass before the doorknob turns, and my very best student walks inside.
The smell of sugar and sweets follows her, and I fill my lungs greedily.
"Xade." She looks around the dimly lit space until she spots me sitting in the corner, my ankle resting on my knee and my arms sprawled on either side of the chair.
She takes off her veil and her habit shirt, discarding them atop my jacket. Her thin undershirt catches on her pebbled nipples before her gaze rises to mine.
One breath, and she steps forward.
Two breaths, and I can hear the rapid flutter of her breathing.
Three breaths, and she crosses the room, and we collide.
Limbs.
Lust.
Longing.
I want it all.
Her back meets the wall as my hands find her wrists, caging them above her head. She gasps before a smile crosses her bubblegum-colored lips.
"You drove me insane today." My words are barely a susurration against her mouth.
"You drive me insane all the time, Professor."
She smiles before I cover her mouth with mine. Her taste floods me—sugared cherries and anticipation. She shivers beneath my touch, and I press against her, pinning her between me and the wall as I ravage her lips.
I don't want her this way, though, not now. I want her in my bed, her scent imprinting the sheets and weaving with the fibers so that she haunts me even in my dreams.
I wrench her away from the wall, and we stumble, a knot of greedy hands and scraping teeth, backward into my bedroom.
My fingers slide beneath her camisole, feathering smooth, soft flesh, before I tear the thin fabric away.
Her breath pushes past her teeth in fast bursts as I undress us both, leaving our clothing to litter the floor.
Her pale, perfect skin trembles at my touch, and when the last of her habit freckles the floor in white splotches, the ache in my chest unfurls.
Her bluebell-colored gaze drags over me before the quick intake of her breath feeds the inferno building between us.
I capture her hand between my own and send us tumbling over into my bed. She laughs when we hit the mattress and bounce. I want the symphony of her laughter to fill this hollow room, but right now, I need her.
I draw up onto my knees between her thighs, parting her legs as I do so. My head swims beneath a current of sugar and sin as I peer down at her.
She's breath-burning and reality-rending, sprawled across my bed and surrounded by dark sheets the color of charcoal and smoke. Her breasts quiver with each darting breath as goosebumps pepper her flesh.
I run my lips across her navel, and she gasps as she threads her fingers through my hair.
I kiss her lower, below her belly button, and she wriggles beneath me.
Lower still, my lips continue their assault.
"Xade," she pants when I finally bring my mouth to her core and taste her sweetness.
Salt, sex, sin, and sugar, it all melds into something uniquely hers, and fuck, I don't think I'll ever get enough.
She moans as her fingers dig into my scalp.
I kiss and lick, teasing her and relishing her every mewl and purr until my fingers grab hold of the inside of her thighs and spread her even wider.
Then I bury my face between her legs and thrust my tongue in and out of her, over and over again, until she's calling out my name between panted breaths.
"X … X … Xade …" she moans, quaking beneath me and worming in my bed.
The scent of her invades the room, catching in the back of my throat and clogging my nostrils as I bring my mouth to that bundle of nerves at her center and suck her through her climax. With one hand, I hold her down as she tries to squirm away from me and wrench the last of her orgasm from her.
Then I shift, positioning myself above her. I reach for my nightstand, ready to retrieve a condom out of my wallet, but she grabs my wrist.
"You don't have to," she tells me.
I blink at her. I'm going to need an explanation.