Chapter 13 #2
I keep my face blank. “Like I mentioned, he’s my advisor. And my professor.”
He leans in, so close his breath stirs the edge of my notebook.
“Relax,” he whispers. “All I’m saying is that you need to get with the picture, Simone.
I care about you. I want you to do better than some washed-up old dude with flab on his belly.
” He flashes a smile, and for the first time, I see it’s a weapon, not an invitation.
I glance up, meeting his eyes for a half-second before looking away. “That’s not what’s happening,” I say. It sounds pathetic, even to me.
Dylan shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me. Just letting you know, people are watching. I’m watching.”
He lingers, letting the words sink in. Then he stands, gives Andie a nod, and walks away—leaving the scent of chlorine, sweat, and threat in his wake.
Andie’s eyes are huge. “What the actual fuck was that? Why did he come back a second time?”
I try to steady my hands. “I don’t know. I guess some people are just crazy.”
She leans in, voice low and urgent. “Simone. Tell me what’s going on.”
I want to tell her everything, but I can’t—because it’s not just my secret, and because the room suddenly feels like a stage with all the spotlights aimed right at us. Instead, I pretend to check my phone.
“I need to find a book for my paper,” I say, standing too fast. “I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t believe me, but she lets me go.
I text Liam before I even leave the reading room: DYLAN JUST APPROACHED ME AGAIN. HE SAID PEOPLE ARE WATCHING.
The reply is immediate. Where are you?
I tell him: Library. Back stacks.
Don’t leave. I’ll find you.
A minute later, a message: Go to the private study room on the third floor. 3F. It’s usually open. I’m on my way.
I weave through the book maze, ducking between shelves, paranoia lighting up my skin with every squeak of a shoe or scrape of a chair.
At the far end of the third floor, past the rows of government documents nobody’s touched since the Bush administration, there’s a small study room.
I slide in, close the door, and lower the blind.
For sixty seconds, all I can hear is my own heartbeat, thumping in my throat.
Then the door opens, and he’s there.
Liam in a gray tweed jacket, collared shirt, hair just rumpled enough that he looks like he’s been dragging his hands through it all day. He moves fast, checks the hallway, then shuts the door behind him with a click.
He looks at me, and I almost lose it—because the concern on his face is the exact opposite of everything I just got from Dylan. It’s real.
“What happened?” he says, voice raw.
“He cornered me. Twice! He knows, Liam, he knows! He said people are watching. He said I could do better.” My breath stutters on the last word.
Liam’s mouth is a grim, hard line. “Did he touch you?”
I shake my head, but the anger behind his eyes makes me wish I could say yes, just to see what he’d do.
“He’s just…he’s everywhere. I don’t know how to get away from him.”
Liam crosses to me, all the self-control gone from his posture. He grabs my hands, holds them between his palms, the heat of him grounding me. “I’ll handle it,” he says, low and fierce. “You don’t have to talk to him again.”
I nod, but the shaking won’t stop.
He pulls me into his arms, and for the first time in hours, I feel safe. I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the coffee and cedar and the faintest ghost of my own perfume, still lingering from the last time I was pressed against him like this.
For a second, I forget the world outside.
Then there’s a noise in the hallway—a laugh, a cough, the rattle of a cart. We both freeze.
He breaks the hug, but doesn’t let go of my hands. “We need to be more careful,” he says. “No more meeting on campus. Not until after finals. Not until—”
I pull my hands away, sudden and sharp. “I can’t go back out there. I can’t look at him again.”
Liam’s jaw tightens. “That asshole is bluffing. He has nothing.”
I want to believe him, but the trembling in my hands won’t stop. I press my forehead to his shirt, the fabric stiff but clean, warm from his skin.
“We have to be more careful,” I say.
Liam nods, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he traces a slow, steady circle against my lower back, grounding me. “Like I said, we’ll stop meeting on campus,” he says, voice firmer now. “Only at my place. Or somewhere safe. At least until you graduate.”
I look up, and his blue eyes are backlit by the glow of the lamp, irises so dark they could swallow me whole.
He kisses me, and it’s nothing like the frantic, desperate hookups we’ve had in storage closets and dark classrooms. This is deliberate, slow, a promise and a warning.
His hand cups the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, and I can’t believe the heat between us.
We just spoke about being careful, and yet the tension between us is undeniable.
My body is already humming, every nerve on high alert. He moves us backward, slow and careful, until my hips are against the edge of the desk. I brace myself with both palms, tilt my chin, and let him kiss down my neck, each brush of his lips an apology for every terrible thing I’ve had to endure.
I whisper, “I thought we were going to be more careful. Someone could walk by.”
Liam grins, teeth white and wolfish. “This room is soundproofed and there are no windows. No one can see us.”
The words go straight to the softest part of me.
I part my legs without thinking, and he slides between them, the pressure perfect, the heat of him intoxicating.
His hands are everywhere—up my thighs, under my sweater, ghosting the edge of my bra before moving higher to cup my breast, thumb grazing my nipple through the cotton.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning, but he sees the struggle and smirks. “You always try to be so quiet,” he whispers. “But I like it when you’re loud.”
He pushes me back a little, careful with my hips but not delicate. The way he handles me is always a little rough, like he wants to see what I’ll do if he pushes just a bit harder.
“You’re wearing a skirt,” he observes, voice low and thick. “Did you wear this for me?”
I shake my head, but it’s a lie and he knows it because I always dress for Liam now.
He tugs the fabric up, fingers skating over the band of my panties, tracing the edge where thigh meets ass. He doesn’t go straight for my pussy, not yet. Instead, he slips his hand around to the back, palm spreading over my right cheek, squeezing hard enough to leave a print.
“You have any idea what this does to me?” he asks, kissing behind my ear. “The way you walk into class, knowing I’m the only one who gets to fuck you?”
He pulls me forward, and I feel his cock straining against his pants, already leaking. He grinds slow against my clothed center, and the friction is enough to make me gasp.
He slides a hand between my legs, fingers pressing the wet heat of my panties. He cups me, lets his finger drag up the soaked cotton, then back down, teasing. “Always so wet for me,” he murmurs.
I want to say something back, something biting and clever, but the words get lost in the haze of his touch. I squirm, needing more, but he’s in no hurry.
He brings his other hand up, and for a second I think he’s going to push inside me. Instead, he hooks his thumb under my panties and pulls them to the side, exposing my glistening pussy to the cool air and the heat of his gaze.
“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he rasps, blue eyes fixed to my pink flesh. He strokes the outer lips, slow and reverent, then dips one finger in, just barely, drawing out my arousal.
“Ooooh!” I squeal softly, my head falling back, golden hair like a waterfall. “Unnnh, Professor Thomas!”
He lifts his hand, lets the lamplight catch the slickness coating his finger, and brings it to my mouth. “Taste yourself,” he growls, and I open without thinking, suck his finger clean, moaning around the salt and musk of my own desire.
He groans, like the sound is pain and pleasure all at once. “Fuck, I’m obsessed with you, Simone.”
He moves fast now, hikes my skirt higher, and kneels between my thighs. He spreads me open, tongue flat and wet against my clit, and the shock of it makes my head slam back against the wall. The pain is sharp, but I ignore it.
“Ooooh!” I squeal softly again. “Unnnh!”
Liam grins.
“Your horny little kitty needs attention, doesn’t she? She needs what only Daddy can provide.”
Then, he laps at me, slow at first, then building to fast, hard circles that have me trembling and digging my nails into the edge of the desk.
“Daddy,” I pant. “Oh god…”
He adds a finger, then two, working them in with relentless precision, curling them to hit the spot inside that makes me see stars. His tongue never leaves my clit, and the combination is brutal, perfect.
I can’t help it. I grab his hair, desperate, pulling him closer as I come hard, legs squeezing around his head. I cry out, not caring who hears, and he keeps going, keeps licking until the aftershocks have me panting and pleading.
When he finally stands, his chin is slick with me. He wipes it with the back of his hand, then kisses me hard, letting me taste myself on his lips.
“I want you so bad,” he says, voice ragged. “But I can’t risk it here. Not now.”
I nod, but I’m already undoing his belt, wanting to feel him, needing to finish what he started.
He laughs, a real laugh, and helps me. In seconds, his cock is out—hard, flushed, leaking—and he strokes the massive length, slow and teasing.
“Turn around,” he says, and I do, bracing my hands against the desk, skirt bunched around my waist, flashing my wet pussy at him. I even wiggle my hips, trying to tempt the handsome man.
“Put it in, Professor,” I coo over my shoulder. “Make me work for it. Make me earn that A.”
Liam chuckles harshly and drags the head of his cock through my wetness, pressing just inside, then pulls back. He does this over and over, making me whine, until I’m shaking.
“You want it?” he asks. “Your cunt’s certainly wet enough to take a huge dick.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.”
He pushes in, slow and steady, stretching me, filling me until I can’t breathe. He sets a punishing rhythm, every thrust driving me forward, my cheek pressed to the cool desktop, hands clawing at the slick laminate.
He leans over me, chest to my back, and bites my shoulder through my sweater. “You’re mine,” he growls. “Nobody else’s.”
I believe it. I want it. I would let him do anything to me.
He reaches around, fingers rubbing my clit in tight, fast circles, and I come again, this time harder, almost blacking out from the intensity. He fucks me through it, pace rough, until he’s about to finish.
“Oh shit,” Liam pants, his balls rising as his come shoot begins to pulse. “You’re so tight, baby. Your horny pussy always does this to me. Oh shit oh shit oh shit!”
He pulls out just in time, spilling hot and wet all over my ass and thighs, painting me with the sticky flood of his jizz.
“Fuck!” he bites out, spraying directly at my pussy as I moan and hold myself open for him.
“Yes, put it in here, Daddy,” I coo breathlessly. “I love getting your jizz in my fertile teen pussy where it belongs. Mmmmm.”
The words only make him come harder, the jets of his sperm pulsing powerfully from that thick firehose as they splash against me, creamy and hot.
“Fuck!” he bites out again. “Shit shit shit!”
My dirty professor comes for what feels like an eternity, letting out a gallon of come against my ivory backside. I love every part of it, cooing and praising him through his relentless climax. Finally, Liam collapses against me, breath harsh, and for a second neither of us can move.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
My heart stops. I jerk upright, yanking my skirt down and grabbing for my panties. Of course, my legs and thighs are slick with his jism, but it won’t be immediately apparent. Liam’s hand is still on my hip, but he lets go, steps back, tucking himself away with frantic efficiency.
“Occupied!” he calls, voice almost steady.
We scramble—me fixing my hair, him smoothing his jacket—just as the door handle jiggles.
“Library closes in ten,” says a voice. “You have to clear out.”
I bite back a laugh, the tension breaking all at once. Liam looks at me, hair wild and cheeks flushed, and we both start giggling, unable to stop.
He pulls me into his arms, hugs me tight, and kisses my forehead. “We can’t do this again,” he says in a low tone. “Not here.”
I nod, trying to look serious. “No more risky hookups.”
He kisses me again, soft and slow. “Next time, my place.”
“Next time,” I promise, breathless.
We wait until the footsteps fade, then slip out of the room separately. Liam disappears with one last wave, turning the corner. Then, I go back and collect my stuff from the table.
“Everything alright?” Andie asks, a suspicious look on her face.
“Yeah fine,” I say with a fake yawn while slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “I’m going to head back to the room, I’m beat.”
Andie looks like she wants to say something but nods.
“Yeah, sure.”
With a smile, I take the elevator down and then walk out into the night, air icy and sharp, legs still shaking.
I know I should be scared, should be careful, should play by the rules.
But all I want is more.
The danger is half the fun.
And with Liam, I never want to be safe.