Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Rose
The academy halls are loud as students pour back in after Yule break, comparing holiday stories and shouting about the expensive gifts they got, and family drama. I already miss the peace and quiet.
Drake materializes beside me, so solid now that a passing student actually bumps into his shoulder and mutters an apology, one that I didn’t get when the guy stepped on my foot.
He leans against the wall next to me, our shoulders touching.
I fidget with the locket hanging around my neck, a new habit I’ve developed since Ash gave it to me.
Drake’s eyes follow the movement. “Still wearing it?”
I drop my hand. “It’s the only thing I have from my family’s past. I kind of like feeling connected to them, even if Abigail was, well, you know.”
He knows, but he just nods. “First day back to class. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I push off the wall. “Soren first thing this morning. Advanced Shielding.”
Drake’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “Try to actually learn something.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” But I know exactly what he means, and the heat rising to my cheeks gives me away.
“Pretty sure you’ll be distracted.” Drake kisses my temple, his lips warm and real. “I’ll see you later?”
“You absolutely will.”
I watch him walk away, still in disbelief at how physical he is now, how present. Every day I expect him to start fading again, but if anything, he seems more solid than ever. Whatever my magic is doing is working. For now, at least.
The classroom is already half-full when I arrive. I slide quickly into a seat, trying to avoid eye contact. Despite everything that’s happened, or maybe because of it, I’m still the odd one out.
Soren strolls in five minutes late, and every student sits up straighter, eyes tracking him as he moves to the front of the room.
He’s dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose those tattoos that wind up his forearms, and a waistcoat that’s fitted to his insanely chiseled abs.
His dark hair is artfully messy, like someone’s been running their hands through it.
Someone, in fact, was, just a few hours ago. I duck my head trying to hide my smile.
“Welcome back, everyone,” Soren says, his voice bringing back from last night to the present. “Today we’re moving into advanced techniques,” he continues, perching on the edge of his desk.
His eyes find mine across the room, and I suddenly become very interested in my notebook.
For the rest of the class, I try to focus on the lecture, but it’s nearly impossible.
Soren keeps finding reasons to look at me, his gaze lingering just a beat too long.
At one point, he leans over my desk to examine my notes, his breath warm against my ear as he says things no professor should be saying to his student, before straightening and continuing on as if nothing happened.
When the class is over, I take my time gathering my things, letting the other students file out ahead of me. Soren busies himself at his desk, not looking up until the last student closes the door behind them.
“Lock it,” he says without glancing up from the papers he’s pretending to organize.
I hesitate, then flick my wrist, hearing the lock click into place. “This is completely unprofessional,” I tell him, approaching his desk.
“Is it?” He looks up, all innocence.
I step closer, into his space. “You’re my professor.”
“And you’re a grown woman.” His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face.
“You’re terrible.”
“I am.” He dips his head, lips hovering just above mine. “But I’m also very, very good.”
His hands settle on my hips, pulling me between his legs as he sits back on the desk.
“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” I murmur against his lips, even as my hands are already undoing the buttons of his waistcoat.
“Probably not,” he agrees, his fingers sliding under my shirt. “But when has that ever stopped us?”
It doesn’t stop us now, either.
In a swift motion, Soren grips my hips and spins me around, pushing me forward until I’m bent over his desk, palms flat against the wood. His body covers mine from behind, one hand tangled in my hair, the other sliding around to unbutton my jeans.
“This is what you do to me in class,” he growls, his voice low in my ear. “Every time you bite your lip when you’re concentrating, every time you look up at me through those lashes...”
I try to respond, but his hand tightens in my hair, pulling my head back slightly, and all I can manage is a gasp. His other hand has my jeans undone now, tugging them down my hips along with my underwear. The cool air of the classroom hits my exposed skin, making me shiver.
“Someone could walk in,” I whisper, even as I press back against him, feeling his cock hard against my ass.
“Door’s locked, remember? But the risk is half the fun, isn’t it?”
He’s right, damn him. My body is already responding, heat flooding between my legs despite the danger.
I hear the sound of his zipper, then feel him, hot and hard, sliding against me. He teases me, running his length along my wetness without entering. I bite my lip to keep from begging.
“Ask for it,” he commands, his mouth at my ear. “I want you to ask for it, Rose.”
“Please.” It comes out breathless.
“Please what?” He tugs gently on my hair again.
“Please fuck me, Professor.”
He groans, then pushes into me in one smooth thrust that makes me gasp, my fingers grabbing the edge of the desk. He fills me completely, the stretch almost too much after how we were last night. I push back against him anyway, wanting more, needing it.
“Fuck.” His rhythm is already rapid. “You feel so good.”
The desk creaks beneath us as Soren pounds into me, every thrust sending more papers flying, pens rolling off the edge to clatter on the floor. I don’t care. I can’t think about anything except how he’s making my body feel.
“Harder.” I’m past caring if someone in the hallway might hear.
Soren obliges. The sound of skin against skin fills the room along with my moans. I’m completely at his mercy, wanton and exposed, and I love it. Love the way the danger of being discovered—doing what we’re doing, where we’re doing it—makes me so turned on I think I’m going to lose my mind.
“Touch yourself.”
I do as he says, and slide one hand beneath me, two fingers on my clit, the extra sensation pushing me closer to the edge as he continues to drive into me from behind.
“That’s it.” Soren is watching over my shoulder. “Let me see you come, little witch.”
It doesn’t take long. The tension twists itself up, winding tighter and tighter, until I come with a cry that Soren muffles by turning my head and covering my mouth with his own.
He stays inside me while I ride out the last flutters of my orgasm, then pulls out moments later, helping me turn around to face him on shaky legs.
“But you didn’t—”
“I’m not some teenage boy who can’t control himself. I can last for a very long time. Hours, if I want to.”
I feel myself blushing, even after what we just did. “Oh.”
He pulls me close, his lips brushing against my ear.
“Sometimes things are better when you delay them. The anticipation makes everything more intense.” His hands slide down to cup my bare ass, squeezing gently.
“Besides, I want to savor this. The image of you bent over my desk is going to get me through my afternoon lectures.”
I laugh, reaching down to pull up my jeans. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m an incubus, darling.” He helps me straighten my clothes, his fingers lingering. He winks, then gestures to the door. “Now go before my next class starts wondering why the door is locked.”
I slip out, cheeks flushed, trying not to look like I just had my professor bend me over and fuck me. Based on the knowing look a passing senior gives me, I’m probably not succeeding.