The Dean by Cassie Mint

Six

James

Her key doesn’t slide into the lock until after 9pm. I pause in the living room, where I’ve been wearing a hole in the carpet, pacing back and forth.

I know Charlotte’s friend went with her to the viewing. But did she have to switch off her phone? I’ve been going insane with worry, gruesome images flashing before my eyes of Charlotte hurt or held captive by some maniac.

“What the hell?” I prowl forward as soon as she appears in the doorway, bundled up in her dove gray pea coat. Charlotte blinks at me, surprised, but there’s no mistaking the shadows under her eyes. The tired slump to her shoulders.

I forcibly soften my voice. “Charlotte. Why didn’t you call? I thought something might have happened to you at that viewing.”

Her mouth forms an ‘O’, her hand twitching towards me, but she snatches it back. “Oh god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think—I went to my friends’ place to watch a movie.”

My eyes drift closed, and the tension drains from my body. Suddenly, I am bone-deep tired.

“Good.” It’s all I can manage. “As long as you’re safe.”

“I was. I am.” She steps forward, timid, and with effort, I open my eyes.

She’s blinding. So beautiful, I can hardly breathe. Maybe she’s right—we shouldn’t be around each other so much. Except the thought of not seeing her every day, of not wandering through the living room and seeing her curled on the sofa, painting her nails…

I can’t bear it. Maybe I’m a monster, but I can’t bear for her to leave.

“Turn down the apartment.”

She snorts. “No fear. There were cockroaches in the bathroom.” She’s unwinding her scarf from around her neck, only half listening to me, dropping the pile of soft wool onto the coffee table. Truffle appears from nowhere, pouncing on the scarf’s end.

“No, Charlotte. Listen to me. Don’t view any others, okay? Stay here.” I swallow. “Stay here with me.”

“But…” She turns to me at last, those big blue eyes fixed solely on me. My battered heart flips over in my chest. “I can’t stay here forever.”

“Why can’t you?”

She laughs, but it’s more shocked than amused. “You don’t want me here full time—”

“Yes, I do.” I step closer. I can’t help myself. I’ve been torturing myself for weeks, straining the last threads of my self control to make sure that I don’t cross any lines. But since waking up with her in my bed, since seeing her eyes wet with tears in the office—my restraint has worn thin.

I’m dancing on a knife’s edge. And suddenly I don’t care about what happens if I fall.

“Stay.” My hand grips her elbow first. Then smooths up to her shoulder. And even through layers of fabric, I can feel her warmth. Her soft skin. “Don’t look for anywhere else. Don’t take yourself away from me.”

“James,” she whispers, something like hope dawning in her eyes.

This is insane. She’s half my age. My assistant. My best friend’s daughter. There are a thousand and one reasons why this can’t happen, but right now, I’ve forgotten them all.

“Sweetheart.” My head dips and I trace my nose along her hairline. She smells so fucking good, I want to bottle her and spray her on my pillow. “Please just tell me. Why were you crying earlier?”

Her fingers clutch at my waist, tugging my shirt. Pulling me closer. Closer.

“I… I don’t…”

“Tell me.” My command ripples over her. She shivers, legs wobbling where she stands.

“Leona said something nice to me.”

“That’s good.” I make a mental note of her friend’s face from earlier. If she needs anything at college, she can come to me. “What did she say?”

“That she doesn’t want gifts from me. She just wants to be my friend.”

I sort through that statement, turning it over in my mind. “Was that even in question?” It’s nonsense. Of course Charlotte is enough on her own. She’s the most charming person who ever popped into existence. She’s perfect.

She gusts out a breath. “I guess not.”

I hum. Nip at her earlobe. “Definitely not.” She freezes, but not from fear—never mind her pulse tapping frantically in her throat. Charlotte is practically melting against me, begging for more contact, more sweet words from me, just more.

Why the hell have I been denying her this? Denying us both? I’m such a fool.

“Charlotte.” My palm spreads over her back. Anchors her tight to me, so tight my heart slams against my rib cage trying to reach her. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh.” It comes out in a little squeak. “Um, okay.”

“Tell me to stop.” She shakes her head, mute, and tilts her chin up. Offers her sweet mouth; those plump, rosebud lips that have been haunting my nights. I stare at them, not willing to rush this moment, heat rushing under my skin.

“Please,” she whispers, and that’s it. My patience shatters, and my mouth crashes down on hers.

It’s desperate. Longing. Tender, but with teeth. We grip each other tight enough to bruise, like we’re both scared that the other will slip away. And how ridiculous that she’s afraid of that—that she could possibly think I’d ever let her go. I was doomed from the moment I saw her at the airport, and feeling her crushed against my body has sealed our fate.

This is it.

I can never go back.

Her tiny whimpers make my cock surge to life. I want to wring those noises out of her again; I want her moaning, sobbing, wrecked. I’ve got a PhD, have been a professor in my time, but this will be the great study of my life—the study of Charlotte’s pleasure.

“Charlotte.” She scrapes her teeth over my throat and I groan. My hand plunges into her hair, wrapping her blonde locks around my fist. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to take control. To boss her around, the way I know she likes.

“Charlotte,” I snap, and the shudder than runs through her is so fierce, I feel it in my bones. She pauses, panting against my neck, her hands tugging so hard on my shirt the fabric might rip.

I don’t care. She can rip what she likes. But first, I’ll take her apart, piece by piece. I’ll prove to her, once and for all, that I know exactly what her body needs. That no other man can make her feel like I can.

“Sit on the coffee table. Right in the center.” Her feet trip over the rug as she hurries to obey. She still has her ankle boots and pencil skirt on, her stockings covering her legs and disappearing beneath the hem. Her cream blouse is rucked to one side, a flash of lacy lilac bra peeking through, and fuck.

Concentrate.

I don’t speak again as I walk to her. As I kneel before her on the rug, undoing her boots with steady hands. To her, I must seem unruffled and calm. Barely affected by our kiss. But inside, I’m a maelstrom of emotion and hunger, a twisted mess of raw need.

I place her boots neatly to one side. Truffle tackles one immediately, knocking the boot over and spooking herself. She rockets into the kitchen in a ball of startled fur, and I smirk at Charlotte.

“It’s for the best. I’d rather she didn’t see this.”

“See… what…”

She sounds dazed already, swaying where she sits. I kneel in front of her, placing a hand on either thigh, and nudge her legs open.

“Oh my god.” Her eyes are glassy, fixed on mine.

“Close enough.” I rub two small circles with my thumbs. “Do you want to come, sweet girl?”

She nods so hard, her teeth rattle. Charlotte squirms closer, her legs bracketing my hips.

“I’ll make you feel good.” It’s a promise. The most solemn oath I’ve ever taken.

“Please,” she breathes. “I need it. I need you so bad.”

I don’t deserve this. No man could possibly deserve a declaration like that, but I’m a greedy bastard, so I’ll take it. And guard it. This girl is mine. And I prove it to her, devouring her mouth and plunging my tongue between those lips.

Charlotte moans, sucking on my tongue, and I nearly blow right there. I pull back, resting my forehead against hers.

“What do you wear under these tight little skirts?” I creep one palm up the inside of her thigh, smoothing over the silken stocking. “I’ve been wondering. It’s been driving me insane. Do you know how many times I had to bite down on my wrist, had to bring myself some fucking relief with you just next door?”

“No,” she hiccups, squirming under my steady touch. “I d-didn’t know that.”

“Now you do.” The crack of my other hand against her ass makes her jump; makes heat flood over her cheeks. I rub the same spot, soothing the sting away. “What would you have done if you’d known?”

“I’d have come into your office,” she says at once, so fast it must be instinctual. “Come and knelt under your desk. Sucked—sucked you better.”

“That’s a good girl.” Her reply has knocked the floor from under me, chased the breath from my lungs, but I don’t let it show. My hand is steady as it slides higher up her thigh.

“Oh.” She screws her eyes shut, biting down on her lip when my fingertips graze lace. She’s hot and damp, her pulse practically throbbing through her panties.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask through gritted teeth. I will if she tells me, though I might lose my sanity in the process.

“Don’t you dare.” She grabs at my shoulders, clutching my shirt as if to hold me in place. “I’ve—I’ve wanted this too—”

I can’t hear anymore. Not if I want to do this right. So I hook her panties to the side, and run the pad of one finger along her seam, holding her in place by the hip as she bucks towards my touch.

“Easy,” I murmur, delving between her folds. Finding the sensitive nub of her clit and teasing her there. She arches her back, her breasts pillowy against my chest, and I’ve never heard a sweeter sound than her whimpers.

She’s slick.

Wanting.

So sensitive, she’s on a hair trigger. I’ve barely slid two fingers inside her before she’s twitching, clamping down on my hand, her muscles spasming as she comes. I work her through it, pumping in and out, teasing her clit with the pad of my thumb. And when she slumps against my shoulder, her flushed forehead resting on my collarbone, triumph curls my top lip.

“That’s just the beginning,” I promise her. “You’ll beg for relief before I’m done with you.”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles thickly, a lock of hair caught on her lip. She swipes it away as she sits up, eyes narrowed. “Let me—”

The doorbell rings as she reaches for my belt. We both freeze, too muddled to move.

“Who—” we both begin to speak at the same time. Then a voice echoes through my front door down the hallway.

“James! Guess who’s in the area, you old bastard?”

Charlotte stares up at me in horror.

Her father.