Wicked Lessons

OceanofPDF.com
SIGGY SHADE

OceanofPDF.com
 Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Siggy Shade

OceanofPDF.com
Copyright © 2022 by Siggy Shade

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author,
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

OceanofPDF.com
To everyone who loves the kind of morally gray hero who would burn down
the world for you

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter One

PHOENIX

I need a sugar daddy.

Right now.
Because my life is bleaker than the sunset dimming the sky. I trudge
down Marina High Street, numb with shock to the rumble of Saturday
evening traffic.
He really did it.
After years of threatening to abandon my spoiled ungrateful ass, Dad
finally left. I went back home this morning to find the house empty. No car
in the driveway, no furniture through the window, no note on the doorstep
with a forwarding address.
Just a key that would no longer turn in the lock and a head buzzing with
confusion. Dad is too well-connected in the underworld to be dead, and he’s
not offensive enough to get himself killed. He’s an accountant, at least that’s
what he claims, and I’ve never seen him carry a gun.
Couldn’t he have given me a clue last week or at least a final warning?
How am I going to fund my studies now that Dad just upped and
disappeared on me, and I can’t even reach him by phone?
 I sound selfish, but Dad is an asshole. He’s sexist, petty, and has a hair-
trigger temper… At least around me or anyone who can’t fight back.
He took custody of me when I was five out of spite, then spent every
spare moment ranting at me for the crime of being a woman.
My mouth pinches with resentment. He provided me with a roof over
my head, but it was leaky as shit with falling tiles. That’s why I can’t
muster up an ounce of concern about his sorry ass.
He’s also made me homeless because the only assets I have are my
books, my mobile phone, and whatever’s left in my bank account.
Actually, I’m overdrawn. That makes my situation even more desperate.
I pass all my favorite places on the high street: the Colombian coffee
shop, the boutique that sells students’ creations, but as I approach another
store with red-tinted windows, my steps falter.
There’s a silver Maserati parked outside the Red Room. And it’s the
exact kind Dad always wanted but could never afford.
The Red Room is one of those edgy independent shops on the high
street that sells smutty books, kinky toys, and exotic lingerie. Even their
sales assistant wears fetish clothes.
Every instinct calls at me to walk inside and drown my sorrows in a
steamy story, but my reading days are over. Books are now a luxury I won’t
be able to afford.
My better instincts tell me I should get a job. I remind those voices that
I owe the university a five-figure sum. There’s no way I can work and
complete the final year of my degree. At least not legally.
As I place a hand on the window, one of the customers walks into view
and stops at the display of leather cuffs. His deep mahogany hair is styled to
be short at the sides and swept back at the top. He’s turned away from me,
so all I can see of his face are sharp cheekbones.
“Bloody hell,” I whisper, the butterflies in my stomach stirring awake.
 The man is about six-foot four, wearing charcoal gray jeans with a black
blazer, and carries himself like one of Dad’s colleagues. Shoulders back,
body angled a little toward the exit, and his presence somehow filling the
entire space. It’s the standing equivalent of manspreading, only he’s doing it
with his aura.
My throat tightens, and all sentiments of abandonment evaporate in the
heat of my excitement. He’s dark, dangerous, and donning designer clothes.
And I’ve read enough dark romances to realize I could be on the brink
of attracting a sugar daddy.
What? Don’t judge me.
My real dad just disappeared without so much as a text to say ‘fuck-
you,’ and I’m not about to wrangle with loan sharks.
A shudder runs down my spine at the thought of what those men do to
girls who can’t pay their exorbitant interest rates. That’s never going to
happen.
“You can do this,” I say to myself because there’s no one else to give
me a pep talk. “Go in there and flirt like your life depends on it.”
(Because it does.)
I shove that last thought into the recesses of my mind. Desperation is
not attractive, and I don’t want to give off the air of an impoverished
student looking for a man to pay her bills. Besides, Mr. Tall, Decadent, and
Morally Grey looks tempting. A tad older than the guys at university, but
exactly what I need.
Feigning the confidence of a woman who shops at the Red Rooms every
day, I open the door and step inside. My nostrils fill with the mingled scents
of burned candles and incense. It’s pleasant, but nowhere near as alluring as
the man who has now moved on to peruse the leather paddles.
The overhead bell rings, and he turns toward the door.
A rush of nerves hits me all at once. What the hell am I doing? I’m not
dressed for a place like this. I’m not ready to meet someone so edgy. I
haven’t thought this through.
Our gazes meet, and a jolt of attraction zips down my spine, awakening
my libido.
His eyes are a vivid blue with green highlights that contrast with his
dark appearance, and they’re accentuated by thick lashes. He has brows
even darker than his hair, and a heavy stare that makes my knees tremble.
My heart lifts from its resting-place, propelled by hundreds of manic
butterflies. Every instinct tells me to drop my gaze, turn away because
looking at him is like taunting a predator.
But I can’t.
His presence is so magnetic, I find myself drifting toward him on thighs
that won’t stop trembling, knees that won’t stop wobbling, and a sensation
between my legs that gets hotter with each approaching step.
The man’s gaze lingers on my face with an intensity that borders on
physical touch. Then it flickers down my pastel pink cardigan and gray
maxi skirt.
This is what I have to wear to appease Dad. My outfit covers up every
inch of skin otherwise he’ll rant about temptresses, whores, and ungrateful
cunts. It’s the kind of outfit that would make me invisible to a man like Mr.
Morally Grey.
His gaze reaches my thick leather loafers, travels up my shapeless
outfit, and back to my face.
My breath catches. Will he look through the frumpy clothes and see my
potential?
His features shutter with a dismissal, and he turns to a display of
dressage whips.
The hope fluttering in my chest free falls into my stomach with a
painful thud. His rejection burns the back of my throat like acid. I try to
swallow down the disappointment, but it returns with a sting of reflux.
The man should have at least been drawn in by my face.
 Dad says I look like my mother, a woman I only remember as having
pale gray eyes and a dazzling smile. It’s the reason why he never allowed
me to wear makeup. My stomach tightens, and I push away the void of loss.
If I can’t get him with my looks, then I’ll have to find another way to
capture his attention.
I scan the store, looking for my opportunity, and my gaze catches on to
the man at the counter, who gives me a hopeful smile. He’s as tall as Mr.
Morally Grey but skinny with prominent eyes, a weak chin, and an Adam’s
apple that bobs up and down and around the collar around his neck.
Sauntering up to him, I run a finger over my cardigan’s high collar, and
keep my real target in my line of sight. He pays me no attention, but his
presence radiates across the store. I’d know his location even with my eyes
closed.
“Hi there,” I say, my voice breathy. “What kind of restraints do you
have to hold a girl down during the hardest of rides?”
Mr. Morally Grey stills, and my heart does a triple backflip. It’s
working.
The assistant flips his long hair. He has that grungy rocker look that my
friend Charlotte would find attractive, but I prefer my men clean cut. Clean
cut like the man standing in my periphery, who has now turned his body
away from the door and to my direction.
I don’t hear the assistant’s response because I’m so consumed by the
presence of my potential sugar daddy. When he stops speaking, I drop my
gaze to the silver tag on his collar that says NICK.
“Mmmm,” I say, making my voice throaty. “What else have you got,
Nick?”
He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “What are you looking for?”
“Preferably a man who’s fully equipped,” I say with a pout, feeling the
pressure of Mr. Morally Grey’s stare. His attention gives me enough
confidence to add, “After all, a good girl shouldn’t have to buy her own
toys.”
“So, you’re a sub?” Nick asks.
A year ago, my brows would have risen at that question. I even might
have blushed. But not now. I’ve read so many smutty books that the answer
rolls off my tongue like I’m the heroine of my own dark romance.
“The brattiest,” I say with a shrug.
The assistant licks his lips. “I’m a switch, and if you’re looking for—”
“No.” Mr. Morally Grey strides across the shop floor.
I’m not even looking in his direction, but my core clenches at his bassy
command, and every inch of my skin heats with the crackle of sparks.
Shit. I’ve captured his curiosity, now I need to hold his attention.
Whatever I say next will either turn him off and result in another
dismissal or stoke the flame of interest.
I pause, take a deep breath, and keep my features neutral. Then with the
slowest of movements, I turn my head.
“Excuse me?”
I place my hands on my hips and sweep my gaze down his body.
Because I’d lose my nerve if I met his eyes right away.
Beneath the blazer, he wears a black shirt unbuttoned halfway down the
sternum that shows just enough of his pecs to make me salivate. The fabric
is obviously silk from the way it shimmers in the light and skims his
muscular torso like water. His jeans are the darkest gray and showcase
muscular thighs.
I tighten my lips, flick my gaze up to find him smirking. There’s a
sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Up close, his pupils aren’t so
much green but a glacial blue with a ring of gold that resembles tiny flames.
He’s amused.
Irritation prickles my skin that he could have so casually disregarded me
at first glance yet he now stands there expecting me to… what? Entertain
him?
Or be impressed?
“Nick and I were in the middle of a conversation,” I say, my words
clipped.
“Which was going nowhere.”
His accent is far more cultured than I expect for a man who looks so
dangerous. It’s not quite aristocratic, but he sounds just as educated as the
professors at the university.
“A brat should never have to supply the implements of her own
taming,” he adds.
My breath hitches, and it takes every effort to hold still. To hold back
the urge to squeeze my thighs together and squirm under his inspection.
Right now, the store has vanished, and my entire awareness is
concentrated on this intriguing man. I’m fighting against my instincts that
scream at me to drop to my knees.
“Is he bothering you?” Nick asks from afar.
“No,” I say without looking in his direction.
I immediately feel shitty for being so offhand. As much as I want to turn
to Nick and thank him for his help, I can’t take my eyes off Mr. Morally
Grey.
He steps closer, so we’re standing within arm’s reach. His scent is
sharp, masculine, deadly. It reminds me of metal slicing through mahogany,
with tantalizing hints of leather, tobacco, and sandalwood.
The overall effect has me entranced.
His gaze sharpens. “What’s your name?”
“Phoenix," I lie.
Sort of.
Because I’ll be damned if I tell him that my full name is Hedwig
Phoenix Stahl. Nobody ever believes that my mother named me after the
saints, and not the fictional owl.
 “Marius,” he replies in a way that’s both deep and enticing. “So, you
like to play?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I expect a reply.”
My skin tingles with the beginning of a blush, and I breathe hard, trying
to push away the start of a mental orgasm. Even without the prospect of
ensnaring him as my sugar daddy, I would still want him as a boyfriend.
Failing that, a one-night stand.
Marius is everything I’ve never dared to desire, and now that there’s no
Dad checking up on me every hour of the day, I’m going to enjoy a rich and
varied life.
His brow rises, and I realize that I haven’t answered his question.
I like to read about playing. And I like to play with myself while
consuming smut. But I’ve never so much as been spanked. At least not in a
way that could be considered naughty or fun.
According to Dad, I’m the world’s shittiest liar, so I give him my most
sideways answer.
“The real question is, do you?” I ask.
My future sugar daddy gives me a sharp grin that both communicates
he’s aware that I haven’t given him an answer and that he’s not the sort of
man who will dominate a woman unless she proves herself worthy.
My skin tingles with a sensation of static electricity.
“How would you like to see my playroom?” he asks.
I rest my weight on one hip. “Is it impressive, then?”
His eyes light up, and I realize I’ve just made an innuendo. The blush I
was trying to hold back returns with a vengeance to burn me from the inside
out.
“Come to my house next Saturday and see for yourself, Phoenix.”
If my body was a temperature gauge, the mercury would be spilling out
of the top of my head and pouring down the sides of my face.
 Shit.
I went from being beneath this man’s notice to getting a guided tour of
his sex dungeon.
Thanks Dad, wherever you are. Because by this time next week, I’ll be
everything you despise.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Two

MARIUS

I knew she was trouble the moment she entered the store, but I thought it
would be the different kind.
Phoenix, if that’s her real name, gazes up at me with doe eyes that
radiate an intriguing combination of innocence and danger.
She’s beautiful, with a peaches-and-cream complexion that betrays
every nuance of her emotions, and delicate little features that give her the
fragility of a porcelain doll.
But I’m not the kind of man to weaken in the presence of a pretty face. I
like mine dirty.
Yet those plump lips of hers would look perfect begging me for more.
I’d written her off earlier as having stumbled into the wrong store or
here to give the asshole behind the desk a sermon. Why else would a
woman that pretty walk in here dressed like she’s about to teach Sunday
school?
But when that opportunistic sub made a play for her. I had to intervene.
I still want to punch that skinny motherfucker in the throat for pretending to
be a switch. The lifestyle doesn’t exist for horny bastards to take advantage
of women’s kinks.
And there isn’t a way in hell he would know what to do with a brat.
Instead, I reach into the inside pocket of my blazer for my phone.
“Give me your number.”
“What?” she whispers.
I raise a brow, holding back a smirk as her cheeks turn a pretty shade of
pink.
A submissive who blushes?
And one in need of my guidance?
My heart skips at the prospect of training her to my specifications.
She runs her little pink tongue over those full lips, stirring awake the
monster that slumbers deep in my libido.
It’s been months since I found a sub I deemed worthy for play. And
every one I have met has either been a professional or one whose desires
only mildly connected with mine.
If I knew I would find someone in a place like Marina Village, I might
not have moved here so badly prepared.
I hand her my phone and watch her slender fingers dance over my
screen. She’s trembling, excited, but it’s nothing compared to the roaring of
my blood. The devil inside me pictures that delicate little body trembling at
my feet. I can’t wait to have her, even if it’s just once.
She returns my handset, and our fingers connect with a zip of electricity
that travels straight to my groin.
My brow furrows. That’s never happened before.
Capturing those large gray eyes with my gaze, I call her number.
At the ringtone, her eyes widen, and she glances back at the shitty bag
she carries over her shoulder.
“Did you think I’d give you a fake number?” she asks.
 It was a possibility. Part of me isn’t convinced someone so sweet is a
brat who needs taming.
“How else will you know who it is when I call?”
Phoenix dips her head, looking like she’s hiding a smile. She’s hiding
something, alright, but she can keep her secrets for now. Because on
Saturday, I’ll bend her over my knee and teach her never to hide her beauty.
Then as I’m fucking her raw, she’ll spill her entire life story.
She turns on her heel on squeaky loafers I want to replace with red-
soled heels. I watch her attempt to sashay in that shapeless outfit, realizing
this is the first time I’ve approached a woman who looks so prim that
calling her vanilla would be an upgrade.
Phoenix pauses by the door, shoots me a coquettish glance over her
shoulder, and waves. “Bye, then.”
I stare her down as she steps out into the high street, and I wait for her
to disappear out of sight. When I’m sure she has gone, I turn to the asshole
at the counter.
“Give me one of every toy you have in stock.”
He stares back at me with his mouth agape. “So, you’re not a dom,
then?”
I glower at the counterfeit switch until his posture curls in on itself. He
doesn’t need to know that I never reuse a single set of toys with different
submissives.
My lip curls. “Do you want my money or do you want to continue
gaping at me like I’ve confiscated your prick?”

Less than ten minutes later, I drive the convertible through the town center
and along the seafront. The sun hangs low in the horizon, coloring the sky
the same shade of red as the store where I met Phoenix.
 Before I can contemplate the ways I will defile her, the burner phone
rings. Only Quinn knows this number, and she’s the tech wizard I’m going
to need to complete my dangerous and ridiculous mission.
I answer. “Did you find anything?”
She hesitates, and I can already picture her indignant scowl.
“Hello to you, too,” she snaps.
“Well?”
Quinn inhales a noisy breath. She’s my aunt, even though she’s eight
years younger than me. Neither Mother nor I knew she existed until after
we escaped Crius.
Mother tried to reconnect with her family and discovered that they’d
died in a car accident, leaving behind a ten-year-old orphan.
Quinn was the reason Mother stayed away from drugs. Perhaps she
wanted to do a better job with her little sister than she did with me, but
Quinn’s presence gave us a sense of family we never had before.
“The sweeper found eighteen hidden cameras and just as many
recording devices,” she says.
I whistle. “Anything else?”
“The landline is bugged.”
“Naturally.” I take a right into Sydney Crescent, a U-shaped road with
tall Georgian townhouses arranged around a large garden square.
The one Crius rented for me is in the very middle, with uninterrupted
views of the sea. It’s a white Victorian villa that vaguely resembles the
townhouse I left in Belgravia.
Seeing it sends a surge of resentment that makes my jaw clench.
“And the locks?” I ask.
“Changed. And the sweeper removed all the monitoring devices. If
Crius wants to keep tabs on you, he’ll have to call like everyone else.”
By the time I park outside, the removal company vans are gone, and the
cleaning staff are vacating the premises.
 “Thank you,” I say.
She hesitates. “Just be careful. This isn’t like the last time he made you
work for him. You’ll be at the university long enough for anyone to
intervene if you’re suspected.”
“Don’t worry about me, little sister,” I say to lighten her mood.
“Auntie,” she snaps.
“This is the last assignment I’ll ever perform for him.”
“We’ll both make sure he won’t be alive to claw you back again.”
Quinn hangs up, and the reminder of why I’m here sours my mood.
Good thing I have a sweet little sub to work out my frustrations.
Phoenix might not be as bratty as she claims, but she’s clearly in need of
guidance if she couldn’t tell the difference between a real dom and an
opportunist trying to get laid.
The last of the housekeepers leave, and I hurry through the white
hallway and down the stairs that lead to the basement. Its walls are exposed
brick, with dark wood floors, and it’s devoid of my playroom equipment.
The bastards must have left it in London.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, pull out my phone, and call the
delivery company’s representative. It rings twice before I cut off his
greeting. “Marius Segul here,” I say. “Where the fuck is my basement
furniture?”
“Your, erm…” The man coughs and stumbles over his words. “Your
dungeon wasn’t part of the arrangement—”
“I want it delivered tomorrow,” I say, vaguely remembering having told
them to leave the London playroom intact.
The rep falls silent. “Sunday isn’t possible, but Wednesday—”
“Fine. Be there by eight AM.”
I hang up and run my fingers through my hair. Wednesday could work.
The Red Room is delivering my purchases tomorrow, and I only lecture on
Mondays and Thursdays. The playroom will be more than ready for her by
Saturday.
On the subject of Phoenix…
How the hell did my fortunes change from losing my tenure at the
London School of Finance to finding a potentially eager and willing sub?
And one I can mold to my desires.
I leave the basement, ascend the stairs, passing the villa’s living room
and white kitchen. After another flight, I’m in a replica of my bedroom in
Belgravia. Except this one has an uninterrupted view of the sea.
The sun lies so close to the horizon that it colors the sky a deep crimson
that I never get to see in London. I’m still too riled up from meeting
Phoenix to bask in the view.
She’s already burrowed under my skin and left me hungering for more. I
have to see her right now.
My hand drifts to my phone. I pull it out and dial her number.
She doesn’t answer right away, and my jaw clenches. I’ll be damned if I
leave a voicemail. Just as I pull the phone away from my ear, her name
appears along with an incoming message from FaceTime.
A deep chuckle fills my chest. I’m game.
I answer, and Phoenix appears on screen, wearing a silver camisole with
lace cups that barely conceal her round breasts. She’s out of breath, her
cheeks flushed.
Heat surges to my cock, and my balls tighten. Sweet sacrilege. I knew
the woman was hiding something, but a luscious little body like this?
Phoenix has the face and figure that could bring a man to his knees. But
not me. Marius Segul prostrates himself for no one.
I can’t fathom how she would hide her allure under a facade of a low
ponytail and clothes that cover every inch of her form. What I see before
me is a stark contrast to my first impression of Phoenix.
 Her face is just as beautiful as before but is now framed by tawny
brown hair with amber highlights that cascade down to her breasts. She’s
the vision of a fragile innocence waiting to be ruined.
Ruined by me.
But the urgent swelling in my dick reminds me that those are questions
for another time.
“Have you been thinking about me?” I ask.
She smirks. “Are you always this big headed?”
I grin back, taking her non-answer to mean yes. “Like you wouldn’t
believe.”
“So…” Phoenix flashes me a dazzling grin that gives me the first
glimpse of a personality beneath the innocent facade. It’s infectious and I
feel my lips trying to smile.
“Where’s this playroom?” she asks.
“In the basement, but I’m up in the master suite.” I tap the icon on the
screen to flip to the back-facing camera, and swivel the phone so she can
see the view.
The walls are white, as is everywhere else in this house, but my
furniture consists of a mix of antiques I acquired from France and
reproductions of rococo and baroque pieces.
Silver armchairs upholstered in ivory, a king size bed with quilted
headboard framed with platinum vermeil. The dressers and side tables all
have the same curved legs that are either metallic or painted white.
It’s elegant, simple, and with a touch of class. A stark contrast to the
squalor of my past.
At her audible gasp, I’m already picturing her gazing up at me with
those pretty, gray eyes.
All in good time.
I turn the camera back to me and smirk. “Was I interrupting something
earlier?”
 She lowers her lashes and smiles, bringing two deep dimples on her
cheeks. It’s a pity I’m not into the schoolgirl uniform kink because Phoenix
has nailed that balance between wide-eyed vulnerability and wantonness.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Twenty-one.” She leans toward the camera. “And you?”
Younger than I thought but old enough. “Twenty-eight. Now, answer my
question. What were you doing before I rang?”
“Touching myself,” she says, her voice breathy. “While thinking of
you.”
My cock hardens. The corners of my mouth twitch as I suppress a
reaction. “Sorry to have interrupted such an important endeavor. Do
continue.”
Phoenix licks her lips, and this time, I groan.
“Really?” She bats her lashes. “Is that what you want?”
“Think of it as a dry run for Saturday night.”
She sets down the phone and sits back on a double bed covered in
rumpled white sheets. All I can see of the surroundings are shelves where
the headboard should be, crammed with an assortment of books.
When her legs come into view, I lose interest in her reading material.
They’re lean and long and most importantly, lead to a glistening pussy.
What’s left of the blood in my face drains to my dick, leaving me
lightheaded. I want to reach into the phone and feast on that sweet cunt until
she’s crying for mercy.
“What do you want me to do?” she asks, her voice trembling.
My dick throbs against the metal buttons of my jeans and is desperate
for escape. I can think of at least a hundred filthy things I want, but I’ll save
them for Saturday.
“Come closer to the phone,” I say.
Phoenix obeys, her eyes alight with arousal.
“Pull your arms behind your back.”
 As she moves into position, with her shoulders back, the silver lace of
her camisole stretches taut over her nipples. “Like this?”
I groan. “Just like that.”
The phone wobbles before falling to the side.
I shake my head. “Let’s set up our equipment and do this properly. Then
you can show me everything.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Three

PHOENIX

This has never happened to me before, getting aroused in the presence of a

man. The idiot I lost my virginity to in the first year doesn’t count. It
happened only once, and I’d been drunk.
Before Marius had called, I was sorting through my clothes for
something to wear on Saturday. No sooner had I changed into this old silver
camisole had the phone rang.
Now, here I am, wearing a thin scrap of fabric to cover my top half, and
nothing to conceal my pussy. I lounge back on the pillows with the phone
balanced on a stack of textbooks.
As Marius sets up his handset, I arrange my legs together in what I hope
is an attractive pose. Right now, I’m so excited that all awareness has shot
straight to my clit.
I’m sure all my blood is circulating down south because I can’t even
think about my student loans, my unpaid tuition, or even the rent. I want to
touch myself—to relieve my tension in an explosive orgasm.
And nothing will turn me on more than doing it while watching Marius
play with his cock.
 He sits on a miniature throne with this black shirt completely undone,
revealing tawny beige skin that warms to golden in the light of the setting
sun. It highlights the contours of his sculpted pecs, and the dips of his six-
pack.
I want to run my tongue down the treasure trail disappearing into the
waistband of his jeans.
“Now, then,” he says in a deep, lazy drawl. “Let’s begin.”
I pant through my parted lips and remind myself to play it cool. To act
like a sub with her pick of wealthy doms. This means resisting the urge to
lean forward.
“Can I see you?” I blurt.
His deep chuckle makes my skin tingle.
Marius unbuttons those jeans and pulls out a cock longer than any dildo
sold at the Red Room.
With how the phone is angled, it looks thicker than my forearm and
adorned with a network of prominent veins. His bulky cockhead glistens
with precum, and my throat dries at the immense girth.
How on earth will I get it to fit on Saturday night?
He says something, but I’m too busy moaning to catch it.
“Pull down the strap of your camisole,” he repeats.
“Alright.”
I slide the band of satin down my shoulder, so it hangs limply down my
arm. The entire garment stays in place with the lace cups still hugging my
breasts.
“Good girl,” he says. “We’ll enjoy our time better when you’re
obedient.”
My lips curl into a smirk. “And if I’m not?”
“You really don’t want to know what I do to bratty girls.”
A thrill of excitement zips down my insides and nestles straight between
my legs. I squeeze my thighs together and swallow back a groan.
 “Maybe I like being bad. Maybe I like to be scared.”
“I’ll bear that in mind when I have you kneeling before me on
Saturday,” he says, his voice laced with dark amusement. “Now, pull down
the other strap.”
My heart soars that he likes what he sees enough to confirm we’re still
on for the weekend. I slide the second strap off my shoulder and let the satin
camisole fall down to my hips.
“Squeeze your nipple. Imagine it’s me pulling it with my teeth.”
My clit throbs at the order. I pinch one bud and stretch it a little, sending
a shockwave of pleasure across my nerves. Biting down on my bottom lip, I
breathe quicker. The muscles of my core pulse and my folds become slick.
Marius leans forward, and my other nipple tightens under his attention.
“Slide your leg to the side like a good girl.”
There’s a command in his voice that sounds like he’s accustomed to
getting nothing but obedience. Before it even registered that he’s asking me
to show him my pussy, I open my legs, exposing myself to the camera.
A cool draft swirls across the studio, brushing over my heated skin like
a caress. I would never do anything so risky, but the presence of this
stranger gives me a peculiar sense of security.
“That’s it,” he growls.
My heart soars at his praise.
“Did you get horny, thinking of me?” he asks.
Heat blooms across my cheeks. Right now, I’m weak to his masculine
allure. The part of me that doesn’t want to admit to being so needy takes
control.
I shake my head.
“Liar,” he says. “Not with your cunt so glistening and wet. Why else
would you call me on video chat while not wearing knickers?”
He has a point, and I would double down on my attempts at acting cool,
but the low cadence of his voice lulls me back into a state of perpetual lust.
 I slide my fingers down my belly, over the bundled satin, and onto my
full Brazilian.
Marius leans forward, giving me a surge of confidence that I’ve affected
a man so powerful and handsome. He keeps his hand fisted around his thick
cock with a level of self control that’s missing in men my age. Not that I
have much experience, but I didn’t expect him to be so calm.
I run gentle circles around my clit and watch him stare at me through
hooded eyes.
“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” he says. “An eager little slut.”
A rush of sensation floods my sex, and my breath catches. “What did
you just say?”
“You enjoy the degradation.”
I shake my head, my gaze fixed on that huge cock. Its tip has changed
from a deep pink to purple, with a bead of fluid that makes me ache for a
taste.
Marius is wrong. I hate being called filthy names, yet why did I have
such a strong reaction?
“Dirty girl,” he drawls, and the sound goes straight to my clit.
The finger circling it quickens, bears down with more pressure, and I
groan.
“What kind of fucktoy displays her bare cunt to a man she’s only just
met?”
A needy moan escapes my lips. I rub my clit with tighter circles. It’s not
the words that arouse me, it’s the way he says them. Like he approves
wholeheartedly of what I’m doing.
Marius is so calm and in control. Most men would stroke themselves,
but not him. He’s riveted—by me and can’t conceal the rapid rise and fall of
his chest.
“What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself?” he
asks.
 “I was imagining me over your knee,” I lie, because scrambling around
trying to get the room tidy isn’t the action of a sugar baby.
“You like being spanked?” he asks.
I have absolutely no idea what it’s like to be spanked in real life, but the
authors make it insanely hot in the books.
“Love it,” I say. “And paddles, whips, and floggers. There’s nothing
better than a man who takes control.”
Marius groans at my words, and I feel a thrill of triumph to have made
him react.
“You naughty little brat,” he growls. “I want you to open those pretty
thighs wide.”
My breath catches, but I spread my legs until they tremble with the
strain, imagining his hands holding me open.
“Good girl. Now, show me how you cum while you’re fantasizing about
me.”
I lick my lips, feeling so exposed, lying on my bed displaying my
drenched pussy. Anyone could walk in right now and see me, as I can’t
remember locking the door.
The thought of getting caught makes my heart skip, and I rub harder,
faster as though tempting fate.
Marius slides his fingers up and down his length with firm strokes. Then
he lavishes that bulbous cockhead with a circular swipe of his palm.
I rub back and forth over my swollen clit, my movements mirroring his,
while imagining what it would feel like for him to give me pleasure.
Each stroke is a swirl of sensation that lingers around my core until that
entire region of my body becomes a raw nerve.
“You’re close,” he says.
I nod, too preoccupied with his fluid, up-and-down movements to fully
register that my breathing is ragged. Touching myself under his command
feels like he’s the one pushing me toward a pool of molten ecstasy. I circle
its edge, getting closer to climax with each successive stroke.
Marius pants hard, his chest and abs expanding and contracting as he
pumps that huge, hard cock.
The pulse between my ears is a drumroll.
I am on the brink of falling, when he says, “Fuck your pussy with your
fingers.”
“But I’m about to—”
“Now, Phoenix.”
Groaning, I take my finger off my clit and exhale a frustrated breath as
that sweet pleasure ebbs away. When I slide into my opening, I’m hotter,
slicker, and wetter than ever—just at the sight and sound of this man. My
muscles clench around the lonely digit, needing more.
“That’s it,” Marius says, his voice tight. “I want you to use two fingers.”
I slip my index and middle fingers inside. “Like this?”
“Harder. Faster,” he says, and quickens his strokes.
I pump my fingers in and out of my pussy, imagining what it would feel
like for him to fill me with his digits, his cock, or a toy under his command.
The sweet sensations from earlier return with even stronger intensity,
and I thrust harder. Before I know it, I’m on the brink of climaxing.
“Buck your hips,” he growls and picks up his pace. “Show me what it’s
like when you cum.”
I do as he says, a whimper resounding in the back of my throat. Ecstasy
swirls around my senses like a whirlpool, picking up speed as I pleasure
myself with two fingers.
My clit is so sensitive that the mere brush of my palm fills me with
ripples of pleasure.
Darkness creeps across the edges of my vision. “I’m so close.”
“Such pretty noises you’re making for me,” he says in that cultured
tone. “But I want to hear you come.”
 A climax creeps up on me and my voice becomes louder, breathier,
needier. The muscles of my diaphragm seize, cutting off my air, until they
release with a huge gust of sensation.
“Oh, fuck!”
My core spasms around my two fingers in waves of pleasure so intense
that the rest of my body shudders. I hiss through clenched teeth, desperate
not to broadcast my sound to the people in the studios on either side.
When my orgasm fades, I fall back, breathing hard, watching Marius
through half-lidded eyes. His fist moves over his shaft with rapid, twisting
movements. I try to memorize what he likes for when we meet, but I’m too
sated. Even my legs want to drift shut.
“Keep them open,” he says, his voice pulling me from my stupor. “Stick
your fingers in your mouth.”
Hesitating, I wonder if I heard him right.
“Lick them clean.” His growl is a command I can’t refuse.
I run my tongue up and down my wet fingers, giving Marius a show.
The room is silent, save for the rasp of his heavy panting, and the distant
sounds from other students down the hallway.
“Tell me how you taste.”
“Delicious,” I say, my brain unable to produce a description.
He hums his approval, stroking his dick harder, faster, with shorter
movements. “If you were here, I would eat that pussy and make you climax
again and again until you passed out.”
“Impossible.”
His laugh is wicked and makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise to
attention. “How many orgasms can you handle?”
“Umm… Three?”
“I can’t wait to enjoy you—”
Whatever he’s about to say is cut off by a low moan that I feel deep in
my core.
 Marius spurts over his six-pack, and his release shoots on his pecs and
as far as the dip between his collarbones. My lips part. What will it feel like
when he climaxes inside me?
“Bloody hell,” he says with a groan. “I can’t wait to have you in my
playroom.”
My eyes flutter closed, and Marius says something about sending me
his address. I murmur goodbye and give him a wave, letting him be the one
to hang up.
Moments later, my phone buzzes with a text. When it buzzes again, I
roll to the pile of textbooks and check my messages.
It says, Saturday. Dinner at Six, with an address containing a hyperlink
that connects to Google maps. I click it, and when it finally registers where
he lives, my jaw drops.
I could already tell from the furniture in his bedroom that Marius was
wealthy. But he lives in a crescent of white Victorian villas facing the sea,
and his home is one of the largest on that street.
Nobody who lives there could ever be middle class. Those properties
look like they cost at least five million pounds apiece.
I’m not sure how I’m going to concentrate at university this week,
knowing that I have to get things right on Saturday.
Whatever it takes, I need to ensnare Marius.
He’s the answer to all my problems.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Four

MARIUS

Funny how a man can feel like a jackass the moment the cum has cooled.
I’m sitting in the master bedroom of my new house, covered in my own
release, and shaking my head at the phone.
“If they could see you at the London School of Finance…” I bark a
laugh, but it carries no mirth.
What the fuck was I thinking? Getting my cock out in front of a
submissive and wanking like a boy on his first visit to PornHub?
Since when did I lose my mind around women?
I resolve not to think of Phoenix until next Saturday, but early the next
morning, that asshole from the Red Room arrives with a car full of boxes.
Resentment clouds his pasty features, and I tell him to leave them on the
doorstep because I’ll be fucked if I let him into my empty basement.
If he somehow contacts Phoenix and informs her that I lied about
having a fully-stocked playroom…
Irritation runs through me like a rash. What happened to not thinking
about her?
 By Sunday afternoon after I’ve sorted through my purchases, I’m
texting to ask what she’s wearing. In the four hours it takes her to answer, I
feel no better than the creeper who had pretended to be a switch for a
chance to be with Phoenix.
For fuck’s sake.
I start a new job tomorrow, and Crius will undoubtedly call to demand
progress on my mission, yet all I can think of are innocent gray eyes and
how obediently she pleasured that hairless, wet pussy.
When my phone buzzes, anticipation rushes to my cock. I’m already
semi-hard thinking it could be her.
It’s a picture.
Phoenix stands with one leg on a chair, her back faced to a camera
positioned on the floor. She wears knee-high socks and a denim mini skirt
that exposes both her spankable ass and her wet pussy.
That’s the extent of her attire, and I wholeheartedly approve.
She positions herself so she’s gazing down at the camera, with one arm
raised, her body twisted to the side for a glimpse of one breast.
She texts again with the message, Getting myself worked up about
Saturday. P xxx.
“Dirty girl.” I groan out loud, and pose for a picture of exactly what she
does to my cock.
She messages back with, May I lick it, sir?
Then she adds an emoji of a lolly pop and a winky face poking out its
tongue.
Suck this. I send her a close up of my hard cock.
And she responds with a pussy pic.
So much for putting Phoenix out of my mind. All thoughts of my old
life, the new job, and what Crius wants me to do evaporate, and by Sunday
evening, I’m lounging in the sun room of my villa, exchanging filthy photos
with a woman I barely know.
 By bedtime, I want to demand that she wears those Sunday school
clothes all the time except in my presence. Because I don’t want anyone
else admiring what’s mine.
Shit. There’s no way I’ll last the week. I resolve to call her tomorrow
after work and move up our play date to Wednesday evening.

On Monday morning, I drive to the site of my mission, my jaw held so tight

that my molars ache.
Marina University is a stark contrast to the London School of Finance.
It’s a concrete, 1960’s monstrosity set within its own grounds on the
outskirts of Marina Village.
It may as well be a prison for the armed guards, tall security walls, and
ubiquitous cameras.
Academically, it’s a shit hole, but almost every underworld family in the
United Kingdom sends their offspring there to study. Half the faculty is
connected and the other half keeps their mouths shut.
I thought I had escaped this world when Crius let me study abroad—far
from him, far from the underworld, and far from my tumultuous past. My
decade in academia had been blissful, and I’d believed I had started anew.
Yet, here I am, back in the fold. Not exactly contract killing again, but
what Crius wants from me is just as bad.
The time I’d spent away from the underworld had only primed me for
this mission but it might get us all killed by the most powerful crime family
in Great Britain.
Getting through security is an ordeal, even though the armed guards at
the gate already have my details and are expecting my arrival. The campus
beyond the tall walls mostly consists of lawn, a quartet of tower blocks and
multiple four-story buildings.
 I fire up the university’s app and use the map facility to navigate to my
office. Its door still has the name of its previous incumbent on the door.
Professor Arnold Eckhart, Director of Business Studies.
The poor bastard.
I’m surprised to find the room paneled in mahogany wood, with brown
leather armchairs and a coffee table built for afternoon tiffin. A floor-to-
ceiling window overlooks the expanse of lawn, and opposite a leather-
topped desk is an entire wall of bookshelves.
It’s old world, genteel, exquisite. Not too dissimilar from the room I had
in LSF.
I wouldn’t change a thing.
Someone knocks on the door. I walk around the desk and sink into a
sumptuous leather desk chair. “Come in.”
A floppy-haired man in a tweed jacket strolls in, his hand outstretched.
“I’m Carl Xander, Principal Lecturer in Macroeconomics and delighted to
make your acquaintance.”
I stare at him until his smile falters, and the proffered hand drops to his
side.
He exhales with a puzzled frown. “Professor Eckhart and I usually have
a meeting each morning to discuss the students—”
“That won’t be necessary.” I rise from my seat and ignore the stab of
guilt at the car accident Crius arranged for my predecessor so I could take
his place.
“You realize that their backgrounds are unusual?” he asks.
“Yes, I am well aware that this is the mafia equivalent of Hogwarts,” I
snap. “Now, excuse me.”
“Very well,” Xander says, his voice trailing. “Perhaps later?”
I check the time. 8:58. My lecture is about to start. That’s what happens
when you spend the entire evening and half the night sexting and don’t
leave time for overzealous security guards.
 Irritated with myself, I rise from my seat and stride past the befuddled
Dr. Xander and out into the hallway.
“If you’re looking for the small lecture hall, it’s on the left,” he says to
my retreating back.
“Thanks.” I make a mental note to stop being such an asshole to Xander.
My anger would be best directed at Crius.
Crius the infamous pimp and sex trafficker, who treats people like
marionettes to serve his whims. And to mother for returning from hiding
and going back to him. Because once again, he’s using her as leverage to
bring me back into the fold.
I cannot wait to work out my tension with Phoenix.
As I leave my room, a woman with bright red hair and skin even paler
than Phoenix’s steps in my path. My gaze bounces from her bright red lips
and copious display of cleavage.
She licks her lips, her gaze sweeping down my form.
When she pushes back her shoulders, I continue down the hallway,
pretending she doesn’t exist. Paranoia says she’s an agent of Odin.
Common sense tells me that she’s trying suspiciously too hard. I dislike
honey traps, and I despise the ones that make their intentions so obvious.
“Professor Segul?” she teeters on stiletto heels, trying to keep up with
my long strides. “I’m Julie Raring, Marketing Lecturer. Welcome to Marina
University.”
“Thank you,” I reply without casting her a second glance.
“Dean Westmore said I should show you the ropes.”
“Carl’s offered to show me around.”
She pauses. “Carl who?”
“Dr. Xander.” I make my way to my destination, leaving her standing in
the hallway.
The small lecture hall is a gray room with seats arranged in a U-shape.
It’s already crammed with students talking among themselves. I’m
beginning to realize why Dr. Xander needed his morning meetings. The
undergraduates at LSF are angels compared to this unruly rabble.
Damn myself for not exercising self restraint.
Damn that Phoenix and her sweet ass.
I grind my teeth and growl with self-recrimination, wishing I hadn’t
overslept.
There’s no time to set up a projector and slides, even though the screen
at the front introduces me as PROFESSOR M. SEGUL, FINANCE AND
ACCOUNTING, which is true, but I’m more than a lecturer on bean
counting.
I walk across the stage and stand between the desk and podium.
“Welcome to advanced finance and accounting.” I make my voice carry
over the sound of chatter.
A few students turn to the front and immediately resume their
conversations.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn the three-piece suit. I’m so used to
erasing every trace of my roots that I forget that the students of Marina
University won’t give a shit that I come from a family of crime.
“Attention,” I yell, but they pay no heed.
A long-haired male student at the back stands. He bends to pick up a
guitar and strums on it like he’s a street performer. As he bobs up and down
to the cacophony he’s making with his fingers, female students sitting in
front of him swivel in their seats to watch.
Fuck this.
I walk to the desk on the right of the room, pick up the chair and hurl it
over the tiered seats and toward the rude bastard. He ducks, but the chair
leg clips the top of his blond head.
It’s only when the furniture falls against the back wall with a crash that
the little fuckers fall silent.
 With a nod of approval, I stroll across the stage and back toward the
podium.
“What the fuck,” the blond boy yells as he clutches the crown of his
head.
“Come here.” I raise a hand.
He stiffens, his shoulders broadening as though I’ve issued a challenge.
Because this is exactly what’s happening. If these little bastards want to
fuck around in my class, they’d better understand the consequences.
“You with the shitty guitar and even shittier haircut.” I point across the
tiered seats. “Come down if you want to take over the class. Or shut the
fuck up and sit.”
The boy’s nostrils flare. He squares his shoulders, curls his hands into
fists and breathes hard like he’s psyching himself into galloping down to the
stage to teach me some respect.
I raise a brow, but he flops down to his seat.
At least now, every student in the small lecture theater is facing the
front.
“I am Marius Segul, your new Professor of Finance and Accounting.
Since this is an advanced class, it’s safe to assume that everyone here
wishes to pursue a career in business.”
A few of the students chuckle.
“All enterprises, whether lawful or not, run for the financial benefit of
their owners. Owners can take the shape of partners, shareholders, families.
Even Tony Montana from Scarface ran a business.”
This generates more laughter, and some of the tension in the room
eases.
I don’t usually begin first lectures with movie references, but Marina
University is hardly a bastion of academic excellence. It’s a place where the
next generation of crime lords may form bonds of friendship while
completing their education. Most students here have already secured their
futures.
Strolling across the stage, I fix my gaze on the eager students in front
who hang onto my every word.
“The management of money might seem unglamorous or even tedious,
but it’s the lifeblood of all commerce.” I count off my points on my fingers.
“What’s the use of defending a territory from rival gangs if your
bookkeeper can siphon millions without your notice? Why venture into
high-risk deals that fail to generate a positive return on investment?”
A young man with a short afro raises his hand. “Professor Segul?”
“And you are?”
“Femi,” he replies and straightens in his seat. “Femi Olorun.”
Of course he is. I’ve been out of his life for ten years, but even I can’t
ignore the faint scar on his right cheekbone. It’s not tribal, but territorial.
Shango is the kind of egotist who marks all his potential heirs.
“Your question?” I ask.
“What’s your background, sir?”
“The London School of Finance,” I reply, cracking my first grin.
He shakes his head. “No, I mean—”
“Look it up for yourself.” My smile widens.
Crius might be my birth father, but he sure as shit didn’t marry my
mother. Hell, she and I are still his dirty little secrets.
Femi sits back in his seat, his features tight with frustration, and I return
my attention to the students at the back. “Without a sound foundation in
finance you may as well stick your money in government bonds and cry
when inflation erodes your—”
My gaze catches the huge, gray eyes of the woman who has haunted my
weekend. She stares back at me, her plump lips forming a perfect O.
Every hackle on the back of my neck rises, and my nostrils flare.
I knew Phoenix had been hiding something from me, but not this.
 She played me.
Played me like her willing toy.
The little minx knew. Knew exactly what she was doing when she
sashayed into that store dressed like she was about to hit me with her bible.
Knew the exact words to pique my attention. Knew the exact way to make
me salivate for more.
Fuck.
Like a fool led by his dick, I didn’t just fall—I jumped into her sweet
honey trap.
If I didn’t want to kill Crius, I would tell him that his enemies have
already worked out our familial connection and sent a spy who knows my
weakness for submissives.
Fuck him.
Fuck her.
And fuck whoever sent her to spy.
I’ll interrogate Phoenix myself.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Five

PHOENIX

Shit, shit, shit.

I hadn’t noticed a thing until the chair flew overhead and hit Veer
Bestlasson. And I’d been elated that someone finally put that asshole in his
place until I noticed the new lecturer.
How could a man like Marius be Professor Eckhart’s replacement? The
former Professor of Finance and Accounting was a middle-aged man with a
paunch, and Marius is…
Images assault my mind: his sharp features, sculpted body, the way he
squeezed his huge cock. My head spins, and a surge of arousal overrides the
shock. I squeeze my thighs and stifle a groan.
He wears a steel-gray suit that’s tailored to his muscular physique, and a
pale blue shirt with a navy tie. Yesterday, he looked like a sexy billionaire
slumming it in a store. Today, he’s dressed for the board room.
No wonder he spoke so eloquently. He’s a bloody professor.
Maybe I should have asked a few questions before assuming Marius
would be my sugar daddy, but all the signs were there from the extravagant
house to the designer clothes. But he’s an academic. Those types are never
rich, unless they’re connected.
How on earth was I supposed to guess that he would work in a place
like this?
These few days had been hotter than anything I’d experienced, and for
the first time in my miserable existence, I thought I’d struck it lucky.
When Veer Bestlasson fails to take the stage and slumps back into his
seat with a muttered curse, Marius, or rather Professor Segul, resumes his
lecture. I don’t hear a word of what he’s saying because I’m sliding down
my seat, trying to slip out of notice.
It’s going to be an impossible feat when I’m sitting in front of the
muttering dickhead and his guitar.
“Phee,” Charlotte whispers. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, wishing I hadn’t spent the first ten minutes of Finance
and Accounting boasting to her about my weekend of internet sex with a
hotter, darker, and British version of Christian Grey. This time next week,
she’ll ask how things went in his playroom, and—
Shit.
If Professor Segul discovers I’m his student, he’ll cancel our date.
I slide further in my seat, holding myself as still as a meerkat. It’s a trick
that always works on Dad when he’s ranting.
When I don’t speak or move or breathe, he runs out of steam and drinks
himself to a stupor. Any acts of defiance or defense might become
ammunition for him to escalate.
If Marius doesn’t notice I’m in his class, I could speak to the Director of
Admissions and change Finance and Accounting to something else. Like
Macroeconomics. Hell, even macramé if they offered it. Because academic
or not, I still want Marius to Christian Grey me into next week.
Besides, Dad isn’t around anymore to dictate what to study.
 The lecture comes to an abrupt stop. My lips part, and I turn to the front
and meet his blue eyes. Blue eyes that harden with betrayal.
A noose tightens around my throat. But it’s not like he asked what I did
for a living.
I drop my gaze to my laptop and pretend to type notes. Somehow, I’ve
got to get out of this room before he changes his mind about Saturday.
The rest of the hour feels like I’m drowning. With dread,
disappointment, with his impending dismissal.
Again.
My stomach roils, and an ache forms in the back of my throat. I can
almost taste the sour tang of rejection.
All the emotions I’d held back since arriving at the empty house
resurface, and the backs of my eyes sting with the onset of tears.
I couldn’t handle it if Marius canceled our date. It’s too much for one
person to handle in the space of seventy-two hours.
“Phee?” Charlotte leans into my side, the long sweep of her honey-
blonde hair filling one side of my vision. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing,” I whisper back.
Her stare burns the side of my face but I gaze into the computer, my
vision blurring. It isn’t until everyone around me starts moving that I realize
the lecture has ended.
I close my laptop, stuff it in my bag, and shuffle down the row of seats.
Veer descends in front of me carrying his guitar case like a backpack. I can
tell by the stiff set of his shoulders that he’s dreading the moment he has to
pass the stage to reach the door.
So am I.
Maybe Veer might finally understand what it feels like to give someone
your virginity, only for them to act like it never happened. I shove that
memory out of my head.
My days of pining over that guy are long gone.
 “You there.” Professor Segul’s voice cracks like a whip.
Veer stops, and I bump into his case.
The professor is a dark specter in my peripheral vision. I couldn’t miss
his presence even if I turned my head the other way. As if my eyes have a
will of their own, I peer at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Yes?” the tall student says through clenched teeth.
“Not you.” Professor Segul flicks his head toward the exit and fixes me
with his cold stare.
I flinch. He may as well have thrown a dagger.
“I’m talking to the girl who didn’t pay an ounce of attention and stared
into her computer the entire lecture.”
A fist of anxiety reaches through my ribcage and seizes my heart. But I
force my features to still.
“Yes, sir?” I keep my tone light, trying not to imply that I hadn’t spent
half the weekend sending him pictures of my pussy from every imaginable
angle.
“Follow me.” The professor turns on his heel. I can’t even call him
Marius in my head anymore because nothing about this man resembles the
sexy-as-hell dom who bombarded me with filthy texts and delicious dick
pics.
Veer turns, offers me a grimace of sympathy, and heads out of the small
lecture theater. It’s more than he’s given me in the past two years, but I have
much bigger worries.
Charlotte gives my shoulder a tight squeeze. “You went home last
weekend. Did anything happen with your dad?”
I bite down on my bottom lip and finally meet her concerned, green
eyes.
“Yeah.” My voice catches. “Tell you later?”
She nods. “Come to my studio for lunch.”
 I bow my head, half in a nod, half in an apology. Because I have no idea
what to tell her. Charlotte isn’t the best at keeping secrets, and our fathers
are associates. If word somehow got to Dad that I’d flashed a professor…
My mind goes blank. I don’t even want to entertain that thought.
When I step out of the lecture theater, Professor Segul stands in the
hallway but walks away the moments our gazes touch. I barely know the
man but I can already tell he’ll hunt me down if I don’t follow.
I walk on wooden feet, down the hallway, around the corner, and up the
stairs to the wing of the main building where all the lecturers hold their
office hours.
By the time I reach the top, there’s no sign of Marius, but I already
guess he’s occupying Professor Eckhart’s old room.
What the hell should I tell him? I shake my head. The truth. I had no
idea he worked here.
My temples throb with the beginnings of a migraine. The issue is more
about what he’s going to do about Saturday. A man like him could have a
pick of beautiful women.
Why would he risk his career to carry on an affair with a student?
I knock, but there’s no answer.
Knock again, and still he doesn’t respond.
“Professor Segul?” My voice trembles on the first and last syllable.
Again, he doesn’t answer.
This has to be the room. All the others are already occupied and old
Professor Eckhart is still in intensive care. I pull down the handle, push
open the door to find the office empty, but the jacket Marius wore this
morning hangs on a mahogany coat stand.
There’s no way he had enough time to come up here, take off his jacket,
and move to another room.
I step inside, my gaze fixed on the open laptop sitting on the desk, and
let the door click shut behind me.
 Strong arms grab me from behind and pull me into a firm chest. It has to
be him. Nobody else smells like mahogany and leather and sandalwood.
Before I can even gasp, he clamps his hand over my mouth.
“What is the meaning of this?” he hisses in my ear.
The hard and fast beat of his heart reverberates across my back. But it’s
nothing compared to the rapid staccato of my pulse.
“Let go of me,” I try to say, but the words are muffled.
“Who sent you?” he hisses.
I shake my head.
His chuckle is as wicked as it is dark, and all the assumptions I made
about him return to full force. There’s no way he’s an academic from the
London School of Finance. He’s exactly like the dangerous men who work
with Dad.
“Do. Not. Lie. To. Me.”
Each word carries the weight of a deadly threat.
I shake my head once more, breathing so fast that dark spots dance
along the edges of my vision. My knees wobble, and my body wants to
crumple to the parquet. The only thing keeping me upright is the strength of
his grip.
He loosens the hand around my mouth. Just enough for me to speak but
not scream.
“Please,” I whisper. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why did you approach me on Saturday?” he asks.
Hysterical laughter fills my chest. Why else would a woman approach a
well-dressed man who’s insanely hot?
I force out the words, “Not because you’re a lecturer at my university if
that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Answer my question.”
“You looked like…”
 I dart my gaze across the wood-paneled study, letting it settle on the
window. Outside, students stroll in the sunshine, oblivious that one of the
faculty is turning feral.
How the hell will I complete that sentence without sounding like a gold
digger or a slut?
“Go on,” he growls.
“You reminded me of the hero of a dark romance,” I blurt.
He stills, and the grip around my neck softens. “Explain.”
“I went home last week to find my dad had disappeared.”
This is the first time I’ve said the words out loud, and the pain of being
abandoned is smothering. My throat thickens, cutting off my air. Blinking, I
fight back the onset of tears.
“I was feeling like crap and then I passed the Red Room and saw
you…”
“And?”
My jaw clenches, and I swallow. Marius didn’t strike me as the type of
man who would fish for compliments or praise. “Come on, do you want me
to spell it out?”
“Unless you want me to beat it out of you.” His tone is lighter, and he
almost sounds like the man who kept me awake into the early hours of this
morning.
The vague reminder of what we did together sends warmth to my
cheeks. It picks up speed and heat, traveling down my chest and to the
juncture of my thighs.
I conjure up the mental image of me bent over his knees and getting the
spanking he promised. Some of the anxiety drains away, but now the pulse
behind my clit beats in sync with his heart.
“Speak,” he says.
“I wanted a sexy, rich boyfriend,” I mutter.
“And?”
 The warm sensation across my skin prickles with irritation. I twist out
of his hold, and to my surprise, Marius allows me to turn around and face
him.
Sunlight filters in through the tall window, illuminating one side of his
face and turning the ends of his dark brown hair a luscious shade of
mahogany. He stares down at me through dilated pupils surrounded by the
tiniest ring of blue.
Whatever threat he saw in me has now vanished, replaced with a
curiosity that borders on amusement.
That’s it?
No apology for jumping out and frightening me out of my life? No
apology for his accusation?
Am I supposed to move on and go straight to the dirty talk?
“If you’ve already forgotten what I want from you, read the texts,” I
snap. “Because we have a date on Saturday in your playroom.”
The light in his eyes fades. “That’s not going to happen anymore,
Miss…?”
His rejection hits me like a fist to the heart. I step back, the heel of my
loafer tangling with a thick rug.
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“You’re a student,” he says as though it’s obvious. “I’m faculty, the
rules of Marina University prohibit—”
“What do the rules say about professors sending dick pics?” I raise my
chin.
His face shutters, and the look in his eyes turns deadly.
My stomach plummets to the dark wood floor and down several flights
of stairs. What the hell was I thinking? I didn’t just threaten a crusty old
academic. This is the man who threw a chair at the nephew of Britain’s
most powerful gangster.
 Professor Segul advances on me, his features murderous. I stumble
back, nearly tripping over the rug again, until my ass hits the corner of the
desk.
His hand shoots out and wraps around the base of my neck. Not tight
enough to strangle, but to let me know he could crush my windpipe. I’m
bent over backward with my spine flush against the hard surface, my head
laid beside the open laptop.
Fight or flight kicks in, but I feel the urge to freeze. Professor Segul is
dangerous, but he isn’t Dad. The part of me that’s desperate for a thrill
surges forward and takes control of my lips.
“You must have done something special to become a professor at the
age of twenty eight,” I say. “It would be a pity to lose everything because
you propositioned a student.”
I expect his eyes to flash or his grip to tighten, but the look on his
features almost looks like relief before it morphs back into outrage.
“Explain,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
“You’re not canceling our date on Saturday,” I say, my voice trembling.
“I want a fancy dinner and a tour of your play room, and then a fuck.”
“And?”
His grip neither tightens nor loosens. I can’t tell if that’s because he’s
agreeing to my demands or if he wants to give me enough rope to justify
my imminent murder.
I gulp. “And you’ll make yourself available to me whenever I want for
sexual favors.”
His nostrils flare, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “You’re insane.”
What’s insane is that he hasn’t choked me to death. I decide to take that
as a positive sign.
Professor Segul raises his brows in a silent question. I interpret that he’s
asking if I have any further demands.
Shit. I’m on a roll now.
 I may as well blackmail him for everything.
“I want money.”
His eyes narrow. “How much?”
“I need to pay my tuition, rent, and expenses,” I blurt.
For the first time since pinning me to his desk, he averts his gaze,
releases his grip on my neck, and steps aside.
The lack of eye contact feels like a rejection.
“How much?” His voice is cold.
“What?” I ask.
“Your expenses.”
The words are the shot of courage I need to push forward. In a
roundabout way, Professor Segul just agreed to pay my rent and tuition
fees. Now he wants me to demand my spending money.
Dad gave me two hundred a month, which covered food, stationery, and
very little else. I had to beg for extras for books and he always demanded
receipts.
“Two thousand a month should be acceptable,” I say, my voice breezy,
even though I’m quaking on the inside and expecting him to laugh in my
face.
He stares down at me, his eyes hard.
“Do we have a deal?” I ask.
Professor Segul doesn’t reply. He’s not choking me or pinning me to the
table, so I take that non answer as a yes.
“See you on Saturday for dinner then.” I pat his chest over the tailored
suit. “And we’ll discuss the finer points of our arrangement.”
I walk around him, my veins thrumming with triumph. I have never felt
so powerful.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Six

MARIUS

I am not my father.
That’s why I’m allowing Phoenix to sashay to the door instead of
disposing of her for putting the mission at risk.
I lean against the desk with my hands braced on its leather surface, my
gaze on her swinging hips. She wears a pewter skater-style dress that skims
her delectable, round ass and ends at mid-thigh. It’s patterned with pink and
turquoise flowers.
She looks too innocent for someone who just blackmailed me to be
her… fuck toy? Sugar daddy? Dom?
Heat rushes to my groin, and my jaw tightens.
Why the fuck is the traitor in my pants swelling at extortion?
Phoenix pulls down the door handle and glances over her shoulder at
me with a triumphant smirk.
“See you on Saturday,” she whispers. “Marius.”
My nostrils flare. Crius would tell me to kill her. Now, before word
spreads that the new professor is fraternizing with students. Now, before the
dean revokes my access to Marina University. Now, before Odin and the
rest of the Bestlasson family realize that a spy is about to rob them of an
heir.
But Crius Vanir holds no sway over my actions. I curl my fists and I
watch Phoenix disappear into the hallway.
The door swings shut behind her and closes with a click that breaks me
out of my Phoenix-induced stupor.
There are five days between now and Saturday. Five days for Phoenix to
spread the word to the other students that she plans to fuck a professor.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. How the fuck do I silence her before
then?
“You’re thinking about this all wrong,” I mutter under my breath. “What
does she want?”
Dinner.
Playroom.
Sex on Saturday.
Further sex on demand.
Financial support.
And she’s prepared to hold her silence as long as I satisfy her demands.
In short, Phoenix wants a sugar daddy.
The corners of my lips twitch, and tremors of mirth hit my gut before
erupting into a deep belly laugh that has me clutching my middle. Was I
seriously contemplating ending a sexy piece of ass for trying to coerce me
into giving her something I want?
A knock sounds from outside.
It opens and Dr. Xander pokes his head through the doorway. “Professor
Segul?” he says, his voice hopeful. “Do you have time for a chat?”
My amusement deflates like a flat tire. “No.”
The man’s face falls, and his head retreats like a tortoise withdrawing
into his shell. ”Another time, perhaps?”
“Wait.”
 He stops.
“How do I look up details on a student?”
Dr. Xander—who would be delighted if I would call him Carl—jogs
into the room and logs me onto Marina University’s staff intranet, where I
can view records on anything imaginable, including security footage from
cameras in the hallways, grounds, and lecture theaters.
I make a mental note to be mindful of how I ensnare my target. Odin
cannot link the disappearance of his nephew to Crius, and more importantly,
to me.
“Was there anyone in particular you wanted to research?” the other man
asks.
Mentioning Veer Bestlasson would be like signing a confession for my
future crime. For similar reasons, I won’t mention Phoenix.
“I met a promising young student named Femi. I don’t recall his last
name.”
He shows me the student records. Unlike the London School of Finance,
which restricted this information to a single team of administrators, Marina
University allows department heads to peruse every piece of data
imaginable.
Dr. Xander pulls up the young man’s profile. I’m not surprised to see
that Shango pays his tuition, considering he’s the leader of the Olorun.
It’s one of the four largest families in the underworld, along with
Uranos, Dagda, and Odin’s family, the Bestlasson. Crius is the head of the
Vanir, a smaller organization affiliated with Odin’s that runs a network of
flesh markets and brothels, but Crius is always striving for more.
“Are there any other students you’d like to research, Marius?” asks
Xander.
I shoot him a glare that makes him flinch.
“Thank you, Dr. Xander,” I place emphasis on his title because he and I
are not friends. “That will be all.”
 His features pinch with displeasure. I won’t be here for long enough to
want to be on a first-name basis with this man. Nor will I allow him to
gather any incriminating information from me to spill when Odin and his
inner circle storm the university in search of their soon-to-be-missing
youngest son.
The moment I’ve delivered the Bestlasson boy to Crius, I intend to
leave the underworld. Permanently.
“I wondered if now was the time to discuss the issue our department is
having with student behavior?” His voice hovers in my ears like a gnat.
“Try again next week.” I turn to the computer, ignoring the way his
shoulders sag with disappointment.
If the scrawny bastard wanted to work with academically minded
students, he should have applied for work at a real university. Leaning back
in my leather seat, I wait for him to slouch out of the room before I return to
the computer.
The system tells me there are no students with the first name Phoenix,
so I open up the search to all fields.
I find her.
She looks younger in her picture, even more fresh-faced with a
smattering of freckles, but there’s no mistaking the softness in her gray
eyes.
“Hedwig Phoenix Stahl?” I rub my chin.
At least she hadn’t lied about her age, and I understand why she only
gave me her middle name.
Stahl isn’t a family I recognize, but I haven’t kept abreast of the
underworld in the ten years since I freed Mother from Crius.
I had bought our freedom with seven assassinations. Seven lives ended
and it was all for nothing because Mother had been seeing him for years
behind my back. He’d just allowed her to come and go until he needed me
to carry out another dangerous task.
 My jaw tightens. When will women learn that a man will never change
his ways unless he has a gun to his balls?
A sharp blade of resentment cuts through my gut at once again having
to work to earn her safety.
I scroll through Phoenix’s file, noting two interesting facts. The first is
that the security system logs her as a student who leaves the campus each
weekend. The second is that both her rent and tuition fees are a month
overdue, and were last paid by Gordon Gofannon, a long-time employee of
Declan Dagda.
Another sugar daddy?
I shake my head. She just lost her father.
Or was abandoned by him. It’s a common practice for men who lack the
resources to protect their offspring from powerful enemies to give them
alternative last names. Crius is a case in point.
I’d been too consumed by the prospect of her being a Bestlasson spy to
question her, but everything she has told me so far supports the conclusion
that she’s looking for a rich lover.
I type in a string of other names I remember from the class in case
someone later monitors my search history. When I’m sure I’ve set up an
innocent trail of, I type the name of my target, Veer Bestlasson.
And I find a picture of the long-haired asshole with the guitar.
The name of the person who pays his tuition is Odin’s younger brother,
Vili Bestlasson.
“Odin will be disappointed his nephew is such a clown,” I mutter before
searching for a few random students.
No matter how tempting her demands, I don’t intend to submit.
Blackmail goes both ways. If the young woman dresses like a Sunday
school teacher to see her father, then I doubt she would want him to know
how she conducts herself when he’s not around.
I pull out my phone and type out the message,
 How would Gordon Gofannon react to knowing his daughter is
propositioning strange men?
Seconds later, the system informs me that it has been read.
The texting bubbles appear on screen, indicating that she’s typing a
reply. My breath quickens, and I ready myself for a battle of wills. But after
a minute, they disappear.
My lips curl into a smile.
This is a game of mutually assured destruction. She won’t dare reveal
my secret if I threaten to reveal hers.

Phoenix doesn’t reply to my message, and I can only assume she’s changed
her mind about the blackmail. Early on Wednesday morning, the removal
company wakes me up to deliver a basement full of unneeded playroom
furniture.
I lean against the wall, half asleep, watching their supervisor set up the
new playroom to the exact specifications as they’d found it in London.
After tipping them, I hang up my purchases from Saturday and growl.
What a waste of beautiful equipment.
Each new sub deserves brand new toys to be used on her and her alone.
It’s why I always divest myself of everything when an arrangement ends. I
stand back, admiring my new collection of handmade floggers and paddles
and crops.
I had thought Phoenix warranted the best. There had been something so
enthusiastic and raw about her—as though there had been a firestorm trying
to burst through her exterior of respectability and innocence.
Now, I guess I’ll never know.
When Phoenix doesn’t appear in my lecture on Thursday, I return to the
office to see if she has dropped out of University or even left the campus.
But the records reveal nothing.
I call Crius—the only person who might be able to shed light on what
happened to her father.
He answers after one ring. “Marius, my boy—”
“What can you tell me about Gordon Gofannon?” I don’t allow him to
remind me that we share DNA.
Crius pauses, and I can already picture his lips tightening with
disapproval. “He’s the new warden.”
“Of what?”
“Seacroft Prison,” he replies as though the answer is obvious. “A
maximum security facility the four families set up eight years ago to hold
the worst of our kind. Its location is a mystery to everyone but a select few.”
“Odin?” I say.
“Odin, Dagda, Shango, and Uranos. The whole purpose of this mission
is to reveal the prison’s location.”
My brows rise. “Indeed?”
“You would know this if you ever conversed with me for longer than
two minutes,” he says, his voice weary.
His jab lands without so much as a sting. I glance at the time and
wonder who I have to bribe to organize Crius a cell in this fine
establishment.
I’m about to prove his point and hang up, when he says, “Why are you
asking about Gofannon?”
“Someone mentioned his name.” I mutter.
“Have you seen the boy?” he asks.
I grunt. “He lives on campus in a separate and more secure building to
the other students, and there are cameras everywhere. Taking him won’t be
easy.”
“We have time,” Crius says, already sounding distracted. “Was there
anything else?”
 “No.” I hang up before the bastard can dismiss me.
I swivel my seat toward the window and gaze out onto the lawn.
Knowing Crius, he wants to use Veer Bestlasson as leverage for Odin to
either reveal Seacroft’s location or to secure the freedom of one of its
inmates.
Hostages are my father’s modus operandi and the reason I’m here. Crius
has hidden Mother, either in one of his many brothels or with an equally as
depraved associate.
The only way I can secure her freedom is to replace her with an
innocent young man.
If Gordon Gofannon is the new warden of a criminal-run penitentiary,
it’s no wonder he didn’t pass that information onto his daughter. People
would do worse than kill for knowledge about the prison. If I told Crius that
Gofannon had a daughter, and a beautiful one at that, he would find a way
to use her as leverage.

There’s no sign of Phoenix at the university on Friday, and by the end of the
day, I’m already back in the student records, looking up her studio
apartment.
Phoenix lives on campus in one of four apartment blocks that house the
students. I don’t know why her lack of contact carves a hole inside my chest
that only her presence can fill.
I should be pleased that she’s off my back, but I can’t help wondering if
she’s returned to the Red Room, making coquettish glances at other men.
My jaw tightens at the thought of her swapping numbers with that sales
clerk.
“What am I thinking?”
 I run a hand through my hair and turn my attention back to the
Bestlasson boy’s records. There’s a note on his security card that says he’s
not allowed outside the campus, which makes my job a thousand times
more difficult.
Phoenix, on the other hand, leaves every Saturday morning and returns
late the following night. My jaw tightens. I should be thinking of ways to
extract him from the university, not obsessing over a little blackmailer.
I can’t stop thinking about Phoenix. Not while I’m taking notes on
Odin’s nephew, not while I’m giving Dr. Xander the brush off, and not on
Saturday evening, when I’m sitting with a glass of Chablis on the roof
garden, gazing at the horizon.
But at the faint ring of the doorbell, the sound goes straight to my dick.
She’s here.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Seven

PHOENIX

My heels click-clack on the paving stones as I step off the 210 bus with a
bottle of Tesco Finest Sancerre clutched to my chest. It’s the best I could
afford, given the state of my overdraft, and I hope Professor Segul finds it
palatable.
I stroll down Marina Promenade, my heart fluttering. Sydney Crescent
is a mere block away, and so is my future as a sugar baby.
Blackmailer, whispers a little voice in the back of my mind.
I tell my conscience to mind its own damned business. Professor Segul
had ample opportunity between Tuesday and now to uninvite me to our play
date on Saturday.
University Treasury already sent a reminder letter that my tuition fees
are a month overdue, and so is my rent. I didn’t hear the meddlesome voice
produce a single solution when my banking app messaged me about my
unauthorized overdraft.
Nope, she remained silent, even as I choked down instant ramen for the
sixth day running.
Bitch.
 Saturday night traffic rumbles down the long stretch of road that
separates the white, five-story townhouses from the pristine lawns that
border the beach.
A sea breeze swirls in from the ocean and cools my fevered skin. It’s
too warm for a long raincoat but I don’t have the guts to walk around
Marina Village dressed like a female gimp.
Sydney Crescent looks even more majestic in real life than it appears on
Google Maps. It’s a huge garden square, large enough to host five-hundred,
with luxury cars parked around its perimeter.
No professor should be able to afford to live in such a place, let alone
the largest house. But then again, the average academic doesn’t throw chairs
at students as well-connected as Veer.
A ripple of excitement travels down my spine. That had been such an
alpha move. And when Professor Segul pinned me to the desk, I nearly
climaxed.
Sure, I’d been terrified. The man is darkness incarnate with vivid eyes
that flicker hotter than any flame. But it only took a moment to realize I was
the one who held the power.
Professor Segul is mine.
And there isn’t a thing he can do about it.
I reach number 79 and cross a black-and-white-tiled walkway that
connects the street to the front door. There are railings on either side and a
one-story drop to a basement level. I try to peer through the blinds for a
glimpse of his playroom, but I can’t see a thing.
No matter. I’ll get the guided tour after dinner.
My stomach chooses that moment to rumble, and I press the heel of my
hand into my belly and try to assure it of the upcoming sustenance.
My pussy tingles with impatience, and I squeeze my thighs together,
assuring her that Professor Segul is more than capable of satisfying our
needs.
 I ring the doorbell, step back, and raise my wine bottle and my chin.
That’s how I’ll enter the home of my sugar daddy. Proud and in charge.
I make a list of all the ways Professor Segul can service me. First, I want
him to scoop me in his arms, then a light spanking before he forces me on
my knees to suck his cock.
My mouth waters, and warmth pools low in my belly. This is about to
be the hottest night of my life.
Two houses down, a woman approaches her house, stops at the front
door, and casts me a lingering glance.
My skin itches beneath the raincoat. I turn to stare her down until she
disappears into her house.
Where is Professor Segul?
I ring the doorbell again.
Still no response.
My jaw clenches. If he’s ignoring me—
“Marius Segul,” I yell loud enough for the crabs on the beach. “Let me
in. We had an arrangement.”
I slam the brass door knocker onto the strike plate, making a racket.
“Professor! Let. Me. In.”
The woman from two doors down steps out of her house and folds her
arms across her chest. “May I help you?”
“No,” I snap, just as the neighbor on the other side of the woman’s
house steps out to take a look. “Mind your own business.”
“It’s hard when you’re screaming at the top of your voice. Do I need to
call the police?”
My jaw tightens.
She wouldn’t dare.
“Go on then.” I shake the wine bottle. “But I’ll be gone before they
arrive.”
 Behind me, the door opens. I whirl around to find Professor Segul
standing in the hallway wearing very little except for a pair of leather pants.
The expression on his handsome features is thunderous—lowered brow,
tightened lips, and smoldering eyes. Stubble covers his cheeks, giving him
an air of danger that makes the muscle of my core clench.
“What do you want?” he says in a voice as deadly as it is cultured.
The pulse behind my clit quickens, and my knees want to collapse in on
themselves so I can prostrate at his feet. But I’m the one in control, not him.
Raising my chin, I stride through the door with the confidence of a
woman who owns the house, because with the information I have against
Professor Segul, I own him.
I cross the threshold of his home, feeling a cool tingle across my heated
skin. Up until this moment, the man was a mere fantasy. Now, he’s going to
fulfill my every sexual whim.
My heels click against polished walnut floorboards set within a hallway
twice the width of the one at home. The first room on the left is a lounge of
white leather sofas, a black grand piano, and a huge fireplace with floor-to-
ceiling windows that overlook the garden square.
His house is gorgeous, but needs the touch of a woman.
And that woman is going to be me.
When he doesn’t grab the back of my coat, and the door clicks shut
behind me, my insides flare with triumph. With his silence, he’s accepted
my indecent proposal.
“Miss Stahl?” he says.
“You may call me Phoenix.” I turn to him and grin.
Professor Segul stands perfectly still, his eyes darkening with each
shallow breath. He reminds me of a cobra about to strike. A very sexy cobra
with defined abs and a chest I want to explore with my hands and teeth and
tongue, but the way he glares down at me makes the butterflies in my
stomach want to cower.
 “What’s wrong?” My words come out unexpectedly timid. I hug the
wine bottle to my chest as though it could create a barrier between myself
and the irate professor.
It’s about this time that my conscience rears forward to remind me she
didn’t approve of this course of action. I can’t even tell her to be quiet
because I’m locked in the professor’s malevolent gaze.
“Did you really think I would submit to a student’s blackmail?” he says
in a voice as cold as the wind.
Actually, I did.
“If you’re thinking of doing something stupid, all my friends know
where I went tonight,” I blurt. “They have your address and say they’ll call
the police if you—”
“You did no such thing.” Professor Segul advances on me, his large
frame seeming to take up the entire space.
My pulse quickens. I step back toward the stairs, my legs trembling.
“Yes, I did.”
“The whole purpose of blackmail is to secure something of value in
exchange for silence,” he says from between clenched teeth. “Once that
information disseminates to a third party, it no longer holds that value.”
My mouth falls open. There’s no response to a statement like that
because it’s true. Of course I told nobody where I was going. There was no
way in hell I’d risk anyone finding out about my affair with Professor
Segul.
His brows rise in a way lecturers’ do when a slow student is close to
getting the correct answer. I squirm in my stilettos, my nipples tightening
inappropriately while I wonder what I did to lose the upper hand.
“I repeat my question,” he says. “What do you want?”
“The Christian Grey experience.” The words tumble from my lips
before I can stop them.
 I clap a hand over my mouth to suppress a gasp, but it’s too late. He
already sees me as a bumbling, desperate fool.
Professor Segul stands so close that his heat radiates through the fabric
of my raincoat, making my skin break out in a sweat. I take another step
backward to create a little room, a little breathing space, but my spine hits
the stair post.
He grabs my arm, making me flinch.
“Did you really think I would submit to your blackmail?” he says, his
voice low and deep.
“Why did you let me inside if you were going to refuse?” I whisper.
His brows rise. “Why don’t you hazard a guess, Miss Stahl, as to why a
university professor might not want a half-naked woman caterwauling
outside his front door.”
“But I’m not—”
“Red lipstick, stilettos, and no hint of stockings or a shirt under that
long raincoat.” His warm breath fans across my tingling skin. “What else is
a person supposed to think?”
The intensity of his gaze causes me to lower my lashes and exhale the
longest breath. “Are you going to kick me out?”
Professor Segul chuckles, but the sound is more malevolent than
mirthful and makes every fine hair on my body stand on end. “My dear girl,
you have awoken something in me that must be appeased.”
“Pardon?” I ask.
The grin he gives me is feral. “Now, it’s time to see how the game is
really played.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eight

MARIUS

Phoenix stands with her back to the stair post and gapes up at me, her pretty
mouth falling slack.
Silly girl thought she had the upper hand when she was playing an
entirely different game.
Her tongue darts out to swipe along her bottom lip, and I can’t help but
track the movement. I want her on her knees, that tongue serving my cock
before I fuck her tight little throat.
“What are you doing?” She tries to keep her voice from wavering, but
it’s futile.
“By now, you should realize that blackmail isn’t an effective method of
coercion when your opponent has an equal amount of incriminating
material against you.”
Straightening, Phoenix tightens her lips. “I’m not the one who will get
fired if these photos are made public.”
“But what would Gordon Gofannon say if he knew his precious
daughter was sending pictures of her pussy to his enemies?”
 Her eyes widen, and her mouth falls slack. “You don’t know my father
—”
“Not personally, but I know why he suddenly went missing and how to
reach him.”
The confidence in her features drains away, leaving only an impassive
mask. It would be impressive if I wasn’t the one holding information she
was desperate to keep secret.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” I ask. “In case you’re worried, he’s alive and well.”
The lack of change in her features tells me she’s either concerned about
his well being or knows why he vanished. I can’t blame her if Gordon
Gofannon is even one-tenth of a bastard like Crius.
“What do you want?” she asks.
I raise my hands, just to steeple my fingers, but she stiffens. “Let’s put
this blackmail behind us,” I say. “You have pictures that will put a dent in
my career, while what I hold against you could have far worse
repercussions.”
“You won’t tell my dad?” she asks.
Something deep in my withered heart aches. I see a little bit of my
younger self in her but not enough to stop my cock from swelling.
“I was never interested in using those pictures for anything but my own
pleasure,” I say.
A blush blooms across her cheeks, and she lowers her lashes. Phoenix is
a delicious combination of naughty and sweet, and I’m salivating for a
taste.
“Eyes up.” I sharpen my voice.
Her gaze snaps back to meet mine, and heat rushes to my groin at her
immediate obedience.
“You still have issues with finance,” I state.
Phoenix nods and bites down on her bottom lip.
 “I now have an issue I think you could resolve.”
“What is it?” she replies, her voice breathy.
“I’m in want of an eager submissive.” I raise a hand toward her cheek
but keep my fingers inches from her skin. “Watching you play with your
pussy over video chat and hearing you climax has stirred something in me
that cannot be appeased.”
“Really?” she asks with an outward breath.
It takes everything in me not to huff an incredulous laugh. Does she
have no idea the effect she has on men? Perhaps it’s better that way because
the moment I heard her speak in the Red Room, I wanted to make her mine.
“I will make a proposal, which you can accept or reject without
repercussions.”
Her throat tightens in a swallow, her breath quickens, and I ache to see
what she isn’t wearing beneath that raincoat.
“I will pay your rent and tuition for the term regardless of your reply.”
“Why?” she asks.
“I haven’t finished,” I say with a raised eyebrow. “However, in
exchange for a monthly allowance, you will be my submissive.”
Her chest rises and falls, and she places a hand over her throat, looking
like she wants to contain her response.
“What does that mean?” she asks.
I suppress a smile. Clever girl. I thought she would either accept or
reject my proposal, but I’m impressed to see that she’s at least intrigued.
“I want to fuck you in my play room, then have you available to me for
sexual favors,” I say, paraphrasing what she demanded the last time we met.
“And you will submit to training to expand your boundaries.”
“That’s all?”
Now, it’s my turn to widen my eyes. Does she not realize what I’m
demanding? Apparently not, from the way her eyes shine with hope.
 I suppress a sigh. I’m not my father, but an entirely different sort of
monster. However, I will endeavor not to break this little toy… at least not
beyond repair.
“If you agree to being my sub, then you will follow my instructions
without question.”
She gives me an eager nod.
“Take off your raincoat.” I step back to get a better view of the
delectable body I’ve only ever seen on camera.
Phoenix tucks the wine bottle beneath one arm, holding it in place. Her
fingers tremble as they unfasten the bow in the sash of her raincoat, and
then she unties the knot. The garment falls open, revealing delicate
collarbones I want to trace with my tongue.
I raise my gaze to her eyes, resisting the urge to devour her in a single
glance. A woman like Phoenix needs to be savored, just as one would never
uncork a vintage wine without thought and gulp it straight from the bottle.
Her skin is paler than it appeared on camera, smooth alabaster with pink
undertones that darken to a deep blush down her neck and chest. I love that
her complexion betrays her emotion because no matter how she holds her
expression, I can always tell her current state.
The lingerie she wears is a deep burgundy lace that borders on black
and looks ravishing on her pale skin. The delicate fabric stretches over the
swell of her breasts, and my fingers twitch to pinch those thick nipples until
she pleads for mercy.
I’ve seen Phoenix in varying states of undress but all that flesh on
display turns a part of me feral. I want to run my tongue down from the dip
between her collarbones, over the valley of her breasts, and down her flat
stomach. I want to tear off her knickers with my fucking teeth and devour
her pussy.
“You traveled across town wearing a raincoat over your underwear?” I
growl.
 “Yes,” she whispers.
“Why?”
“Fewer layers for you to unwrap.”
I glare down at her until she squirms. The demon inside me revels at her
discomfort.
“That was very naughty, Phoenix,” I say. “With one gust of wind,
anyone could see that you were half naked under that coat. What if you
tripped in those stilettos and the front of your coat gaped open to show your
bra, or the person helping you up caught a glimpse of those skimpy
knickers?”
Her breath quickens. She bows her head and tucks her elbows into her
middle, trying to make herself smaller. She squeezes her thighs together,
looking like she’s trying to create some friction.
“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
The corner of my mouth lifts into a half-smile. “Do you like verbal
chastisement?” I ask. “Degradation?”
She parts her lips to reply, and I think the answer is yes, but then she
drops her gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Look at me.”
She meets my eyes.
“Explain.”
“I’ve been called names before out of hatred. It always makes me
flinch.”
I wonder if the person who hurt her was an old boyfriend, but a surge of
possessiveness sours my mood. She hasn’t even agreed to be mine yet, so I
hold back the questions until after she has decided to submit.
“Have you thought about my proposal?” I ask.
She glances toward the door before daring to meet my eyes. “You said
that I could say no and still get my rent and tuition paid.”
“Correct.”
 “Why?”
“Let’s just say there are worse ways to pay for one’s studies.” My
molars tighten, and I shove back the faces of the rivals Crius ordered me to
kill.
“Can I make a decision later?” At my raised brows, she shifts on her
feet. “I mean, after we’ve played together. I want to see what I’m agreeing
to—”
“That’s perfectly acceptable.” I incline my head.
“Alright then, let’s do it.”
“For the duration of the evening, you will call me ‘Sir.’ Is that
understood?”
“Yes, sir,” she says with breathy enthusiasm. “I’m ready.”
“Wait for me outside the entrance to my playroom.” I point at the door
that leads to the basement.
She pulls back her shoulders. “Let’s go.”
“On your knees.” I raise a finger.
Phoenix rears back. “What?”
“Crawl to the playroom on your hands and knees.” I enunciate each
syllable.
Her mouth opens and closes, looking like she wishes to protest.
I tilt my head, pulling my brows together into a mockery of confusion.
“Did you think being my submissive would be all trinkets and sexual
pleasure?”
“But I’m holding a bottle—”
“I’ll transport it downstairs,” I say with a smirk.
Her face falls. “But what about dinner?”
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
She flushes. “No.”
“No, what?” I fold my arms across my chest.
“No, sir.”
 “Then crawl.”
Watching the conflict in her eyes is delightful. Seeing her breeze into
my abode like she owns me, only to realize she truly has to submit gives me
a rush that makes me giddy.
I hold still, containing my excitement as she eases herself to her hands
and knees and positions herself on the wooden floor in her underwear. She
places the bottle on the floor by the skirting board and gazes up at me with
doe eyes.
Phoenix had given me enthusiastic consent on Saturday evening,
Sunday afternoon, and early Monday morning to do with her as I pleased.
However, now that she’s kneeling before me, she has reservations.
“It’s entirely your decision whether or not to submit, and nothing takes
place tonight and beyond without your consent. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she says.
“At any time, you may exercise a safe word, and you will be free to
leave,” I say.
She nods.
“Choose one.”
“Can we use red to stop and amber to say I’m reaching my limit?” she
asks.
“Of course,” I reply. “Now tell me, what are your hard limits?”
Her brows draw together. “I… I’ve never given it much thought.”
It takes a heartbeat for her words to sink in. Every professional
submissive I’ve played with has a long list. No urine, no scat, no blood
play, no needles, no fire, no electro-play, no fisting. And that’s only the
beginning.
“I like a bit of everything,” she adds with a shrug.
My eyes narrow. This is my first experience with a sub who doesn’t
charge by the hour, but I won’t take that answer at face value.
 “We’ll start slowly, and I want you to use your safe word,” I say. “Is that
understood?”
She nods.
“Are you on the pill?” I ask.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Now, do I have your consent to continue?”
Her features harden with determination, and my blood thrums. Phoenix
has no intention of leaving until she gets the sugar daddy she wants.
And I intend to make her work for every penny.
As she crawls around, I stare at the wet patch of fabric between the
round globes of her ass and imagine her pussy is soaked. It looks like
Phoenix enjoys a little humiliation, but I’ll have to tread carefully on the
language I use when degrading her.
She advances down the hallway, creating a sight I want to memorize for
an eternity. I can’t wait to spank that sweet behind until her cheeks turn the
color of roses, to stick my cock in her tight wet heat and pound into her
until she sees stars.
“Good girl,” I say as she reaches the door.
Phoenix gazes up at me, her eyes sparkling. I make a mental note to
praise her again to see if that’s her kink.
I reach down, pick up the wine bottle, and follow her to the door. She
waits patiently, but the rapid rise and fall of her chest says she’s just as
eager as I am to play.
It’s going to be a most satisfying night.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Nine

PHOENIX

I stare at the white door, my vision going blank with a mix of thrill and
terror.
What on earth am I doing?
I could have backed out a few minutes ago, when Professor Segul
offered to give me the money to keep me in university but that hadn’t been
enough. What I really wanted was him.
His company, his caresses, his comfort, his cock.
Everything.
But did I really need to humiliate myself and crawl? I suck in a long,
shuddering breath. He isn’t looking for a sugar baby but a submissive. A
submissive who crawls everywhere, apparently.
The pulse between my legs pounds hard enough that I feel it down my
inner thighs. I squeeze them together, hoping the wetness of my pussy
hasn’t shown through the fabric of my knickers.
Humiliation isn’t arousing. I’m just excited by his presence. That’s all.
It has nothing to do with being made to crawl or being called a good girl.
Nothing to do with having to strip in front of him and then getting chastised
for walking around in my underwear.
Professor Segul opens the door to a well-lit staircase and gestures at me
to descend.
I place a hand on the floor and try to stand, but his hand clamps down
on the crown of my head.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice is unexpectedly cold.
“I can’t crawl down the stairs.”
“You will unless you want punishment,” he says and gives me a gentle
pat on the head. “Take your time.”
My insides shiver with a ripple of excitement that settles straight into
my core. The muscles tighten, and I squirm on my ass, feeling my pussy get
wetter. Disobeying him would be worthwhile if it means getting those
hands on my ass.
I peer up at him and ask, “What kind of punishment?”
He doesn’t even smile when he replies, “The kind that will leave your
pussy hot and throbbing and unable to climax.”
“Oh.”
His brows rise. “Not fun for you?”
Professor Segul doesn’t need to order me down the stairs twice. I crawl
down, placing one palm on the lower stair before inching down with the
other, being mindful not to overbalance and tumble.
He stands behind me, and at this angle, I’m sure my entire ass is on
display. And if there wasn’t a patch of wetness in my knickers before, it has
to have soaked through right now.
It takes an eternity for me to make it down the stairs, but the professor
looms behind me, a beacon of patience. I want him to reach down, grab my
ass, give it an encouraging slap—any kind of touch, but he keeps his
distance.
 The playroom is darker than the staircase, even though red spotlights
shine down from the ceiling, and it’s at least twice the size of the living
room.
I sweep my gaze across its brick walls, pausing at strategically placed
mirrors framed in black leather, racks of black leather toys, an X-shaped
cross, and a device that looks like a torture wheel.
He’s divided the playroom into two sections. On the left is the kind of
dungeon I imagined from spicy books. I don’t even know the names of the
things—I recognize a throne, a high stool you kneel over to expose your
ass, and another that looks like a gynecologist’s chair, complete with
stirrups.
Every piece of furniture is either made of black leather or a dark metal
that appears almost black. On the far right of the room is a black four-poster
bed concealed with red curtains, with huge paintings on the wall of bound
hands and feet.
“Bloody hell,” I whisper under my breath.
This room is beyond anything I’ve read about in the books.
“Sit up for a moment,” Professor Segul says.
I obey, and he holds a delicate leather strap in front of my face.
“This is a temporary collar that symbolizes your submission,” he says.
“Wearing signifies the transfer of power from you to me.”
“Have you ever given out a permanent one?” I ask.
“No.” The word is so final, I don’t dare to ask why. “Do I have your
consent to put it on?”
The pulse between my legs quickens, and a pleasant shiver runs down
my spine. This is just like the romance books.
Better, because it’s real.
“Please,” I reply.
The leather collar feels soft around my neck and almost like a hug.
Warms surges in my chest as my ears fill with the clink of the metal buckle.
 For the next few heartbeats, he places his hands on my shoulders and
gives them a gentle squeeze. I don’t know if he’s savoring this moment, but
I am.
My heart skips, and my breath quickens. No one has ever made me feel
so wanted.
Professor Segul walks around me and settles into the leather throne and
places his hands on the armrests. The combination of the tattoos across his
chest and black leather trousers make him look majestic. All he needs is a
crown, and I’d worship him as my demon king.
“What made you think it was a wise idea to resort to blackmail?”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“That behavior cannot go unpunished.”
I gulp. “What happened to you blackmailing me into silence? Don’t two
wrongs make a right?”
He raises a brow. “Are you listening to yourself?”
My heart sinks. He’s absolutely right.
“Listen,” I murmur. “It was just an empty threat. I would never have—”
“Then I will teach you never to make a threat you cannot back up with
conviction and never to threaten someone in a position of greater strength.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I murmur.
He chuckles, the sound dark and rich. “I will decide when I’m satisfied
with your apology.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Come here.” He beckons me forward.
By now, I already know he wants me to crawl, so I move forward on my
hands and knees.
“Kiss my feet,” he says.
My gaze drops from his face, down his muscled torso, and to the
erection straining through his leather pants. I part my lips, wishing he
would ask me to kiss him there. With a reluctant sigh, I look down his
thighs and calves to his bare toes.
As men’s feet go, his are mostly attractive. The skin there is a little paler
than his bronze chest, and hairless with trimmed nails.
I press a soft kiss on his foot. “There.” I give the other one a kiss for
good measure. “Sorry for resorting to blackmail. It will never happen
again.”
As I raise my head to gaze into his eyes, he threads his fingers through
my hair and pushes me back down.
“Who said you were finished?” he growls. “I want you to kiss every toe
until further instruction.”
I bend down again, press my lips on his little toe, then work my way
across each digit of his feet until I reach the final one.
“Are you wet for me?” he asks.
“Not from kissing your feet,” I say.
When Professor Segul doesn’t answer, I sit back on my heels, raise my
head and meet his smiling eyes.
My stomach drops. “You don’t believe me?”
“If I were to check your knickers, what would I find?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. I sputter before saying, “That’s different.”
“Come here.”
“But I said—”
“Phoenix,” he says, his voice hardened with steel. “You will not speak
without permission. Is that understood?”
I nod.
He beckons me up with his fingers. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”
I scramble to my feet and position myself between the professor’s
spread thighs. Even though he’s the one seated and I’m standing, I still
manage to feel small, especially under that hard gaze.
 His eyes are dark in the red light. Dilated pupils ringed with an indigo
that might as well be black. The shadows make his features sharper, more
angular, crueler, and I feel like a bird caught in the gaze of a hungry cat.
Professor Segul reaches out, his fingers skimming my arm. It’s just a
ghost of a touch but I swear I feel electricity crackling in the air between
our skin.
Silence stretches between us until the atmosphere becomes taut. My
breaths are ragged, and I tremble in anticipation for him to do something,
anything, to break the unbearable anticipation.
“Turn around.” He leans forward on this throne.
My muscles stiffen. What’s he going to do? Spank me? Slip his fingers
into the lace of my underwear and prove me a liar? On legs that won’t stop
trembling, I shuffle to the side, keeping my thighs together, so he can’t see
any trace of my arousal.
Professor Segul pulls me onto his spread legs, making me squeak. I end
up lying on my stomach facing the floor with my ass in the air and my
palms balancing on the wooden floorboards.
I wriggle on his lap, but he places his forearm over my back to hold me
in place.
“Oh…”
I moan because speaking out of turn will only add to my punishment,
and he’s about to discover that I’m aroused when I told him I wasn’t.
He strokes slow circles over my ass with a large, warm hand as though
getting it ready to receive a blow. Each touch makes me shiver, and I bite
down on my bottom lip to suppress a moan.
“Now, my naughty girl, you’re about to learn how to better choose your
targets to blackmail.”
I suck in a breath and brace myself for the first slap, but it doesn’t
arrive. Instead, he parts my thighs and slides his fingers toward my
knickers.
 “No,” I whisper.
He pauses. “What was that?”
I don’t want this to stop, but I also don’t want to spend all my time
kissing a man’s feet because he thinks it turns me on.
“Nothing,” I say from between clenched teeth. “Sir.”
His fingers slip beneath the lace of my knickers and I cringe—not at his
touch—my body welcomes it, but he’s about to catch me in a lie. He moves
tortuously slowly as though drawing out the moment for maximum
suspense.
My skin tingles with anticipation. The muscles of my core clamp and
spasm, desperate to be filled. I clench my teeth, wishing my body would
understand he’s about to add to our punishment.
Professor Segul’s fingers slide over my slippery folds, only for him to
pause.
“Miss Stahl?”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach because even they know what will
happen next. I whisper, “Yes, sir?”
“Are you so wet from worshiping my feet?”
“No,” I reply. “It was—”
Slap.
His palm lands on my left ass cheek with a sting that resounds like a
struck cymbal.
I cry out, my heart leaping into the back of my throat.
“Do. Not. Lie. To. Me,” he growls, and spanks the right.
My legs curl up to my behind, as though they could shield me from his
wrath, but Professor Segul’s hand is faster.
Only he’s not spanking me but slipping those fingers back beneath the
fabric of my knickers and caressing my swollen clit.
The pleasure is exquisite after the searing pain, and my legs drift down
to the floor.
 “Aaah!”
His deep chuckle vibrates across his belly as he circles my clit, and
every muscle in my body melts into his touch.
“I’m beginning to think you weren’t exaggerating about being a bratty
sub,” he murmurs. “See how much you enjoy being punished.”
“I don’t—”
Slap!
I raise my head and cry out as electricity zips up my core and settles in
my needy clit.
“Did I give you permission to speak?” he asks.
I stifle a sob.
He spanks me again. “I asked you a question.”
My cheeks turn hot. I swallow hard and force back a retort. “No… Sir.”
“Watch your tone.”
I’ve already caught onto his game. The moment I apologize without
being prompted, he’ll give me another spanking. Instead of speaking, I let
my head flop down, and I part my thighs a little further to expose more of
my pussy.
When his fingers resume their sweet caresses, my entire body relaxes
once more. This is what I came for. Pleasure under the professor’s
command. He rubs back and forth, back and forth, running his fingers up
and down my sex, only pausing to circle my clit.
I curl my toes and groan at the patience in his touch. Men my age would
rub me fast and hard and raw until they’d desensitized the entire area. Not
the professor, who knows exactly how to draw out my pleasure. I could
enjoy a lifetime of this slow, exquisite torture.
Just as my breath quickens with the first stirrings of an orgasm, he
withdraws his hand.
I jerk up. “What—”
Smack!
 The sting radiates across my right ass cheek, making my back arch and
my head rise to the level of his chest.
“One would have thought you would have learned by now, but that one
is for talking without permission.” Professor Segul guides my head down
with one hand and presses his forearm down even harder against my lower
back. “How many more spanks should I add to your punishment?”
I shake my head, not daring to utter a word.
“Good girls get pleasure, while bad ones get punishment,” he says with
the same authority he used to deliver his first lecture. “Either way, you’ll
come to crave my touch, beg for it, until every orgasm you experience will
be bland unless it’s at my hand.”
I shake my head, refusing to hear those words, even though I know they
could be true.
He continues like this, each slap bringing a sting that ripples sensation
to my clit until it becomes a beacon of need. Then after the pain comes the
pleasure. I’m so close, my body teetering so near to the cusp of orgasm, that
I’d withstand any amount of pain if he would let me climax.
By the time he stops, my vision is a blur from tears, and I can barely
think straight. I’m still on the brink of an orgasm and desperate for his
touch.
“Since you enjoy it so much, we’ll include foot worship in your
training. I’ll teach you how to suck my toes.”
I stifle a groan because he won’t believe me when I say I don’t like feet.
I like him.
Maybe not so much after the hard spanking, but I’ll get over it.
“But first, you’re going to suck my cock.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Ten

MARIUS

There’s only one thing more delightful than Phoenix’s ass, and that is
Phoenix’s ass after I’ve spanked it a delectable shade of red. My handprints
form two neat, oval patches that contrast with her pale skin. The overhead
lighting only accentuates the artistic tableau.
She lies across my lap, her limbs trembling and limp and splayed to
showcase her glistening pussy.
It takes every shred of willpower not to stick my fingers into that sweet
cunt, not to feel those tight muscles close in around my digits as I imagine
what they could do to my cock.
This is her punishment, and I only gave just enough pleasure to train her
to yearn for my touch. It’s working because she’s a moaning and quivering
mess.
“On your knees.” I release the forearm I rested on her lower back and
recline on the leather throne.
Phoenix doesn’t move. Instead, she groans with frustration, her ass
swaying gently from side to side, the embodiment of temptation. My cock
pulses at the display of neediness.
 “Is this your non-verbal way of saying you want to climax, Miss Stahl?”
I ask, my lips curling into a smile.
She nods, making a muffled sound.
“You have my permission to speak.”
“Please,” she whispers.
“Use your words.”
“Please, I need your fingers,” she says through panting breaths. “I need
you to make me cum.”
My chest makes a satisfied thrum, because she’s exactly where I want
her: humbled, desperate, needy. After today, I doubt she’ll ever dare to think
she has the upper hand with me. I give her a gentle pat on her ass, my
insides flaring at the heat radiating from her skin.
“Get on your knees and earn it.”
With another groan, she slides off my lap and drops down to kneel
between my spread legs. She probably can’t sit on her haunches because of
what I did to her ass, but she rests her forearms on my spread thighs.
I allow it, because I’m magnanimous like that.
Phoenix bows her head, lashes lowered, and I can only presume she’s
staring at the cock straining in my leather pants. I make a note to wear
something less restrictive the next time because I have never been as hard
or as needy or as feral as I am right now with Phoenix.
I can usually take or leave other women. But there’s no time to dwell on
why she affects me so much. I need those pretty lips wrapped around my
cock.
“Get to work,” I say with a smirk. “And I’ll be grading you for
technique.”
She lurches forward, her fingers fumbling over the buttons of my
leather jeans. Either she’s eager for my cock or she wants to get this over
with so I can make her climax.
Phoenix is about to discover she’s in for a long wait.
 The first button pops open, easing the pressure off my cockhead. I groan
with relief as she releases the second, the third, and the fourth.
Phoenix jerks open the fly, and then pauses with her mouth falling
slack.
“Problems, Miss Stahl?” I ask, my voice tilting with amusement.
“It’s just so…” She pants through her parted lips.
My brows rise in anticipation of how she’ll phrase the next part of her
sentence. I never get tired of women’s rounded eyes the first time they see
my cock. It’s longer than average but with extra girth. Back when I was an
undergraduate, they used to call it the jawbreaker.
“Yes?” I ask.
“How am I going to fit that in my mouth?”
“You’re a resourceful young woman,” I say with a smirk. “You’ll find a
way to accommodate my girth.”
She sucks in a noisy breath as though gathering her courage, and wraps
her fingers around my shaft. At her touch, pleasure shimmers down my
spine and tightens my balls, bringing up a bead of precum.
Hell. At this rate, I won’t last longer than a minute.
When she leans forward and opens her mouth, I place a palm on her
forehead, holding her back. “Not so fast.”
Phoenix glares at me with a scowl that says, now what?
“Earn the right to suck my cock, and if you impress me enough, I’ll
allow you to claim your reward.”
I suppress my amusement at the disappointment flashing before her
eyes.
She whines in the back of her throat.
“Do you have something to say, Miss Stahl?” I ask.
“Can I at least touch myself?”
“Absolutely not,” I reply, my words crisp. “Your pleasure belongs to me
—whether you’re with me or not. What did I just say?”
 She lowers her lashes, squirms, and then gazes up at me with defiance.
“No cumming without your permission, got it.”
I raise my hips off the throne, and she takes the cue to pull my leather
jeans down my thighs. They drop to the floor, but I let them remain puddled
at my feet.
“The first lesson in fellatio is the build up,” I say in the voice I reserve
for teaching.
She meets my eyes for a moment before dropping her gaze down to my
cock. It stiffens under her attention.
“Run a trail up to my balls with your tongue.”
She licks my inner thigh from my knees with a slow, measured slide
that makes my breath quicken. As she reaches my balls, my lungs stall.
Her fingers curl into my thighs, and she pushes them apart before
placing a kiss on my right testicle. Pleasure coils in my gut, and I stifle a
groan.
Phoenix replaces her tongue with her fingertips and rubs gentle circles
over my inner thighs that spread sensations across my nerves.
Any tension I’ve been holding melts under her touch. My body has
never been so sensitive.
Her hot, wet tongue runs slow circles over my balls, and licks them like
she’s savoring the taste. The little drop of precum doubles in size before
rolling down my shaft.
The anticipation is agonizing.
I want to grab her by the hair and fuck the back of her throat until I
explode in a blaze of glory, but I want to savor Phoenix a little longer
before I get rough.
“Good girl,” I murmur, making her breathe faster. “Now, run that pretty
tongue up and down my shaft.”
She obeys, and traces each prominent vein, then circles the thick ridge
of my cock head with delicate strokes. I curl my fingers into fists and groan
at her ingenuity.
A mouth as gentle as hers could prolong my pleasure for hours… if I
were a patient man.
Phoenix gazes up at me, her eyes smiling, looking like she has me under
her control. Because each flicker of her tongue draws out an involuntary
reaction I can’t suppress.
I’ll let her think that… at least for now.
As she clamps her lips on the ridge of my glans, another bead of precum
emerges from my slit. A sense of blind urgency creeps up on me—I need to
be in her mouth.
Not yet.
“Dirty girl.” The words rumble from my chest. “You can’t get enough
of my cock.”
She nods and hums.
“See how hard I am for you. How much my cock streams under your
attention,” I growl. “Lap it up.”
With an enthusiastic hum, she runs her tongue back and forth over my
slit, savoring the pearlescent fluid. A sensation like bolts of electricity
surges down the root of my shaft, and charges up my balls. I have to breathe
hard to stave off a climax.
Fuck. She’s amazing. But I’m not about to spatter myself with cum. Not
when I have Phoenix right in front of me.
“Open wide and suck it,” I say.
As she parts her lips, my lungs fall still. Anticipation makes me thrum
the way it does when I’m about to make a kill. I inhale until the edges of
my vision blur and only let out the breath when she fully engulfs my cock.
My lips part with a silent gasp.
Fuck.
Her mouth is hot and wet and tight. She closes in on me like a vise and
slides her head all the way down until I feel the back of her throat.
Phoenix’s hot breaths warm my pubes, but the feeling doesn’t last long as
she pulls back.
“Eyes on me.” I say.
Her gaze snaps up to meet mine. In the playroom’s red light, her gray
eyes look almost black, her lashes thick, but her beautiful face still radiates
an innocence that’s at odds with the fact that she’s sucking my dick. It’s
even more thrilling to know she’s my student.
“Good girl,” I growl. “Such a pretty girl. You look perfect with your lips
around my cock.”
The noise she makes sends a jolt of ecstasy down my shaft.
“Are you getting wetter for me?” I ask.
When she nods, I thread my fingers through the silken strands of her
hair and curl them to form a fist. As she bobs her head up and down, I guide
her rhythm to the perfect pace.
Phoenix doesn’t allow me total control. Her little tongue lashes from
side to side, hitting that sensitive spot where the glans meets the shaft. Each
swipe sends blistering pleasure to my balls, and it takes every ounce of self-
control to force myself to breathe.
“You’re sucking my cock so beautifully,” I say. “Just like I knew you
would.”
The possessive part of me wants to demand where she learned to suck
cock with such dexterity and skill. The rest of me tells that part of my mind
to fuck off and enjoy the ride.
“Such an eager little slut.”
I let her continue like this, and test her reactions with filthy words of
encouragement. Contrary to what she said earlier, degradation doesn’t make
her falter.
“Look at you, sucking your professor like a well-practiced pro. Are you
trying to get an A?”
 Phoenix makes an enthusiastic sound that vibrates over my cockhead.
The fingers of one hand run back and forth along my inner thigh and the
other massages my balls. She’s everywhere—around my cock, my sac, in
my mind. I’m fucking losing myself to her.
My back arches like the grip of a bow, and every nerve in my body pulls
taut. I’m no longer in control of my own pleasure. At any moment, she’ll
speed up, and I’ll shoot my ego down her throat.
This blowjob has become a battle of wills, with Phoenix determined to
make me climax at her command.
I tighten my hold in her hair until she makes a pained sound, but even
that vibrates along my cock and pushes me toward a climax.
Fuck.
She’s even better than I’d imagined.
My grip strengthens, until she glares up at me, her eyes pained.
“That’s it,” I say from between clenched teeth because even my vocal
cords tremble. “Now, let’s test your gag reflex.”
Rising off the throne, I make her shuffle backward a little to avoid
toppling over. She stares up at me, her eyes quizzical and wide. The hand
that was massaging my balls falls to the side while she holds on to my thigh
with the other.
“I’m going to use you hard and fast, and you’ll take it. Any problems,
you tap the side of my leg. Understood?”
She nods.
I hold her head steady, thrust my hips, and fuck her throat with hard
thrusts.
She squeezes her eyes shut and splutters.
“Breathe through your nose.”
Phoenix nods, the choking subsiding. I move forward with another hard
snap of my hips that makes her inhale sharply through her nostrils.
“Look at me,” I hiss.
 When she raises her gaze, her pretty eyes glisten.
“Good girl,” I mutter. “You’re taking my cock so well.”
She breathes loud and hard as tears slide down the side of her face.
“You remember what to do if you’re struggling?” I say.
She nods.
I use her mouth and throat like she’s my own personal fucktoy, all the
while fixing my gaze on her eyes. Her fingers tighten around my thighs, but
as long as she doesn’t tap, I’m not slowing.
Saliva streams down the sides of her lips as she completely loses
control. I piston in and out of her mouth, shuddering each time she
swallows. It’s the only thing she’s capable of in this state—that, and
gripping onto me for balance.
“Don’t move,” I say, even though the words are redundant.
Phoenix and I will be locked in position until I’m satisfied.
One of her hands leaves my hip. My jaw tightens as I wait for her to
indicate she’s had enough. Instead of tapping, she cups my balls and
squeezes.
Fucking.
Hell.
My vision goes white before the entire world splinters into shards. I
explode into the back of her throat, my muscles shuddering as she swallows
around my cockhead.
Stream after stream of hot fluid escapes my dick in bursts. Phoenix
moans and groans and gulps but I can barely hear her over my gasping
breaths.
I’m cumming and cumming and cumming as though all the climaxes
I’ve enjoyed while watching or talking or thinking about her have returned
with a vengeance. My knees buckle and only the strength of my leg muscles
keep me upright.
 As the orgasm fades, she gazes up at me, her eyes unfocused, my cum
dribbling down the sides of her mouth.
“Now, may I cum?” she asks.
Phoenix spoke without permission. I can’t let that go unpunished, but I
also don’t want to crush that little spirit of rebellion that gave me the best
orgasm I’ve had in years.
“Let’s move onto the examination chair,” I say between ragged breaths.
“I want to test your responses.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eleven

PHOENIX

I fall back on my ass and wince as my stinging buttocks hit the wooden
floors.
Professor Segul looms over me in his throne, a vision of masculine
grandeur. The tattoos on his bare chest stand out in stark contrast to his
skin, and with the red lighting overhead, it almost looks like I’m in the
lustful circle of hell.
My throat is raw. My jaw aches. But it’s nothing compared to my
pussy’s throbbing need. My clit is so hot, so swollen, and so desperate that
the sensation borders on pain.
He didn’t let me play with myself during the blow job, yet the feel of
that huge dick in my mouth aroused me beyond reason.
I swirl my tongue around my mouth, chasing his bitter taste, and make a
note not to let him cum too deeply down my throat. Next time, I want to
savor his cock.
“You will learn soon not to speak without permission.” His sharp voice
cuts through my musings.
Blinking, I snap my gaze back up to the professor.
 He’s already standing, with his leather pants back in place, looking so
composed that I’m beginning to wonder if that blow job was a figment of
my imagination.
What happened to the man who moaned and shuddered under my
touch?
What happened to the man who lost it when I teased his hard cock with
my tongue?
He’s gone, replaced with the stern professor who threw a chair across a
lecture theater.
“Any last words before we begin, Miss Stahl?” he asks.
A shiver runs down my spine. I try not to react when it goes straight to
my hungry core.
Despite my efforts, I blurt, “When do I get to cum?”
The smile he gives me is so unhinged that my stomach plummets to the
floorboards. Instead of speaking, Professor Segul strides across the room,
leaving me sitting on the floor like a broken doll.
I turn around, watching him stop at the piece of leather furniture that
reminds me of a gynecologist’s chair. It inclines backward, with stirrups on
either side and a low stool for the doctor to sit while he performs his
examination.
Professor Segul stands behind it and places both hands on the backrest.
“You’re going to sit here, and I’ll secure your arms and legs with these
leather cuffs. Then I’ll test your responses to a few toys. Understood?”
Heat rushes between my legs, and my heart skips in anticipation. He’s
going to return the favor. But will he tie me to that contraption and tease me
with his dildos and tongue until my eyes roll to the back of my head?
“Sounds good.” I place my hand on the throne’s seat and push myself
up.
“Crawl,” he says, his words as cool as a breeze.
 My lips pinch together into a tight line. I would gripe about the
humiliation of writhing about on all fours, but that would only jeopardize
my orgasm.
I move toward him on my hands and knees, my skin itching. My breasts
spill out of my bra, and my clit is so engorged that it rubs against the fabric
of my knickers.
Professor Segul taps his foot. “Hurry up, Miss Stahl. We don’t have all
evening.”
“I’m going as fast as I can.” I pick up my pace.
When I reach the chair, he finally allows me to stand but only long
enough for me to lie back and position my limbs on the chair.
He binds my wrists with leather cuffs hanging by the backrest. “You’ll
tell me if these are too tight.”
My heart kicks up a notch.
“Yes, sir,” I say, my voice breathy with excitement.
Next, he parts my thighs, putting my left leg in a stirrup, then my right.
Then he tugs at some leather fastenings that secure me at the thighs and
knees and ankles.
My nerves relax with a strange sense of calm. It’s the pleasant
expectation that washes over me before a massage or the times Charlotte
braids my hair. I should have the opposite reaction to bondage, but maybe
it’s the thought of lying there helpless while he devours my pussy?
“How’s that?” he asks.
I pull at the restraints, testing their strength. They’re soft but firm and
don’t yield to my movements.
“Fine,” I murmur.
“A few more adjustments, and we’ll begin.”
He walks around the back of the chair and pulls a crank. With jerking
movements, the stirrups part further and further and further, widening my
legs until my thighs ache.
 “Are you ready?” he asks, his hand brushing over my arm in a gentle
caress.
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips, and I give him an eager nod.
“Always remember that the amber safeword is an option. Use it, and I’ll
slow down and check in with you.”
I whimper, every inch of my skin tingling in anticipation, but when my
clit continues to rub against my knickers, I realize his mistake.
The professor strides back to the throne and bends to pick up the wine
bottle from earlier.
My brows furrow. How on earth will I get cunnilingus if I’m covered in
all that fabric?
“Sir?” I say, my voice breathy.
He turns around, giving me a stare so hard that I flinch. “The only time
you speak is when spoken to or if you need to exercise your safe word. One
more unauthorized uttering from you, and I’ll use the gag.”
My mouth clamps shut.
He walks toward a low trolley with the wine bottle, places it on its top,
and then strolls to a set of drawers and slides open one in the middle.
“I made a few purchases from the Red Room last Saturday, thinking
how much you’d enjoy these toys.” He chuckles. “I’m looking forward to
seeing how prettily you beg for release.”
Craning my neck, I glance around to see what he’s doing but all I catch
are glimpses of metal.
The lining of my stomach trembles. What the hell? I thought he was
going to use a vibrator.
It’s about this time that I realize I know little about the professor beyond
the superficial information I picked up online. He lectured at the London
School of Finance, published a few papers in some finance and accountancy
journals, and spoke at some conferences.
 Until now, I never thought to scrutinize why an academic would live in
a house worth millions of pounds or why he left somewhere as prestigious
as LSF to teach in a backwater like Marina Village?
Shit, shit, shit.
In all the smutty books I read, the men either spanked the women or
used whips, not metallic implements.
I’m in over my head. Everything I said about being a sub was bullshit.
Now I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
What if he’s like Dexter the blood spatter analyst who seemed
respectable on the outside but has a dark passenger that urges him to kill the
wicked? Like girls who have phone sex with men before blackmailing them
for money?
I’m about to be screwed, and not in the way I want.
“Professor Segul?” I ask in a small voice.
He whirls around, holding what I can only describe as a psychotic
pinwheel. No, it’s a circular scalpel, but instead of a blade, it’s covered in
over a dozen sharp pins.
“Yes?” he replies with a tiny smile.
I notice three important things at once.
One, there’s a bulge in his pants that indicates he’s about to do
something he enjoys more than getting his cock sucked.
Two, in his other hand, he’s holding something that looks like a
miniature rake.
Three, he’s no longer chastising me for speaking without permission.
Sweat breaks out across my skin, and every nerve ending tingles with
trepidation. My pussy, which hasn’t yet gotten the message, clenches with
need.
It all makes sense. Why would the professor concern himself with
trivial things like talking out of turn when he’s about to—
 “What are those for?” I ask, cutting off my downward spiral into
hysteria.
He places them on the surface of his trolley, beside the wine bottle, and
turns back to the drawers to extract a pen knife.
I suck in a deep breath. “What are you doing?”
“Do you wish to exercise your safe word, Miss Stahl?” he asks, his
words laced with amusement.
“Would it make a difference?” My voice rises an octave.
“You are free to end this at any time, but that means leaving here
without your orgasm.”
Strangely, the suggestion that it’s something kinky puts me at ease, but I
still whisper, “What’s the knife for?”
“Knife play, mostly,” he replies as though the answer is obvious. “But
we’ll build up to that some other time.”
I exhale a long breath that we’re not about to start with the knife. Now, I
feel silly about saying I didn’t have any hard limits, but I have no idea what
I like or dislike in real life.
Apart from a drunken one-night stand I barely remember, the only real
action I’ve had has come from a book.
Professor Segul wheels his trolley across the playroom to my side. I try
to sit up, but the stirrups confine me to the leather chair.
He flicks the knife open with a snick that makes me flinch. My clit,
however, pulses as though it’s about to get a treat.
I would squeeze my thighs together, but I can’t because of the restraints.
He advances on me, the weight of his gaze making me squirm, and my
breath turns shallow. A tiny flame of hope inside me flickers. Maybe he’ll
use that blade to cut me free of my underwear and then ravage me with his
tongue.
“Time to test your responses.” His voice is cold, clinical, calculating
and causes the outer layer of my skin to shiver.
 The first implement he picks up is the mini rake, which up close,
consists of several blunt tines. Some of the tension around my chest eases,
and I tell myself it’s just a toy.
“This is a clit tickler,” he says.
My eyes widen.
“It’s also extremely effective on the breasts. Would you like to try it?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He runs the blunt tines along my inner thigh. “How is it?”
Pleasure skitters up my nerves like static electricity and gathers in my
clit. I clench my teeth, trying to hold back a moan, but it just resounds in
my chest.
“Alright,” I squeak, looking forward to feeling it somewhere other than
my thigh.
“I give you permission to whine and beg and plead to your heart’s
content,” he says with a smirk.
His words hit like a slap of reality because I know he intends to draw
this out. “Wait,” I say, my voice breathy. “Aren’t you going to use that thing
on my clit?”
“That’s a possibility,” he drawls, and slides the tickler down my thigh.
I clamp my lips together, determined to take everything he dishes out
and not give him the begging he wants. Professor Segul gets off on my
humiliation. The kneeling, crawling, the kissing of his feet.
He’s training me to enjoy his touch—maybe it’s time I trained him to
enjoy giving me pleasure.
He slides the ticker up and down my inner thighs. Each time he gets
even close to my sex, it clenches.
“How is that?” he asks.
I inhale a sharp breath into my nostrils and force my voice not to betray
my excitement. “It’s alright.”
Then he rakes it across my fabric-covered pussy. “And this?”
 “Oh,” I blurt. “N-not bad.”
His eyes flash with a challenge, and he runs the tickler from one side of
my pussy to the other. It slows over my clit, unleashing mayhem. They’re
like little metallic fingers stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, igniting
lines of dynamite along each axon before they meet in my core and
explode.
My thighs want to clamp together, but the stirrups spread me open. I
want to howl at the pleasure, but I’m too stubborn.
This time, he positions the tickler on my mound, inches above my
covered clit. He pauses to meet my eyes with a penetrating stare that tells
me he’s analyzing my every response.
With the gentlest of movements, he slides the metal implement down
the fabric. I can barely feel the pressure but it’s a ghost of a tickle that
spreads tendrils of sensation across my skin.
I close my eyes because I don’t want to look at him when that thing
reaches my clit.
“Eyes on me.” He pauses the tickler.
My eyes open, and a breath stalls in my throat. Once he’s satisfied that
he’s captured all my attention, he slides the tickler down.
I had no idea a man could be so measured in his movements, but a jolt
of pleasure strikes the base of my clit. Imaginary forks of lightning zip
across the surrounding flesh and travel as far as my back.
Arching in the chair, I gasp as the metal tines make their slow progress
up my clit. Warmth and blood and sensation rush to that tiny, sensitive spot,
making it feel five times its size.
I pant hard through parted lips, my gaze fixed on his cruel smile.
“How is it now, Miss Stahl?”
There’s a bite to the way he says my name, a threat that if I continue
acting unaffected by the tickler, he’ll escalate.
I can’t fucking wait.
 “Yeah,” I say, trying not to hyperventilate. “But it’s a bit subtle.”
His eyes flash, and the tickler reaches the apex of my clit.
Now, the pleasure is as intense as nails on a chalkboard, only I’m not
cringing, I’m clamping. I make a low moan and an involuntary shudder and
try not to let my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Professor Segul is a sadist, and he’s only just begun.
The tickler makes its slow descent down my clit, making my hips
convulse. All the while, I’m staring into his inquisitive features.
I was right about him earlier.
He gets off on torture, only it’s the sexual kind.
He’s determined to make me beg.
“How is it, now?” he asks, his voice wavering with mirth.
“Maybe try it again?” My voice trembles.
He doesn’t react. Instead, he completes the slow path down to the base
of my clothed clit and down my inner and outer lips, where the pleasure is
less intense.
“Hmmm...” he says with the curiosity of a scientist. “If the tickler
doesn’t satisfy then perhaps we can move to the Wartenberg wheel.”
Before I can ask what he’s talking about, he picks up the implement
with the spikes.
Shit.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twelve

PHOENIX

I was wrong when I said the Wartenberg wheel had a dozen spikes. There
are at least twenty-four. Unlike the tines of the clit tickler, these are all
viciously sharp.
“What…” I clear my throat and suck in a lungful of bravado. “What are
you going to do with that?”
“The Wartenberg wheel is a medical device used to test the sensitivity
of one’s nerves.” Professor Segul runs the pinwheel of torture along the
palm of his hand.
My jaw clenches.
He didn’t answer my fucking question.
I crane my neck, looking for spots of blood, but there isn’t even a trace
of redness. But maybe that’s because he’s applying no pressure?
“Are you going to use it on my clit?” I whisper.
“Would you like me to, Miss Stahl?”
My throat tightens, and I gulp. “That depends,” I say, keeping my voice
measured. “Will it hurt?”
 His eyes twinkle, or maybe they’re glinting with malice. “Only in the
most delicious way.”
Before I can request the more pleasant and less ominous clit tickler, he
advances on me with the psychotic pinwheel.
Pinpricks crawl up my skin as he rolls it up my outer thighs. The
pressure is light and doesn’t linger long enough for my nerves to register
the sensation as pain.
It’s a bizarre form of pleasure that teeters on danger. If he pressed
harder, it would break my skin.
I breathe fast, my chest rising and falling as he rolls the wheel over my
hip bones and up my belly, where I’m a little more sensitive.
“How’s the pain?” he asks.
I’m panting now, my heart racing, because the pins are headed for my
breasts. “Bearable.”
He responds with a dark chuckle that makes the fine hairs on the back
of my neck rise.
“You’re taking it like a good girl,” he muses. “Yes, a wonderful little
pain slut.”
The pulse behind my clit throbs in unison with the mounting panic, and
my greedy pussy hungers for more. A strange part of me enjoys the terror.
It’s like having my own personal horror movie, and I’m the heroine at
the mercy of the bad guy. And he wants to make me scream.
Professor Segul runs the device over my ribs, each pinprick sending
sparks of sensation everywhere—down my belly, over my breasts, even in
the depths of my lungs. I would thrash about but I don’t want to get
punctured.
As the wheel reaches my bra’s underband, the terror mounts to an
intensity that makes my teeth chatter.
“Aaah…”
 “Do you have something to share, Miss Stahl?” he taunts the way a
teacher might address a student whispering in class.
“N-no…” I lengthen the syllable.
He isn’t. He wouldn’t. He bloody well is.
Professor Segul pushes the wheel over the cup of my bra, only I’m
wearing lace, so the fabric offers zero cushion. Tiny explosions of pain and
pleasure detonate across my breasts, increasing in severity as it reaches my
nipple.
“Please,” I say from between clenched teeth.
He pauses. “Red, amber, or green?”
I’m panting so hard I can’t form the words. My hips jerk up and down,
trying to graze something, anything, to get some friction against my swollen
clit.
Professor Segul inches away because the black-hearted bastard wants to
leave me humping the air.
“Your words, Miss Stahl,” he says, sounding as strict as he is sadistic.
“They exist for a purpose.”
He knows. Knows the effect his pins are having on me. Knows exactly
what I need. Knows he’s teased me to a point beyond rationality. Yet he
stares down at me, his features a mask of indifferent intrigue.
“For fuck’s sake. Green!” I cry.
At the first prick that pierces my areola, my back arches.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It’s like being electrocuted, only there’s no current.
For a second, although it could be more, everything goes still. I can’t
move, I can’t breathe, I’m not sure I can even see. Then air whooshes back
into my lungs and my consciousness drops back onto the leather gyno chair
with a thud.
“Yes, Miss Stahl?” Professor Segul says.
I clench my teeth. “Touch me,” I growl. “Please.”
 “That’s precisely what I’m doing.” He slides the wheel up my nipple.
“Eeeeee.” I suck in a noisy breath, my eyes widening.
He stares down at me with this blank expression, but I know he’s
laughing from the way his chest moves up and down in rapid bursts.
“You have the most delightful responses,” he says without a trace of
amusement, even though the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“I’m glad to provide you with such scintillating entertainment,” I snarl.
“Have you satisfied your dark passenger? Mine wants you to eat my pussy.”
Slap.
The palm strike on my inner thigh sends reverberations traveling down
to my wet pussy.
My face goes perfectly still.
I’ll be damned if I admit that I found it hot.
“Fascinating.” He runs the wheel up to the other side of my areola and
back down.
Back and forth he goes, the infernal device squeaking, just in case its
victim isn’t aware that they’re being stabbed over and over with the needles
of a metallic wheel.
The muscles of my pussy clench and relax in time with its movements,
and my eyes roll toward the back of my head.
Professor Segul moves the wheel to my other breast and then presses a
soft kiss on the tortured nipple.
“You have beautiful breasts.” His hot breath grazes my skin through the
lace.
“Is looking all you’re going to do with them?” I ask, my voice strained.
“For now.” He moves away from my breast with a smirk and continues
to torment my other nipple.
I was horny this morning. Horny when I dressed up like a female
flasher. Horny when I traveled on the bus with only a raincoat to cover my
shame. I thought that by now he would have fucked me over the dining
table, but we still haven’t even gotten started.
Now the level of arousal I’ve reached is unbearable.
The part of me that wanted to wean him off humiliating me crumbles,
and the rest of my pride turns to ash.
“Please,” I whisper.
The perverted pinwheel pauses. “Is there something you wish to share,
Miss Stahl?
“I need…”
“Yes?” He leans down toward me, his breath warming my neck.
“You know.”
“One should never presume,” he says. “Unless you enunciate precisely
what you need.”
“Fuck me,” I say from between clenched teeth.
He picks up the Swiss Army knife-looking device and pulls out a
corkscrew.
My eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
“Are you thirsty, Miss Stahl?”
“No,” I snap. “You already gave me plenty to drink.”
His deep chuckle makes my skin tighten. Why is he thinking about wine
at a time like this?
Professor Segul trails the fingers of one hand down my ribcage, making
me lean into his touch. At last, something that isn’t a slap.
As his hand reaches the waistband of my knickers, my hips rise with
expectation.
“Take them off.” I whisper. “Cut them if you must.”
“And ruin a perfectly good set of underwear?” he asks with a frown.
“I don’t care.”
The professor tuts. “I must teach you not to be wasteful.”
A growl of frustration resounds in my throat.
 He runs his fingers over my knickers, and the flesh beneath the lace
fabric warms at his touch. When he pushes it to one side and exposes my
pussy, I suck in a deep breath.
“You’re beautiful.” His thumb slides over my clit, which by now feels
like a raw nerve.
The compliment skips over my ego. I open my mouth, a scream lodging
in the back of my throat. This is it. He’s going to bury his face between my
spread thighs and pleasure me with his tongue. Or his thumb. At this point,
I’m beyond caring as long as I get some touch.
Then afterward, he can fuck me until I can’t remember my name.
“You’re so wet.”
“Yes,” I say from between ragged breaths. “Things like that happen
when you make a girl wait.”
“Is that so?” His voice hardens, and I can already hear him making me
wait longer, just to teach me a lesson for being sarcastic.
My jaw clicks shut. Suddenly, his orders to remain silent make perfect
sense. Professor Segul withholds touch like a weapon of mass frustration.
“Are you thirsting for something?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s share some of your lovely wine.”
“What?”
The professor rises from the bench in front of the gyno chair, leaving
me lying there with my legs splayed out obscenely.
My clit is so swollen and raw with neglect that it rubs against the lace of
my knickers. I glare at his broad back, my hips jerking up and down to
create a little friction. It might have worked if I wasn’t so sopping wet.
The muscles of my pussy pulse in complaint, wanting to be filled. I
throw my head back and swallow down a groan. Any other guy would have
fucked me by now, but this one just wants to see me suffer.
 I’m so absorbed in my desperate thoughts that I don’t even notice
Professor Segul’s return until he’s looming above me with the wine bottle.
“Sancerre,” he says. “Interesting choice.”
I’m not going to tell him it’s something I read about in Fifty Shades
because this man is no Christian Grey. I don’t remember the main character
ever getting teased so mercilessly. In fact, they had sex before they did any
of the heavy stuff.
Professor Segul raises a brow as though asking me to elaborate on my
choice of wine.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
“Tesco’s Finest.” He says that as though it’s something I picked up from
the gutter.
“Excuse me for not having the funds to buy the most exquisite vintage,”
I say from between clenched teeth.
He chuckles, but the sound carries a touch of malice. “There’s
something you should know about wines,” he says, every syllable rolling
off my skin like a caress. “Even something that borders on vinegar may be
passable if properly decanted.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly unbearably dry. “Is that so?”
Professor Segul glances from side to side. “What a pity all my fine
crystal is upstairs.”
“What does that mean?” My brows pull together.
I’m so confused about this entire line of conversation. He’s just standing
there, looking down at me with blazing eyes, like he’s expecting me to
slither out of my restraints and fetch him some wine glasses.
Or a fancy decanter.
He sweeps his gaze down my body and settles it on my crotch. “Have
you ever heard the phrase ‘drinking from a furry cup?’”
“No.”
 Even as I shake my head, my mind already forms the image of
Professor Segul with his head buried between my legs, eating my pussy
until I squirt.
My skin tingles with anticipation, and my hips make involuntary jerks
as though trying to attract his attention.
His dark chuckle makes my breath quicken. “You’re about to discover
exactly what it means.”
Professor Segul sets the wine bottle down on the trolley with a thunk,
and some of the tension I’ve been holding in my belly relaxes. Even my
toes curl because they know what’s happening next.
He walks around the gyno chair and positions himself between my legs
before lowering himself into that seat.
I gulp, my nipples tightening.
This is it.
The moment he finally gets me off. He’s probably the type of man who
needs to wash the taste down with a swig of wine. I don’t care, as long as I
get my orgasm.
He runs the tips of his fingers along the sensitive flesh of my inner
thighs, setting my skin alight with sensation. All the pleasure skitters up my
nerves and settles into my clit.
I jerk within my restraints. “Aaaah!”
“Indeed.” He reaches for the trolley and picks up the knife.
My pulse quickens. “Knife play is fine, as long as it’s to tear off my
underwear.”
“Thank you for your unnecessary words of approval,” he says with a
snort and cuts the side of my knickers with a snick.
Any other time, I would bristle at his sarcasm, but I’m a girl tied up and
at the mercy of a sexual sadist. I’ll have to hold my tongue and not distract
him with backtalk if I’m ever going to get off.
 The fabric dangles toward the opposite thigh, and a cool breeze wafts
across my wet folds. I curl as much of my upper body as I can toward the
professor to find him staring at my exposed pussy.
“What an appetizing sight,” he says in a voice deep enough to twist my
insides into knots.
Shut up and eat me, I want to say, but instead, I murmur. “I’m so wet for
you.”
“I see that.” He runs a slow finger from my opening, making an obscene
squelch as he traces a circle around that sensitive entrance.
My hips jerk because I need that finger inside me right now, but he
moves it away. I’m about to groan with frustration, but he makes that same
circling motion around my clit.
“There’s no need whatsoever for additional lubrication,” he says, almost
sounding like he’s talking to himself. “Not when there’s already so much
here.”
My heart pounds, each beat reverberating across my ribs. What’s he
going to do? Stick two fingers inside me or his cock?
He does neither.
Professor Segul reaches toward the trolley and picks up the wine bottle.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my eyes bulging.
“Were you not paying attention when I shared with you the importance
of a good decanter.”
“Of course,” I say, “but what are you going to do with that bottle?”
“The question you should be asking is what I won’t do with it.”
An idea drops into my head, and my jaw drops along with it. Before my
brain even musters up a protest, I feel the smooth tip of a cork at my
entrance.
My breath catches, and I stare down between my legs to where he’s
holding the bottle. “Professor—”
“Do you remember your safe word?” he asks without looking up.
 “Yes, but that’s not the point.”
He raises his head and finally meets my eyes. “The only thing I want to
hear from you is either the word, red or amber. Any other utterances will be
treated as background noise.”
“But, but, but…” I shake my head, my entire body shrinking back into
the gyno chair.
The cork feels like the antithesis of wet. It isn’t just dry or absorbent but
has a peculiar texture that a woman should never feel in a place so sensitive.
He raises his brow, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “Say the word, and
I’ll stop.”
My throat tightens and the backs of my eyes become as hot as my
cheeks. I shouldn’t let him fuck me with the neck of a wine bottle,
especially one I bought him as a gift. It’s beyond degrading.
So, why aren’t I exercising my safe word?
I know why.
He’s teased me with his handsome face, alluring eyes and his godlike
body. I haven’t just seen that cock in action. I’ve had it in my mouth, down
my throat. Now, I’ll withstand anything to get it in my pussy.
Humiliation slithers into my soul, turning my breaths fast and shallow.
How could I ever think I was in control?
“Just do it,” I say.
Professor Segul pushes the wine bottle into my opening, and I clamp
around the smooth cool glass until the stretch becomes unbearable.
I make a noise in the back of my throat that’s more of a groan, and he
pauses.
“See how well you’re taking the wine bottle?” he says with a hint of
pride.
A warm flame flickers in my heart as though I’m happy he’s impressed.
I jerk my head to the side, unable to meet his eyes.
 He could have used his fingers, a dildo, or even his own bottle, but this
is beyond embarrassing.
I can’t look at him—or myself.
He strokes my inner thigh, sending waves of pleasure to my core. The
muscles relax a little, and he pushes the bottle further in.
Without my control, my throat lets out a pleasured moan. I have never
in my life felt so stretched.
“Good girl,” he rumbles.
A peculiar lightness inflates my chest. It isn’t pride or preening or
pleasure at his praise. This man is seeing me at my lowest, yet he’s giving
me acceptance.
The voice in the back of my mind reminds me that he’s the reason I’m
strapped to a gyno chair with half a bottle up my twat, but his finger ghosts
over my swollen clit and all reservations evaporate into the ether.
“You’re my special little slut,” he says in that delightful posh accent and
pulls out the bottle.
My chest deflates, and I’m almost disappointed when the stretch
subsides, but he shoves it back in.
“Aahh.” My thighs flex.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice thickening. “Take it like a good girl.”
Professor Segul builds up a rhythm of in-and-out strokes with that wine
bottle, and I jerk my hips, increasing the friction. The harder he fucks me
with it, the more my pussy flutters around the glass.
Sweat beads across my brow, and my muscles quiver. I clench my teeth
against the intense pulses, stretches, and jerks. With each inward thrust, the
cork brushes against a spot inside my pussy that makes me see stars.
Pleasure builds up behind my clit. It’s the strangest sensation because of
that dry cork. It’s smooth but somehow grating, and hits a part of me that I
could never reach with my fingers or a toy.
 My pussy tightens, clenches, restricting the thrusts Professor Segul
makes with the bottle. Then the most intense pleasure twists through my
insides like a corkscrew.
Before I know it, an orgasm bursts through me with a pop, followed by
waves upon waves of liquid ecstasy. I throw my backhead and moan.
Professor Segul slows down the movements and times them with my
climax until all that’s left of me is a puddle of dregs.
“Well done,” he says. “Now, let’s see how well you’ve seasoned the
Sancerre.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirteen

MARIUS

I withdraw the wine bottle with the slowest of movements and savor how
Phoenix’s tight little pussy clenches the colored glass. Her clit is still red
and swollen, despite having just climaxed, indicating her readiness for
more.
My dick pushes against the placket of my leather jeans with approval.
She’s a squirter. I can tell just from looking.
Even if I’m wrong, I’ll be drinking from her in due course.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“Sipping from your furry cup,” I say with a smirk. “Although yours is
hairless.”
She lifts her head and stares at me through wide eyes, and breathes hard
through parted lips. Her face is scandalized, yet her body is utterly
debauched.
It takes every effort not to double over and laugh. Hedwig Phoenix
Stahl is proving herself to be a delightful little toy. Worth infinitely more
than the monthly allowance she demands.
“Wait.” She squirms within her restraints. “You’re not going to…”
 Heat shoots straight to my groin, and the part of me that delights in
corrupting her innocence rumbles with pleasure.
I raise my brow. “Complete your sentence,” I say, keeping the
excitement out of my voice. “I can’t wait to hear your protests.”
“You can’t shove wine into my—” She clamps her lips shut.
“Into your…”
I let my voice trail off because I’m rapt with a decadent mix of attention
and arousal.
“This isn’t why I came here,” she says through clenched teeth.
“I was under the impression you already did.” My gaze drops to her
pussy. “Or was I mistaken when you clamped around the bottle.”
“You’re deliberately misunderstanding me.”
It takes every effort to keep a straight face as I adjust the chair so that it
tilts her pelvis upward. “Enlighten me.”
“Your cock,” she snaps. “That’s what I came for.”
I rub my chin. “My, what a wanton young woman.”
She bares her teeth. “You’re not filling my vagina with wine. I won’t
allow it.”
“This again?”
She rears back. “What?”
I cup a hand behind my ear. “All these complaints, yet there’s still no
mention of your safeword.”
Phoenix’s nostrils flare, and her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.
She strains against her wrist bindings and curls her hands into fists. But
she’s not fooling me with these protests.
“You’re the type of woman who is too ashamed to admit your
fascination with depravity.” I keep my voice light, as though I’m just
musing.
“You can tell all that from one conversation?” she asks with a huff.
“It’s what you haven’t said that’s more telling.”
 Her eyes narrow before flashing with realization.
I nod. “This scene can end with one word, yet you cry and whine and
fail to exercise it. Why? Because you want this just as much as I do but
want to absolve yourself of responsibility with a display of resistance.”
Her cheeks flame the same shade as the lightbulbs. “S-shut up.”
“Worry not, sweet tart, for I will shoulder all the responsibility for this
evening’s acts of debauchery.”
Phoenix clamps her mouth shut.
A better man would feel a modicum of guilt for holding up a mirror to
her foibles, but I never said I was good.
The bottle’s neck is wet from her secretions, and I have to brace it
against my chest to prevent slippage. It takes every effort not to lick it
clean, but one has to keep appearances, at least on the first date.
After piercing it with the attachment on my Swiss Army knife and
making a few twists, I uncork the bottle with a satisfying pop.
My nostrils fill with the mingled bouquet of white wine and fresh pussy,
and my cock fills to the point of bursting. Apparently degrading young
women as feisty as Phoenix does wonders for my refractory period.
I reach for the U-shaped silicone toy I bought from the Red Room and
adjust its thin arms for her shape.
“What’s that?” Her voice trembles.
I raise the mauve object into her line of sight. “An occasion like this
should have merited a metallic implement to hold you open, but this is the
best I could get at short notice.”
“That isn’t an answer,” she growls.
“Have you not heard of a labia spreader?”
She shakes her head.
“Petal pusher, intimate opener?” I ask.
“No, but I’m beginning to get the gist.” Her voice trembles.
 My lips twitch. “This will hold you open wide enough to hold a
sufficient quantity of wine.”
“Oh, shit.” She throws her head back and moans.
“Scat isn’t one of my kinks, but if you insist—”
“No,” she shrieks.
I huff a laugh. “Stay still and don’t spill a drop.”
“That’s difficult, considering I’m not actually a cup. Can’t you go
upstairs and get a glass?” she says, her voice rising. “Or drink straight from
the bottle?”
“Tut, tut, Miss Stahl. We’ve had this conversation. Any further
outbursts from you will be met with punishment.”
“But—”
I deliver a slap to her inner thigh.
“Aaah.” She throws her head back and pants hard.
Slap!
She bucks her hips, her pussy glistening with even more arousal.
I want to explore this affinity to pain, but she’s already so obscenely
wet, and I need to get the next step with the wine bottle moving.
“I’m going to push the curved part of this toy into your tight little cunt.”
I enunciate each word, enjoying how she whimpers. “And when you’re
spread open for me, I’ll fill you up with wine.”
“No,” she moans.
“I’m glad you approve.”
She’s so well lubricated that the silicone toy slides in without obstacle.
It works like a speculum and spreads open her vagina, only with thin
handles at either side that I can use to adjust the stretch.
Phoenix’s inner muscles close in around it and push the toy’s arms
together.
“Relax.” I give her a gentle swat.
Her pussy spasms once more before the muscles loosen.
 “Good girl.”
Her pussy twitches, and her clit swells beneath my gaze.
My mouth waters. And not in expectation of drinking the wine. Every
part of this young woman provides me with endless fascination.
I pull apart the toy’s arms, opening her up again and make a mental note
to purchase another one made of stainless steel… or titanium.
“Now,” I say as I hold the mouth of the bottle to her gaping hole.
“Bottoms up.”
She makes a plaintive noise, but her pussy reacts the same way it did
when I gave her praise.
Tilting the bottle, I pour in enough liquid to fill a shot glass. She
twitches again, and wine spills down her pussy lips and toward her ass. I
swoop down and drink the liquid before she manages to push it out.
Her overheated body has warmed the Sancerre beyond a temperature
suitable for white wine, but it has also rendered a mediocre sauvignon blanc
delicious. I swallow down the liquid, humming my approval, and lick her
clean.
Phoenix moans, her hips jerking. I feel her swollen clit rubbing against
the tip of my nose. I delve my tongue in and out of her passage, chasing
away the flavor.
Blood pulses to my cock with each of her cries, and I’m so hard that it
makes me lightheaded. Every metallic button in my fly feels like blunt
knives stabbing into my cock. I need to fix this situation—now before I lose
control.
Phoenix isn’t just completely at my mercy but she has entrusted both
her pleasure and her safety into my care.
I draw back and meet the heat in her eyes.
“More?” I ask.
“Please,” she says with a desperation that makes my cock ache.
 Her lower half stays perfectly still for the next shot, even though her
chest rises and falls like bellows. The lace of her bra obscures her nipples,
and I regret not making her undress.
There will be other times.
Of that, I am certain.
The next pussy cup barely overspills, so when I place my mouth to her
entrance, there’s more wine to savor. I swallow down the heady mix of
Sancerre and Phoenix, enjoying how she trembles and moans.
“Your cunt looks beautiful, oozing all that wine. Who needs crystalware
when I have you?”
I drizzle wine over her hairless mound, letting it trickle down her
swollen clit, pussy lips, and ass.
Phoenix whimpers. “Please.”
“Please, what? Miss Stahl,” I say, my voice choked. “Enunciate your
words.”
“Eat me.”
The desperation in her tone hits me straight in the balls. All thoughts of
toys and wine and blackmail vanish, leaving my naked desire.
I lurch forward on my stool, and explore every fold and contour of her
pussy with my tongue, memorizing which spots make her gasp, which make
her moan. It takes several long licks to remove all traces of the wine, and
now all that’s left is Phoenix.
Her taste is incredible—warm and rich. I ease the silicone toy out from
her cunt, wanting to hold her open with just my lips and fingers and tongue.
So far, I have barely grazed her clit, and the little nub stands bright and
erect. I swirl the tip of my tongue around its base, only to have Phoenix hiss
through her teeth.
“This,” she says, elongating the S. “More, please.”
I run my tongue over the engorged nub, and slip my finger into her
opening. Her inner muscles clamp around the digit, explaining why I had
trouble keeping the silicone toy open.
“My, what a tight pussy you have,” I growl.
“All the better for fucking you with,” she says through clenched teeth.
The Little Red Riding Hood reference eases the sexual tension, enough
for me to snort a laugh. Phoenix is a delight, and I look forward to
exploring more.
“Keep talking like that,” I say, my lips grazing her sweet clitoris, “And
I’ll forget why I’m down here.”
“No, sorry, please,” she says, her hips jerking.
She adds a string of nonsensical words which culminate into a plea for
more cunnilingus.
Slap! I deliver a light spank to her inner thigh.
“Aaaah,” she cries out with a mixture of surprise and delight.
“No talking while I’m eating,” I say with a smirk.
Phoenix falls silent.
I close my lips around her clit, lavishing it with open-mouthed kisses
that make her buck and moan. The only trace of wine that remains is the
scent, but it’s barely noticeable under the heat of her arousal.
She moans and trembles beneath me as I drive her toward a crescendo
of cries. I’m drowning in Phoenix. She’s everywhere—in my ears, on my
tongue, infusing my every nerve.
Without even thinking about it, I’m popping open the buttons of my
jeans and stroking my cock in time to her moans.
I’m never this needy, especially not so soon after climaxing, but there’s
something about this woman that infuses my libido. She’s my own personal
aphrodisiac, sent by providence to lighten my stay in this dreary seaside
town.
Before I can consider what I’m going to do with her when my mission
is complete, she lets out a keening sound that makes my ears ring. Her
thighs tremble within the stirrups, and the rest of her body convulses.
 Her muscles clamp around the finger in her pussy with deep
concussions I can almost feel around my shaft.
Euphoria takes control of my senses. My balls draw up, and I come in a
hot rush, my release spilling to the floor.
I slump forward, my tongue tracing slow circles around her pulsing clit.
“Again,” she says through panting breaths.
Could I get hard another time this evening?
With Phoenix as my inspiration, the answer would be yes.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fourteen

PHOENIX

My jaw hangs slack, and I’m lying backward at a peculiar angle with all the
blood rushing back to my head.
I have never climaxed so hard.
Scratch that.
I’ve never had an orgasm so intense or one that has lasted so long.
Professor Segul’s tongue traces lazy circles over my clit, making the
sensations last and last, while the finger inside me rubs the same spot over
and over, making me jerk and spasm at his command.
Does he want to kill me with pleasure?
After another orgasm, it becomes clear that the answer is yes. Professor
Segul doesn’t need instruments of murder when he has his fingers and
tongue.
“Please.” The word bursts from my lips. “No more.”
He makes a satisfied rumble that sounds more like a growl. “You’ll take
what I give you.”
Rapture builds deep inside my core, and my nerves tingle the way the
sinuses do when I’m on the verge of sneezing.
 “Oh,” I say through panting breaths. “But I can’t orgasm on command.”
“You’ll be a good girl and give me one more,” he mumbles from around
my clit. “But this time, I want you to squirt.”
He’s insane if he thinks he can just tell a woman’s body how to act and
expect the impossible, but a surge of pleasure cuts me off from voicing that
fact.
His fingers pick up speed as they torment that spot inside me that ignites
fireworks across my pelvis.
Oh, shit. It’s happening again.
I jerk within my restraints, not knowing if I want to crawl away from his
touch or demand more.
“That’s it,” he rumbles. “You’re doing so well.”
My heart swells at the praise.
Professor Segul works me with his fingers until the number of
lightbulbs recessed into the ceiling doubles, and stars dance on the edge of
my vision.
My breath quickens, and sweat breaks out across my skin.
The bloody bastard is somehow coaxing my body to climax at his
command.
“No.” I whisper it because I don’t want him to stop.
The pulse behind my clit pounds hard enough to make my legs tremble.
Professor Segul’s breath fans over every inch of my skin like caresses.
I’m hot, tingling—a raw nerve.
Pleasure expands, and my eyes roll toward the back of my head. My
entire world condenses down to the tongue tormenting my clit and the
finger cajoling my pussy.
The sensations grow and grow and grow but he doesn’t stop, then the
orgasm hits me like a tsunami, and I inhale a noisy gasp.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over my senses, until I’m drowning
and struggling for breath.
 Professor Segul makes a satisfied snort but continues with his fingers,
sending ripples of sensation from my hair follicles to my toenails.
“No.” I shake my head from side to side. This is too much. “I can’t take
it. I’m going to die.”
I don’t realize I’m saying the words out loud until the Professor snarls,
“You’ll take what you’re given and enjoy it.”
Contractions seize my pussy, my womb, my entire midsection, and I’m
a convulsing mess. Professor Segul’s tongue slows—thank god, but he puts
more pressure on that sensitive spot.
My back arches, and I yowl like a scalded cat, finally dislodging his
finger. He resumes his rubbing, only slowing as the waves of pleasure
become less intense.
“Good girl,” he says, his voice filled with warmth.
I’m too busy panting and blinking the spots from my vision to bask in
his praise.
His presence disappears from between my legs, leaving me feeling
exposed. But a moment later, he brings a bottle to my lips. I jerk my head to
the side, thinking it’s the wine.
“Water,” he says. “You’ll need it to hydrate so you can squirt for me the
next time.”
“No more.” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head from side to
side.
That first orgasm had been wonderful, the second and third intense. A
fourth one so soon will shatter my insides.
“Drink.” He brings the bottle back to my lips.
It isn’t until the cool liquid slides against my tongue that I realize my
mouth is so dry, and my throat is hoarse. I gulp mouthfuls of water, filling
my empty stomach that chooses exactly this minute to rumble.
The professor stiffens. “You’re hungry.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I avert my gaze from his.
 “Look at me.”
I turn my head toward him and peer up at the professor through my
lashes. This shouldn’t feel so humiliating—the man made me crawl down
the stairs in my underwear, then babble under the ministrations of an object
shaped like a rake, before drinking wine out of my cooch.
Somehow, admitting that I’m hungry feels worse.
“I want to see your eyes,” he says, sounding stern.
My gaze snaps to him.
All traces of levity are gone from his face, replaced with the man who
tossed a chair across a lecture theater.
My stomach drops.
“This arrangement between us won’t work if you’re not honest. Is that
understood?”
I give him a soft nod.
He glares at me with an intensity that makes my stomach tremble and
then says, “I want to hear you.”
“Yes, sir,” I murmur.
Professor Segul steps away, releasing the pressure of his stare, and I
finally exhale my relief.
He adjusts the gyno chair so I’m sitting upright again, and then
unbuckles my wrist restraints. My blood redistributes itself across my body,
and I try to blink the red away from my eyes before realizing it’s the lights.
After bringing the stirrups together so my legs can relax, he unfastens
the restraints around my knees and ankles. I’m too boneless to stumble off
the chair, too fragile from the orgasms to even consider moving.
Professor Segul stands by my side, looking down at me like I’m a lost
kitten he’s found shivering at the roadside. At least that’s how it appears to
me.
I can’t tell if he’s going to put me out of my misery or offer me a saucer
of milk.
 He slips one arm beneath my back, the other underneath my legs, and
scoops me into his arms.
My heart flips like a crepe.
“Where are we—”
“No more orgasms until you’ve eaten.”
I stiffen, but he reaches up to push down my head so it rests on his
broad shoulder. No one has ever picked me up like this, at least not that I
remember. No one has ever made me feel so cherished and safe.
This is… unexpected.
I relax against his chest and let my eyes flutter closed.
“But you said you wanted to make me squirt,” I say in a small voice.
“There’ll be plenty of time for you to learn to ejaculate under my
instruction.”
“You almost sound like a professor,” I murmur.
He huffs a laugh and carries me to the other side of the room. We’re
headed in the direction of the four-poster bed, but my eyelids are too heavy
to bother to peek.
He lowers me onto a mattress covered in leather, and my nostrils fill
with the scent of polish. My arms flop to the side, and I fully expect him to
pull them above my head, but he sits beside me and massages sensation
back into my wrist.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Checking that the restraints haven’t caused any damage.”
“Oh.” My brows pull together. “Are you going to tie me up?”
“Is that what you want?” he asks with a dark chuckle.
“Maybe.”
He sets down one wrist before caressing the other. His touch is
surprisingly gentle for a man who pinned me to the desk and snarled in my
face.
 “Do you do this with all your girlfriends?” I keep my voice even to hide
my real question.
“I take care of what’s mine, if that’s what you’re asking.”
There’s a lightness to his tone that implies he’s deliberately skirting
around my question, but I’m too hungry and exhausted to push for answers.
Shit. Why am I even prying? The last thing I need right now is to get
attached.
After rubbing sensation back into my ankles and knees, he cradles an
arm around my back and helps me sit up. I sink into a cushioned leather
headrest, and I finally pull my eyes open to see him staring down at me
with an assessing gaze.
My stomach tightens. Is he deciding whether I’m worth keeping?
“What?” I finally ask.
“Was there anything that happened today that you couldn’t handle?”
“It was fine,” I reply.
Fine?
I have no idea why I gave such a bland answer when it was the most
pleasurable and exhilarating experience of my life. Maybe there’s a part of
me that suspects this is a one-off, and he’ll forget all about what we shared
today as well as his promises of financial support.
I want to ask, but any hint of rejection while I’m still delicate might be
too much.
“I’m getting you some food,” he says. “Stay put, or there’ll be
consequences,”
“What kind?”
“Painful ones that don’t result in orgasms.” He turns on his heel and
stalks out of the room.
“It’s not like I can move anyway,” I mutter under my breath.
“I heard that,” he replies from down the hallway.
 Now that I’m a little more clear-headed, I finally get to take in my
surroundings. This isn’t a playroom, it’s a sex dungeon, and it’s insane.
The entire space is over twice the size of his living room, with the
throne positioned on the far side, directly opposite the bed. Beside it is a
leather chaise, where I imagine he’d dump an exhausted slave girl.
There are more pieces of kinky furniture than the gyno chair—a cage
that’s a little more spacious than a casket, a spanking bench that could
double up as a place to tie someone up for anal sex, a leather examination
table, and torture racks against the wall.
That’s not even counting the rails of toys. It looks like he’s purchased
the Red Room’s entire catalog, including all the items they keep in their
mysterious back room.
I’m still marveling at how much effort Professor Segul has invested in
his perversion, when the man himself emerges from the hallway, carrying a
huge tray.
My stomach rumbles in anticipation of food, and I sit up straighter on
the bed.
“You didn’t mention any dietary requirements when we made
arrangements for dinner. There’s a bit of everything here,” he says,
sounding almost embarrassed.
“I eat anything,” I say with a tired smile.
He sets down a charcuterie board that looks like it’s been prepared for
the Greek god, Hades. It’s made of mottled olive wood stained dark and
covered in enough treats for six.
Little bowls of almonds, olives, sliced figs, red grapes, and dips lie
among an array of sliced meats and cheeses. There are three different types
of bread around the edges, and each look like they’re from that expensive
bakery on the high street.
Professor Segul returns with a pitcher of sangria and pours me a glass.
“Would you like a robe?” he asks with a quirk of his lips.
 When I give him a hesitant nod, he disappears behind the red curtain.
I bring the sangria to my lips and coat my tongue with fruity red wine.
Professor Segul is everything I could have asked for in a sugar daddy.
He’s sexy, intelligent, generous, and he knows how to give a woman
pleasure.
Beneath his stern exterior is a man who actually gives a shit. He’s the
complete opposite to the boys at university who disappear after they’ve
gotten what they want.
A girl could get used to a man like him.
I pick up a piece of olive bread, dunk a corner of it in the onion dip and
add a slice of what looks like roast beef. Compared to instant noodles, the
first bite tastes like heaven.
There has to be a catch. No one could possibly be this perfect.
Professor Segul moved down to Marina to replace Professor Eckhart.
He’ll return to London the moment the old man is well enough to resume
his duties, and I’ll be long forgotten. That, or he’ll meet a more experienced
submissive.
Girls like me can’t even secure the care and loyalty of their own fathers,
let alone hold onto a man. It’s only a matter of time before Professor Segul
moves onto someone else.
He returns with a fluffy robe over his shoulder, but my gaze fixes on
what he’s holding in his hands. It’s a small fondue set filled with melted
chocolate, and he has a gleam in his eye that sends sparks down to my clit.
After setting down the fondue, he helps me into the robe and rests
beside me on the bed. I wait for him to explain what he’s planned, but he
wraps an arm around my shoulder and tucks me into his side.
The soft kiss he places on my temple makes me melt against his larger
body and sigh. Who would have thought Professor Segul was a cuddler?
“I’ll allow you to eat dinner in peace,” he says in a tone low and
seductive enough to make my pulse race. “But you’ll have to earn dessert.”
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fifteen

MARIUS

We haven’t even fucked yet but I’m in the full belief that Phoenix Stahl is
the eighth wonder of the world. She’s passed out beneath the leather sheet,
her cheeks still flushed from last night’s exertions.
Her face is a picture of purity—rosebud lips, high cheekbones, and a
pert nose with a sprinkling of freckles. Her hair spreads out across the black
pillow in a cascade of loose waves tinted copper in the red light.
Exquisite.
If I had a talent for painting, I would call this tableau Innocence
Debauched.
I have never met a woman who could keep up with my demands. The
best of them usually exercise their amber safe word after about the seventh
or eighth orgasm, but not her. She took what I gave her and challenged me
for more.
A woman like her deserves a breakfast for a princess.
I place a kiss on her brow and walk across the playroom, already
assessing what I have in the fridge to boost her energy. Eggs, smoked
salmon, fruit, Greek yogurt? Would she like caviar? I shake my head.
Perhaps not on the first date. It’s an acquired taste.
The sound of creaking leather breaks me out of my reverie. I pause at
the door to catch a glimpse of her through the leather curtains, but it looks
like she’s just shifted in her sleep.
Let her get her rest. She’ll be needing it for what I want to do with her
later.
Upstairs, I have to squint a little as I enter the kitchen because the
sunlight streaming in from the patio is unexpectedly strong. It reflects off
the stainless steel appliances, slate worktops, and white surfaces, making
my head throb.
What time is it?
My gaze darts to the kitchen clock. 10:23? It isn’t like me to oversleep,
but then, how often do I get to enjoy a submissive before the timer runs out
or she exercises her safe word and leaves?
Heat floods my groin, and my cock stirs within the gray sweatpants I
pulled on when the leather jeans chafed.
I fill the kettle, then open one of the glass-fronted cupboards to extract a
cafetière. My hand drifts to my chin. Would Phoenix prefer hot chocolate?
Perhaps I could make all three and give her a choice.
The landline rings, souring my mood. Only one person would know that
number, and that’s the bastard who owns the house.
Ignoring it, I walk to the refrigerator. It’s one of those multi-door affairs
recessed within a white unit, with a wine cooler on its right, deep freeze
drawers beneath it and a full-length refrigerator on the left.
As the phone continues to ring, my jaw tightens. I would rather live in a
hovel as a free man than in the tainted luxury of Crius Vanir.
Mother had better be unharmed. Otherwise…
Fury crashes over my senses like a tidal wave, coloring the edges of my
vision red. I grip the refrigerator’s stainless steel handle until my knuckles
turn white. The rage that courses through me is hot and impotent.
I haven’t laid eyes on Crius since I shot him in the chest at sixteen. He’s
had the good sense to avoid me since then and now only communicates via
telephone.
Because we both know the next time I won’t miss.
The phone stops ringing, and I yank open the door. Just as I’m about to
pull out the eggs, the phone rings again.
My nostrils flare. The persistent bastard won’t stop until I answer, and if
I tear the phone out of its socket, he’ll only send a messenger with another.
I storm across the room and pick up the receiver.
“What?” I snap.
He pauses. “Is that any way to greet your father?”
Ten years ago, I might have snarled a rebuttal, but Crius enjoys
animosity and despises indifference. I won’t even give him the satisfaction
of demanding that he get to the point.
The silence stretches out between us for longer than necessary. I would
roll my eyes, but the bastard might hear an accompanying huff.
“I called for a progress report,” he says.
“On a Sunday morning?” I reply. “It’s doubtful that the target attends
church.”
“Very droll, my boy.”
I clench my teeth, wishing I hadn’t fed him the sarcasm.
“It’s a self-contained campus within a sleepy seaside village that offers
little to a person under the age of thirty,” I say, sounding bored. “Even if the
target wanted to leave its secure walls, his security pass wouldn’t allow it.”
“What about nightclubs?” he asks.
I shake my head, wondering if he’s being deliberately obtuse. “The
university provides everything a young miscreant could desire.”
“I expected you to find an opening by now.”
 “It’s only been a week,” I say, my brows rising. “What happened to this
being a long-term mission? Is your need for leverage against his family
escalating?”
“You haven’t inquired about your mother,” he snaps.
The mere mention of her is a punch to the gut. Adrenaline surges
through my system, putting me into a heightened state of fury. I must have
hit a nerve with that question if he’s striking such a low blow.
“I trust you will keep her in good health,” I say from between clenched
teeth.
“Of all my mistresses, she’s the only one who has produced such a
worthy son,” Crius says with an air of feigned nostalgia.
My lip curls. Mother was his prisoner. A victim long before I was even
born.
If he thinks I have Daddy issues, he’s sorely mistaken. “Is there
anything else?”
“Keep me apprised of the Bestlasson boy. The moment he leaves the
campus—”
“I will let you know.” I hang up.
The sound of someone clearing their throat makes me whirl around.
Phoenix stands in the doorway, dressed in her raincoat and stilettos. It
takes every ounce of willpower not to demand what she overheard.
Instead, I run through what I said to Crius. It was guarded. A habit I
developed from the stretch of time I had to kill people to buy our freedom.
She heard nothing.
At least I hope not.
My gaze travels down from the upturned lapels of her coat, to the triple
knot on her belt, and down to her bare ankles.
I have no idea if she’s naked beneath it or found a way to repair her
knickers. More importantly, it looks like she’s on her way out.
 “Leaving already?” I ask. “I planned on applying arnica gel to your
bruises.”
She lowers her lashes. “I have an assignment due on Monday, so…”
Disappointment shoves my heart into my gut. Not that I’m in the mood
for company or sex. After that conversation with Crius, all I want to do is
tear something apart.
“When will you pay my tuition and rent?” she asks without meeting my
gaze.
“The Finance Division will issue you a receipt by close of business
tomorrow,” I reply, keeping my voice even.
She clasps her hands. “Thanks.”
“I’ll call you an Uber.”
She shakes her head. “There’s already one waiting outside.”
My eyes harden. Phoenix must have ordered it the moment I left the
playroom. I’m about to demand an explanation when she rubs at the cuff
marks on her wrist.
Last night’s silk ropes had probably been overkill. I have no regrets, but
what about her?
She hobbles down the hallway with one stiletto’s heel broken. I make a
mental note to buy her another pair and open the door.
Outside, a gray Toyota Prius awaits on the street with its engine
running. Sea air fills my nostrils, mingling with her citrus and vanilla scent.
Phoenix sweeps past me across the black-and-white-tiled walkway to
the street.
I lean against the doorframe. “Miss Stahl?”
She stiffens. “Yes, sir?”
“Is everything alright?”
“Of course,” she replies too quickly.
I checked in with her last night and asked her for feedback. She’d been
sleepy but happy and looking forward to more. I could order her to stay, but
she’s clearly in need of space.
“Report to me here next Saturday,” I say.
She stills for four heartbeats—four heartbeats during which I hold my
breath, waiting for her reply.
It’s only when she gives me another nod that I exhale.
She slips into the Prius and closes the door without her usual smile or
even a wave goodbye.
I don’t retreat into the house. Not when the car pulls out of the road, and
not when it turns left out of Sydney Crescent and disappears into Marina
Promenade.
It’s impossible to tell if Phoenix has regrets in the harsh light of day or
if she needs time to process last night’s debauchery.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Sixteen

PHOENIX

Walking out of a multi-million-pound villa is a near-impossible feat.

Especially with a throbbing pussy, a broken stiletto, and the world’s
flimsiest raincoat to cover my nudity. But I’m up for the challenge.
Professor Segul’s gaze burns my back as I step out into the tiled path
that stretches from his front door to the pavement of Sydney Crescent.
Daylight shines on my face, making last night’s events even more real.
I inhale lungfuls of fresh, sea breeze that clears away delusions of being
a sugar baby.
What on earth was I thinking?
The leg with the missing heel wobbles as it hits the floor. I balance my
weight on the ball of that foot as I take another step toward the Uber
waiting at the roadside.
I’ve got to stay composed.
If I hesitate, if I so much as falter, he might call me back.
And there’s no way in hell I’d refuse.
My body aches for more, even though I’m certain he has a girlfriend or
a wife. From the way he was talking on the phone, it sounded like she might
be in a hospital or maybe a rehab clinic.
What else could ‘I trust you will keep her in good health mean?’
Several heartbeats later, I open the door and slide into the back seat.
Through stuttering words, I confirm my identity, my destination, and hold
my breath as the driver starts the engine.
I’m a hundred percent certain that Professor Segul is still watching, but
I don’t dare to turn my head toward the front door. Doing so would make
me crumble in the face of temptation.
“You alright love?” the driver asks as he pulls out.
“Fine.” I close my eyes and pretend to sleep, hoping he’ll get the hint
and leave me alone.
The car continues down the road and makes a left turn into Marina
Promenade, where it accelerates. It’s only then that I finally exhale, safe
that Professor Segul won’t order me back for more.
I woke up this morning, alone in a strange, leather bed. Everything
ached—the limbs he had tied to the furniture, the nipples he’d tortured, and
the pussy and clit he had manipulated with back-to-back climaxes.
The pleasure had gotten so intense that my mind collapsed within itself
and I’d blacked out.
The worst part of it all was that I loved it.
Loved every moment of humiliation and pain. Even the scene with the
bottle and wine had been exhilarating. I’d even gotten my first multiple
orgasm. And when he carried me over to the bed and massaged my aches,
my heart melted like fondue.
Then he brought me food and took care of me like I was special. I had
no idea men could nurture. It had been bliss. But the moment I felt
comfortable and loved, he tempted me to do the unspeakable with chocolate
fondue.
Arousal surges to my pussy, adding to my slick heat. Who would have
thought I’d have an erogenous zone in the back of my throat?
 I clutch at my temples, squeeze my eyes shut, and breathe hard through
my nostrils. I should be horrified with myself but instead, I’m appalled that
I’m not.
Was Dad right?
All those times he’d screamed that women couldn’t love a good man
because we were worthless cunts. That women were ungrateful and could
only love a man who treated her like shit.
Those words had confused me at first, then caused me anger, but I
finally saw him as being bitter at having been rejected.
Dad always said I would turn to trash the moment his back was turned.
Now, look at me. The sudden freedom since he disappeared has put my
mind in a tailspin.
If I’m not the oppressed daughter of a controlling man, then does that
make me the plaything of another?
No. I shake my head for emphasis.
Back then, I might have been a victim but not anymore.
I started this, thinking I could handle a sugar daddy. It was me who had
spotted him through the Red Room’s window, me who had opened the door
and stepped into the store. Me who had talked myself up as a no-limits slut
because he had dismissed me with a glance.
Bloody hell.
Then I escalated it with phone sex and nude texting. When I discovered
that the man I’d wanted to date was my professor, I should have backed
down, apologized, and found another way to pay for my studies.
But I was never one for having common sense.
Nope.
I doubled down and blackmailed him. I could have chickened out
yesterday afternoon, but I trekked across town and yelled outside his home
until he let me in.
 He gave me chances to leave, to tell him to stop, or even slow down, but
I wanted it. Wanted it all, even though my knowledge of kinky sex was
restricted to books.
“At least you know the real thing,” I mutter under my breath.
“What’s that, love?” asks the driver.
“Nothing.”
I exhale a long sigh. There’s no way an intelligent man who looks like
that, fucks like that, and has wealth like that is single. There’s also no way a
man buys a fully equipped dungeon unless he has at least one permanent
woman.
Professor Segul never wanted me in the first place. He completely
dismissed me in the Red Room until I started spouting off about being a
needy brat. He was probably just angling for a one-night stand and then I
complicated things by being his student.
Not to mention the blackmail.
I need to forget about him, even though I just had the best sex of my
life.
The last thing I need is for him to discard me the way Veer discarded me
after taking my virginity.
The last thing I need to spend the rest of the year obsessed.
I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and log into the University
app. There are two red alerts in the profile section that indicate I haven’t
paid my rent and tuition fees.
Ignoring my outstanding debts, I navigate to the electives section, where
each lecturer outlines their curriculum, along with the required readings and
the titles of each assignment they intend to set with submission dates.
This coming week in Advanced Finance and Accounting is Capital
Budgeting, a subject that Dad drummed into my skull years ago. The
assignment is something I can do without going to the lectures.
“Right then,” I say under my breath. “I’ll do the reading in my room.”
 It might just work.
Professor Segul gave me the option to leave and get my debts paid.
Without strings. I didn’t exactly say I would stay for the allowance.
If he covers the cost of my tuition and rent, I could borrow books from
the library and get a weekend job to pay for food.
If that promise of financial support was just bullshit, then I’ll have to
drop out of university.
A shudder runs down my back and settles at the base of my spine. My
insides fill with a sense of cold, blank terror that seizes my lungs until my
vision blurs.
The phone slips from my fingers and lands on my lap, breaking me
from my mini panic. I shake off the transparent spots dancing before my
eyes and force in a breath.
Dropping out isn’t an option. Not with Dad not around to give me a
home.
Marina University isn’t even accredited, so I wouldn’t qualify for a
student loan. If I borrowed from a shark and couldn’t pay, then he’d
probably sell me to one of the pimps who work for that trafficker, Crius
Vanir.
“Here we are,” the driver says as he stops the car. “Marina University.”
I slip my phone back into my raincoat pocket.
Professor Segul isn’t stupid. What we did last night would get him fired.
He’ll pay my rent and tuition only to keep me quiet.
Then I’ll get a job to pay my expenses and spend the rest of the year
avoiding his classes.
That way, there’ll be no repeat of what happened with Veer Burisson.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Seventeen

MARIUS

On Monday morning, I arrange an anonymous transfer to Marina University

to cover Phoenix’s rent and tuition fees.
I send her a text: Funds sent. Next time you visit, I won’t let you leave so
easily.
She doesn’t send a message or a text acknowledging the payment, even
though I know the finance division would have informed her the moment
the funds arrived.
She’s notably absent from Finance and Accounting later, but Veer
Bestlasson sits in the front seat with his arms folded across his chest and
glares at me throughout the entire lecture.
If I wasn’t buying Mother’s freedom with his abduction, the boy would
learn never to issue an unspoken challenge. But singling him out would
only add me to the list of suspects when he eventually goes missing.
Odin must never know of my involvement. Not if I ever want to return
to academia.
I sleep in the playroom for the third night since Sunday, and by four-
thirty on Wednesday morning, I awaken with a raging hard-on and a thirst
that only Phoenix can quench.
If she wanted me, she would have replied to my texts.
If she wanted me, she would have demanded her monthly allowance.
If she wanted me, she would have stayed.
But what if she wants me to make the next move?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Don’t do this.”
I tell my common sense to fuck off. Phoenix is ours.
Before I know it, I’m in the university campus, standing outside the
entry system with my features obscured by a baseball cap.
The first traces of sunlight peek over the high walls that surround the
ground. Seagulls squawk, interrupting what would be a pleasant mix of
birdsong and distant traffic.
All the sounds I should be enjoying this morning are muffled by the roar
of blood between my ears.
My common sense mutters something about this being my last chance
to turn around before I do something stupid like get caught with my pants
down around a student, but I’m so close to Phoenix that I can smell her
scent.
I ring her bell.
“Hello?” she says through the intercom, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Delivery.”
There’s a second’s pause before she buzzes me in, and the sound makes
my cock jump to attention. After all, he’s leading the show.
Studio number 50 is on the fourth floor. Keeping my head bowed, I
head for the stairs, where the security cameras’ visibility is the poorest, and
take them two at a time.
Phoenix’s studio apartment is conveniently located by the fire door. I
knock twice, pull down the brim of my cap, and wait.
She cracks the door open but neglects to put on the chain. Somewhere
in the back of my mind, I make a mental note to chastise her lack of
caution, but I shove my way through the door.
Phoenix skitters backward, her mouth agape. As she draws in a deep
breath to scream, I clamp a hand over the lower half of her face and pin her
to the wall.
With one leg, I kick the door behind me, letting it shut with a satisfying
slam.
Her eyes are wide, doll-like, with long, thick lashes that I remember
looked beautiful as she served me at my throne.
I press my erection into her belly, letting her feel exactly what she’s
caused, and growl, “Why have you been avoiding me? You and I are not
finished.”
She shakes her head, makes a muffled sound of denial, but I’m too far
gone to listen to excuses.
“Do you remember your safeword?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says, “But what’s this about?”
“We had a deal.” I run my hands down her sides.
She wears an oversized T-shirt with no knickers. I reach beneath the
fabric and grab a handful of her ass.
Phoenix bucks her hips, creating delicious friction, but I’m not in the
mood for frottage. However, I make a mental note to add that to her list of
kinks.
“Kneel,” I snarl.
She jerks her head back. “What are you doing here?”
“On your knees,” I say through clenched teeth. “I won’t order you
twice.”
Fear flitters across her eyes, and she falls to her knees with a soft
whimper.
I stare down at her with my brows raised, waiting for her to exercise her
safewords. When she doesn’t, I say, “Good girl.”
Her pupils dilate, her breath quickens, and her cheeks turn pink.
 “Now, unbuckle my belt.”
Her fingers fumble around my waistband. The clink of metal sends a
surge of arousal to my groin, but it’s nothing compared to Phoenix’s wide
eyes.
“Open your mouth.”
Her pretty lips part as though she’s never sucked a cock in her life, and
her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.
Anyone would think she was terrified, but she slides her tongue across
her bottom lip as though she can’t wait.
I suck in a sharp breath, push aside the speculation that she’s been
playing hard to get, and grab a fistful of her hair.
A gentleman would take his time, ease that hard cock between her
plump lips and savor the moment. But my blood simmers with the need for
Phoenix’s pretty mouth.
She rests her palms on my hips, and brings one of her hands to the base
of my shaft. Before she can take control, I thrust my cock between her
moistened lips and toward the back of her throat.
The wet heat of her mouth is incredible, as is the hum of protest that
resounds across my cock head. It’s enough to make my knees buckle. I
brace a hand on the wall and bite back a moan.
“Eyes on me,” I say.
Her gaze snaps to meet mine.
Her eyes are watery, with tears glistening at their corners.
“Good girl,” I rasp. “You’re taking my cock so well.”
She makes a pleased sound as I hit the back of her throat, and it opens
up a little wider, letting more of me in.
I pull out, and she exhales a noisy breath, then I thrust further in,
pushing past her gag reflex. Her throat closes around me, a tight wet ring of
muscle that squeezes to perfection.
 My balls draw into my body, tightening with the onset of a powerful
climax. I breathe hard through clench teeth and quicken my thrusts. Phoenix
moans, bobs her head, and grips my hip tight enough to hurt.
I cum in a hot rush down her throat, shuddering as she swallows around
me.
“That’s it,” I say through panting breaths. “Don’t spill a drop.”
When I release her hair, she reels backward, panting, gasping, and
clutching at her throat. She mutters something about how this isn’t anything
like a book she’s read.
“What was that?” I say, my brows raised.
“Nothing,” she replies through coughs.
My eyes narrow.
She shakes her head as though to reassure me she hadn’t said anything
at all.
“C minus.”
Her gaze snaps up to meet mine. “What?”
“The fellatio was passable.” I sniff. “You will report to my office at 7:45
each morning before classes to improve your technique.”
Her cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you will be punished.”
I turn on my heel then place my hand on the door latch. “Next time, use
the chain and peephole before you let a strange man into your apartment.”
She huffs. “You forced your way in, remember?”
My lips curl into a smirk. “And if I have to hunt you down again, you
won’t enjoy my retribution.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eighteen

PHOENIX

Shit.
Oh, shit.
Shit, shit shit.
I’m still on my knees with one shoulder braced against the wall, my
eyes fixed on the closed door. My knickers are soaked.
The muscles of my pussy clench and spasm in unison with my heart. It
beats so hard that it feels like I’m going to rupture all my blood vessels.
That was…
There are no words.
Professor Segul just walked in here and acted like I belonged to him.
What he just did right now was lower than a booty call.
Yet I want more.
Shaking my head, I exhale a long breath, and drop my gaze to the floor.
“What the fuck have I done?” I mutter under my breath.
This is worse than summoning a demon, worse than opening Pandora’s
box. Because those are all fictional and you can close the book when it gets
too intense.
 I’ve stirred something hungry and dark within Professor Segul and now
he wants more.
“At least he’s answered my question,” I mutter. “This isn’t a one-off.”
I hadn’t left the studio since Sunday, and spent the past few days fretting
over whether or not I wanted to be someone’s sub.
My ass still hurts. Sitting in the Uber hadn’t been so bad, but when I
returned to the studio and checked my bruises, I was shocked.
It was purple with bruises, handprints and fingerprints. How on earth
could anyone enjoy receiving that level of pain?
Then my nipples were tender, and my clit felt like a raw nerve. I
couldn’t leave my studio in case everyone detected it on my face.
A knock sounds on the door. “Are you alright?” asks Charlotte from
next door. “I heard noises.”
My stomach clenches with dread. If anyone found out that I was fucking
a professor, then I would be expelled. I clear my throat. “Nothing’s wrong.”
She hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I pull myself to my feet. “Sorry about that.”
My phone buzzes. I walk across the studio, nearly tripping over my
book bag, to pick up my handset.
It’s a message from Professor Segul: Tidy your room, or there will be
consequences!
My nostrils flare. I glance around the studio, my cheeks flushing at the
piles of overdue library books and all the clothes strewn about the floor.
What a nerve. I text back: Next time, give me a chance to clean up and
don’t barge in under false pretenses.
Report to my office each morning on time, and there will be no
impromptu visits.
Don’t you mean intrusions? I text back, wanting to hurl the phone
across my studio.
He responds immediately with Semantics.
 What an asshole.
I put my phone aside and sort my clothes into items I need to wash and
those that can go back into the wardrobe. No university laundry service for
me, but maybe I can stretch to the campus laundromat.
At 9:00 my phone texts again. I pick it up, my heart skipping, but it’s a
notification from my online banking app.
You’ve just received £2,000 from IMANT Holdings.
My jaw drops. I log into the app to find the funds haven’t just cleared
my overdraft but I have more than enough for books, food, clothes,
partying, and plenty left over to save. Warmth fills my chest, followed by a
giddy laugh.
Maybe he isn’t such a bastard after all.

On Thursday morning at 8:15, I storm out of Professor Segul’s office and

rub my aching jaw. How dare that asshole give me a C+? That blowjob was
worth at least a B.
“Phoenix,” says a familiar male voice.
I turn around to find Veer jogging toward me. His guitar case is notably
absent, and he wears a tan leather jacket with a collar that stretches toward
the shoulders. The pear-green shirt he wears beneath it has ruffles down the
front completing the retro rockstar aesthetic.
Any resentment I had from what happened between us in our first year
vanishes. Professor Segul outshines a drunken one-night stand.
“Hey.” I offer him a weak smile.
“Has that asshole been giving you a hard time?” He walks at my side
and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“Kind of,” I mutter. “You?”
 “I expect someone told him who he was dealing with.” He raises a
broad shoulder. “He knows not to mess with me now.”
“Right.” I nod, remembering that Veer is protected by one of the most
powerful men in Great Britain. Even the likes of Dad hated to say Odin’s
name out loud.
We round the corner and descend the stairs in silence. I run my tongue
over my teeth, chasing away the last remnants of Professor Segul.
My pussy is so slick from the feel of his cock in my mouth, and my core
aches with the need to be filled. He wouldn’t let me touch myself, even
while he fucked my face. He’s surprisingly stingy for a man capable of
making me black out from too many orgasms.
Veer’s nervous chuckle invades my thoughts. “Me and a few others are
playing at the campus café on Saturday night.”
“Oh.”
At the landing, I reach for the door handle, but Veer rushes ahead and
pushes it open.
“Want a ticket?” he asks with a hopeful smile.
“Sorry, I have other plans,” I step out of the stairwell and into the
hallway.
I hurry my steps so as not to prolong the awkwardness of this
conversation. Seriously, I have no idea why he’s suddenly interested in a
conversation after acting like what happened between us meant nothing.
Veer is okay for those who find tall, Scandinavian-looking rockstar
types appealing, but I have other obsessions. Looks-wise, he’d be perfect
for Charlotte, though, but I wouldn’t want her to get ghosted.
He keeps up with my strides. “Was my debut last week terrible,
considering I got pelted with that chair?”
I huff a laugh. “It wasn’t bad.”
“V.”
 One of his friends gives him a hearty clap on the shoulder, which leads
to Veer wrapping an arm around the other boy’s neck and putting him into a
headlock.
The pair of them double over, bumping into the wall, like play fighting
twelve year olds. I quicken my pace and put as much distance between me
and them.
Finance and Accounting is next, and I want to teach Professor Segul a
lesson…
The small lecture theater fills with students, and I spot Charlotte sitting
in one of the seats close to the back. She raises a hand. I give her a wave
and ascend the steps to join her.
Silence spreads across the large room as I reach her row, and every fine
hair on my body tingles.
He’s here.
I shuffle past the other students on Charlotte’s row, who have to fold in
their chairs and stand.
“Hey.” She looks me in the eye. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Not really,” I mutter and take my seat.
He wears an ash-gray suit today that’s even more closely tailored to his
athletic frame. My insides inflate with pride at how the last button of his
waistcoat is missing. That minor imperfection is nothing compared to what
he did with my ass.
“Hubba hubba,” Charlotte mutters.
I shoot her a glare. “He’s not even your type.”
“Heh.” She nudges me hard in the ribs. “A man as sexy as him is
universally attractive.”
Irritation tightens my skin. I tear my gaze away from the professor and
sweep it across the rows in front of me. Some of the other female students
have stopped chatting to watch him speak to the technician who’s setting up
the overhead projector.
 “Look at Thalia Grace.” Charlotte nods toward a trio of raven-haired
cousins fluttering their lashes in the professor’s direction.
“What do they think they’re doing?” I whisper.
“Like he’s really going to be interested in those airheads,” Charlotte
whispers back.
But when the professor’s gaze wanders in that direction, and he jerks it
away, I can’t help but wonder if he is looking at them or someone else.
The title CAPITAL BUDGETING appears on the screen. I don’t bother
to reach for my laptop to take notes. Dad covered this subject in
excruciating detail both before he allowed me to study here, and during my
weekend visits, except he called it investment appraisal.
Professor Segul launches into an explanation of why businesses need to
choose wise investments and walks up and down the stage. His gaze
touches mine for an instant before moving onto someone else’s. He looks at
everyone except Thalia Grace and her cousins.
Does he find her too attractive or something?
One of them leans forward and brushes her fingers over Veer’s blond
hair. Veer turns around and flashes her a grin. Professor Segul makes a point
of speaking to the guy with the scar across his cheekbone.
Shouldn’t he be tossing his desk at them?
A more suspicious part of me wonders if he’s ignoring the girls because
one of them services him in the afternoon. But I shake off that thought.
Everyone knows older guys can’t get it up more than once a day.
Except this one.
How could I ever forget the chocolate fondue that came with only one
dip?
My spine straightens, and my mind generates an idea. It’s really dumb
and will almost certainly lead to consequences, but I’m determine to see if
he will ignore me.
 Shrugging off my cardigan, I reveal the spaghetti straps of my tank top.
He pauses for a beat before continuing his lecture. But then I pull back my
shoulders and pretend to stretch, letting the thin fabric pull over my breasts.
His brows furrow, and he turns his attention to where Veer sits in the
front seat with the guy who wrestled him into the wall.
I reach into my bag, extract a banana, and rub it along my jaw. Charlotte
is too busy writing emails to notice what I’m doing, which only gives me
the confidence to continue.
Professor Segul’s gaze sweeps back to where I’m sitting, but he avoids
my eyes. He asks someone a question and places his hands behind his back
to listen to their stuttered reply before responding with the correct answer.
He’s so cocky. I should know, considering I had him in my mouth. I
hang onto his every word because he has a way of making the mundane
sound sexual, but when he ignores the trio of whispering girls, I decide to
turn up my experiment another notch.
I crack the stalk of the banana and pull down its skin, exposing its white
fruit.
This time, when his eyes dart in my direction, they widen.
“You there.” He points directly at me. “Do you intend to eat that banana
or fellate it?”
Laughter erupts across the lecture theater as all heads turn toward me.
Heat explodes across my cheeks, and my stomach plummets to the fold
down seat.
I splutter. “Can’t a girl have a late breakfast in peace?”
“Name?” he snaps.
“Phoenix.” My entire body trembles. What the hell is he doing?
“Phoenix Stahl.”
He gives me a slow nod, the kind of gesture a person makes when
they’re trying to memorize someone’s name. “Well, Miss Stahl, this should
be a lesson for you to eat before attending class.”
 My jaw drops. It’s on the tip of my tongue to blurt that he gave me a
mouthful of spunk but I’m not about to jeopardize my place at university.
“Put that banana away.” He turns to address the trio of girls doing
something similar with lollipops. “The same goes for the rest of you who
think it’s acceptable to eat during my lectures.”
I clamp my mouth shut, slump into my seat, and scowl.
Thalia and her cousins were doing far worse than me, and he didn’t
snap. I press my lips into a tight line and grimace at his double standards.
When I have to pass the stage at the end of the class, a shiver skitters
down my spine.
I can’t wait to see what he does tomorrow morning.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Nineteen

MARIUS

At the end of the lecture, I stand behind the podium, pretending I’m
engrossed with scrolling through my phone, but I’m watching her scuttle
down the lecture theater’s steps, trying to hide her red cheeks.
That had been close.
I’d already been semi-erect at the sight of her braless tits bursting
through that sheer fabric. Then when she got out the banana, I knew exactly
where that would go.
Sometimes, the only way to resist temptation is to confront it head on.
Phoenix reaches the bottom of the steps, dips her head, and ducks
behind a larger male student. I snort. She’s only delaying the inevitable.
I send her a message. You’ll be on your knees tomorrow morning,
begging for mercy.
The only thing more satisfying than seeing her flee would be watching
her reaction when she realizes she’s fucked in more ways than just my
retribution.
“Professor Segul?” a female voice breaks me out of my reverie.
 I glance down from the podium to find a dark-haired young woman
standing in front of me, flanked by two clones. They’re either related to or
obsessed with their leader.
My eyes narrow. I’m sure this trio was flirting with my target with
lollipops.
“Yes?”
“I found today’s lecture inspiring.”
It takes an effort not to roll my eyes at the obvious attempt at flirtation.
Every member of faculty, no matter how decrepit and old, faces the
nuisance of a provocative student. Sometimes they sidle up to the teaching
staff for easy grades, other times they just want something forbidden, but I
find those explanations overly generous.
Girls like this one are little sociopaths in the making. They just want to
see how much they can bend some poor bastard to his will.
“Indeed?” I glance away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her glance from one little friend to the
other, who both nod their encouragement. So, they have a game plan.
Turning off the overhead projector, I pull the memory stick from the
computer and pick up my notes. By now, the lecture hall is almost empty,
save for a few stragglers too engrossed behind their computer screens to
notice the end of class.
This conversation is over. I slip my folder beneath my arm and turn
toward the door.
“Marius—”
“Professor,” I hiss without casting her another glance.
“Sorry,” she says with a giggle. “Professor Segul.”
I step out of the door and into the hallway, which is still littered with
students. One would think a man already involved in one illicit relationship
with a student wouldn’t be so skittish about allowing another to flirt, but
I’ve met enough of this young woman’s type to know not to give her
attention.
She jogs to keep up with my long strides, and I hear the other two
chattering from behind.
“I have a few questions about the internal rate of return thingie you
mentioned,” she blurts.
At the semblance of a genuine question, my steps falter. I turn to her
with my brows raised. “What is it?”
“How does it work?”
“Chapter twenty-six of Gregg, Washer, and Thornbush,” I say.
She blinks. “What?”
“Read that one and the chapters before and after it for context.” I nod
for emphasis. “If you’re still struggling, write down your understanding of
the concept and send it to me via email.”
“Why can’t I just visit you in your office?”
I wag a finger. “Because I want to read your definition sentence by
sentence to correct any misunderstandings of the internal rate of return.”
My gaze sweeps to the other two, who stand behind her with their
mouths agape.
“This can be a learning experience for all the Finance and Accountancy
studies students,” I meet each of their shocked brown eyes and force myself
not to smirk. “And you’ve quite rightly pointed out that IRR is a tricky
concept. Once you’ve completed your précis with the help of your friends, I
want you to present it to the class.”
“That’s not what I asked for—”
“Your name?” I tilt my head.
“Thalia,” she blurts. “Thalia Grace, and these are my cousins, Mia and
Charis.”
“Well, Miss Grace and her cousins, I look forward to receiving your
emails. Should you miss your Monday evening deadline, I will call on you
on Tuesday to stand up and present your findings or lack of to the class.”
Her features melt into a mask of gormless shock. It’s the most satisfying
sight.
“Chop chop.” I shoo her and her little cousins away.
All three of them turn on their heels and disappear down the hallway
and into one of the stairwells like rodents escaping the light.
I pull out my phone and send Phoenix a text: Naughty girls who tease
their professors with bananas are in need of discipline.
She replies an instant later with: I was hungry!
Clearly I’m not feeding you enough.
Morning BJs don’t count!
I smirk. You may have to arrive earlier, so I can give you two loads.
“Professor Segul?” asks a voice from the other end of the hallway.
I turn to find Dr. Xander jogging toward me, his cheeks flushed. My lips
tighten. If only all pests were so easy to expunge.
“Is this important?” Slipping my phone in my pocket, I walk in the
opposite direction. “Only I have other engagements.”
By that, I mean a suitable punishment for Phoenix. One that will
provide maximum chastisement for her but will optimize my pleasure. I
open the door to the stairwell and descend.
If Dr. Xander intends to follow, then he may as well trail behind me as I
explore the university campus.
“I went to see you at six last night, but you weren’t in your office,” he
says.
“That’s unfortunate.” I rub my chin.
“We still need to discuss the students.”
“They behave well enough in Advanced Finance and Accountancy.”
Dr. Xander huffs. “Not all lecturers can throw chairs at their students
without consequences. How on earth did you get away with that behavior at
LSF?”
 I purse my lips. “Different culture.”
There’s a fire exit at the bottom of the stairs. I push open the metal bar,
letting in a gust of rose-scented air.
Marina University’s grounds remind me of the well-tended gardens of
an institution, because that’s essentially what it is: a holding-place for
underworld offspring who want to explore their educational options but
without the threat of assassination or abduction.
Shango, Odin, and the other leaders are gentrifying the world of
organized crime. What does Great Britain have now? Its own mob-run
university, prison, and taxation system.
Absurd.
I walk down a gravel path with a rose garden bordering the building on
the left, and an expanse of lawn on my right that stretches toward the distant
security walls. The midmorning sun warms my back, while Dr. Xander’s
gaze warms the side of my face.
Joking aside, the university’s vetting process had been thorough. Crius
had ensured there was no link between him and myself, so anyone
scrutinizing my background would see someone who had clawed his way
up from a troubled childhood with a drug-addled single-parent.
“Miss Athena Belus complained that you made a sexist comment
today,” Dr. Xander says, his voice low.
“News travels fast.”
He pulls out his smartphone. “She’s the University Student Union’s
Women’s Officer and the complaint is on the intranet.”
I glance down at the screen, my gaze skipping over some rant about
bananas, to a square image of Veer Bestlasson holding a guitar.
“May I?” I gesture at the phone.
“Of course.” Dr. Xander gives me his handset. “Read the comments
below. Some of them are rather aggrieved.”
 Odin’s nephew stares down at the camera with one hand tucked into the
waistband of his skinny jeans and the words TIN SOLDIERS ON PLUTO
photoshopped at his back. Standing on either side of him are students I
vaguely recognize from the lecture theater.
The caption reads: Saturday @ 6pm. Campus Café. Be there or be
square.
An idea hatches in the back of my mind. If I can’t lure Veer Bestlasson
off campus, perhaps I could entice the Tin Soldiers on Pluto.
“Do you see?” Dr. Xander asks. “With one misplaced comment, you’ve
alienated half the female students.”
“You’re right.” I turn to look him full in the face.
His pale eyes widen with shock. He’s a little older up close, with thin
streaks of gray in his floppy brown hair.
“So, you’ll help me connect with the students?”
“Here’s what I propose,” I say.
He gives me an eager nod.
“An apology to the young woman. I realize now that the banana
comment was inappropriate.”
“You could invite her and a few others for tea.”
“Let’s not overdo it.” I raise a palm. “Just the one in question would be
best. She may not feel comfortable airing her grievances before her peers.”
Dr. Xander rocks forward on his heels, his expression lightening.
“That’s a start.”
“Perhaps the students need to see us taking more of an interest in them
as people.” I let the sentence trail off, hoping the other academic might take
the initiative and suggest something that puts us in the way of Veer
Bestlasson.
“Any ideas?”
I hand him back the phone. “You and I could attend a campus event
together. Is anything happening on Saturday?”
 He glances down at his handset. “There’s a concert at the campus café. I
could gather a few others and—”
“Sounds delightful.” I clap him on the shoulder and stride away. “Just
tell me when and where to meet.”
Dr. Xander takes the hint and doesn’t follow, but as my phone buzzes,
and she messages me with a banana emoji, I realize my mistake. I’m
supposed to be meeting with Phoenix on Saturday.
I text back, Since you enjoy bananas so much, I will reintroduce you to
mine.
Yum.
And I’ll be grading you on your performance.
When she replies with a frown emoji, I furrow my brow. Unfortunately
we’ll have to reschedule. I’ll inform her tomorrow when she arrives for the
usual morning cock sucking.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty

PHOENIX

Yesterday’s lecture was bad enough.

Today, I am fuming.
Overnight, this banana thing has exploded out of proportion, and it’s all
Professor Segul’s fault.
The situation is completely out of control.
I spent the two years with my head down, existing beneath anyone’s
notice, and then he called me out for eating a banana.
I storm down the top floor hallway, the doors and notice boards on
either side of me fading into blurs. Blood roars between my ears, and I
clench and unclench my hands into fists.
There are memes on the university intranet about bananas and entire
debates on whether women should eat them in public. Some girl from the
Student Union who I’ve never met just started up a petition to cancel
Professor Segul. Someone even messaged me to be her mouthpiece.
I’m lying low until it blows over, but I’m still pissed.
And if that bastard even thinks about giving me another C, I’ll use my
teeth and show him what could be worse than mediocrity.
 The pulse between my legs pounds so hard, I feel its reverberations
down to my ankles. My jaw clenches. What about this confrontation is
arousing?
My pussy muscles clench even harder than my fists.
That’s all I need.
Professor Fucking Stahl is conditioning me to associate him with not
just sex, but guilty pleasure. I need to get a grip on reality. Men who make
comments worthy of campus-wide memes deserve fists, not fellatio.
Raising my chin, I storm into his office.
“Do you know what they’re saying around the university?” I ask.
“Everyone heard—”
“Bad girls who can’t knock get punished,” he says from behind his
desk.
Professor Segul is without his jacket today, and doesn’t even wear a
waistcoat. His shirt sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, exposing his
muscular forearms. His white shirt is unbuttoned, giving me tantalizing
glimpses of his pecs.
It’s crazy. I’ve seen him in various states of undress already, had his
cock halfway down my throat, yet my mouth still drops open.
He peers at me through eyes that look turquoise in the morning light.
All sense of retribution and rebelliousness evaporates under the heat of his
gaze.
The professor raises a brow. “What do you have to say for yourself,
Miss Stahl?”
I want to tell him that he ordered me here at 7:45, but I remember the
text he sent as I hurried out of the lecture theater. Sassing him will only add
to my punishment.
“You humiliated me,” I say.
He leans back in his seat, languid like a lion waiting for his lackeys to
bring the spoils of their hunt. Does that make me the lioness or the soon-to-
be-devoured prey?
My clit throbs in time with my rapid heartbeat, already knowing the
answer.
“And how was I supposed to interpret that display of your delectable
breasts?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting into the barest trace of a
smile. “And how did you expect me to react when the tip of your tongue
grazed that banana?”
When I lick my lips, his eyes darken, and his chest inflates with a deep
inhale.
“A woman should be able to eat breakfast and take off her cardigan in
public without certain men misinterpreting her actions.”
“But you’re not just any woman.” His voice is dark, dangerous,
demanding. “You’re mine, and what we do together isn’t for public display.
Not unless it’s a scene of my choosing.”
The butterflies in my stomach flutter. Firstly, at the confirmation that I
stand out among other girls. Secondly, the fact that he just claimed me as
his. And thirdly, at the prospect of public sex.
“What am I going to do with you, Miss Stahl?” he asks.
The question coils around my senses like a constrictor. If I’m not
careful, I’ll let him reel me into his view of yesterday’s antics. Professor
Segul would have me on my knees—exactly where he wants—begging for
forgiveness.
I shake off my stupor and brush aside his attempts to take control.
“Consider us even.”
“Au contraire.” He grins, baring sharp teeth. “Because of you, I couldn’t
stop thinking about who else got to marvel at your nipples protruding from
that transparent blouse.”
My heart skips, and I squeeze my thighs together.
“Because of you, every time I think of a banana, I’m picturing the tip of
your tongue running back and forth on my slit.”
 “Oh.” I clap a hand over my mouth.
“Come here,” he growls.
I step back toward the door.
His eyes narrow. “Don’t make me come after you.”
The butterflies in my stomach riot. I can’t work out if they’re telling me
to run toward him or run away, but my fight or flight thinks I’m in the midst
of a predator and turns me toward the exit.
Seconds later, a strong arm wraps around my waist, and a hand claps
over my mouth to muffle a scream.
“So you like to be chased?” he growls in my ear.
My body screams yes, but I shake my head.
“If I pushed aside your knickers, I wager I’d find you soaking wet.”
Heat sears across my cheeks, and a whimper resounds in the back of my
throat. “That’s not fair,” I try to say through the hand clamped over my
mouth. “I’m always aroused around you.”
He carries me over to the other side of his desk and pulls me onto his
lap. The hand on my mouth slides down my jaw and rests over my throat.
The professor’s grip is firm, but not tight, and he lingers there for
several heartbeats. His hot breaths fan across one side of my face, making
me squirm.
“Uncomfortable?” he asks in a voice filled with warmth.
“This is an odd way of apologizing,” I say with a huff.
“Strange,” he drawls. “I was about to say the same to you. No matter.”
He pushes me off his lap, so I’m standing at his side, facing away from him.
The absence of his touch feels like being plunged in cold water. I
swallow back my disappointment and turn to meet his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Bend over my lap,” he says.
When I step back, there’s already an arm around my hamstrings,
holding me in place.
 “Why?” I ask.
“You left on Saturday before I could give you a second treatment of
arnica gel,” he replies. “I want to see your bruises.”
Now, it’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “Make me—”
Before I even get to complete that sentence, the arm around my thighs
slides up to the small of my back, and he positions me over his knees.
“Lift up your skirt.”
My hand twitches toward my hem. “Are you sure this isn’t a spanking?”
“Have I ever lied to you, Miss Stahl?” he asks in a tone that implies that
I have.
“Concealed the truth, maybe,” I say and reach down to yank my skirt
around my waist.
Cool air swirls over my ass, which is still warmer than usual from last
Saturday’s spanking. My breaths turn shallow as I realize that he could do
anything to me while I’m like this, including using a ruler.
“Are you sure you don’t want a blowjob this morning, sir?” My words
tremble.
The part of me who came here powered by righteous indignation
cringes, but the traitor between my leg twitches and pulses in anticipation
for his fingers.
“All in good time.” He runs a warm palm over one buttock, making me
moan. “I know you don’t have lectures until ten on Friday.”
My chest fills with warmth at the thought that he’s looked up my
schedule on the University intranet. “How are my bruises?”
“They’re healing nicely,” he says, his voice thick. “However, I see a few
bare patches that need color.”
“You can’t add to them,” I blurt. “Not when we’ve agreed that we’re
both at fault.”
“I admitted nothing.” He curls his fingers, grabbing a handful of my ass.
 I hiss through my teeth at the sting. As soon as the pain registers, he
slips a finger between my slick folds.
“Oooh,” I moan.
“See how wet you are for me.” He circles my clit with deliciously slow
strokes that make my thighs tremble. “You enjoy this just as much as I do.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and clamp my jaw because any words of denial
would be a lie.
Something cold and wet lands with a squelch on my buttock, making
me flinch. “What’s that?”
“Arnica gel.” He rubs it into my ass cheek. “Don’t you remember it
from after the chocolate fondue?”
I bite down on my bottom lip, trying not to wriggle. “You mean when I
licked melted chocolate off your dick?”
His belly shakes with a silent laugh. “I ran out of bananas.”
“Very funny,” I mutter despite my smile. “Toward the end, I was so
sleepy that not even the chocolate could keep me awake.”
“Mmm…” His finger makes an extra slow circle around my clit,
making my thighs tremble. “I’ll endeavor to cram in as much as I can
before you expire.”
I’m about to ask what he means, when a knock sounds on the door,
making us both stiffen.
“Get under the desk,” he growls, and wheels his chair back.
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I scamper beneath his desk and
position myself on my hands and knees. Fortunately, there’s a modesty
panel stretching close to the floor, so the average person won’t notice
there’s an entire human being down there unless they bent down and
searched.
Professor Segul stares down at me as though checking that I’m in place
before rolling back his desk chair and saying, “Enter.”
 He sounds so clear and confident that I can’t help but wonder if he’s had
other students down there before. Because no one could be so composed at
the prospect of being caught.
Footsteps creak across the parquet floor. From the weight of them, I
guess that his visitor is a man.
“Professor Segul,” says an equally as posh male voice. “I wonder if you
could do me a favor.”
I clench my teeth, sending the interloper go-away vibes.
“What is it?” the professor asks, his voice guarded.
“There’s a complication down at the hospital.” The newcomer inhales a
deep breath. “Professor Eckhart needs another procedure—”
“Is it serious?” he asks.
“Possibly,” the other man says with a long sigh. I suspect it’s Dr.
Xander, the economics lecturer.
I place a hand on my chest. Poor Professor Eckhart. He really cared
about his students and didn’t deserve such terrible luck.
“How can I help?” asks Professor Segul.
“I’m supposed to be teaching Macroeconomics at ten, but I want to be
at his side when he wakes.”
“You want me to teach your class?”
Dr. Xander pauses. “Could you?”
“Which subject are you covering today?”
“Marius, I owe you.” The economics lecturer drags a chair across the
floor. It creaks as he lowers himself into it. “We were in the middle of fiat
currencies and moved onto crypto. Let me share my notes.”
I swallow back a groan, bow my head, and rest it against the professor’s
knees.
He raps at the crown of my head with his fingers, making me glance up,
where I have an uninterrupted view of his crotch.
 Professor Segul pushes in his chair, so I’m now trapped between his
spread legs, and the hand that was once on my head is now pulling down
his zipper.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-One

PHOENIX

My mouth falls open as Professor Segul continues to pull down his zipper.
Dr. Xander launches into an overview of the lecture he’s about to miss,
seeming oblivious to what’s happening beneath the desk.
I can’t hear a word he’s saying because all my concentration is on the
hand now beckoning at me to come closer.
My throat tightens.
What the hell?
He can’t be serious about wanting me to suck him off in front of his
colleague. What if one of us made an inappropriate noise? How the hell
would we explain ourselves if there was a fire alarm?
Professor Segul taps his foot.
Then he clicks his fingers.
“Is anything the matter?” asks Dr. Xander.
“Nothing that won’t be fixed with a little attention,” the professor
replies in a voice as smooth as his silk boxers.
This is my cue to get started… Or else.
 Warmth floods my lower belly, and my clit throbs in unison with the
pulse between my legs. I’m so aggravated that I’m turned on at the prospect
of getting caught.
“Asshole,” I whisper under my breath.
When I jerk his fly open, his huge cock springs out and hits me on the
cheekbone as though affronted by the insult. He’s fully erect and the veins
on his shaft are more prominent than I’ve ever seen them.
Precum beads on the thickest, most mouthwateringly engorged
cockhead, and my pussy clenches with need.
A stray thought pops up in my head. Why hasn’t he fucked me with that
thing yet?
I want him to bend me over the desk and drive that huge dick into my
pussy. I want him to stretch me open until I ache. I want him to pound into
me until I scream.
He snaps his fingers again, breaking me out of my cock-induced stupor.
I reach into his fly and pull out his balls, which are nice and tight today,
and roll them between my fingers. Professor Segul widens his legs, which I
take as a sign that he wants me to continue.
Running the flat of my tongue from the root of his cock, I trace the
contours of a prominent vein that branches off to the side. With back and
forth motions, I work my way up the underside of his shaft to the spot
where it meets the head.
There’s a sensitive part there that always draws out a moan from
Professor Segul when I lave at it with my tongue. I lap at it with gentle
strokes, making his thighs tremble.
This is actually quite fun.
When I tire of that spot, I take my time, kissing around that big, juicy
head and watching the precum on his slit grow and grow until it looks like
it’s going to spill. Just before it reaches that point, I gather the fluid on my
tongue. To make sure I take it all, I lick up and down the width of his cock
hole.
Professor Segul tightens his thighs around my shoulder and clears his
throat.
“Are you alright, Marius?” asks Dr. Xander.
“We’re on a first name basis, now?” the professor asks.
“Oh.” Dr. Xander sounds disappointed. “I thought that after yesterday
and with you helping me with my lecture, and our plans for the weekend…”
The other man’s voice trails off, and I can imagine Professor Segul
eviscerating him with those penetrating eyes. Eyes that could probably
make me cum if he stared at me for long enough.
But right now, I’m staring into the eye of his huge dick, and it’s winking
at me to continue.
As I swirl my tongue around his glans, Professor Segul threads his
fingers into my hair and gives my scalp a reassuring stroke. My pussy purrs
at the unspoken praise.
When I slip him between my lips and prepare to take him all the way
down, the fingers in my hair tighten. I pull out and glare at his hand, letting
his thick, wet cock bob up and down.
He waves his palm up and down. I’m pretty sure he’s ordering me to go
slowly.
My eyes widen. He cannot be serious.
There’s no way in hell I can keep this up for however long it takes for
Dr. Xander to stop talking. The man is actually delivering the economics
lecture and going off at lots of tangents, the way he usually does in class.
I snap my teeth to signify my annoyance, but now Professor Segul
drums his fingers on his thigh.
This is the universal sign for If you keep me waiting a moment longer,
I’ll paddle your ass until your bruises get bruises.
 Sending out a silent plea for Dr. Xander to wrap up his mini lecture and
leave, I clamp my lips around the side of Professor Segul’s shaft and give it
a gentle suck.
His fingers stroke my hair, and I preen at his gesture of approval. But
when I bring my hands up to grip him, he yanks at my hair.
“Shit,” I hiss through my teeth.
“What was that?” Dr. Xander says.
My stomach drops. This is it.
The moment Dr. Xander bends down and finds me hiding beneath the
desk, molesting the new professor.
Fuck.
Everyone already knows me as the girl who tried to fellate a banana. If I
get caught like this, rumors will spread around the university, and I’ll get
expelled.
And then Dad will emerge from wherever he’s hiding himself just to tell
me he was right. That I’m the same as all women. My thoughts gallop like
an out of control stallion until the professor’s voice slices through my
mind’s rantings.
“I’m having trouble with this chair,” he replies, sounding like he’s
genuinely aggrieved with his office furniture.
“Building maintenance could replace it for you,” Dr. Xander says,
sounding unusually hopeful. “Would you like me to—”
“I’ll send them a message myself,” the professor replies, and gives me a
few impatient taps on the head. “Let’s just continue with what we were
doing before.”
Dr. Xander pauses, and I imagine right now, he’s confused because they
weren’t doing anything but sitting there, talking about economics.
This is a message for me. The bastard is determined to make me take
my sweet time getting him off.
 So I lick, flick, lap, tap, wrap my lips around his shaft but don’t suck.
When my jaw starts to ache, I kiss my way down to his balls and roll them
around my mouth.
The professor exhales a long, satisfied breath. Who knew he liked his
balls sucked?
But after caressing them in my mouth for what feels like ten minutes,
my jaw aches again, so I move onto slow licks up and down the underside
of his dick. To stop my tongue from getting cramp, I swirl it around his
cockhead.
The professor’s breath quickens, as does my pulse. Whatever I’m doing
right now is working. Dr. Xander’s voice muffles behind the roar of the
blood racing through my ears.
I’m determined to make Professor Segul cum.
Concentrating my strokes on the stretchy band that connects the
foreskin and the cockhead, I lash my tongue.
His hands tighten around my hair, the way a jockey might pull on the
reigns of a bolting horse. He wants me to slow down. I just want him to
cum. I quicken my pace and lick through the ache, through the strain,
through the thrill of how he’ll punish me for disobedience.
Professor Segul is going to climax under my command.
I place a hand on his thigh to steady myself, my core pulsing at how the
muscle beneath my palm tightens.
He’s so close, and I’m determined to make him spurt.
“Thank you. I think I have enough information to deliver your lecture,”
the professor says, his voice tight.
My pace quickens. Asshole wants to cum in peace, and probably while
not staring at another man.
Ha.
Not under my watch.
“Are you sure?” asks Dr. Xander. “You sound stressed.”
 I wrap my lips around his glans and take the professor all the way down.
Another time, I might bob my head, but I don’t want to bash it on the
underside of the desk. Instead, I suck in my cheeks and give his balls a
gentle squeeze.
Professor Segul makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, then
disguises it as a cough. Warm fluid hits the back of my throat. I swallow
around his spurts and massage his testicles between my fingers.
By the time he stops cumming, my ears are ringing, and my jaw feels
like it’s about to unhinge. Professor Segul softens in my mouth, and I pull
back.
“Thank you, Professor,” Dr. Xander says as he rises.
“Yes, yes,” he replies, sounding far too relaxed for a man who just
listened to a mini lecture on the economics of cryptocurrencies. “Don’t
forget you owe me.”
“Of course.” The other man’s footsteps echo toward the door. “I’ll send
Professor Eckhart your regards.”
Professor Segul only grunts.
The door creaks open, but the professor doesn’t move until it clicks
shut. He wheels back his desk chair and stares at me with his brows raised.
“You ruined my plan,” he says.
“Which was?” I ask, sounding innocent.
“I wanted you to swallow after he’d left.”
“Sorry,” I say, sounding anything but.
His lips quirk. “Would you like me to return the favor?”
Arousal shoots straight to my clit, and I picture him on his knees eating
my pussy while I mess up his perfect hair. I shake off that thought.
Professor Segul gets on his knees for no woman.
This is probably a trick.
He gazes down at me, his eyes dancing. “Well?”
 The way he elongates that vowel, like he’s the morally gray hero of my
romance novel, makes me think he’s serious about getting me off. It takes
every effort not to pant when I nod.
“Very well then.” He steps back, allowing me to crawl out from under
the desk. “Beg.”
My aching jaw drops. “What?”
“You heard me the first time,” he says.
I did, but I hoped he wasn’t serious.
“Beg.”
My teeth clack together. “Are you joking?” I snarl. “After over an hour
—”
“Forty-eight minutes.”
“Forty-eight fucking minutes of licking and sucking you, and after three
days straight of giving you blow jobs, I have to grovel?”
He just stares down at me with that dangerous glower—the one that
tells me I’m trying his patience. The one that tells me I’m about to get into
trouble.
“Alternatively, I could spank you until your mascara runs down your
face.”
No.
Fucking.
Way.
“Please,” I say from between clenched teeth.
“Please, what?” he replies.
“Please, let me cum,” I grit out. “Sir.”
He sits back on his chair. “Kiss my shoe.”
“What?” I blurt.
“You and I both know you have a foot fetish.” He turns his chair to the
side and stretches out his right foot.
 My cheeks burn with humiliation. Is this how far I’ve sunk? Crawling
on my hands and knees to kiss a guy’s foot because I’m desperate to get my
pussy licked?
His scowl deepens, and a ripple of terror travels straight to my clit. I
have never in my miserable fucking existence felt so turned on.
Shit.
Every inch of my skin is aflame, and my limbs tremble with each step
toward the professor. My aching jaw clenches as I lower my head and press
my lips to the toe of his shoe.
My nostrils fill with a mix of leather and boot polish, reminding me of
his playroom and the four-poster bed. I get flashbacks of being made to
climax over and over until my body gave up, and the muscles of my core
spasm in remembrance.
Bloody hell, maybe I do have a foot fetish.
The things I would do just to experience the intensity of those orgasms
just once.
I pull back, breathing hard, and meet his satisfied gaze.
“I kissed your shoe. Now, please may I climax?” My voice rises to a
whine, making me cringe.
“Hump it.”
Sitting back on my heels, I tilt my head and frown. “What does that
even mean?”
Professor Segul stretches out the foot I just kissed and places it flush
against my pussy—against my aching clit. The touch sends a burst of
tingles across every nerve ending and settles in my core with a startling jolt.
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.” He raises a brow. “Be a good girl and take your reward.”
The last shred of my dignity tells me to get up and walk away, but the
heat in his gaze burns it to cinders.
Am I really going to hump the professor’s shoe like a bitch in heat?
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Two

PHOENIX

Just when I thought nothing could be more humiliating than the wine bottle,
Professor Segul finds something even worse.
Every limb in my body trembles as I shuffle closer to him and place one
hand on the arm of his chair and the other on the desk to hold myself steady.
He stares down at me, his eyes blazing.
Even though his pupils are dilated, the glacial blue of his irises warm
with a tiny ring of fire. He breathes hard, his nostrils slightly flared. The
sick fucker is getting off on this.
The only thing that keeps me going is the prospect that I’m ruining his
polished shoes with my moisture.
I rock forward, rubbing my clit against the toe of his shoe. Jolts of
pleasure explode from my sensitive bundle of nerves, making me moan.
“Shhhh…” he places a finger over my lips.
If I wasn’t so fucking horny right now, I would bite it, but I can’t let him
pull back that foot.
“Look at you, rutting my shoe like a bitch,” he says as though reading
my thoughts.
 “No,” I whisper.
“What a little slut you are, taking pleasure wherever you can, even if it’s
from your lecturer’s shoe.”
I clamp my lips together to stop myself from crying out because the
worst thing about rubbing my clit against the toe of a man’s shoe would be
having someone catch me doing it.
Sweat breaks out across my brow as I build up a steady rhythm.
“That’s my girl,” he says. “You look so good riding me like an eager
slut.”
Professor Segul’s denigrating words roll off my skin like soft caresses.
My nipples tighten, and the muscles of my pussy clench and relax at the
cadence of his insults. Shit. I could come at the mere sound of his voice.
“Tell me how much you want to cum,” he says.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Tell me you have a greedy little pussy,” he says through gritted teeth.
“I do.” The words tumble from my lips. “It’s greedy. Just for you.”
“Dirty girl,” he says with a pleased rumble. “I want you to cum for me.
All over my shoe.”
I quicken the movement of my hips, cling onto the arms of his chair for
balance, and rut harder. Pressure builds up around my pussy, pushing down
on my nerves with the force of my embarrassment.
“Hurry,” he snaps.
An exasperated breath huffs from my throat. “Give me a minute.”
“You have a count of three before I withdraw my foot.”
I pick up my pace.
“One,” he says in a deep voice that hits me straight in the core. “Two—”
My orgasm hits harder than it ever has before. I part my lips, a huge
breath gusting into my lungs.
Professor Segul lurches forward, clamps a hand around my mouth, and
muffles the scream, but it does nothing to quell the sensations rolling
through my system.
I lose myself in the intensity of the climax, my entire body shattering.
It’s more powerful than the time he fucked me with the wine bottle or used
me as his pussy cup. This time, it’s powered by humiliation that he didn’t
do this to me—I did it to myself.
Bloody hell. I have a humiliation kink.
Tears rise to my eyes. I’m not sure why. Before I know it, he scoops me
into his arms and pulls me to his strong chest, both keeping me upright and
holding me together as I continue to splinter.
“Shhhh…” he whispers in my ear. “You’re safe with me.”
I breathe hard against him, not knowing how long we’re pressed
together, but my entire body melts. A flicker of common sense in the back
of my head asks why I’m seeking comfort from the very man who degraded
me, but I snuff it out with a sigh.
As my breath returns to normal, I pull back and meet his warm gaze.
“Thirsty,” I whisper.
His deep chuckle resounds across my chest. “I have something you can
drink.”
I open and close my aching jaw. “Thanks, but I’d rather take another
spanking.”
Professor Segul’s head tilts up in the direction of the wall clock, then he
releases his arms, and lowers himself back, on the seat.
“Come on, then.” He pats his thighs. “Get over my knee.”
“But my ass is still sore from Saturday,” I say from between gasps.
“I won’t ask you twice.”
My gaze darts to the door. For a nano-second, I consider my chances of
sprinting out into the hallway. But a reckless part of me wants to know what
he’ll do next.
I lie across his lap, and Professor Segul places a steadying hand on the
small of my back. Excitement thrums through every nerve, but the muscles
of my body stiffen as I brace myself for a stinging slap.
He pulls open a drawer and extracts something that hits the leather
tabletop with a gentle thud.
A leather paddle?
Shivers run down my spine.
He wouldn’t.
When I hear the scrape of something that sounds like a jar being
opened, my brow furrows, and I ask, “What are you doing?”
After pushing the fabric of my knickers aside, he runs the tip of one
finger over my asshole with a touch so gentle that my cheeks relax.
“Oh,” I say with a breathy sigh.
“You like that?”
Fuck yes.
“It’s alright.”
He continues ghosting circles over my anus and up and down my crease
until I’m clutching the side of his leg.
“More,” I whisper.
“Are you sure?”
“Please.”
He answers me with something slippery and wet that makes my ass
cheeks clench.
“Is that the arnica gel again?”
“Lubricant.” He gives me a gentle slap. “Relax.”
“Alright.” I suck in a deep breath and release the tension in my ass.
“Are you going to finger me?”
“How would you prefer me to ready you for anal play? Fingers or a
toy?”
“Both. Do you have a butt plug?” I ask.
“Not quite,” he says as he fills my rectum with something thin and
rubbery.
 I clench my teeth. “Professor?”
“Hmmm?” He rubs soothing circles over both cheeks, but I can’t relax.
Not until I understand his nefarious plan.
“Why’s it so small?”
“It’s a little project I thought up for you last night,” he replies. “To keep
you from misbehaving while I’m lecturing.”
“But I wasn’t—”
“You meant to get me so hard with the thought of your mouth around
my cock that I wouldn’t be able to think straight.” He squeezes my ass
cheek.
I hiss through my teeth. “But it was a joke.”
“Nothing about the sight of you licking a banana is funny.”
He releases his grip on my ass, only to reach for something on the desk
and slips it between the lips of my pussy. From the feel of it, I think it’s
made of plastic and is about the size of a lighter.
“Um… Professor, what’s this?”
“It’s a battery-operated pump for the inflatable plug.”
My throat spasms, making me choke. “What’s it for?”
“To get you primed for later today.” He pushes my knickers back over
my ass and gives me a gentle shove.
Taking the hint, I rise off his lap and smooth down my skirt. Professor
Segul sits back in his seat, his gaze raking up and down my form.
I can’t even bask in his attention right now because my mind is still
addled from both the pump and the prospect that I might get to see him
again after classes.
“I thought we were meeting tomorrow,” I say.
“Change of plan.” He turns his gaze back to the desk and screws the top
back on up a jar of AnalGlide. “I want you to report to my house on Sunday
at noon for lunch.”
“Are you making a roast?” I ask, my eyes narrowed.
 He puts the jar back into the desk, slides it shut, and meets my eyes
again. “Yes.”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach. “Um… Alright.”
The barest hint of a smile appears on his lips, making my heart flutter.
But before I can enjoy the expression, he shoos me away. I pick up my book
bag and back toward the door.
His idea of Sunday lunch will probably be a twenty-four hour affair.
How much kinky sex can a girl take before she explodes?
I’m halfway down the hallway when I realize that:
a) I have no idea how this pump works
b) my next class is Macroeconomics
c) which Professor Segul is now teaching
d) he technically hasn’t punished me for the stunt with the banana
Shit.
I glance over my shoulder, considering what might happen if I disabled
the device. My hand curls into a fist.
No way.
Anticipation skitters down my spine at this latest new development. I
dart down the stairs and across the hallway, making my way to the medium
lecture theater, when footsteps hurry toward me from behind.
Veer Bestlasson jogs to my side, holding a flyer. “In case you change
your mind about Saturday.”
I glance down at the purple postcard with him and two others on it,
announcing that his band, Tin Soldiers on Pluto, is playing tomorrow at the
Campus Café, and remember him mentioning something about it earlier in
the week.
“Oh, cool.” I try to inject my voice with enthusiasm.
Veer wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’ve been keeping tabs on the
fallout from yesterday’s lecture. Do you want me to do something to that
wanker?”
 Shrugging him off, I wonder once more why he’s being so friendly all
of a sudden, but he only drapes that arm around my waist.
“Hey, get off,” I snap.
He raises both hands. “Sorry, I was just giving you a hug. Nobody gave
a shit when he threw a chair at my head.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, remembering how some of the girls
started a crusade to cancel Professor Segul for embarrassing me in class.
Everyone seems to think I’m distraught about the blow job comment,
yet there was no uproar at what happened to Veer.
“Right,” I say with a sigh. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”
The device pressing against my pussy buzzes, making me flinch.
“What’s that noise?” Veer asks.
“Nothing.” I shift my bag to my crotch and continue walking toward the
lecture theater.
“It would be great if you could come tomorrow.” He keeps up with my
fast strides. “And bring your friend, Charlotte.”
I turn to meet his eyes. One of them is a glacial blue, and the other
contains amber flecks that appear almost green. Since when did he have
heterochromia?
“Um… Do you like her?”
“My friend Axel does,” he replies with a shrug.
“Okay.” We round the corner. “I’ll ask her if she wants to come on
Saturday.”
As we approach the medium lecture theater, a small crowd gathers
outside the doors. Veer’s hand bumps mine. It’s the slightest of movements
and could just be down to clumsiness. But when his fingers brush against
mine, I turn to meet his eyes once more.
My lips part, and I’m about to ask if he’s trying to hold my hand, when
someone behind me clears their throat.
 I glance over my shoulder to find Professor Segul striding toward us, his
expression thunderous. The motor in my knickers buzzes again, setting
every nerve in my legs to full attention.
But when the rubber object in my ass starts to inflate, my spine goes
rigid and my heels dig into the floor.
I’m screwed.
“Hey.” Veer wraps an arm around my shoulder and walks me through
the lecture theater’s door. “Macroeconomics is about to start.”
I walk into the lecture theater on wooden legs, with one hand still
clapped over the bag covering the vibrating motor and the other over my
mouth.
The device in my anus inflates, sucking in air that whooshes over my
wet folds. It pushes against my walls and against my pussy, causing me to
shudder. My clit swells with the buzzing, making me swallow back a moan.
Somewhere up in the middle, I see Charlotte wave, but I can’t face the
stairs. Not with my legs trembling and every step threatening to be my last.
Besides, Veer won’t release my shoulder, and I’m too weak with shock
and arousal to stop him from steering me to the front row.
“Welcome to Advanced Macroeconomics.” Professor Segul’s voice
sounds from far away, even though he’s standing behind the podium. “Dr.
Xander asked me to take over today’s lecture on crypto currency. Can
anyone explain why it’s not a fiat currency?”
A few people raise their hands, and the professor listens to each of their
explanations before someone gives the right one. Whatever that person
replies is lost in a haze of pleasure as the motor’s buzzing provides just
enough stimulation to my clit to generate sparks of pleasure, but not enough
to make me climax.
My throat dries. The pulse between my ears pounds hard enough to
rattle my skull. Every ounce of my attention concentrates on my clit and
ass.
 I stare ahead, my gaze fixed on Professor Segul. His lips move, but I
can’t hear a word he’s saying.
Hell, I can’t even see what’s on his slides.
Strangely, the professor remains behind his podium and doesn’t pace the
room. I could ask myself if he’s using it as a shield to conceal his erection,
but I have more pressing concerns.
Such as the rubber toy in my ass, which now exceeds the girth of my
little finger. It’s not just thickening, but lengthening.
My breath turns shallow, and sweat beads on my brow. I squeeze my
thighs together, trying to increase the little friction on my clit.
Veer leans into me and whispers, “Are you alright?”
I give him a sharp nod.
“Are you sure?”
Professor Segul presses down his clicker, but the slides behind him
don’t change. The buzzing intensifies, making my nipples tighten. Air
whistles past my pussy as the plug in my ass inflates.
Okay. It’s not the clicker for the overhead projector that he’s holding.
It’s a remote that activates my pump.
I gulp over and over, trying to find a way to escape this mess. Students
sit to my left and right, caging me into my seat, and up ahead is the sexual
sadist who installed the butt toy and knows exactly what it’s doing.
The entire lecture theater spins. This is beyond torture, beyond revenge.
Shit, it’s inhumane. I’m so fucking confused and wet, and every time Veer
leans into me to whisper in my ear, Professor Segul activates his remote.
All sensation travels to my crotch, and I can’t even think straight. I rock
back and forth, trying in vain to stimulate my needy clit, but even that aches
from how hard I rubbed it against his shoe.
Right now, I hate Professor Segul.
He’s preening from behind that bloody podium like a gray peacock with
everyone hanging onto his every word like he’s the patron saint of crypto.
 The bastard is veering off what Dr. Xander told him, proving to me that
he knew all about the subject from the start but kept the other man in the
room just for kicks.
“Phoenix?” Veer asks.
“Not now.” I shake my head.
I can’t cope with him in my ear. Not with this ever-expanding rubber
plug in my ass. Not with my pussy so wet and slick that the moisture might
leak through my skirt. Not with my clit so hot and swollen and frustrated
that it feels like it would explode.
If Veer doesn’t shut up, I’ll scream.
The worst part about this is that I can’t even reach down and make
myself cum because Veer’s gaze is burning the side of my face.
“That’s the end of my introduction to crypto currencies,” Professor
Segul says, sounding immensely satisfied. “Any questions?”
No.
Half the people’s hands shoot up, and my chest deflates with a whimper.
Why of all times does the professor have to be so conscientious?
I just want this lecture to end.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Three

MARIUS

The lecture ends, but my erection prevails. Despite the rumble of students
piling out of the auditorium, my mind concentrates on a singular mission: to
return to my office and take Phoenix over one of the office’s many leather
surfaces.
It had taken every modicum of self-restraint not to look at her as I
inflated the remote control plug, yet each time I pressed it, my cock surged.
I gather the attendance sheet, my notes, and the leftover handouts, and
stuff them into my folder.
Three figures approach from the left. I can already tell from their
identical brown hair and glowing tans that it’s Thalia Grace and her cousins,
Mia and Charis.
All hope that they saunter past dwindles when they stop at my lectern,
as does my hard on. The middle one places her manicured fingers on the top
of my lectern and rocks forward on her tiptoes.
“Yes, Miss…” I let my voice trail off as though I’ve forgotten her name.
A flush blooms across her cheeks. “It’s Thalia Grace, and I have a
question about the assignment you sent me.”
 I snap my folder shut. “Be sure to email it, then.”
Her face falls. “But—”
“But nothing,” I say, keeping my voice cold. “Students will not dictate
the terms of extra attention.” I turn back to meet her furious gaze.
Her nostrils flare, and her lips tremble.
I glare down at her, my features impassive. Miss Grace’s carefully
curated beauty reminds me so much of Mother, even down to the coloring.
Her brows are sculpted, her makeup contoured, and the strategically low
neckline of her summer dress stretches over her implants.
She’s the type of young woman accustomed to holding the attention of
men but then fails to see that beauty is only an illusion.
Her mahogany eyes even shine with the same defiance as Mother’s did,
all those years ago when I tried to convince her to leave Crius. It’s a painted
mask that hides a crumbling personality.
“Once you have read through the textbook and completed your
definition of IRR, we will discuss that in class. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” she hisses and turns on her heel.
Placing my attention back to my papers, I don’t bother to watch her
leave. I have no doubt that her two companions are keeping an eye on me to
see how I react.
“Sir?” Femi Olorun, the young man with the afro jogs over. “If crypto
has such huge potential, then what’s the point of doing anything else?”
My gaze drifts over his shoulder, to where Phoenix is rising from her
seat with the ever-attentive Bestlasson boy. I turn my focus back to Mr.
Olorun and rattle off an explanation that makes sense.
Men in this business have significant wealth, but that’s never enough.
Crius has an extensive real estate portfolio around Great Britain and
beyond, which provide him with a significant income. Most men in his
position would live off the rent and capital gains, but Crius is addicted to
power.
 Power over women, power over other men, power to do as he pleases.
As Mr. Olorun rubs his chin, thinking over my words, I collect my
things and go.
Back at the office, I use my burner phone to call Quinn. “I need you to
research something.”
“No hello,” she says. “No how are you?”
I relax into my seat. “Hello, Quinn. How are you?”
“Ah, forget about it,” she snaps. “What do you want?”
My lip quirks into a half-smile. “I want you to research venues close to
Marina Village that aren’t connected to any of the major families.”
“Alright,” she replies. “But are you any closer to finding Crius?”
“Not even remotely.” I exhale my frustration in an outward breath.
“You?”
“He doesn’t visit any of his brothels. At least not the ones we know.”
My jaw clenches. I swallow back a well of discontent. Not at Quinn but
at my younger self for missing his heart.
“What’s this venue for, anyway?” her voice snaps me back to attention.
“I want to stage a concert with a student band.”
“Why?”
“His target is its lead singer.”
Quinn pauses. I don’t need to be in her presence to hear the gears
whirring in her mind. She’s already worked out that I plan on luring Veer
Bestlasson out of the secure campus with the promise of a larger audience.
“You’re thinking of stalking the abduction site,” she says.
“That’s right.”
“Don’t. Crius wouldn’t be stupid enough to snatch the target off the
street himself,” she says.
“No, but the plan is to follow them to where they’re holding the boy. He
won’t be able to resist checking up on his hostage at a later date,” I reply
with a half-smile.
 She hums, sounding satisfied. “I’ll get back to you, then.”
The door opens, and my gaze snaps up. Phoenix storms into the room,
her cheeks a delightful shade of red. She stands with one hand on her hip
and with her satchel hanging off the shoulder of her denim jacket at an
awkward angle.
My gaze drops down to her slender legs, which are encased in knee-
high socks that match her black miniskirt.
“Update me on your progress,” I murmur to Quinn before hanging up.
I sit straighter in my seat and turn my full attention to Phoenix. “It is
customary to knock on a professor’s door before entering.”
She parts her lips to retort, but I raise a finger.
Her mouth snaps shut.
“Close the door,” I say.
She glances over her shoulder to find that it’s open a tiny crack. When
she walks to the door to close it, I add, “Turn the lock.”
Phoenix’s shoulders stiffen, but she obeys.
I open the desk drawer and pull out a small toy box and a wad of
napkins. According to her timetable, I have three hours, which I intend to
use wisely.
She turns around, her eyes flashing. “Deflate that thing, right now.”
“You’re in no position to give orders.” I pick up the remote.
“Please.”
“I want you to stay away from that blond idiot with the guitar.”
Her brows draw together. “Veer?”
“Is that what he calls himself?” I wave the remote. “He had his arm
around your waist like you were his property.”
She wrinkles her nose. “He’s not even a friend.”
“He wants to be more,” I snap. “And he’s a terrible influence.”
“Jealous?” She cocks her hip to one side.
 I tap a button on the remote, and smile at the quiet hiss of air. Phoenix’s
eyes widen, and her hand claps over her crotch.
“What did I tell you?” I ask.
“To stay away from Veer Bestlasson,” she says, her voice trembling.
I give her a nod of satisfaction. “Sit with your quiet friend, Charlotte.”
Phoenix breathes hard, her thighs rubbing together as though she’s
trying to stimulate her clit. The sight of her looking so needy makes all
thoughts of soon-to-be-hostages vanish.
“Come here,” I say.
She takes a step toward the desk, but I hold out my palm in a motion for
her to stop.
“Crawl.”
Her features pinch.
“And do it with less of an attitude if you ever want to climax.”
All the defiance melts from her features, leaving her glaring at me with
a delicious mix of desperation and hunger. Phoenix drops her satchel to the
floor with a heavy thud and then she drops to her hands and knees.
My cock may as well have its own remote because it swells at the sight
of her on all fours. Picking up the toy box and napkins, I rise from my desk
chair and walk around the rug to the leather sofa.
“Over here.” I pat its sturdy arm.
Phoenix drapes herself across the sofa, the angle making her skirt ride
up toward her waist. The barest trace of pink peeks out from the tops of her
thighs, which is an improvement from the darker bruises.
Making a mental note to stock more arnica gel, I sit beside her on the
coffee table and open the box, revealing a pack of three condoms and a
sterling silver plug with a crystal jewel. Unlike its heavy-duty rubber
equivalent, this piece of intimate jewelry is designed for longer-term use.
I deflate the buttplug with the remote, letting the air out from between
her ass cheeks, making her flinch.
 “That’s not me,” she says, her voice rising.
“Relax.” I place a hand on her left cheek and massage it with gentle
strokes. “You did extremely well.”
She makes a noise of protest.
“How was it?”
“Terrible,” she replies with a huff.
“Indeed?” I smirk and run my fingers over the hem of her skirt. “What
would I find if I lifted up your skirt?”
Phoenix groans, and I already know she’ll be soaked. After flipping the
fabric up around her waist, I pull her knickers to one side. My gaze skips
over the plug and lands straight to her glistening pussy.
“You little liar,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “You’re so wet.”
She whimpers, and the sound goes straight to my lengthening cock.
I adjust it toward my waistband, so it doesn’t get in the way. As much as
I’d like to pound into Phoenix until she sees stars, I want to make sure she’s
prepared.
“It turns out you like anal play just as much as you enjoy worshipping
my feet.”
“I don’t like either.”
“Your pussy says otherwise.” I run my fingers down her wet slit,
gathering up the moisture. Phoenix shivers under my touch and moans.
“Lick.” I bring my fingers to her lips.
She sucks on them, running her tongue up and down the digits like she’s
desperate to suck my cock. When she’s licked them clean, I withdraw them
and scoop up my own share of her wetness and stick a finger in my mouth.
“Hmmm… you taste so fucking good.”
Phoenix wiggles her ass and makes a happy sound. “Are you going to
fuck me now?”
“Once I’ve removed the plug.” I spread her cheeks wide. “Relax.”
“What, now?” she replies, her voice breathy.
 After peeling off the tape, I pull on the rubber tubing, and the deflated
plug eases out of her ass. I wrap the entire thing in the napkins and place it
in the toy box.
“Any objections to being fucked here?” I ask.
“But what if I make a sound?” she whispers.
A knock sounds on the door, making us both flinch. I push the fabric of
her knickers back into place, close the toy box, and stand.
“Yes?” I turn to the door.
“Athena Belus, Women’s Officer of the Student Union,” says an
officious female voice. “Open up.”
My jaw clenches. “Come back when you have an appointment.”
She pounds on the door. “Open the door, Professor Segul. We know you
are alone with a female student.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
Phoenix scrambles off the sofa and stands, her features a mask of panic.
“Sit over there.” I nod in the direction of the chair opposite the desk.
“And place your bag on your lap.”
She obeys without a word.
Miss Belus pounds on the door, along with several other fists, a sure
sign that she’s gathered a mob. Fuck, shit, and bollocks. If I can murder a
dozen men in cold blood, surely I can face down a mob of angry women.
I stride to the door and pause with my fingers over the handle, waiting
for Phoenix to get into place. By now, my cock has completely deflated and
lies quiescent in my pants, much like the used buttplug. I have to remind
myself that they know nothing and only suspect me of verbally eviscerating
Phoenix in public.
It’s only when she meets my gaze and nods that I open the door.
Athena Belus is probably one of the most striking women I’ve ever
seen. She’s six-two, with bleached blonde hair tied into a neat chignon that
looks at odds with her olive skin. She glares up at me through smokey eyes
that give a new meaning to the phrase, war paint.
Standing at either side of her are the Grace cousins and a few other
female students I recognize from the lecture. One of them raises a
smartphone, presumably to record this confrontation.
I had better be on my best behavior, then.
“What brings this unruly rabble to my place of business?” I say.
The other students glance at each other for inspiration, but Miss Belus
speaks. “I have a petition for your resignation.”
I raise a brow. “On the grounds of?”
“Sexual assault,” someone in the background blurts.
“Indeed?”
“Sexual harassment,” Miss Belus raises her smartphone to a post on the
intranet that calls for my resignation. “There are over three-hundred
comments.”
One of the Grace cousins nods. “What do you think about that,
professor?”
Considering the three young women accompanying Miss Belus enjoy
sucking lollipops in class suggestively, I don’t give her the attention she
seeks. Instead, I turn to the ringleader.
“Let me guess,” I say with a sneer. “You tried and failed to have me
disciplined and whoever you spoke to said something to the effect that
Marina University should be lucky to have such a prominent academic?”
Her eyes flash because I’m right. But that doesn’t mean I’ll allow this
young woman and her cronies to have the last word.
“I tolerate no eating during my lectures. Not of phallic shaped fruit.”
My gaze slides from Miss Belus’s to the Grace cousins. “And certainly not
of lollipops licked in a lascivious manner.”
All three of them have the decency to shrink away.
 Miss Belus’s brows furrow before her eyes flash with realization that
perhaps these young women aren’t such innocent victims.
“He was just apologizing for that comment he made about the banana,”
Phoenix blurts.
Miss Belus stares at me through narrowed eyes.
I glare back.
If my short tenure at Marina University wasn’t my best chance of
ending Crius, I would say something scathing. But I’m the most guilty party
among us. My crimes toward the female student body encompass more than
just one inappropriate comment.
“Come on, Phoenix,” Miss Belus says with a sniff.
Phoenix turns to me, her eyes asking permission to leave. I give her the
subtlest of nods and sweep my gaze back toward the other young women.
“Finished?” I fold my arms across my chest as Phoenix darts past me
and into the hallway.
“For now.” Miss Belus wraps an arm around Phoenix’s shoulder and
marches her out toward the stairwell.
My lips form a tight line. It had been reckless of me to have called her
out for eating a banana in class. Even more reckless to attempt anything
within the university grounds.
I return to my office, letting the door click shut. I’ll just have to wait
until Sunday lunch to defile Phoenix.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Four

PHOENIX

It’s only been a week, but days that don’t start with Professor Segul are
decidedly boring.
This is turning out to be a dull Saturday.
That’s why I’ve been lying on the mattress of my messy studio,
surrounded by open books. I haven’t been able to concentrate since Athena
Belus and a group of supposed well-wishers dragged me out of his office.
At first, I thought they’d suspected us of having sex but they just
assumed he was a sexist who said shitty things to his female students.
The sun shines in from the far-right of the room, where I forgot to draw
the curtains last night. Squinting, I scroll through my phone, checking to see
if Dad has even received my messages.
According to the app, he hasn’t.
So, this means he’s either tossed away the phone or someone has
disposed of it… and him. I close my eyes, suck in a deep breath, and wait
for an inkling of worry.
But there isn’t even a twinge of concern.
 Turns out that Dad was right about me, and I only saw him as a piggy
bank because I really don’t give a shit that he’s gone. Does that make me a
terrible person? He could be sitting in someone’s basement right now,
pleading for his life.
I shake my head.
Dad has powerful friends to protect him, and he’s way too cautious to
cause the level of offense to get himself killed, let alone detained.
I tap out of my text messages and check my bank balance, which is still
over four-figures since I haven’t spent much of what Professor Segul
transferred earlier in the week.
My chest fills with warmth at his generosity, but the sensation cools
around the edges with guilt. This is more money than I need to survive, and
I’d only blurted two-thousand pounds as the starting point of a negotiation.
A knock sounds on the door, and my pulse goes from resting to a
hundred beats per minute. I roll off the bed, trip over the denim jacket I’d
tossed on the floor the night before, and leap over my open book bag.
“Who is it?” I say before I get to the door.
Whoever’s out there doesn’t answer, but I glance through the peep hole
to find Charlotte standing in the hallway.
My heart sinks. It’s not Professor Segul. I shake off that feeling and tell
myself that a girl can wait another day before her fix.
“Hey.” I open the door.
Charlotte’s damp hair drips over the front of her Union Jack T-shirt that
hangs down to her knees. I move aside, letting her step into my studio
apartment.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says.
“What are you talking about?” I blurt because she’s telling the truth.
Charlotte walks around the breakfast bar, hops on the stool, and rests
her elbows on the laminate surface.
“Are you still freaked out about your dad?” she asks.
 I rub the back of my head and frown. “To be honest, I kind of got over
him the moment I stepped off the train.”
She shakes her head. “I know he’s a bit of a pain—”
“It’s nice not to have to go home for the weekend every Friday night.”
Charlotte huffs. “Yeah, I suppose. But whatever happened with that guy
you met in the Red Room? You were so excited about him on Monday, then
everything went quiet.”
I raise a shoulder. “He’s busy.”
“What does that mean?”
“He stopped texting me so much.” I drop my gaze to the floor. “But
we’re meeting in Marina Village for lunch on Sunday.”
Charlotte doesn’t comment for several seconds, and my insides twist
with pangs of unease.
It’s not like Marina University is the kind of place where everyone bares
their business. At least half the students are connected to one of the major
families in some way or another and the other half keep their associations
confidential.
But there’s a huge difference between concealing the truth and telling an
outright lie.
“Want breakfast?” I walk to the kitchenette, one of the few parts of this
apartment that’s actually tidy.
“You have food?” she asks.
I flash her a grin. “The campus supermarket just delivered a truckload.”
Charlotte twists around in her seat. “Your dad sent you money?”
“Something like that.” I avoid her gaze and open the cupboards, which
are crammed with groceries.
Charlotte slips off her stool and whistles. “You don’t usually have so
much.”
“That’s what happens when you have a father who rations money, I
suppose,” I mutter, wishing she would stop asking so many questions.
 Charlotte and I make a breakfast of bacon, sausages, eggs, and toast,
while she tells me about some guy she likes. I nod and hum in the right
places, my insides brimming with the urge to spill my exciting news.
Ugh.
If only things weren’t so complicated.
I trust Charlotte, but it’s not my career that will flush down the toilet if
information got out about Professor Segul and me.
Besides, it’s not like I don’t have anything to lose. A scandal like this
might spread all the way to where Dad is hiding, and the last thing I need is
his furious return.
“So, will you come?” she asks.
I give her a blank stare.
“To the Campus Café,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve got to
be my wing woman for Tin Soldiers on Pluto.”
My gaze darts to the pile of clothes gathered in front of the open
wardrobe. “I still have a bunch of washing—”
“Put it in a bag and call the campus laundry,” she says. “And don’t tell
me you can’t afford it because the groceries here don’t come cheap.”
I grimace and flick my gaze up to the full cupboards. It’s the first time
I’ve had so much money at my disposal, and maybe I went a little
overboard.
“Please.” She tugs my arm.
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Fine. But I’m not staying out all
night because I’m meeting that guy on Sunday.”
“You said it was lunch,” she says. “It sounded like he’d put you in the
friend zone.”
The corners of my lips twitch. “I hope not.”
Hours later, Charlotte and I walk side by side across the sun-drenched
campus. It isn’t as crowded as it gets during the week, because many
students travel in from London each day, even though the commute takes
ninety minutes.
Anyone with a degree of freedom travels out on the weekend to Marina
Village, Brighton, Little Hampton, or any of the neighboring towns so it
doesn’t feel like they’re stuck in a luxury, educational prison.
Charlotte must be sweating in her vintage leather coat, which she wears
as a dress, and she’s parted her long, blonde hair in the center and ironed it
straight. She looks like a young Marianne Faithful.
I smooth down at the A-line denim skirt she persuaded me to wear
because it’s the most vintage-looking item in my wardrobe.
We reach the Campus Café, which has an interior that reminds me of a
burlesque bar. Red walls, hardwood floors, and booths upholstered in red
velvet. At one end is the barista bar and at the far end is a stage with its
curtains drawn.
Under Pressure by David Bowie plays in the speakers, and I’m guessing
that when this CD has finished, they’ll move onto one of his earlier works
to get people ready for the band.
The place is nearly deserted, with a few people hunched over a laptop at
a booth close to the drinks. Four others stand at the bar, already being
served.
I inhale the mingled scents of coffee, steamed milk, and cinnamon that
reminds me it’s been ages since I’ve treated myself to anything hot and
caffeinated.
“Don’t you think we’re a little bit too early?” I mutter as we join the
line.
“Hey.” She nudges me in the arm. “At least we’ll get great seats.”
We both order Baileys lattes, which contain just enough alcohol to make
the journey down here worthwhile.
 I let her pull me toward the booth closest to the stage. It’s not like I have
plans for Saturday because this is only my second weekend without my real
dad, and my Sugar Daddy canceled at the last minute. I may as well
broaden my horizons.
“So…” Charlotte elongates the syllable. “What’s he into?”
“Huh?” I suppress a smile. She’s clearly talking about Professor Segul.
“Come on, you’ve been avoiding me since Saturday. I know you spent
the night with him because I heard you stumble back on Sunday.”
I make a mental note not to walk in broken stilettos.
A few juicy details won’t hurt. I just have to make sure not to give any
clues to his identity.
“Alright,” I say with a shrug. “We spent Saturday night at his place, but
I didn’t want to say anything unless he turned out like the last guy.”
“What’s his name?” she asks with a giggle.
“I have to call him sir.”
Her eyes widen. “No.”
I nod, my lips lifting into a smile.
“It’s no wonder you were keeping him under wraps. Is this some kind of
Fifty Shades thing?”
My gaze meets Charlotte’s. Her hazel eyes shine with excitement, and
the feeling is contagious. Even thinking about him makes my insides flutter,
which is stupid because this is an arrangement, not a relationship.
“Put it this way,” I murmur into my steaming cup of coffee. “If he wrote
the book the way he fucks, it would be too hot for the printing press.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. Technically, we haven’t yet fucked, but I
can’t exactly explain what he can do with inanimate objects.
Charlotte throws her head back and squeals. “You’re so bad.”
“Well, I don’t want everyone knowing what I’m into.” I glance around
the rapidly filling café. “You know what people are like around here.”
“Hypocrites, you mean?” she asks.
 My ears prick up. “Huh?”
“I saw the footage of the mob that gathered yesterday in the upstairs
hallway. They’re all bitching about cancelling Professor Segul when half
the girls want to fuck him.”
My nose wrinkles at the memory of Thalia Grace and her cousins trying
to tempt him with lollipops. “Really?”
“You don’t think he’s hot?”
I’m still so disturbed at the thought of all those girls vying for the
attention of what’s mine that her question doesn’t even make me blush.
“Shirtless guys with tattoos who like to wear leather are more my
thing,” I say with a one-shouldered shrug.
“You could be right,” Charlotte replies. “Imagine shagging a guy as
strict as Professor Segul.”
A shiver runs down my spine, threatening to tighten my nipples and
make my clit throb. I push it away with a firm shake of my head.
“Stop.”
She giggles. “He’s not that bad.”
He is, but not in the way she’s assuming. Even though what I’m saying
out loud is the truth, and we’re talking at cross purposes, I still can’t stand
to have anyone misinterpret my reactions as revulsion.
“I’ve been avoiding the mob trying to cancel him,” I murmur. “Do you
know what’s happening with them?”
“It all went quiet when he called their bluff.” She takes a long drink of
her Baileys latte and sighs.
A loud noise from a speaker makes us both jump, and we turn our
attention to the stage. A long-haired guy I recognize from wrestling with
Veer presses his foot on a pedalboard as he makes a noise with his guitar.
“Hey babe,” he says to Charlotte.
She flips her blonde hair. “Oh, hi Axel. Are you playing tonight?”
 I tune out their flirtation and sweep my gaze across the other booths.
Athena Belus flashes her eyes at me from where she sits with the Grace
cousins. I stare back with my brows raised as though to ask why she’s
looking at me like I pissed in her peppermint tea.
She huffs and glances toward the stage.
My lips tighten. I’ve never crossed paths with Athena and never cared
to. She usually just associates with people affiliated with the Olympians.
I’m pretty sure she’s either the daughter or step-daughter of their leader,
Uranos, while the other girls are related to his lieutenants.
She’s annoyed enough with me for refusing to be her spokesperson in
her crusade against the professor. Since I don’t want to start a feud, I take
my gaze off her and turn it around the café.
I spot people from Economics classes, Finance, Marketing, and
Organizational Psychology. Marina University only teaches business skills,
but there are a few student societies where people learn fun things like
hunting and archery. I keep sweeping my gaze over the booths until I reach
one at the end.
Dr. Xander raises his hand and waves at someone up at the front. I’m
guessing it’s the guy onstage messing around with a pedalboard. Next to
him sits the Marketing lecturer, Dr. Raring, who wears a red dress with a
ridiculously low neckline.
I huff a laugh that she’s making so much of an effort for a date with our
economics lecturer until a dark figure arrives with a tray of drinks. He
wears black trousers with a matching shirt and belt that accentuate his
muscular form. The only pop of color on him comes from his bronze skin
and brown watch.
Shit.
Professor Segul canceled our Saturday night fuck-fest for this?

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Five

MARIUS

Tonight will be tedious, but it’s a necessary step toward my plan. I can only
hope that Tin Soldiers on Pluto is talented enough to warrant a concert
outside the university campus.
It takes a minute or so of wandering the hallway to find Dr. Xander’s
office. From the way he talked about his friendship with Professor Eckhart,
one would have thought them neighbors.
I knock, expecting him to answer straight away. When he doesn’t, I
check my watch. My younger self might have barged in like I owned the
entire hallway but what an academic does in the privacy of his office is
sacred.
And I’m not just saying that because of the amount of times I’ve had
Phoenix on her knees. Unfortunately, no. No matter how many times I try, I
still can’t erase the image of my first supervisor sitting in his shirtsleeves
wrapping twine around his balls while he wanked.
“For goodness sake,” I mutter to myself and knock on the door once
more.
Dr. Xander answers it, his cheeks flushed.
 I had been right to exercise caution. The man’s eyes sparkle with a
suspicious gleam of satisfaction. I move back a step, in case he draws in for
a hug, but he just bounces on his feet and grins.
My brow rises. “Things went well with Professor Eckhart, I trust?”
“Yes.” His smile broadens. “Thank you for yesterday.”
“You’re welcome.” I draw out the last syllable in a silent question to ask
what’s made him so animated.
A heartbeat later, Julia Fucking Raring steps out from behind him,
looking like she’s just been fucked.
No.
She looks like she wants me to think she’s just been fucked. If she had,
the red spots on her cheeks would have stretched down her creamy neck
and to the miles of cleavage she feels the need to display.
It’s all about the complexion. Hers is even finer than Phoenix’s, who
reddens delightfully.
But I digress.
“I thought you and I were going together.” I turn to Dr. Xander, my eyes
narrowed.
He gazes back at me with a guileless expression that makes me want to
whack him upside the head.
“Oh, well, Julie here heard we were nipping down to watch the band
and she offered to come along for moral support.”
I turn back to the woman in question, who shrugs. She and I both know
she maneuvered herself into this position, even if Dr. Xander is obvious to
such transparent machinations.
The question is how she got to know our plans. Did Dr. Xander tell her
because he’s incapable of keeping his mouth shut, or has she been dropping
by to siphon as much information about me from him as she can?
Paranoia suffuses every inch of my skin, making it itch.
 Is she a loose associate of the Bestlasson family, making regular reports
to Odin on the progress of his nephew? If so, my name has no doubt come
under the radar as the professor who threw the chair. Now, she’ll report that
I’ve attended the boy’s concert—
I cut off those thoughts before they spiral.
“Fine.” I turn on my heel. “Let’s go.”
I’d like to say we walk across the campus in silence, but Dr. Xander’s
enthusiastic chatter is like a parmesan zester across my nerves.
The café is surprisingly full, but Dr. Xander leads us to the left of the
bar to a booth he reserved for the occasion.
I sweep my arm toward the seat, allowing Dr. Raring to enter first, then
step back and gesture for the other man to sit beside her. That way, he can at
least serve as a buffer.
“What will everyone drink?” I ask.
Dr. Raring doesn’t even conceal her annoyance and tightens her lips.
“Double vodka and espresso.”
“Xander?” I ask.
His brows pull together as though he can’t decide if he likes me using
his last name without a title. “Hot chocolate, please.”
Up ahead on the stage, one of the long-haired boys from the flyer chats
with someone in the front booth. It’s hard to see who it is at this angle, but
it’s likely not Veer Bestlasson.
The line is mercifully long, giving me time to sift through everything
that happened since Phoenix left my office under the watchful eyes of those
harpies.
Regret kicks me in the libido, making me groan. I could have
summoned her last night, but Quinn called back an hour later with her
findings. Then she sent over maps and a whole host of data that made it
look like abducting Veer Bestlasson would be easier than Crius had
estimated.
 But still… Waking up this morning was unpleasant, knowing that it
would be at least thirty hours until I got to touch her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. What the bloody hell is wrong with me?
I’ve never gotten attached to any of my subs. But then I don’t get to see
them on the daily. Nor are they quite so spirited.
“What will it be, sir?” asks a student I recognize from Finance and
Accounting.
I rattle off the order, adding an espresso for myself, just in case I need
the caffeine to stay awake through the performance.
My gaze darts to the booth, where Dr. Raring has managed to swap
places with Dr. Xander, so she’s now sitting in the middle.
Fuck.
I’m probably overthinking her motives. Maybe she’s just trying too hard
to flirt. But a woman that beautiful should never have to throw herself at
what she thinks is a regular academic.
Which is why she must be a spy for Odin.
The barista brings my order, and I pay with my phone. Even if she is an
agent of the Bestlasson family, I haven’t had any contact with the target
since that first lecture. However, it would be wise to exercise caution
regarding everything, including Phoenix.
I take the drinks back to the table, grimace with distaste at the sight of
her sitting in the middle, and lower myself in the seat beside her.
“Thank you.” She bats her false eyelashes.
Ignoring her, I pick up my espresso cup and push the tray toward Dr.
Xander.
“You’re causing real waves across campus.” She brings her drink to her
painted lips.
I take a sip of espresso, which is surprisingly rich for something served
within the campus of a university.
 “The video clip of Athena Belus at your office reached Uranos,” she
says in the tone of voice that implies she sent it. “He was displeased.”
My gaze darts to Dr. Xander, who doesn’t seem to be listening. With a
frown, I glare at her out of the corner of my eye. “Indeed?”
“He said there was a slippery slope from protesting sexist remarks to
closing down his brothels.”
My jaw clenches the way it does when anything reminds me of Crius
and what he could be doing to Mother.
I’d like to think that he wouldn’t put her to work at one of his
establishments, but then this is the same man who broke our agreement by
spiriting her away a decade after selling me our freedom.
“He made Athena resign as the Women’s Officer. She won’t bother you
any further.”
The only response I give her is a nod.
Knowing that she’s affiliated with Uranos and not Odin loosens the knot
of tension I’ve held since she first introduced herself. I sit back in my seat
and relax. Both men are equally as dangerous, but I’m only trying to abduct
the heir of one of them.
Dr. Raring is probably just a flirt. But I’m too consumed by Phoenix to
care.
She says something, but I let my attention drift across the café. Mr.
Olorun from Finance and Accounting sits in the booth opposite with a
group of students. The girl sitting next to him also carries the mark of
Shango on her cheek.
My brows pull together. The last time I was active in the underworld,
the old man didn’t recruit women.
I drift away from that group and to the stage. My gaze locks with
Phoenix, who stares back at me with her lips parted.
Annoyance reaches into my gut and twists. What on earth is she doing
here, when I ordered her to stay away from Veer Bestlasson?
 My attention jumps to the guitarist talking with her friend. At least she
listened to half of my command.
Dr. Raring leans into my side. “Isn’t that the banana student?”
“I distinctly thought the long-haired chap was a member of Tin Soldiers
on Mars,” I reply.
“Pluto,” says Dr. Xander with a bright smile. “It’s Tin Soldiers on
Pluto.”
The curtains open, revealing the other three members of the band, and
they launch into a cover of David Bowie’s Space Oddity. The music is
surprisingly good. Good enough for a clip of them to leak into the internet
and capture the attention of one or more of the venues Quinn identified.
Two sets of glowers burn the sides of my face. Phoenix’s and Dr.
Raring’s. As I continue glancing around, I find a booth full of the girls who
had stormed my office yesterday.
And they’re not paying a jot of attention to the band.
Annoyance simmers beneath my skin. Unwanted female attention
hadn’t been much of an issue in any of my other places of employment. I’d
nipped any and all flirtation before it escalated into impropriety.
The only thing keeping me stoic is the fact that everything I’m enduring
—from my presence at this fourth-rate institution to the insolence of my sub
—is for a worthy cause.
When Veer Bestlasson is in the hands of Crius’s men, Mother will
regain her freedom. And once I’ve tracked his location and caught up with
the slimy bastard, I will put a bullet through his brain.
Even though my mission here will be complete within a matter of
weeks, there’s only so much a man can endure.
I can’t do anything about Phoenix—at least not while numerous sets of
eyes are boring into me like daggers, but I will deal with Dr. Raring.
“Is there a reason why you’ve insinuated yourself into the time I wish to
spend with a colleague?” I ask from between clenched teeth.
 “You’re the most fascinating thing that’s happened here in years,” she
replies.
“If that’s the case, I doubt you have anything to hold my interest” I say
with a sniff.
She flinches but swats away the mild insult. “Why would a scholar from
such a renowned university leave his position to come to a place with next
to no research ranking?”
It’s an excellent question and one for which I have prepared an answer.
“It’s the easiest way to get tenure when I make my next career jump. And
the remuneration package was impossible to refuse.”
“You’re not planning on staying?”
I turn to look her full in the face. “I have a good understanding that
Professor Eckhart will make a full recovery.”
“He’s doing extremely well.” Dr Xander gushes before cataloging the
old man’s injuries.
Tuning them out, I watch the band play tunes from the 1960’s and 70’s.
Veer Bestlasson has a passable singing voice for a young man due to inherit
a large portion of the Bestlasson empire.
Crius wouldn’t dare hurt a hair on his blond head. Not unless he wants
to incur the unrelenting wrath of Odin. And if Odin had any sense, he
would divulge the location of Seacroft Prison or give Crius access to
whatever or whoever is in there that he finds so important.
The band launches into a psychedelic instrumental, and Veer Bestlasson
walks to one end of the stage and grins down at Phoenix.
Absolutely not.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Six

PHOENIX

Bastard.
Angry heat burns through my veins, fueling a fire in the pit of my
stomach that’s more fury than jealousy. Jealousy would imply that I’m
attached to Professor Segul.
I’m not.
It was just a shock to realize that Dr. Raring didn’t get dolled up for Dr.
Xander. That outfit was for Professor Segul, and he looks so perfect at her
side.
They are both so age appropriate.
Shit.
I knew all along he had another woman. He’d inquired about her health
on the phone that time he thought I wasn’t listening.
A growl resounds in my throat. The same man who ordered me to stay
away from someone as harmless as Veer gets to parade other women around
campus, while keeping me his dirty secret.
I turn back to the stage, where Veer’s friend now dips behind the
curtains, presumably to join the rest of his band.
 “Hey girl,” Charlotte says, her voice giddy. “Didn’t you hear what Axel
said?”
“What?” I force a smile.
“They’re all having a party in Veer’s apartment.”
“So?”
She flashes her eyes. “He lives in the founder’s building.”
I give her an absent nod. Our apartment block contains studios large
enough for one, but the families who founded the university created a
separate one for their offspring. I wouldn’t exactly describe us as Hogwarts
because not every founder has sent a student they deem important enough
for their special building.
Her face falls. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“He invited you too,” she blurts. “You’ll come?”
The curtains open, revealing Tin Soldiers on Pluto, who turn out to be
four musicians rather than the three boys on the flyer.
Charlotte squeezes my hand in a silent plea for me to accompany her.
“Sure,” I mutter as they launch into a tune starting with a mellow guitar.
As the other members of the band layer their instruments over Veer’s
introduction, I add, “Why not?”
It takes every ounce of effort not to turn around to see Dr. Raring
cozying up to Professor Segul. Veer sings to some guy called Major Tom,
and I focus on the music. The three boys are shirtless, each wearing
burgundy bell bottoms with matching jackets.
I think their drummer wears the same. It’s hard to tell with half her body
hidden by so many instruments, but her top half is covered by a low-cut
waistcoat.
Charlotte sways to the music in an exaggerated way that jostles me to
the side. I get the hint and sway back. The lyrics are peculiar and from the
point of view of a control center giving instructions to an astronaut.
 In a moment of weakness, I turn around to look at the professors’ table,
only to find him deep in conversation with that woman. He’s even looking
her in the eye.
My stomach clenches, and I snatch my gaze away.
What kind of idiot gets upset because of a business arrangement? We
never talked about being exclusive. We haven’t yet kissed, let alone fucked.
It’s all been blow jobs and BDSM, and I’m getting paid handsomely.
So why does it burn so much to know he’s chatting with another
woman?
“They’re great,” Charlotte shouts in my ear.
“Really good,” I say back.
“Letter to Hermione,” Veer says into the microphone.
I lean forward as Tin Soldiers on Pluto plays a mellow tune that has
nothing to do with wizards or magic.
“Do you know this song?” I turn to Charlotte, who passes me a clear
bottle.
“What’s that?” My brow furrows.
“Schnapps. Axel gave it to me.”
I bring it to my lips and take my first sip of neat alcohol. It’s smooth and
oily but burns all the way down, numbing the sting of Professor Segul.
“Thanks.” I try handing it back, but she shakes her head.
“Don’t you like it?”
She reaches into a bag at her side and extracts another bottle. “Got my
own.”
I glance down at my half-finished Baileys latte, pour half the bottle’s
contents in the cup, and add a sachet of sugar. It’s surprisingly drinkable.
Tin Soldiers on Pluto plays Under Pressure, which makes everyone
cheer. I take a long sip from the bottle, followed by another from my
schnapps-and-Baileys latte. By the end of the song, my frayed nerves fall
calm.
 Veer moves his hips to the music, looking like he was built for the stage.
When our eyes meet, I offer him a smile.
He winks back.
This is a new side I’ve seen to my classmate. Up until now, I thought he
was peculiar with his long hair and vintage clothes. He seemed like a poor
little rich boy, trying to rebel from the huge empire he’s going to inherit.
But seeing him up there casts him in a different light.
I lean into Charlotte’s side. “This is actually really good.”
“Yeah, I know.” She wraps an arm around my shoulders.
We sway together to the music.
Veer introduces some of his original songs, which are catchier and more
to my taste than the David Bowie covers, and my attention strays to the trio
sitting close to the barista bar.
Professor Segul’s eyes meet mine, and the look on his features is stern.
I’m too buzzed to react. If he wants to date a more sophisticated, age-
appropriate woman he can parade around campus, then that’s fine.
The money in my account will last at least two terms if I’m wise, and
there’s nothing stopping me from getting a weekend job.
Huffing a laugh, I turn back to the stage. I’m not the kind of sucker who
falls for a guy after a few hot encounters.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out of my bag and glance at the screen.
It’s a message from Professor Segul: Miss Stahl, what did you just pour
in your coffee cup?
Snaps. I message back. Wait a minute, that’s not how to spell it.
Schnapps.
Stop drinking it this instant.
You can’t give me orders.
I raise my cup to my lips and down its contents. After that, I pour
myself a generous shot of schnapps.
I will not tell you again.
 On instinct, my body twists toward where Professor Segul is sitting with
his date, but I force myself not to look.
My phone buzzes again with another message. You’re coming home
with me.
The boys in the band are having an after party. I’m going there with
Charlotte.
You will do no such thing.
Stop me.
Charlotte hooks an arm around my neck. “He’s looking at you.”
My heart flips, and I glance over my shoulder.
“On stage,” she whisper-shouts.
Veer’s entire body is turned toward us. It’s like he’s singing and playing
for just Charlotte and me.
“Do you still think he’s hot?” she shouts just the music stops.
From the way Veer grins at us, I think he only hears the last part of that
sentence. An alcohol-fueled part of my psyche thinks it’s a good idea to
encourage his attention. I sit straighter in my seat, raise my hand, and give
him a little wave.
Veer waves back. As he starts the next song, he dances toward Axel, the
guy Charlotte likes, and leans into his ear. Axel turns to us and nods,
making Veer smile even wider.
I’m no expert in lip reading, but I think Veer just asked if we were
invited to his after party.
My phone buzzes once more. Get up and walk out through the front
door. I will meet you at the back.
No.
Do not disobey me unless you wish to add to your punishment.
My brow furrows. What did I do??
I glance toward the other side of the café, where Dr. Xander sits alone.
And when I twist toward the barista bar to see who’s in line for drinks,
there’s no sign of Professor Segul or Dr. Raring.
Because they left.
Together.
Shit.
“They’re so sexy,” Charlotte yells.
I down the rest of my alcoholic latte and try to wash away any feelings
of attachment. Men come and go all the time. Look at Dad. He left me
without a penny or a single note. Why would Professor Segul be any
different? We had fun, lots of it, but at least he’s leaving me with enough to
survive the academic year.
Psychedelic lights swirl around the stage, and my mind spirals.
Yesterday’s confrontation with Athena and the other girls must have
freaked him the fuck out.
He never wanted a relationship with a student, remember? He had
canceled on me.
Twice.
Yet, the first time, I had blackmailed him.
My heart sinks into my gut.
Why on earth did I think anything good could develop from an
association based on coercion?
I bring the bottle to my lips, ready to numb the pain, but Charlotte grabs
my wrist.
“What are you doing?” She snatches the bottle and holds it to the light.
“Shit, Phoenix, that’s seventy percent proof. If you drink any more than
that, you’ll be shit-faced.”
“I’m alright.”
She replaces the lid on the bottle and tucks it away on her other side.
“No more for you.”
I slump in my seat and enjoy the rest of the show until the curtains fall.
Applause fills the campus café, and I turn back toward the barista bar,
finding Dr. Xander giving them a standing ovation. He really is a sweet guy.
Charlotte hooks an arm through mine and helps me stand. Blood and
sensation drain from my head, leaving me so woozy that I have to slump
down.
“Bloody hell.” I take a huge breath.
She chuckles. “See what I mean?”
“No, no.” I shake my head, suddenly seeing double. “I’m fine.”
Tin Soldiers on Pluto plays another tune, and the curtains open again,
making everyone return to their seats.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I shout.
Charlotte rises. “I’ll come with you.”
“No.” I place a hand on her shoulder using her and the palm on the
tabletop to hoist up my trembling carcass. Steadying myself, I release her
and take a step back. “I’ll be fine. See? There’s no need to miss the final
song.”
She narrows her eyes but scoots to the end of the seat as though ready to
catch me if I fall.
I don’t fall because I take each step down the row of booths like I’m
walking the tightrope. My arms splay to the side to keep me balanced.
A few people I recognize from classes wave, but all I offer them are
nods and half-hearted smiles. One false move, and I’ll lose my composure
then fall on my face.
My bag threatens to swing off my shoulder, so I pull my right arm into
my body to halt its descent. As I pass the barista bar, one side of my face
gets hit with a blast of fresh air.
Inhaling deeply, I turn to the source of the breeze, all thoughts of going
to the bathroom drifting into the ether.
I take one step out of the campus café, when a hand claps over my
mouth.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Seven

MARIUS

There are only so many graceless renditions of David Bowie songs a man
can take before he becomes prone to violence.
I curl my hands into fists, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the stage,
yet my gaze continues to shift toward the front booth.
Phoenix Stahl is drunkenly defiant and a few sips away from
stupefaction. Her movements have lost their usual grace and drag in a way
that telegraphs her inebriation.
I commend her little friend for confiscating the bottle, but neither of
them should be drinking so much in a campus where security focuses more
on keeping intruders out than on student or professor misconduct.
If she doesn’t meet me outside like I demanded, I will drag her out.
Mission be damned.
Leaning across the table, I give Dr. Xander a pat on the shoulder. “See
you on Monday.”
His features fall. “Leaving already?”
“Tomorrow’s an early start,” I reply, still sore at the little bastard for
inviting the woman at our side.
 I rise and walk past the counter toward the exit, without giving her a
backward glance. Phoenix had better leave the café. I’ll be damned if I
allow one of the many horny bastards to take advantage of what’s mine.
It’s dark outside, with lampposts illuminating the paths that bisect the
lawn. I take a deep breath of rose-scented air, clearing my sinuses of the
overwhelming aroma of coffee.
The click-clack of stilettos trail after me as I walk around the building.
As expected, Dr. Raring has followed me out.
I continue toward the café’s back door, where industrial garbage cans
back onto a side road.
The moment I discovered the Bestlasson boy would be playing here, I
used the security system to scope out an excellent a blind spot where I
could park between two cameras.
There’s enough tarpaulin in the trunk to wrap a body twice her size. Not
that I’m planning on killing anyone but old habits never die with an
assassin.
I position myself in another convenient spot and wait.
And just so Dr. Raring doesn’t think my standing here is a form of
entrapment, I reach into my pocket and extract my phone.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I scroll through my messages. Not yet.
Meet me around the back of the building, or your cute little ass will be
red for a week, I message.
My lips tighten. Phoenix would probably enjoy that spanking.
Dr. Raring walks within snatching distance. “Professor Segul?”
I whirl around, grab her by the throat, and pin her to the wall. Dr.
Raring’s eyes bulge, and she fumbles at the hand gripping her neck.
“What are you doing?” she screeches. “Let go.”
“Silence.” I squeeze tighter, slip the phone in my pocket and wait for
her to stop struggling.
 Dr. Raring thrashes at my outstretched arm and kicks, but she lacks the
reach and physical strength to do any damage. It’s only when she finally
goes limp that I loosen my grip.
She sucks in a noisy breath. “Why?”
“Because no matter how many times I tell you to fuck off, you return
like a festering case of syphilis.”
Dr. Raring has the nerve to flinch. “You’re dangerous.”
“Only to those who get on my nerves,” I say from between clenched
teeth.
Her lips tremble, and her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. I can’t tell if
this is part of an act to depict herself as a helpless academic or if she’s about
to catch me off guard and whip out a gun.
“What do you want from me?” she asks, her voice wavering.
“Tell me why you’re here.”
She flinches. “What?”
“Don’t make me ask you twice.” I give her a little squeeze.
“Uranos sent me to keep an eye on his daughter,” she blurts.
“Why?” I ask.
“He’s worried about her falling into bad influences.”
My eyes narrow. That aspect of her story makes sense, particularly after
having been the subject of Miss Belus’s venomous glare.
“And your fascination with me?” I ask.
She releases several panting breaths before answering. It almost sounds
like a hysterical laugh. “Not anymore.” Her voice rises an octave. “You’re a
psycho. Can’t you be like other men and say you’re not interested?”
I told her, both overtly, covertly, and through actions, yet she probably
thought I was a challenge. Strangely, her words are a comfort. But that
doesn’t mean I’m about to release her. Not until I’m a hundred percent sure
she isn’t working for anyone else.
 “You memorized enough facts about my background to parrot them
back to me,” I say. “Why?”
The look she gives me is wide-eyed disbelief. “I thought you were
interesting. Apparently, you’re a nutcase.”
“You will cease your attempts at flirtation. I am not and never will be
interested in you, understood?”
She nods.
“Say it.”
“Bloody hell. I won’t ever look in your direction.”
“And you will not talk about me to your superiors or conspire against
me.”
“You think too highly of yourself,” she chokes out.
If Crius were here, he would tell me to put a bullet through her head
because a woman’s tears are designed to catch a man off guard. His voice
still swirls around my memory like brine from the times he would leave
mother a broken mess and then regale me with life lessons and a crocodile
smile.
Every instinct tells me that Dr. Raring is being truthful—she’s a lecturer
sent to watch over a powerful man’s charge. But what if there’s more to her
than her attempts at skimming a few sexual perks?
Then she makes a whimpering sound in the back of her throat that
reminds me of Mother.
I loosen my grip around her neck, letting her feet fall to the ground.
Dr. Raring stares up at me through watery eyes and coughs. “You need
to get your head checked.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
I step back, sweep my arm to the side, and gesture for her to leave.
“Ladies first.”
She bares her teeth and hisses. “You’re no gentleman.”
 “It would be so easy to craft a witty retort, Dr. Raring, but your
company is tiresome. Get out of my sight.”
She teeters past, having lost the composure to walk in those heels. I fold
my arms across my chest and watch her hurry away. Not because I’m
admiring her hourglass figure—far from it. I want to ensure that she leaves
before I return to the café to retrieve Phoenix.
Dr. Raring glances over her shoulder at me, presumably to check if I’m
admiring the view. I hiss at her through my teeth, making her quicken her
pace.
She’s either traumatized or Great Britain’s finest actress. For the sake of
the mission, I hope it’s the former.
Once she’s disappeared behind the main building, I wait a minute to see
if she will double back. She doesn’t, so I make my way to the café’s front.
This part of my plan is nebulous. Dragging Phoenix away with a quarter of
the campus watching could be problematic. At least not without an excuse.
My hand slips into my pocket, and I’m about to call her when she
staggers out of the building.
Phoenix doesn’t see me, but I clap a hand around her mouth, wrap an
arm around her waist, and lift her off her feet.
She struggles for a second and makes a muffled protest, but one glance
over her shoulder into my eyes has her relaxing against my body.
“That’s it,” I murmur into her ear. “You’re coming with me.”
As I steal her away, Phoenix rubs her ass over my crotch, awakening my
cock.
“Stay still,” I hiss.
She wiggles even more and moans, sending a surge of blood southward.
“Little brat.”
I bend my head and curl my body around hers, so it doesn’t look to
whoever might be watching the security footage that a man in black has just
abducted a female student.
 Thankfully, Phoenix slumps and allows me to bundle her into the front
seat of the car.
She’s more intoxicated than I thought.
“You disobeyed me,” I say.
“Why were you on a date with Dr. Raring?” she asks, her words slurred.
“She gatecrashed, not that it’s any of your concern.” I glance in the
rearview mirror to check that nobody saw us.
“So you’re dating Dr. Xander, now?”
“Yes, as it happens.” I lean over her to reach for her seatbelt.
Before I can even buckle her up, Phoenix launches herself across the
front seat and straddles my legs.
“You’re such a dickhead.”
“And you’re begging for a spanking.”
She hovers over me, cupping the sides of my face with both hands.
“How could you cancel our date tonight to come here?” Her alcohol
scented-breath fans over my face. “What’s wrong with you?”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning, when you’re sober.” Even as I say
this, my hands slide up and down her bare thighs.
“I want an explanation, now,” she slurs.
The only reason I’m tolerating this behavior is because I suspect that a
girl who has to return home most weekends dressed like a Sunday school
teacher can’t take her drink.
“Did you tell your friend you were leaving?” I ask.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
I rifle through her bag, make her unlock her phone, and send Charlotte a
vague message, telling her not to worry that she’s decided to have an early
night.
She bats at my chest. “Hey, Professor—”
I chuckle. “Keep racking up the punishments. You won’t find them
quite so fun tomorrow morning with a hangover.”
 Phoenix crashes her lips onto mine. She tastes of coffee and schnapps
and Irish cream. Beneath the flavors is one that sets my blood on fire. One I
won’t savor while she’s too drunk to consent.
Pulling back, I place both hands on her slender waist, lift her off my lap,
and onto the passenger seat.
“Don’t you want me?” she asks, her voice breaking.
It’s strange how that show of vulnerability cracks the ice around my
heart. There’s no artifice to Phoenix, just raw emotions, even when she’s
trying to conceal her reactions.
It’s just one of the things about this young woman that resonates with
me on a level deeper than any of my previous submissives.
When she gazes at me through huge gray eyes that glisten with tears,
she may as well smash every icicle that makes up my ribcage.
“Kiss me when your decisions aren’t fueled by cheap alcohol,” I say.
“But I’m not—” She burps and claps a hand over her mouth.
“You were saying?”
“Oh,” she leans forward and moans.
I ease her back into the seat, reach across to the door, and pull out the
seatbelt. After fastening it, I push her head down, so she can conceal her
face with a curtain of hair.
“Try not to vomit on the upholstery.”
“Bugger off.”
“Anal wasn’t on the menu for Sunday.” I give her a pat on the thigh. “If
you want to move it up to tomorrow after your spanking, we’ll have to
stretch you a little first.”
Phoenix’s pained groan brings out my first smile since those harpies
descended on my office. I start the engine and drive out of campus. The
men at the gate know my car by now, but I ready some fifty pound notes in
case they don’t wave me through as usual.
I have a little brat who needs to be put to bed.
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Eight

MARIUS

Phoenix snoozes the entire journey back to the villa, her head resting
against the door, framed by her lush hair. With her eyes closed and her
features so serene, she looks nothing like the sassy brat who defied me via
text.
She radiates so much innocence. Innocence I am more than willing to
corrupt.
I stop the car outside the villa, walk around the front seat and try not to
jostle her awake. A cool breeze blows in from the sea that makes her stir.
“Professor?” she slurs, her thick lashes fluttering.
“Shhhh.” I slip a forearm beneath her legs and cradle her to my chest.
“Go back to sleep.”
Phoenix’s head lolls on my shoulder and her arms flop to her sides. I
kick the car door shut and hope to tuck her into bed without incident. The
moment we cross the villa’s threshold, she releases a suspicious-sounding
sigh.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
With a groan, she spasms once, then twice.
 I rush across the black-and-white-tiled hallway into the downstairs
bathroom and position her in front of the toilet bowl.
“Professor,” she groans. “I feel—”
Her entire body seizes.
All I can do is pull her hair off her face as she ejects the coffee-and-
alcohol scented contents of her stomach.
My lips tighten with disapproval. The Campus Café has no business
allowing students to smuggle in bottles of alcohol. Phoenix had no business
getting so drunk.
I shudder at the thought of her at a party with those musicians,
immobile, inebriated, and unaware. Thank providence I was there to save
her before one of those entitled little bastards took advantage of her
vulnerability.
When she stops retching and slumps to the side, I hold her steady and
rub her back.
“Feeling better?” I ask.
Phoenix stares up at me with a confused scowl.
I take that as a positive sign.
After a count of thirty, her breathing slows, and I help her to her feet.
“I can’t believe how much I drank tonight,” she says with a groan.
“Tomorrow, you’ll learn the consequences of overindulging.” I flush,
pick her up, and carry her out of the bathroom and across the hallway.
“What does that mean?” she slurs into my chest.
“You’ve been racking up transgressions the entire evening.” I glare
down into her curtain of hair. “Punishment awaits you tomorrow.”
“Let’s go downstairs.” She raises a hand, slips it beneath the opening of
my jacket, and fumbles over my chest.
“Not when you’re too drunk to consent.” I mount the stairs.
She buries her face in the crook of my neck. Her hot breath sends
tingles across my skin, making my cock twitch.
 “Green,” she says with a soft laugh, her hand snaking down to my
waistband.
My jaw clenches.
The little minx.
“Stop that unless you want to suffer through a round of tease and
denial.”
She kisses my neck, making me groan.
“Keep doing that, and your punishment will double.” I reach the top of
the stairs, carry her into the bathroom, and set her on the edge of the
bathtub.
Phoenix dips her head and giggles. “Why can’t we go to the basement
again?”
“Your toothbrush is here.”
I stand with my hands hovering over her shoulders, ready to catch her if
she falls forward or backward. Phoenix clutches the edge of the tub and
remains in place.
Her head snaps up, and she gazes up at me through slightly more sober
eyes.
“Wait, I have a toothbrush?” she asks.
“You would know this if you didn’t run out on me last week.” I turn to
the mirrored cabinet, take out the toothbrush I’d left out for her, and load it
up with toothpaste.
Phoenix hiccups. “I was so freaked out.”
If I were my father, I would use this opportunity to interrogate Phoenix
the way he employed substances to keep Mother under control. The thought
of that bastard leeches my cock of all sensation.
No matter how much I try to deny it, having Crius as my only male role
model has darkened my soul. My only saving grace is the compassion I
have for Mother. I heard her pain, saw the aftermath of his twisted brutality,
and wanted that man cleansed from all existence.
 Phoenix sways from side to side, staring at the blob of toothpaste
through unfocused eyes.
A moment ago, she was my disobedient little brat. Now, when I gaze
down at her, all I see is an inebriated young woman who needs my
protection.
“Do you feel safe with me, now?” I hand her the toothbrush.
Frowning, she sticks it in her mouth and mutters, “I was never freaked
out about you, silly.”
I take a shaving bowl from the cabinet and wait for her to elaborate.
“Last week was a hundred times better than Fifty Shades,” she mumbles
through brushing her teeth. “And being with you was like a drug. I didn’t
want to get addicted.”
My lips tighten. It would be so easy to coax information from Phoenix
with a few carefully worded questions. I could ask what she thinks about
me or if she’s motivated by money, sex, or kink.
I could even demand the location of her father as well as information on
Seacroft Prison.
I could do all those things but I won’t.
Consent means everything.
Anything I take from Phoenix without her permission won’t just be a
violation of her, but a violation of the principles I hold dear.
“Look at you.” She waves her hand over my chest. “You’re so classy
and hot and sexy.”
Suppressing a smirk, I hold the bowl under her chin. “Spit.”
Afterward, she hands me the toothbrush and swipes the back of her
hand over her lips.
I pour some mouthwash into its measuring cap and order her to swill.
“The last thing I wanted was to get used to all that BDSM stuff and then
you leave me high and dry.”
 I shake my head. Did she think I would train her to be my perfect
submissive and move on to someone else?
Phoenix glances down at the mouthwash and snorts. “What am I
saying? Those books made me crave all that kinky stuff, but you came
along and made my fantasies come true.”
My breath hitches. I wait for her to mention my wealth or my looks or
any superficial reasons but she tips back the mouthwash and swallows.
“You were supposed to spit it out,” I mutter.
She leans to the side and chuckles. “It’s alcoholic.”
Making a mental note to try a different brand, I ask, “Can you walk?”
“No.” She holds out her hands and smirks. “Carry me.”
A surge of warmth spreads across my chest, cracking the ice around my
heart. I’ve never met a woman who so perfectly combines so many traits I
desire. Innocence, obedience, open-mindedness, and spontaneity. She even
has a keen interest in business and finance.
If I had met Phoenix during my undergraduate days, I would never have
needed anyone else.
I scoop her up in my arms and grumble into her hair. “Enjoy being
treated like a princess while it lasts.”
She places a palm over my heart, melting away the frost. As I carry her
down the hallway, she mumbles, “You’re just like the charming prince of
Wonderland.”
“Are you mixing your fairytales now?” I ask with a smirk.
“I wish it was you who took my virginity,” she says with a wistful sigh.
Flames of jealousy coil around my gut. I breathe harder, faster, silently
urging her to continue. My jaw tightens so hard that my face aches.
Her sexual history is none of my business, so why do I feel a sudden
urge to kill?
Every submissive I’ve played with has been a professional with her own
varied history along with a roster of clients. I’ve never felt an inkling of
possessiveness toward those subs.
But Phoenix isn’t a professional—she’s mine.
Mine.
My teeth clench. My vision fills with dark spots. I continue on wooden
legs into the master bedroom.
Moonlight shines in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing its
white interior in silver. Phoenix glances from side to side and gasps. From
her point of view, the crystal chandeliers, ivory furniture, and silver
antiques must look magical.
I could be the charming prince Phoenix desires, the one who guides her
through the wonders of her sexuality.
I could mold her to my desires and make her my perfect match.
But that won’t happen if I frighten her away with my murderous
instincts.
The hand over my heart snakes up my chest, over my collar. Her fingers
ignite the flesh on my neck with bolts of electricity that go straight to my
cock.
I continue toward the king-sized bed and ignore the ache.
“You wouldn’t just take what you wanted and fucked off,” she
murmurs.
My nostrils flare.
Say nothing.
Demand nothing.
Do. Not. Ask.
As I lay Phoenix on the mattress, her tawny brown spills across the
pristine white quilt. The moon accentuates her loose waves and amber
highlights.
My heart clenches.
Now, she looks like a fallen angel.
 My veneer of calm shatters, letting through my protective instincts. I
snarl, “Who do I need to castrate?”
She huffs a laugh. “Would you really cut off his dick?”
“And watch him bleed to death.”
Phoenix curls to her side and erupts into a peal of giggles. “No, you
wouldn’t.”
I sit beside her on the mattress and turn her onto her back. Phoenix
gazes up at me, her eyes sparkling with delight. She’s so sweet and open
and trusting. I want to erase the little bastard who took her virginity and
besmirched what is mine.
“Tell me who I need to kill.” My voice is calm, reasonable, and coaxing.
I thread my fingers through her silky hair and spread them back into the
halo.
Now, I sound like Crius.
I try to tell myself that Crius would sooner sell a woman than protect
her, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like shit.
“He isn’t worth the effort,” she murmurs. “Besides, I don’t want you
murdering anyone.”
Too late.
My hands are so stained with sin, it’s a surprise she can’t smell the
blood on my fingers.
A lump forms at the base of my throat, awakening my long-dead
conscience. I shouldn’t keep asking but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop.
“Would you turn away from me if I murdered someone?”
“Who?” she asks.
“The kind of man who hurts women.”
“That would make you a hero.” She stretches out her arms for a hug.
“Murder is okay if it’s in self-defense. It’s noble if you do it to protect
someone else.”
 It’s impossible to tell if these are Phoenix’s true sentiments or if it’s the
drink talking, but hearing those words loosen a knot of tension around my
conscience.
I lean down and place a kiss on the tip of her nose.
One of Phoenix’s arms closes around my neck. Her other hand races
toward my erection.
“When are we going to have sex?” she whines.
I grab her wrist before she can arouse me to a point beyond return and
save those desires for tomorrow.
After she has recovered from her hangover.
“Ask me again when you’re sober.”
Peeling her arm away from my neck, I move off the bed, leaving
Phoenix gazing up at me from the mattress. Undressing her will be an
exercise in temptation. I can’t imagine what it will be like to lie beside her
in bed.
Phoenix remains silent as I take off my clothes and hang them over a
chair. Part of me hopes she’s already fallen asleep because that will make
resisting her so much easier. I climb back onto the bed in my boxers and
remove her skirt and shoes.
As I settle her under the covers, she stirs, making my cock twitch.
“When I was little, I used to fantasize about murdering my dad,” she
murmurs, her tone wistful. “He used to say all women were whores and I
was no different.”
“Men like him don’t deserve wives, let alone daughters,” I say through
clenched teeth and slip under the covers beneath her.
“That’s one of the reasons I like you so much.”
“There’s more?”
She slides a hand down my bare chest. “You’re the opposite of
judgmental. I could tell you all my filthiest fantasies, like how I’ve always
wanted to have sex in public where everyone could see me.”
 Groaning, I turn her onto her side, where her eager fingers won’t roam
into mischief. “A conversation like this needs to wait until tomorrow.”
“Would you fuck me against the wall, professor?” She presses her pert
ass into my erection.
“Little brat.” I give her a swat on the hip.
She giggles. “Do it again.”
Any other time, I would handcuff her to the bed and pound into her until
she cried for mercy. I grab the hand snaking toward my crotch and fold it
around her waist. That will have to wait until she’s sober.
“Come on,” she whines. “I need to be punished.”
“How would you like to spend the rest of the night in the spare room?”
She stops grinding into my cock, leaving me aching.
“I’ll be good,” she says.
“You’d better.” I smooth down her hair and inhale her coffee-and-
vanilla scent.
“You’re so strict,” she says with a yawn. “But I like it.”
“Good night, Miss Stahl.”
“‘Night, Professor.”
As Phoenix curls into a ball, I loosen my grip around her body.
“You’re my perfect little match,” I press a kiss on her bare shoulder.
“And I’ll never let you go.”
Every woman I’ve been with to date has either been a paid professional
or too vanilla to hold my attention. I’ve tried online dating, fetish clubs, and
even meeting women in stores like the Red Room, but their interests in
BDSM have either been superficial or contrary to my tastes.
Phoenix is the only submissive who didn’t come to me with a list of
hard limits. She wants to explore everything, if only once.
She never needs to worry about being discarded.
Phoenix is everything I want in a woman and more. It’s rare to find a
submissive whose desires mesh with mine, even rarer to find one from a
similar background.
We both grew up with unavailable mothers and fathers we despised. My
mother was too enthralled by Crius to be fully present and Phoenix’s was
absent. Gordon Gofannon may not have been the kind of monster Crius
was, but he didn’t hesitate to abandon Phoenix with unpaid bills.
I wind my fingers through her hair, letting the silken strands caress my
skin. If Phoenix doesn’t shun me for my past murders, I will protect her
with my life.
Perhaps taking care of her will be my redemption for failing to protect
Mother.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Nine

PHOENIX

My head hurts.
Scratch that.
My head feels like every vessel running through it is filled with acid
that pulses to the sound of a drum. The kind that they used to beat in galley
ships, to synchronize the rowers’ movements.
Even though my eyes are closed, sunlight hits my retinas like a crack of
a whip. I turn around in my bed and groan.
Why would anyone ever drink more than once if hangovers feel so
shitty? The room is spinning in the opposite direction to my insides, and my
throat gags.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to vomit again,” says a deep, smooth voice
that glides over my skin like arnica jelly.
“Huh?” I crack open an eye, only for it to be flooded with light.
Blinking, I adjust my gaze to find a shirtless and tattooed Professor
Segul standing at my bedside.
Only it’s not my room.
Everything is so clean, so classy, so ivory.
 “Professor?” I push myself up, only for agony to rush to my head.
“Easy, now.” He swoops down and wraps a strong arm around my back,
keeping me steady as I sit up.
His touch is a balm to my frayed nerves, and his leather and mahogany
scent anchors me to reality. I’m in Professor Segul’s house. This is the room
he was sitting in on the Saturday night we first sexted.
“How did I get here?” I rasp.
“You were drunk, and I abducted you from outside the Campus Café.”
“Why?” I sink into the plush cushions.
Professor Segul doesn’t answer for several heartbeats. I tilt my head up
and squint into his stern features. He stares down at me, unimpressed, the
way he does when students ask dumb questions in class.
Sweat breaks out across my brow. What did I say? My mind replays the
last few seconds. “Are you glaring at me because the answer’s obvious?”
He raises a brow.
“Hey.” If I could muster up the energy to prod him in the chest, I would,
but my arms feel like lead. “Just because a girl gets drunk, that doesn’t
mean she’s asking to be hijacked.”
“Nobody hijacks, as you quite eloquently put it, what belongs to me,”
he says.
My skin tightens, although I can’t tell if that’s from the intensity of his
stare or his declaration of ownership. Memories from the night before
trickle through my cacophony of pain. They’re mostly of Axel and Veer
flirting from the stage, and Professor Segul’s date with Dr. Raring.
“What were you doing with the marketing lecturer?” I ask.
“We had this conversation last night,” he replies, his voice filled with
dark amusement.
“I don’t remember.”
“You wouldn’t.”
My teeth clack together. “Were you on a date?”
 “With Dr. Xander as well?”
“I don’t know.” My gaze drops to the ivory quilt that’s made of tiny
squares of raw silk.
Ugh. My lungs deflate with a boulder of embarrassment. I’m being so
cringey right now, especially when what I have with Professor Segul is just
an arrangement.
Of course, he would snatch me off the street, I bloody sold myself to
him at £2,000 a month.
“Forget about it,” I mutter.
“Miss Stahl,” his sharp voice slices through my sour mood.
I straighten. “Yes, sir?”
“Dr. Xander and I planned to share a cup of coffee on Saturday. As far
as I knew it would just be the two of us, talking shop.”
The weight in my chest lightens, and I can finally relax. I gaze up into
his laughing eyes and smile.
“How’s your head?” he asks.
“It feels like shit.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t pour schnapps into your coffee.”
I shudder at the memory of glugging it neat. It’s no wonder I feel so
terrible this morning. “Do you have any aspirin?”
“That’s the last thing you need to take on an empty stomach.” He turns
on his heel and walks toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask, my gaze raking over his broad back and
lingering on the tight ass beneath those gray sweatpants.
“To get you a hangover remedy that won’t eviscerate your insides.”
“Uh… Okay.” I sink back into the pillows and take in my surroundings.
It should belong to the movie set of Beauty and the Beast, except that
it’s completely devoid of color. The only thing that isn’t a shade of white is
the silver filigree around the headboard and on the furniture’s curved legs.
 It’s so understated and elegant, just like Professor Segul, but on closer
inspection, intricate and artistic. Ornate cornices decorate the ceilings and
frame the mirrors. It’s all coordinated to fit with the beautiful crystal
chandelier.
This is the complete opposite to the house I used to call home, where
everything was mismatched and grimy. My heart sinks at the thought of
Dad. Not that I miss the miserable bastard, but the emotions I’d been trying
to numb with drink the night before rise to the surface.
I truly thought that Professor Segul had also discarded me. My throat
thickens, and the backs of my eyes grow hot. I’m not crying. But as my
head dips, a tear falls onto one of the silk squares.
“What the fuck?” I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, but that only
makes things worse.
Soft footsteps pad across the room. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “It’s just my head.”
He sets down a silver tray on the bedside table and slips his fingers
beneath my jaw. I cringe as he tilts my chin upward so our gazes meet.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
The gold flecks in his eyes burn brighter than the morning sun, coloring
his irises an intense turquoise. I can’t tell if he’s furious or irritated, but I
can’t stand to be the cause of his sour mood.
My gaze darts to his sharp cheekbone, and I reply, “It’s nothing.”
“I will not ask you twice.”
I swallow.
“It really isn’t a big deal.” Before he says something that will make my
skin tighten into goosebumps, I add, “Last night, all kinds of stupid things
ran through my mind.”
“Elaborate.”
I shake my head. “My dad either blocked me or changed his number or
someone could have erased his phone. I don’t know. I saw you last night
with her and I thought this was a pattern. You know, people being into me
one moment and then doing the complete opposite the next.”
Professor Segul pulls back his hand. “Am I a surrogate father figure?”
“No,” I say, determined not to mention the word sugar daddy. “My dad
was a dick, and you’re—”
“Also a dick?”
My eyes snap back to his. “Huh?”
“Last night, you called me a dickhead.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
“Do you doubt my word?” He raises a brow.
“No,” I blurt.
He turns toward the bedside table and picks up a glass. “Drink this.”
My nose wrinkles. “Am I allowed to ask?”
“A concoction I find effective,” he says, his eyes smiling. “Tomato
juice, celery, with a shot of Korean pear and a pinch of ginseng.”
“Will it work?”
He brings the glass to my lips. “Try for yourself.”
I take a sip, expecting it to taste like cold soup, but it’s surprisingly light
and reminds me of watery salsa. “It’s not bad.”
“Glad to have earned your approval,” he says with a light chuckle, but
he stands over me until I finish the entire glass.
“Thanks.” I fall back on the pillows and sigh.
“Now hydrate.” He produces a huge tumbler of water and makes me
swallow several mouthfuls.
Just when I think he’s going to show me mercy and leave me in my
misery, he climbs into the bed and arranges me around his bare chest. My
head rests at the juncture of his shoulder, and my breasts are pressed up
against his side.
I melt against the professor and sigh. This is the closest I’ve felt to
anyone in my entire life. I could so easily get used to him holding me like
this.
“Tell me about your father.” His deep voice resonates across my front.
“What are you,” I mumble into his neck. “A psychologist?”
“If you like,” he replies, his voice light. “Were you close?”
“No.” I slide my hand to the dip between his pecs. “Yes. Not really.”
“You sound conflicted.”
I exhale a sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“Enlighten me.”
“It’s always been me and him since I could remember.”
“Where is your mother?”
“She’s out there somewhere,” I murmur. “All I have of her is a name
and a few photos.”
Professor Segul remains silent. Whether it’s a prompt for me to continue
speaking or because he’s thinking about something I just told him, I can’t
tell. But it feels nice to talk to someone who won’t overreact.
“He was alright, I suppose. A bit cold, stingy, and he ranted a lot about
women. But he was all I had, right?”
He makes a noise of agreement.
“Sometimes, I wished he would drop dead. He used to call me all sorts
of horrible names.” My jaw clenches. “There was this one time, he
threatened to sell me to that horrible pimp, Crius Vanir.”
Professor Segul stiffens, sounding like he’s holding his breath.
I cringe at having revealed too much. Now, he’s going to think Dad
caught me doing something heinous.
“It was just a threat.” My words tumble over each other. “It’s not like I
did anything wrong. He just doesn’t like it when I’m dressed like a normal
woman.”
“Hence the Sunday school outfit you wore the day we met.”
I huff a laugh. “It’s the easiest way to get him off my back. I only went
home because he insisted on making me beg each week for grocery money.
Then one day, he just disappeared.”
“He didn’t tell you where he went or give you an indication that he was
safe?”
My throat tightens. I feel like shit for not spending every waking
moment looking for Dad, but life has been a thousand times better without
his presence.
“Nothing,” I croak.
The professor inhales a deep breath. “I asked around about your father
and discovered something interesting.”
I tilt my head, trying to meet his eyes, but he stares up at the chandelier.
“What was it?”
“You mustn’t speak of this to anyone.”
My heart clenches. “Did he get killed?”
“No,” Professor Segul says too quickly for my liking, and then pauses.
Air gets trapped in my lungs. Every part of my body falls still.
“An associate told me he was appointed the new warden of Seacroft
Prison.”
“Sorry, what?” I ask.
“How much do you know about your father’s dealings?”
“He always told me he was an accountant, but he kept me out of
things.” That’s an understatement, but I’m too accustomed to keeping
secrets to blurt that Dad works for the Irish mob. “Why?”
“He would have done a bit more than bookkeeping to have earned such
a responsibility. Seacroft is where the underworld puts people too important
to kill and too dangerous to live.”
“Don’t tell me it’s an actual place,” I say.
“Apparently so.” He runs his fingers through my hair, sending tingles of
sensation across my scalp. “I thought your father swore you to secrecy
about where he had gone.”
 “No.” My jaw clenches. “I can’t believe I wasted a full hour worrying
about that bastard.”
Professor Segul laughs deep from his belly and continues to do so long
after it’s appropriate. It wasn’t even that funny. I draw back, my head now
resting on his bicep, so I can take a better look at his face.
The corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth, and his smile is so wide it
looks manic. What the hell did I say to trigger this reaction?
“Marius? I mean Professor?” I rub a circle on his chest.
He blinks over and over as though activating his stoic mask. “You just
reminded me of something.”
“Did your dad disappear?”
He laughs again. “I wouldn’t hate him so much if he had.”
“Oh.” I slide my arm around his chest and bury my head in his neck.
“Sorry. I suppose he was worse than mine.”
Professor Segul runs his hand up and down my back in a soothing
motion, but I wonder if he’s doing that for his own benefit. “Bastard doesn’t
begin to describe my father,” he snarls. “His only redeeming feature is that
he valued education.”
I snort. “Same with mine.”
He presses a kiss on the side of my head. “Did he ever hurt you?”
“It could have been worse,” I mutter.
“How?”
“I mean, he never closed his fist and always calmed down when I cried.
It was mostly him standing over me and screaming a bunch of nonsense
while I cowered.”
He shakes his head. “He seems like the kind of man who can’t stand up
to an equal.”
“Yeah.” I pause. “What was yours like?”
Marius exhales the longest sigh. “I wasn’t stuck with mine the way you
were with yours. My mother was his mistress and suffered his visits a few
times a month, but he was as controlling as he was sadistic.”
“How?” My fingers curl around his muscle.
“I didn’t realize until much later that he kept her addicted to drugs. It
was the reason she wouldn’t try to escape.”
“But you got free?”
“I did.”
The way he says those two words are ominous.
“Did you kill him?” I whisper.
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I failed. It won’t happen again.”
“What do you mean?”
He hesitates for several moments, seeming to debate whether to explain
but then he shakes his head. “That’s a story for another time. Since you’re
feeling better, I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Professor Segul slides out from under me and heads to the door.
My lips part with a protest, but I can’t produce the words. Where I come
from, prying into another person’s business could turn a nosy busybody into
an accessory.
But in just a few sentences, he’s solved the mystery of what happened to
Dad. I’m relieved he isn’t dead, annoyed that he stranded me for something
better, but I’m mostly over that wretched old bastard.
Now I’m burning to know how Professor Segul broke free of his father.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty

MARIUS

It galls me that I can’t admit to Phoenix that at the grand old age of twenty-
eight, I’m still under the clutches of my father.
However, I hope to change that before I turn twenty-nine.
She probably isn’t in the mood for eating much, but I prepare breakfast
nonetheless. It’s only a fruit salad of assorted melons for hydration and
honey and banana on toast, which she once mentioned having enjoyed.
By the time I return to Phoenix, she’s fallen back to sleep. Sunlight
streams down on her creamy features, highlighting the soft curve of her
shoulder.
She looks purer than an angel, lying there with her chestnut hair spilling
across the pillows. How in the heavens could anyone treat someone so
sweet with such cruelty? Her father should have at least left a text to say he
was safe.
I run my hand down the silky skin of her arm, not quite believing that I
ensnared a woman who encompasses both decadence and innocence.
Last night’s outburst tells me there’s more to her affection than our
financial arrangement. Which is unfortunate, since I intend to leave Marina
Village the moment Professor Eckhart is well enough to return to work.
After leaving the tray at the bedside, I walk to the downstairs study, a
room with three walls of tall bookshelves and a brass chandelier. I walk past
the desk and sit on the sofa overlooking the patio garden and pick up the
burner phone.
Quinn answers in one ring. “Mari.”
“Did you get the videos I sent?”
“He was really good,” she says with a chuckle.
I groan. “Not you as well.”
“What? Jealous that you don’t rock bellbottoms as well as him?”
“Did you find a venue willing to host them?” I ask.
“Three said they’d be interested, yeah.” Quinn’s tone is back to
business. “The Jabberwocky is the only one that takes cash deposits. I
thought you might prefer that so nothing traces back to you.”
“Excellent. When can they stage the concert?”
“They’re fully booked for every Friday and Saturday night until after
Christmas, and I didn’t think you would want a weekday evening.” She
pauses.
“I doubt that the university would allow a mass exodus of students in
the middle of the week.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But they have a matinée slot for next
Sunday and the one after.”
“Hmm…” I rub my chin. “What about the venues that don’t accept
cash?”
“Some have free dates but in November?” I can hear her cringing at the
suggestion.
My jaw tightens, and I suck in a breath through flared nostrils. There’s
no telling what will become of Mother if she stays in that man’s clutches
over an extended period. No telling what he’s forcing her to do with whom.
“Out of the question.”
 “I thought the same,” she replies with a sigh.
“Let’s go for this first matinée opening,” I say. “Secure the date with a
deposit.”
“What if the target doesn’t take the bait?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. If he doesn’t we’re all screwed. It would
mean having to abduct the Bestlasson boy myself, and I doubt that he’d be
as easy to spirit away as a drunken Phoenix.
“Move quickly,” I say. “He’ll be riding the high from his recent
success.”
“Alright, but there’s one more thing…”
“What?”
“Your plan to follow Crius’s men is full of holes. Don’t you think they
might be looking out for a tail?”
“Do you have an alternative suggestion?”
“A tracker.”
My brows draw together. “Explain.”
“Let me find something to put it in, like a medallion or an earring.
Something we know he’ll wear on stage or keep with him when he gets
snatched.”
“It’s a decent plan B.” I rub my chin.
“It’s an excellent one,” she says, her voice rising with outrage.
The corners of my lips curl into a smile. “I concede to your point.”
She huffs. “You’re so—”
“Professor?” Phoenix asks from outside the room.
“Keep me updated,” I mutter into the phone.
“Wait—”
I hang up before Quinn completes her sentence. The last thing I need is
for her to chastise me for fraternizing with a student. It’s unethical at best
and at the worst, dangerous.
“Come in,” I say in the direction of the door.
 Phoenix steps inside, still dressed in yesterday’s tank top and
underwear. She’s braless, and sunlight streaming in from the window makes
the fabric almost transparent. My cock stirs to life and lengthens as my gaze
sweeps down the gentle curves of her body, lingers over the white knickers
hugging her bald pussy, and then continues down her shapely thighs.
“Feeling better?” I meet her doe eyes.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, my voice deepening. “Now, turn around.”
She blinks.
I make a gesture with my finger. “Go on.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Are you checking on my bruises?”
“Precisely.”
She wraps her arms around her middle and shuffles in a slow circle,
making sure to pause long enough for me to see the pretty round globes are
almost healed.
“You respond well to arnica gel,” I say. “By tomorrow morning, you’ll
be ready for another spanking.”
Phoenix’s soft whimper makes my cock jump.
“Come here.” I beckon her over.
She licks her lips, the movement awakening something inside me that’s
purely feral. When she kissed me yesterday, I wanted to devour her until
she shattered. But not while she’d been drunk and not in control.
I’m not my father.
I’m not the type of man who would take advantage of a woman at her
most vulnerable. It’s the reason why I cleared her most pressing financial
obligations before giving her the option to take the money and to leave
without strings or stay and become mine.
Now, I want her mouth.
She pads across the room, but as soon as she’s within reach, I pull her
down on my lap.
 “You racked up the punishments last night.” I wrap an arm around her
waist and force myself to remain still as she writhes against my cock.
“What did I do?” her voice rises with feigned panic.
“I told you to stay away from that boy, yet I found you getting
inebriated in his presence.”
“What?” she squawks. “I only went because Charlotte wanted me to,
and the drink belonged to Axel—”
I give her a gentle swat on the thigh. “And the sass I got from you last
night as I tried to pull you to safety.”
“Abduct me, you mean,” she says with a giggle that goes straight to my
groin.
I give her thigh a tight squeeze, making her push back against my cock
and groan. Now, it’s my turn to moan. I want to fuck her. Right now. But I
won’t if she’s still hung over.
“How’s your head?” I murmur into her ear.
“Better,” she replies. “Still not a hundred percent.”
“A pity,” I growl. “I wanted to push forward my Sunday plans.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to use a bottle of champagne?”
“Let’s not spoil the surprise.” I slide a hand beneath her tank top. “But
in the meantime, I want to try something light and vanilla with no safe
word.”
“What?”
“Do you trust me?”
“No.” She turns to meet my gaze with narrowed eyes. “And why does it
sound like you’re about to do something I won’t like?”
I swallow back a laugh. “Because you won’t.”
“Liar.” She rests her back against my chest. “Come on then, do your
worst.”
“We’ll play a game of how many times I can take you to the edge before
you break.” I slip her collar out of my pocket and fix it around her neck.
 She shivers against my chest, but my body feels the movement as a
thrill of excitement. “That doesn’t sound painful at all.”
“That remains to be seen.”
I slide one hand over her ribs and cup her breast. It’s warm and firm to
the touch. When I brush my fingers over her nipples, they tighten into hard
peaks.
My pulse quickens sending blood down south. Everything about this
young woman is delectable.
“Your body is beautifully responsive,” I murmur into her ear.
“Hmmmm.”
With my other hand, I trace a path over the cotton fabric of her knickers
and pause over her protruding nub. The objective of this game is to get her
so aroused that she begs for release. I rub gentle circles around her clit,
missing it by an inch, so she only feels the ghost of a touch.
Phoenix raises her hips, trying to create a little friction. I snatch my
hand away. “No cheating.”
“Can’t you touch my clit directly?” she asks with a whine.
“Be a good girl and stay quiet while I play with your pussy.”
She claps a hand over her mouth with a strangled noise, and I slide the
side of my thumb over her clothed pussy lips. Phoenix shivers, making my
cock ache for her hand. The downside to this game is that I must also
abstain from release.
“Are you getting wet for me, little Phoenix?”
She shakes her head.
“And what would I find when I pulled your knickers to the side?”
She groans. “This is so unfair.”
“What is?”
“You think I like all kinds of crazy things,” she mutters.
“I’m just going by your reactions,” I say, my voice light. “We both
know you’re a kinky little slut beneath the innocent facade. You’re just in
denial.”
“What?” she splutters. “I’m not— Oh.”
She throws her head back as my finger slides over her swollen clit with
the lightest of touches.
“Admit it.”
“No,” she whispers.
“Why do your cheeks turn pink if you’re not excited?”
“That always happens when I’m embarrassed.”
I roll her hard nipple between my fingers, making her moan. “Is this
how you react when you’re embarrassed?” Then I slide the finger of my
other hand down into her wet folds. “Or this?”
“S-shut up.”
“Another punishment to add to your mounting list of transgressions.”
“Oh.” She jerks her hips, rolling them so my cock is flush between her
ass cheeks.
Now it’s my turn to moan. “You little minx.”
“S-see how much you like to be teased,” she says through panting
breaths.
“The difference between you and me is that I’m not in denial about my
kinks,” I whisper in her ear. “You might whine and complain about
worshiping my shoes or feet, but the more degrading I make things for you,
the wetter you become.”
“No.”
“Says the brat who has never once exercised her safe word.”
She makes a satisfying whine that I feel down the entire length of my
dick. For a young woman who claimed to hate verbal chastisement, she
certainly gets off on being denigrated.
I ease off her clit, eliciting a disappointed groan. She presses back
against my cock and wriggles, looking like she wants to spur me into
action.
 “Behave,” I murmur into her ear, “Or I’ll leave you frustrated and wet.”
“But I’m not—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
She squirms against my back, her thighs closing, but I grab her knee and
shift her leg so it lies outside mine. After moving the other into a similar
position, I have both limbs splayed out with her knees bent, giving me full
access to her pussy.
“Much better,” I say. “Spread wide beneath me like a gorgeous buffet.”
She bites down on her bottom lip and moans.
I palm her pussy over her knickers, giving her friction to stoke her
arousal but nowhere enough to climax. She flops her head to the side, and I
sweep her pretty brown hair back to access her neck.
Phoenix smells of citrus and vanilla with a hint of coffee. I run my
fingers through her silken locks and hold them into a stream of sunlight.
The natural illumination separates her hair into a myriad of browns, ranging
from a bright amber to a deep chestnut.
Grazing the column of her neck with my lips, I smile as she shivers
under my touch. Nothing about Phoenix is practiced. Nothing she does is
for show, unlike some other submissives. She’s so sensitive and responsive
to my touch that every moment with her is a delight.
I run the pad of my thumb over her covered clit, making her hiss
through her teeth.
“Don’t you want my knickers off?” she asks.
“Dirty girl. Sitting half-naked on your professor’s lap, making filthy
propositions.”
She huffs a laugh. “What kind of professor abducts his student when
she’s too drunk to defend herself?”
“One who wants to protect you from predators.” I slide my hand over
her ribs and cup her breast. “Predators who would take advantage of your
inebriated state.”
 “What else would they do?” she asks.
I clamp my teeth on her neck, making her stiffen. This line of
conversation skirts too close to my father’s line of work. The last thing I
need to consider with my arms filled with Phoenix.
“Let’s not explore that thought. From now on, I want you to drink
responsibly or not at all.”
“Yes, sir,” she says. “And thanks.”
Rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, I ask. “For what?”
“You took me away before I made a drunk idiot of myself.”
“For thanking me so prettily, you get a reward.”
I trace a tiny circle over her clit and down the length of her slit.
Moisture soaks through her knickers, indicating the extent of her arousal.
She bucks her hips and whines.
“Eager, are we?” I ask.
Her cheeks turn a delectable shade of pink. “It’s always like this when
I’m around you.”
I walk my fingers up to the waistband of her knickers and then slide
beneath the cotton fabric and down to her clit. She’s warm and wet with
arousal, and the bundle of nerves beneath my finger swells at my touch.
Tracing gentle circles over her clit with one hand, I continue my assault
on her nipple with the other. Phoenix sprawls over my front, panting
through the sensations.
At the angle she bends her neck, her pretty hair spills over my chest and
shoulder. This is the closest I’ve ever come to cuddling up with a woman. I
might be paying her expenses, but toying with her on a Sunday afternoon
doesn’t feel like any of my other arrangements.
Phoenix reaches back and clamps a hand on my forearm. “Stop
teasing.”
“You’ve worked out the game?” I slide my finger between her wet folds
and tap her opening.
 She tilts her hips, trying to change the angle so I can enter her, and I
return my finger to her clit.
“Work me up until I go crazy?” she asks.
“It’s called tease and denial,” I say.
“What happens if I call the safe word?”
“Don’t.”
“But what if I did?”
“Then I would withdraw my fingers and make a start on Sunday lunch.
Is that what you want?”
She gives her head a vigorous shake.
I rub her clit with firmer strokes, making her cry out and arch against
my back. Phoenix is so easy to rile, and the sound of her pleasure delights
me more than Mozart.
“Professor,” she whispers. “That feels so good.”
She’s getting close to climaxing. Easing off the pressure on her clit, I
slow down my strokes, only for her to groan.
I pull at her thick nipples, and murmur into her ear, “You make such
pretty noises.”
“Oh, shit,” she says from between clenched teeth. “Let me cum, you
fucking sadist.”
I wrap my hand around her neck, making her gasp. “Just for that, I’m
going to make you beg.”
“But you’re doing that already.”
My finger leaves her clit and circles her opening, she’s so smooth and
slick and ready for fucking that I almost lose track of why I’m wasting time
with all this teasing.
A surge of heat to my cock seems to agree with that thought. Phoenix
makes me lose focus. Focus I can’t afford to lose control of when I’m on
the verge of the most important mission of my life.
 The mere hint of Crius cools my arousal, bringing my mind back to my
task. Phoenix will be my undoing if I don’t bring her to heel.
“Please,” she whines.
“Please what? Finish your sentence.”
“Please, let me cum.”
I ghost my finger over the smooth, wet peak of her clit. It’s so sensitive
that I feel it quiver under my touch.
“What will you give me in return?” I say, my voice low.
“I’ll suck you off.”
“You give that to me anyway.”
She makes an indignant squawk. “What do you want?”
“Those boys you were out with last night.” I choose my words carefully
because I can’t have her thinking I’m fixated with Bestlasson. “You will
cease associating with them.”
“But Charlotte—”
My fingers close tightly around her nipple, making her hiss through her
teeth.
“This isn’t about your friend,” I say. “If she wants to drag you along to
another of those concerts, the answer is no.”
Phoenix’s face tightens. “I don’t know what you have against them.”
“Musicians who supplied you with all that alcohol?” I snarl, mostly at
myself for sounding like her father.
It isn’t like me to be overly controlling or possessive, but this is one
freedom I will not permit. When Veer Bestlasson goes missing, suspicion
will fall on each of his friends and associates.
I can’t have Phoenix under the attention of Odin or the rest of that
family.
She huffs. “Alright, I’ll keep my distance. Now, please may I cum?”
“When I’m convinced you really mean the words,” I reply
 For the next several minutes, I take her to the brink of climax and ease
her off. The blush staining her cheeks spreads down her neck, across her
chest, and even to the tips of her ears.
After six rounds of tease and denial, Phoenix pants and shivers against
my chest with sweat beading on her brow.
My agonized cock screams at me to put us all out of our misery, but this
is important.
“Please.” Her voice breaks. “I don’t even like Veer all that much. Most
of the time, he pisses me off. Please, let me cum.”
“What’s this about?”
“It’s annoying how he’s suddenly become so friendly. For the past two
years, he acted like I didn’t exist.”
My brow creases. “You wanted his attention?”
Her nose wrinkles. “No. He’s a pretentious twat.”
I can’t disagree with her there, but that’s beside the point. The tip of my
finger slides into her wet heat. She’s so tight and slick that she sucks it in,
down to the knuckle.
My cock throbs at the thought of her reacting this way when we
eventually fuck.
“Hmmm… Tell me more about what you won’t do.”
“I won’t even look at their flyers,” she says through ragged breaths.
“And if Charlotte or anyone else asks me to see the band, the answer will be
no.”
“No?” I pull out my finger.
“Fuck, no,” she moans as I slide it back in. “I’d rather spend my time
studying Finance and Accountancy. Now, please may I cum?”
“All this for just a climax.” I keep my voice light. “Are you that
needy?”
“No, I really mean it.”
“Do you know what I think?”
 “What?” she asks, her voice strained.
“Dirty girls who stay in to do their homework deserve rewards.”
With the tips of two fingers in her slick pussy, I rub up and down
strokes over her clit with the side of my thumb. By now, Phoenix is so close
to climaxing that it only takes a few seconds to push her over the edge.
She arches back and cries out. Her little pussy twitches around my
fingers, making something in me rumble with satisfaction. I continue
stroking her clit until her orgasm slows.
Moments later, Phoenix slumps against my chest, panting hard through
parted lips. Beads of sweat soak her brow, and her eyes stare unfocused into
the book case.
My fingers are drenched with her arousal. I bring them to my mouth and
savor her taste before rubbing the wetness on her lips.
“Lick it clean.”
She draws back. “What?”
I wrap a hand around the back of her slender neck. “Do as you’re told.”
Phoenix sighs, parts her lips, and lets me slide my fingers into her
mouth. She runs her tongue up and down my digit and hums, the sound
going straight to my aching cock.
This dirty little angel will be my undoing.
When I’m satisfied that she’s sucked all her arousal off my fingers, I
pull them out of her mouth.
“I don’t get you,” she murmurs into my neck. “One minute, you’re a
sadistic bastard, then the next, such a gentleman.”
“Which was I just now?” I cradle her in my arms.
“Who knows?” she slurs.
I carry her downstairs, where she can at least sleep off the rest of her
hangover in the dark.
When she recovers from her delicate state, I won’t be quite so
gentlemanly.
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-One

PHOENIX

Hours later, when I wake up again, the pounding in my head has gone,
replaced with the ache of an empty stomach. I shift, only to feel the glide of
silk sheets against my skin.
When I inhale, my nostrils fill with the scent of leather. Professor Segul
must have taken me back to his dungeon.
This is confirmed when I crack open an eye to find myself surrounded
by the heavy drapes of his four-poster. Red light streams in, causing vertical
patterns across the sheets, but there’s no sign of the man.
“Ugh, why do I always wake up here alone?” I mutter under my breath
and push myself up to sit against the padded leather headboard.
I’ve decided that his home reflects his personality. The upstairs is
perfect, pristine, and polished but beneath the surface there’s darkness,
decadence, and depravity.
“Professor?” I murmur.
There’s no answer.
He’s probably upstairs, conducting one of his furtive phone calls, which
he’ll end abruptly the moment I walk in.
 The professor is the complete opposite to Dad. Dad would scream at me
to get the fuck out, and add a few degrading insults just to let me know I’m
a worthless parasite.
I shake my head. “What am I doing, comparing my sugar daddy to my
real one?”
Parting the heavy curtain, I swing my legs to the side and slide off the
mattress. There’s a tray on the bedside table with a bottle of drinking yogurt
and a note that says, DRINK ME.
This is so Alice in Wonderland that I can’t help wondering which
character represents him.
After downing the contents of the glass, I make my way to the door.
Professor Segul descends the stairs, shirtless and in his leather pants.
“Going somewhere?”
Without meaning to, my gaze travels down to his bare feet. His toes are
nearly twice as long as mine, with visible bones that stretch to the ankles.
They end with short, clean nails that must have been shaped with a
pedicure.
When I meet his eyes, he tilts his head with his brow raised. I already
know what he’s leaving unsaid.
“It’s not a foot fetish,” I blurt.
“Of course it isn’t,” he replies, sounding completely unconvinced and
closes the distance between us.
His sandalwood scent is subtle, yet I still sway on my feet,
overwhelmed. The air between us thickens until I feel it crackling with
palpable tension.
He cups the side of my face and runs the pad of his thumb over my
bottom lip. Tingles explode across my chest, down my nipples, and awaken
a hunger in my core. The pulse between my legs thrums with anticipation.
“How’s your head?” he asks, his voice neutral.
 “It’s fine.” I’m lost in his blue eyes, which look indigo in the dim light.
Lost in wonder at how he can sound so calm when my insides are in
turmoil.
“Hungry?” His deep voice hits me straight in the core.
“Only for you.” The words spill from my lips before I can stop them.
Professor Segul’s eyes darken, and the corners of his lips tighten. I can’t
tell if I’ve overstepped some kind of BDSM etiquette because the rest of his
face remains impassive.
“Elaborate.”
My throat tightens, and I bite down on my bottom lip. “I want us to
have sex.”
His features don’t even flicker. “Get on your knees and crawl to the
center of the room.”
The indifference in his tone sends a shiver down my spine that settles
deep in my pussy. I pause for two heartbeats before dropping down to the
floor. Professor Segul’s erection strains through his leather pants, making
the pulse at my clit pound harder.
Taking a deep breath, I place my palms on the floor and crawl back
through the dungeon door.
It should be humiliating, moving around on all fours like I’m his pet,
but there’s a freedom in following his orders that not only gives me a sense
of safety and acceptance that I’ve never felt before but makes me giddy
with desire.
Heat pools in my pussy as I rub my legs together to create a little
friction.
“Stop.”
I sit back on my haunches and watch him stand in the doorway like a
demon king surveying his court. The dim light bathes his skin in a haze of
red and highlights his dark tattoos.
 Anticipation skitters across my skin, but that’s also when I realize I’m
overdressed. “Should I take off my tank top?”
The corner of his mouth lifts into a semblance of a smile. “Keep it on.”
It’s like he’s just told himself a joke but doesn’t want to share. Before I
can muster up the courage to ask, he strides across the room, passing me to
stop at the huge round torture device thingy at the wall.
It’s made of two semi-circles covered in leather joined to form a
complete shape. Six hooks attached to metal plates recess at its edges, but
that’s not the most ominous part.
At the floor, where the submissive is supposed to stand are evenly
spaced foot plates. And three sets of leather straps to secure them at the
ankles, knees, and thighs.
At the chest area is a huge belt that may as well be an under-bust corset
and looks like it goes around the ribcage. Then the arms are spread out to
the sides and strapped down with even more leather belts.
My stomach tightens into a knot. He wouldn’t…
“Sir?” The word comes out hoarse, so I have to clear my throat. “What
is that thing?”
He pulls it out and kicks out a lever at the back that forms a massive
stand. “A bondage wheel.”
I gulp. “Is it safe?”
He turns around and gives me his first genuine smile. “I take care of
what’s mine,” he says, his voice soft. “You won’t come to any unintentional
harm.”
“Which means you intend to cause me harm?” I squeak.
He snorts. “Come here.”
I crawl over to him on trembling arms and legs. My heart beats so hard
that my entire upper body trembles, and sweat slickens my palms.
When I reach him, he places a warm hand on the top of my head,
melting away the tension in my shoulders.
 “Do you remember your safe words?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Tell me.”
I lick my dry lips. “Amber for when I need you to slow down. Red for
when I need you to stop.”
Professor Segul threads his fingers through my hair and gives me a
gentle tug, so my head tilts up. This time, when I meet his eyes, they’re
completely dark.
“You will use them at the first sign of discomfort, understood?”
My heart skips. Is he saying that because he still thinks I’m hung over
or because this bondage wheel is particularly intense?
“I will.”
He nods. “Stand.”
Excitement thrums in my chest and my nipples tighten into peaks. It
looks like I’m about to find out.
The professor takes my hand, guides me to the base of the bondage
wheel, and helps me onto the foot plates. Several sets of metal buckles
clank as I settle onto the device, and the leather against my back cools my
fevered skin.
Even though I’m on a platform and standing higher than usual,
Professor Segul still towers over me with an air of menace that’s as
alarming as it is arousing.
“This is the only time I will kneel for you,” he says, his words gentle as
he bends to secure my ankles with the leather straps.
With each slide of the leather against my skin, each clink of the metal,
heat floods my pussy, bringing with it a surge of wet desire. I clench the
muscles there and whimper.
This is a lot to endure just to get a fuck.
But I’m not complaining because this is a thousand times better than the
time I squandered my virginity.
 Professor Segul tightens the restraints at my calves, and then my knees,
before rising to wrap that corset around my chest.
“What do you call this thing?” I ask.
“A harness,” he replies in his teaching voice. “It will keep you secure
while I’m turning the wheel.”
The knot in my stomach jumps up a notch. “Wait. This thing rotates?”
“Of course.” He fastens the buckles and moves onto my right arm. “You
will use your safe words if it gets too much.”
“Alright,” I whisper.
The butterflies in my stomach thrash about, making me both queasy and
excited. I’ve never had motion sickness before, but I’m unsettled. This is
even wilder than the time I spent on the gynecologist’s chair.
After my arms are secure, he pulls out two more straps I didn’t notice
until now over my shoulders and attaches them to the harness.
I’m completely and utterly trapped. Trapped and at the mercy of a
perverted professor who plans on using my body for his pleasure.
I should be terrified, but I’m just so impatient for it to start.
Professor Segul stands back, his gaze raking up and down my body. As
it settles between my legs, my throat lets out a whine. I’m so wet that my
knickers are soaked through.
A denial springs to my lips, but I force it back. How many times am I
going to pretend I’m not into this when nothing has turned me on more?
He walks toward the patch of wall where he keeps the canes, paddles,
and floggers. Shivers skitter across my skeleton until every part of my body
is quivering.
I thought he was just going to fuck me, maybe pinch my nipples a bit
and make me beg for his cock. No matter how much I strain my neck, I
can’t see him from this angle.
My pulse quickens. What the hell is he bringing?
 He strolls back into my line of sight holding a miniature flogger with a
short, stubby handle and tails the size of my fingers.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks.
“Of course, but what can you do with something as small as that?”
“You’d be surprised.” He raises the flogger to my cheek, brushing over
with butter-soft, suede tresses.
My breathing slows. Something as gentle as this wouldn’t cause me any
lasting pain… Would it?
“Do you know how many times I watched you from the stage in those
transparent tank tops with your nipples on display?”
“What?” My head drops to my top. “They’re not—”
Something soft and leathery hits my pussy with a gentle sting. My
breath catches.
Professor Segul draws back the little flogger. “You’re a tease.”
“But I didn’t mean to—”
He strikes with the flogger again, sending sparks of pleasure across my
pussy.
“Oh,” I say with a sigh.
“Did you think I would allow your flagrant act of arousing me in class
to go unpunished?”
My eyes widen. “But you called me out in the middle of the lecture.
And what about the time you had me over your knee in your office? And
the inflatable butt plug?”
His eyes shine with concealed mirth, and I narrow mine. Why doesn’t it
surprise me that Professor Segul enjoys racking up my supposed
transgressions?
Now, he’s going to make me beg and cry and grovel before I get his
cock.
He delivers another strike of the flogger to my pussy that makes my
eyes roll toward the back of my head, and then he examines its tails.
 “You must be wet if your scent is all over this brand new toy.”
I swallow hard, determined to maintain my composure. “If I am, it’s
because I had an erotic dream.”
He barks a laugh, the sound low and wicked. “Sounds intriguing.”
As he disappears, my stomach drops, and I think he’s returning to the
rack of floggers to get one that will really hurt. But the leather surface at my
back jolts before the entire wheel rotates anti-clockwise until my body lies
horizontally.
“What are you doing?” I shriek.
“It’s no fun if I can’t make good use of your lying mouth.”
He returns to my side, unbuttons his leather pants, and pulls out his
huge dick. “I want to hear every detail about this dream while you’re
sucking my cock.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Two

PHOENIX

Gravity pulls my head toward Professor Segul’s erect cock, which stands at
a forty-five degree angle from his treasure trail and is corded with thick
veins.
The leather restraints holding me to the bondage wheel strain a little
under my weight, but the discomfort only adds to my excitement.
My pussy pounds.
My mouth salivates.
All I can focus on right now is the bead of precum on his huge slit.
“Do you want it?” he asks in a voice as smooth as suede.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Tell me what you want.”
My gaze travels up his tight abs and past his heaving chest, and lingers
on his parted lips before meeting his smoldering eyes.
The look on his features is feral. And my chest blooms with pride.
“I want your cock,” I say.
“Beg for it.”
 The muscles of my core clench with need. “Please.” My voice is
strained. “Please give me your huge cock.”
He clutches the base of his shaft. “This?”
“Yes.”
By now, I’m panting. Panting because I want to suck him off. Panting
because after days and days of being tortured and teased by my professor, I
need to cum under his command.
My mind is so frazzled with lust that I can’t remember why I played
things cool. Right now, I need him anyway I can get him.
“Please,” I say between rapid breaths. “Let me suck you off.”
Hissing through his teeth, he closes the distance between us and stands
with his cock inches away from my mouth. He’s so long and thick and
larger than life that the heat of it radiates across my lips.
“Lick.”
I slide my tongue as far down his shaft as I can reach in this position
and sweep it up to the bulbous head. My tongue flattens across the wide
expanse of his glands as I lap up the fluid gathered on his slit.
Professor Segul shudders, and the movement sends a thrill straight to
my pussy. My thighs try to close, to rub together, to create a little friction,
but they’re trapped within the leather restraints.
He steps back, and I make a noise of protest. “Eyes on me.”
As I meet his gaze, he steps within licking distance.
“How much do you want this?” He moves it up and down, and I’m
utterly hypnotized.
“I fucking love your cock,” I murmur into his heated flesh. “It’s so big
and I want to wrap my lips around it and suck.”
“Say please.”
“Please, let me worship it.”
Professor Segul growls his approval. “Open your mouth.”
 Parting my lips, I moan as he slides it down my tongue and to the back
of my throat. It’s the first familiar act of this scene, and I get comfort as he
moves back and forth with slow and firm strokes.
It’s nothing like the frenzied thrusts from our early morning sessions. At
least for now, Professor Segul is taking it easy.
Every ridge, every vein, every contour of his shaft stands out within my
sensitive mouth. Each time he hits the back of my throat, I swallow around
it and stroke him with my tongue.
“You were telling me about your erotic dream.” He pulls out, so his
cockhead stretches my lips, and then he slides back in.
“I don’t remember it,” I lie because there was no such dream.
Professor Segul doesn’t hear me because the words come out muffled
and distorted with my mouth filled with his dick. I rattle off some bullshit
story because he doesn’t give a damn about this dream. He probably just
likes the way my mouth vibrates around his cock.
This is crazier than the time he pretended to be a delivery man and
forced his way into my apartment. I’m tied to a torture rack, getting mouth-
fucked by my Finance and Accountancy professor, and I can’t get enough
of him.
“You’re such a good little girl for me, aren’t you, love?” he says in that
deep, cultured voice. “Wherever did you learn how to suck a man’s cock at
such an awkward angle.”
I make a noise in the back of my throat.
“Look at me when I’m addressing you,” he says.
My eyes snap up to meet his burning gaze.
My breath stills, and he presses in so deeply that his cockhead pushes
against the back of my throat and my nose is buried in his pubes. At this
angle, my jaw feels like it’s unhinging because he’s so fucking big.
It makes my pulse pick up speed.
 Spots dance in my vision. If I don’t find a way to exhale, I’m going to
choke.
“Deep breaths,” he says in the same tone of voice he uses to discuss
finance. “Make two sharp sounds if it’s too much.”
I force out lungfuls of air, then suck in a deep inhale that clears away
the spots. With my head now back to normal, I slide my tongue up and
down the underside of his dick.
Professor Segul’s deep moan sends a thrill of satisfaction between my
bound legs. I might be tied up right now, but it’s me giving him the
pleasure. As he thrusts in and out of my mouth, my hand twitches toward
my clenching pussy, wishing I could touch myself.
I hollow out my cheeks, wanting him to cum so I can get my climax.
His breathing quickens, and his rhythm changes to frantic strokes that
threaten to topple both me and the torture wheel toward the wall.
Before I know it, he’s coming with a growl that makes my pussy throb.
It’s impossible to swallow everything at this angle, so a thick stream of cum
pours from the side of my mouth.
“Naughty girl,” he moans.
“What did I do?”
Something wicked flashes in his eyes before he pulls out of me and
disappears around the back of the bondage wheel. It jerks a little as he
moves it clockwise until I’m completely upside-down with my hair
touching the floor.
I suck in a breath as all the warmth and sensation that had gathered
between my legs floods to my head.
Professor Segul returns, but all I see are his legs, until I crane my neck.
Even then, I can’t meet his eyes.
“Do you remember your safe words?” he asks again.
My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, and it takes every effort to
force myself to remain calm.
 “Yes,” I say, my voice rising in pitch. “It’s amber to slow, red to stop.”
“Where are you at the moment?” he asks.
A laugh bursts from my chest.
I’m fucking hysterical. “Green.”
Professor Segul slides the fingers of both hands down my inner thighs.
“I love your legs,” he murmurs, sounding far away. “So long and lean and
lithe. But they’re not even my favorite part of you.”
“What is?”
He pauses, and I strain to meet his eyes. Eyes that are probably staring
at the damp patch in my knickers.
His fingers trace over the lace trim of one leg, sending a network of
tingles down both sets of inner thighs. He slides the fabric to the side,
exposing my pussy.
“Aaah,” I exhale a long, shuddering breath.
A cool draft swirls around my heated flesh, and my exhale turns into a
moan. When his hot breath warms my folds, I lose all train of our
conversation.
“I love your cunt,” he says in a deep voice that pulls the muscles of my
core tight. “It’s a glistening pearl set within pretty petals. I love how it’s
always ready and wet.”
How did I know he would choose my pussy? I part my lips to say this,
but he speaks first.
“But it still isn’t my favorite part.”
“My nipples, then?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Would you be surprised if I said your huge, gray
eyes?”
Before I can answer, his mouth descends on my pussy. It’s so sudden
and comes with such a huge burst of pleasure that I shriek.
He sucks on my clit, creating a gentle vacuum with his mouth that
makes it feel twice its size and three times its sensitivity. A bolt of sensation
strikes down my belly and up my thighs like lightning, and I jerk and twitch
within my restraints.
“Shit,” I say from between clenched teeth.
“You like that?” He murmurs around my sensitive nub.
“Fuck, yes.” My voice trembles. “Green. Green. Green.”
He chuckles deeply into my pussy, with vibrations of sound running
from my clit to my heated core. Tremors spread down, down, down my ass,
down my spine, down to my head.
I’ve never had my pussy licked when upside down. It’s not something I
ever imagined, not even after the first time I saw the bondage wheel.
It’s more intense than last week when Professor Segul strapped me to
the chair, because all the blood in my body has rushed to my head.
He’s rougher, too, with faster strokes. It’s like he knows I’m a little less
sensitive because I’m the wrong way up, so he compensates.
Professor Segul laps at me at a frenzied pace that makes my heart lurch.
The part of me that thinks he’s gone feral trembles, the other part of me that
wants more thrusts my hips.
“F-fingers,” I cry out. “Please.”
Professor Segul gives me a slap on the inner thighs that only adds to my
pleasure. “Who’s the top?”
“You are,” I blurt.
“Who?” he growls into my pussy.
“Professor Segul,” I say much louder.
“And who does this pussy belong to?”
“You,” I wail.
He continues, and we fill the dungeons with two sets of heavy breaths.
This is a bigger head rush than last night’s schnapps, more exhilarating than
the time his generous allowance hit my bank account.
I’m throbbing everywhere, tingling in places I didn’t think were
sensitive, and trembling where I need him most.
 I want to squeeze my thighs together and trap his head. I want to tell
him to slow down because I’ll climax too quickly. But then I remember that
this man is capable of giving me multiple orgasms.
“Oh, fuck, Professor, I’m going to—”
The climax hits like a cyclone, lifting my soul out of its resting place.
My consciousness spins around the dungeon, out of the villa, and floats
through a sky with diamonds.
I’ve never done anything so sexually intense to create an out-of-body
experience, never thought such a thing was possible.
At least not until now.
A high-pitched note hovers on the edges of my awareness, a continuous
sound of terror or bliss. It takes a few heartbeats, a hoarse throat, and empty
lungs to realize the sound is coming from me.
My consciousness snaps back to the present as I suck in a noisy breath,
and it’s only then that I notice my entire body convulsing with a powerful
climax.
Professor Segul runs his tongue from my clit to my opening, with long,
languid, leisurely strokes, stretching out the sensations until they fade but
don’t disappear.
“Shit,” I say through choking breaths. “What are you trying to do? Kill
me?”
He barks a laugh, and pinches my clit with a gentle pressure that pushes
me over another edge. The second orgasm is more bearable—less outer-
body and more of a physical implosion. My inner muscles pulse and spasm
to an imaginary beat that pumps ecstasy down to my trembling extremities.
I jerk within my restraints as the professor releases the pressure of his
fingers. It takes several heartbeats before my lips can form words.
“Why?” I say through frantic breaths. “Why did you laugh?”
“Did you know they call orgasms la petite mort?” he asks.
 “That’s little death in French,” I say with a groan. “If that’s the case,
I’ve gone to heaven.”
After cranking the bondage wheel back into place, he releases my legs
and then my arms, which fall limp at my sides. Finally, he unbuckles the
harness, and I’m so boneless from the orgasm that I fall into his arms.
“How are we doing?” he asks, sounding cheerful for a man who just
tried to kill me with an overload of pleasure.
“No more,” I rasp.
“Hmm…” he says. “That doesn’t sound like amber or red.”
I melt against him with a weak chuckle. “As if you could squeeze one
more orgasm out of me.”
He gives me a gentle pat on the ass. “We have all evening.”
“Are you on Viagra?” I blurt.
He makes a choking sound that could be a laugh. “Twenty-eight isn’t
old.”
“Hmmmm.” There’s almost a decade between us, but I’m too exhausted
to mention the age difference.
Still cradling me to his chest, he lays me on the bed and silk sheets
before curling up around my back.
As I drift to sleep, I finally let go of my reservations. It was me he went
home with, not Dr. Raring. Professor Segul doesn’t think less of me because
I’m younger.

I’m not sure how much time passes, or if I’m imagining this, but the
mattress beside me dips. My eyes open a crack to find Professor Segul’s
naked form disappearing through the leather curtain.
“You haven’t been answering your phone,” says a male voice that
completely breaks me out of my slumber.
 What is a strange man doing here while we’re in bed?
“Now you know why.” I’ve never heard the professor sound so cold.
The other man chuckles. “Who is it, then? Another of your kinky
whores?”
Holding my breath, I sit up on the bed, clutch the silk sheet to my chest,
and wait.
For what, I’m not sure.
Perhaps for Professor Segul to defend me or at least tell the man to fuck
off and get out of his house, but their footsteps disappear down the hallway.
“I’d prefer not to use such distasteful terminology,” the professor
replies.
Professor Segul’s echoed words slam into my gut with a pain that only
heightens with the other man’s snicker. His only objection to calling me a
whore was that he didn’t like the wording?
Not that I was his girlfriend or friend or fuck buddy or even a person
who deserved respect. Not to say that I had a name, which was none of his
business. He let the other man’s comment slide.
Because that’s what I am to him—a whore.
My hands curl around the silk sheets, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
What the fuck did I expect? A proposal?
I get on my knees each morning and suck his cock. On the weekends, I
volunteer to be tortured and fucked with all manner of objects. What other
way is there to describe a woman who has sex and allows herself to be
degraded for money?
Dad’s words rattle through my skull. I’m a sinner, a worthless whore,
only good for one thing, just like my cunt mother. It’s the reason he made
me return home each weekend because he couldn’t trust me not to succumb
to my supposed nature.
My breaths quicken, and the pain in my gut festers into a spiral of panic.
 Dad’s only been gone three weeks, and I’m exactly what he said I
would become without his guidance.
Shit.
I need to get out of here while there’s still something left of my dignity
to salvage.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Three

MARIUS

“What is it with you and these whores?” the man asks as he follows me up
the stairs. “Handsome guy like you would never need to pay for pussy, even
with all your perversions.”
I clench my jaw and continue ascending because holding back is the
only thing that will keep this bastard from discovering that Phoenix is more
to me than a hired submissive.
“What does he want this time?” I reach the top of the stairs and open the
door to the ground floor hallway.
“As if he’d tell me,” the man answers with a snort.
The door that leads to the basement swings shut behind him, and it’s
only then that I can exhale.
Phoenix is safe… for now.
“Won’t you take the call in your study?” he asks from behind.
I cast him a glance over the shoulder. “Kitchen’s preferable.
Impermeable floors.”
He grunts, but out of a need to answer rather than from an inkling of
understanding. I know this because he doesn’t react to the veiled threat.
 But then, Crius wouldn’t be so reckless as to despatch someone he
valued to my home, but that doesn’t mean I won’t send him a message.
Making a mental note to install guns to my most frequently used
playroom furniture, I push open the kitchen door.
The outside patio lights provide dim illumination, which suits my
purposes. I walk across the white floor tiles, which are waterproof but with
white grouting, which are not. Fortunately, the years I spent murdering this
bastard’s business rivals has prepared me for such messes.
“Where’s the light switch?” the man asks.
“Not necessary, but do close the door,” I drawl. “This conversation
won’t take long.”
After doing so, he finds a patch of wall and leans against it with his
arms folded across his chest.
My jaw tightens. “Did Crius provide you with a device with which he
and I can converse?”
“Oh, right.” He pushes off the wall, joins me at the counter, and pulls
out a tablet. “Here we are.”
As he fires up the video conferencing app, I slide my hand beneath the
counter for one of the many weapons I placed within strategic spots around
the house.
My fingers close around a knife, which I suppose is better than a gun
that Phoenix might hear.
The app rings, and Crius takes his time answering. It’s a petty form of
power play, considering he sent one of his employees to break into my
residence. One of his many annoying habits that will lead to his slow and
well-deserved demise.
When the man raises his hand to shut off the application and try again,
the screen changes to a gentleman’s study of mahogany shelves laden with
leather-bound books.
 Crius Vanir sits comfortably in a leather armchair. He wears a black
velvet smoking jacket and a white cravat. At fifty-eight years old, he’s still
handsome. The wispy blond hair and dark circles beneath his twinkling blue
eyes gives him the air of an academic or even a Shakespearean thespian.
Pretentious bastard.
Beneath his genteel veneer is a man who cares nothing for art or
education or even humanity. His facade of a family man devoted to his wife
and legitimate children is just a front for one of London’s most notorious
sex traffickers.
“Marius, my boy,” he says with a genial smile. “I’ve been concerned.”
“Are you so starved for my attention that you would spend a lackey to
interrupt my weekend?” I ask with a bored sigh.
Crius glances from side to side as though trying to see what’s off
camera. “And my messenger?”
“Here, boss.” The man walks around the counter to make his
appearance.
“Wonderful.” Crius grins. “Did you discover why Mr. Segul failed to
answer my call?”
I move behind the man, just as he chuckles, and raise the knife.
“You see, boss—”
The blade slices his throat, making him fall forward onto the kitchen
counter. I wrap my arms around his broad torso and ease him gently to the
floor so he doesn’t make a thud to awaken Phoenix.
“Oh, Marius,” Crius says with a sigh that almost sounds disappointed.
“Must you always ruin what belongs to your father?”
“Cut the bullshit.” I arrange the dying man in a sitting position, with his
back flush against the kitchen island. Then I rise. “Thanks to you, I have a
kitchen to scrub.”
His disapproving frown gives me a sick sense of vindication. One day,
the blood coating my skin will be his, only I won’t kill him so cleanly.
 Every scream I had to endure while he locked himself in the room with
Mother will be repaid ten-fold.
“Where did I go wrong with you, my boy?” he asks.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of rolling my eyes. Instead, I walk off
camera toward the cupboard that contains crime-scene-grade cleaning
supplies.
Grabbing a stack of kitchen towels, duct tape and a large tub of
absorbent granules, I return to the man and create a makeshift bandage for
his throat. There’s no saving him now, but I want to avoid a situation where
I’m tracking blood back to Phoenix.
“Marius?” Crius asks, his voice tinged with curiosity.
I tape the towels around the man and pour the absorbent granules
around his body to soak up the blood. The man stares up at me, his mouth
opening and closing. Anyone involved with a known sex trafficker doesn’t
deserve my sympathy.
“Are you going to send someone to collect your man or will I dump this
carcass and your smartphone on the beach?”
He doesn’t reply for several heartbeats. It’s likely a ploy to lure me back
to the camera, but I’m tracking blood across the kitchen floor on my quest
to soak up the spillage from the man’s corpse.
Crius makes a loud, dramatic sigh. “I despair with you.”
Since I’m off camera, I’m free to roll my eyes. “Talk to me. I will listen
while I work.”
“Droll.”
“What do you want?”
“An update on your mission.”
“I already gave you one a few days ago.”
After packing as much absorbent material around the man’s neck, I
approach him with a transparent trash bag. He raises a hand in an attempt to
shove me away, but he’s so weak from the blood loss that I push it down.
 I place the bag over his head and secure the ends with duct tape to
create a seal. It won’t be perfect, but with a few more layers, I’ll have
something I can transport with minimal leakage.
Crius hasn’t replied yet, so I raise my head to find him still sitting in
that leather chair, his features tight.
“I asked you a question, son.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Marius,” he says through clenched teeth. “Will you kindly share the
latest news on the mission?”
I return to wrapping up the man, who is either dead now or has passed
out.
“The target has a hobby I believe I can exploit. If my plan succeeds, I’ll
lure him out from behind the secure walls. Be assured that I’ll share the
location with you to arrange a crew to pick him up.”
“How soon?” Crius asks with an urgency in his voice that makes me
frown.
“There’s no point in mentioning dates if he doesn’t take the bait,” I
reply, keeping my tone measured. “And if the first plan to get him to leave
of his own accord doesn’t work, then I’ll come up with another.”
“Let’s hope he does, because your mother—”
“What about her?” My head snaps up.
His eyes flash with triumph, and the corners of his lips lift with a smile.
Crius loves to exploit the weakness I have for Mother, and it’s not one I
can hide. Not when he’s known me my entire childhood. Not when he
witnessed me run into the room while he was hurting her and attack him
with my little fists. Not when he locked me out and I’d pound on the door
and scream obscenities. Not when I finally had enough of the bastard and
stole a gun.
If I feigned nonchalance at this stage, he would know it was just a bluff.
So, I ask, “How is she?”
 He leans back with a satisfied smile because he now has my full
attention. “If you ever want to see her again, you will deliver Veer
Bestlasson by the end of the month.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “And I ask again, why are you
expecting such fast results when this is a long-term mission?”
His features harden. “Odin has Viktor.”
My brows rise.
“Your brother,” he replies.
“I’m an only child.”
Crius’s shoulders draw up, and he sucks in a deep breath through flared
nostrils. Now, I’m seeing the real Crius Vanir, the man I mostly heard
through closed doors and the man Mother can’t seem to resist.
“Regardless of whether you’re acquainted with my legitimate children,
they are still your siblings,” he says through clenched teeth. “Someone tried
to get to me through my eldest, and now he’s in Seacroft.”
There are no words to describe how much I hate this man, but I have no
quarrel with the brother who rejected him to pursue a career in medicine.
“Odin has imprisoned the one who became a surgeon?” I ask.
Crius nods. “The consequences for such a gentle soul to be in a place
like that would be catastrophic.”
It’s unsettling to see him so genuinely upset when it isn’t me who
caused the pain. I can’t blame his sentiment. Every inmate with an ounce of
decency will jump at the chance of tearing into the son of Britain’s most
notorious trafficker and pimp.
I’d give the poor bastard a week.
“Why would Odin abduct him when he doesn’t even associate with
you?” I ask.
Crius drops his gaze. “It’s a long, sorry tale for another time, but I
would appreciate it if you would accelerate your plans to obtain the
nephew.”
 “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll make my first attempt before the end
of the month.”
Crius raises his head and gazes at me through eyes that shine with
gratitude. I hold back a grimace because it’s not an act. This man may be
evil incarnate but he truly loves his legitimate children.
“Thank you, my boy,” he says. “I’ll have a clean-up crew at your
doorstep within the hour.”
“Tell them to come through the patio,” I say.
“Of course.”
“One more thing.” I raise a finger. “Next time you send a search party
after me because I haven’t answered your call, I will execute them and the
clean-up crew.”
He nods, but doesn’t reply. I take that as a silent fuck you for being an
ungrateful son.
I leave the tablet on the kitchen table, not daring to contaminate it with
my fingerprints. Despite that tender moment, I don’t trust Crius not to use
any evidence to further ensnare me into his fold.
After grabbing another set of supplies, I trudge to the little wet room
that leads off from the kitchen. Phoenix isn’t the lightest of sleepers, but she
has a tendency to wander around if she wakes up alone.
I take a shower, making sure to scrub all traces of blood from my feet.
By the time I’ve finished there’s a trio of men waiting on the patio dressed
in overalls and clutching holdalls. Amateurs.
I open the door and let them in. “Over there. Use hydrogen peroxide on
the grout.”
I don’t wait for them to reply and walk around the edges of the kitchen
and down to the dungeon to check on Phoenix.
But when I pull back the black leather curtains, she’s already gone.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Four

PHOENIX

The Uber races down Marina just as the first traces of sunlight peek from
behind the sea. The sky is a deep indigo that mirrors the water, both of
which are as black as my soul. The more I stare out across the darkened
beach, the less I see with my eyes so blurred with tears.
Sneaking out of Professor Segul’s house had been easy. He was so busy
with that guy in the kitchen that he hadn’t heard me climb the stairs, gather
my things, and get dressed.
I must look like the sea hag with my hair hanging down in tangled
strands like strands of kelp discarded by the ocean, but it’s nothing
compared to the confusion in my heart.
Another one of your kinky whores rattles through my mind over and
over, mingling with the professor’s sole complaint about the distasteful
terminology.
The worst part about this is that I instigated the relationship. It was me
who picked him out through the display of a shop window, me who reeled
him in with all my dirty talk, me who blackmailed him into an association,
and me who accepted his proposal.
 So why does it feel so shitty that he thinks I’m a whore?
And not just a kinky one but one of many he’s hired to the point where
strange men talk like it’s part of his personality.
“Stop this,” I murmur to myself. “Right now.”
No matter how much I try, I can’t stop those words from repeating.
I’m not a prostitute. I’m an idiot. A professional would itemize the sex
acts and not charged a flat fee for all you can fuck. Blowjobs every
weekday morning at £50 each would tally up to £1,000 over a month.
Then there’s the kinky stuff.
I once saw an ad in the Red Rooms where a professional dominatrix
wanted £200 an hour. And that was just for swinging a whip.
A professional sub should charge double that because she’s putting
herself in danger with all the bondage and pain. And of course, the person
tying her up would want sex, which professional dommes don’t offer. Then
there’s the surcharge for an overnight stay which would be extra, so triple
that.
My teeth worry at my bottom lip as I make the calculations. £1,200 for
the weekend? Dad would call me a stupid whore who couldn’t even price
up a contract.
A hysterical laugh bubbles up from deep in the pit of my belly. I’ve lost
my mind. Combining business school practices with the economics of sex?
“Are you alright, love?” asks the driver.
“Fine,” I reply, my voice stiff.
“I noticed earlier that you were crying. Was it a bad date?”
My gaze rises to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, but he’s already
turning around and gazing at my bare thighs. I tighten my lips, clench my
jaw, and pull down my miniskirt.
If this is where he tells me no man is worth my tears and offers me a
hug, I’m not listening.
“I lost my dad,” I say.
 His attention snaps back to the road. “Sorry for your loss.”
“I’m not.”
We complete the rest of the journey in merciful silence. I’m not going
back to Finance and Accountancy classes until the return of Professor
Echart.
No more Professor Segul for me.
No more getting attached to a man who sees me as a specialized
prostitute.
No more whoring dressed up as Fifty Shades.
No more.
I pull out my phone, check my bank balance, and make a few
calculations. If I can get a job somewhere in town, I might be able to
survive the academic year.
There’s part-time work with any of the families, but who knows what
they’d want from me in exchange for the money.
No.
I’d rather serve behind a shop counter than get myself entangled with an
underworld organization before I can consider my options.
The Uber pulls into the security gates, just as the first rays of sunlight
are hitting the spikes of barbed wire along the university’s high walls.
“What is it with that place?” asks the driver.
“What do you mean?” I slip my phone into my bag.
“All that security and secrecy. And what is it with the armed guards?
The place is more like a prison than a college.”
I open the door. “Maybe it is.”
Before he can ask what I mean, I step out, close the door behind me,
and jog toward the gate house, a brick building twice the size of a garden
shed. The security guard opens the window.
“ID.”
My eyes widen. “Come on, you know me.”
 He raises his brows. “Sure I do, but I still need to see your card.”
“I didn’t bring it.”
“All students exiting campus must present ID cards for reentry.”
He’s memorized the rule book.
“Can you scan my QR code in my digital wallet?” I ask.
“Show me.”
I dig into my bag and pull out my phone. There’s a notification from
Professor Segul filling the screen. I scroll out of it and navigate to the wallet
app. It’s something we have to load to use the campus services.
After scrolling down the various codes, I find the one for Marina
University and hold it up to the window.
He touches my screen with the barcode scanner, making it buzz.
“Thanks for the tip.”
“What?”
He grins and flicks his head toward the open gate. “Go on.”
“Shit.”
He shoos me away. “Next time, remember your card.”
Ugh. What a dickhead. I glance at the phone, only for notification from
the wallet app to announce he deducted £50.
Fuck!
That was my hard earned cash and I didn’t leave the campus without my
ID, I was abducted. Another message from the professor makes my phone
buzz. I turn off the handset and slip it back into my bag.
My skin tightens with annoyance, and I ball my hands into fists,
walking through the campus crackling with fury. Fury at myself for being
too bloody naive. Fury at Professor Segul for all the times he made me
think he actually cared.
It never occurred to me that the food and the hangover cures were just
his attempt to make me available to satisfy his unusual sexual urges.
Silly me for thinking he was different.
 I break into a run because this is one walk of shame that I want to
accelerate. The campus whizzes past my periphery, a blur of muted greens
until I reach the apartment block and finally feel less exposed.
Half an hour later, after a hot shower that does nothing to wash away
Professor Segul’s lingering touches, I’m making bacon and eggs when
someone knocks on the door.
My stomach tightens.
How much do I want to bet that it’s him, furious that I left before a
deep-throating or whatever else he wanted on a Sunday?
He knocks again, and I clench my teeth. We’re even. Blowjobs on
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, plus two overnight stays. I could even
argue that he owes me.
When he knocks a third time, I storm across the studio and to the door.
This time, I attach the security chain before opening.
Instead of the imposing figure of Professor Segul, it’s Veer Bestlasson.
My hackles rise. I thought I’d come to terms with losing my virginity to
him and getting ignored, but after discovering I’ve been catching feelings
for someone who considers me a paid professional, the sting of what
happened between us in my first year hits like a snap.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Veer runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re back.”
My eyes narrow. “And?”
“When you weren’t at the after party, I came to check that you were
alright.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, the words coming out sharp.
He flinches. “I just hoped you would be there.”
I glower at him through the gap in the door, my jaw tightening. A little
voice in the back of my head whispers that I’m being unfair to Veer. That
he’s just worried because I suddenly went missing after his concert, but I
ignore that little traitor.
 Maybe if Veer hadn’t acted like sex with him was nothing, I might not
have allowed a lifetime of Dad’s bullshit to devalue my sexuality. I
certainly wouldn’t have gotten so cynical about men that I would want a
sugar daddy.
He squirms under my glower, which suits me because I squirmed and
felt like shit for weeks after he refused to acknowledge that we’d had sex.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay.” He backs toward the elevator.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“Out of concern,” he mumbles. “And guilt.”
I inhale a sharp breath through my nostrils. “Why would you feel
guilty?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Do you know what it’s like to be a
Bestlasson?”
I shake my head, wondering where this line of conversation is going.
“My dad and uncle are religious nutcases. If either of them knew I’d
been with a girl, they’d force us to get married.”
I snort a laugh. Odin is one of the most powerful gangsters in Great
Britain. The man practically owns London and only allows others to operate
in areas he finds distasteful. Why would such a ruthless criminal care so
much about the activities of a university student?
“You’re kidding,” I say.
He raises his shoulders and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Last month,
Uncle Odin caught my cousin, Thor, with a woman. The next morning, they
were married.”
“Shit.” I place a hand over my mouth.
“Yes, and it was only a one-night stand.”
We stay in silence for a few heartbeats, with the door and the chain
between us. It’s not like I’m cut up about Veer. He’d been my type in the
first year—tall, well-dressed, and clean-shaven, but I can’t get behind his
fickle personality or the 1960’s rockstar persona.
 My mind drifts to all the times I’ve seen him with different girls. “But
aren’t you sleeping around these days?”
“I made a mistake once. Never again.” He grimaces. “Not that you were
a mistake, but I didn’t want to trap you in a marriage you couldn’t escape.
Since word didn’t spread to Dad and Uncle Odin, I didn’t push my luck.
And the next girl I get drunk with might not be as interesting or as beautiful
as you.”
I raise a hand, my heart unmoved by the veiled compliment. “It’s
alright.”
Veer dips his head, creating a curtain of blond hair, and shuffles his feet.
“Thanks for coming to the concert last night. It meant a lot to see you
there.”
I don’t bother to tell him that I was there as a favor for Charlotte.
“You were really good,” I murmur. “And your original songs were so
much better than the David Bowie covers.”
His blue eyes sparkle in the hallway light.
“Thanks,” he replies with a crooked smile. “Dad and Uncle Odin want
me to manage the family business but I really want to make a living with
my music.”
“Why shouldn’t you,” I say. “It’s not like you’re the only heir.”
He nods. “That’s Thor, and he’s always been involved in their dealings.”
“There you go.”
His smile morphs into a grin that lights up his entire face. “You’re
right.” He jogs backward. “I’m going to give them a call.”
“Good luck,” I say, meaning every word because I doubt that the
Bestlassons sent Veer here to learn business and finance so he could
become a rock star.
He gives me a jaunty wave and turns around. “See you in marketing!”
“Bye.” I shut the door and return to my breakfast.
 Dr. Raring can have Professor Segul. I plate up my eggs, bacon, and
sausage, add a fried tomato and pop a slice of bread into the toaster.
As the kettle boils, I hear another knock, this one less urgent.
I roll my eyes and walk toward the door. If Veer needs help on how to
break the news to his father and uncle, he’s asking the wrong person. I
never once stood up to Dad, and now look at me.
Placing a hand on the doorframe, I peer through the peephole for a
glimpse of Veer, but it’s Professor Segul.
His head is bowed and covered in a gray hoodie, so I can’t see his face,
but nobody looks as good in or out of their clothes as him.
My pulse kicks up several notches and I clutch a hand over my belly to
soothe its empty ache. Maybe I was getting more out of our arrangement
than money, but that’s hardly the point. Whores should never fall in love
with their clients. Not when they can be dropped without notice.
Men don’t stick around for long—just look at Dad. The man who had
fought so hard to gain custody of me just upped and disappeared for better
prospects, and we were connected by blood. Then Veer just told me I was
beautiful and interesting but not marriage material.
I get the message. I may not be able to stop men from seeing me as
disposable, but I sure as hell can stop myself from getting used.
It’s time to put an end to this thing I have with Professor Segul.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Five

MARIUS

Paranoia twists a noose around my neck. It tightens with each rapid beat of
my pulse. Where the fuck is Phoenix?
I park around the back of her building, cut the engine, and open the
door. Gravel crunches beneath my feet, the sound reminding me of
snapping bones.
Phoenix wasn’t in the villa. I searched the dungeon, the bedroom, and
the master suite. I even searched the sun lounge. When she didn’t answer
my call, I combed through every room until I returned to the kitchen.
The clean-up crew seemed oblivious to any potential abduction, and
seemed to be more involved with getting blood out of the grout than
concealing snatching an innocent young woman.
But Crius could have sent two men. One to make the video call and the
other to—
No.
I pull the hood over my head and jog around the building’s perimeter.
This is not the time to spiral.
But if she’s not in her studio, then what?
 A young man walks out through the front entrance, and I rush forward
to catch the door before it closes. Fire burns through my veins as I sprint
through the downstairs hallway, up the stairs, until I reach the fourth floor.
Phoenix could already be in the clutches of Crius, who will either use
her as leverage against me or sell her as a speciality whore to a sadist.
By the time I reach her door, the edges of my vision burn with the fire
of vengeance. He took Phoenix. It’s the reason why he seemed so amiable
and hadn’t reacted when I executed his man.
Why else would all traces of her have disappeared?
At the muffled sound of movement, the noose around my neck eases.
When the light behind the peephole vanishes, my knees buckle with relief,
and I press both hands against the door.
She’s safe, which is a start, but it now begs the question of why she left.
A new brand of paranoia creeps up on my psyche, this one as sinuous as
a snake. Phoenix left because she saw me slitting a man’s throat. Since I
haven’t been arrested, she’s probably considering how to cope with the
knowledge she’d just witnessed a murder.
The door opens a crack. I push forward but it’s jammed by a chain.
“Phoenix,” I say, my voice low. “Open the door.”
Her face hardens. “Why?”
A cold shudder runs down my spine. She must have seen me, hence the
vitriol.
My mind runs a hundred miles an hour. She’s an intelligent young
woman who must have seen plenty while living under the roof of Gordon
Gofannon. Nobody in this world runs screaming to the police.
“Are you alright?” I ask, keeping my words measured. “What did you
see?”
“What are you talking about?” she snaps. “I heard you.”
My brows pull together. Cutting throats generates no sound, and I
specifically held the falling man’s body and eased him to the kitchen floor
to avoid the thud. I don’t recall broadcasting that I’d murdered that man
either.
Phoenix is making no sense.
“We’ll continue this conversation inside,” I say. “Open the door.”
“No.” She tries to push it close, but I step forward and stop the door
with my foot.
“I will not ask you twice,” I say from between clenched teeth.
Her eyes narrow, her nostrils flare, and she sucks in a deep breath. She
looks like she’s building up to a huge tirade about not wanting to associate
with a cold-blooded murderer.
I step forward with my finger raised in warning, but she utters a single
word.
“Red.”
All the breath leaves my lungs, and I draw back. Her safe word?
“Phoenix, what are you saying—”
“It’s over.” Her voice is as cool as the sea breeze. “If your only
objection to some guy calling me a kinky whore is the foul language then I
don’t want to continue.”
My head tilts, and it takes a few moments to piece together the events of
earlier this morning. Phoenix must have awoken around the time I got out
of bed and heard me playing down our relationship with the man I killed.
Pressure builds up in my gut, like I’m a kettle that’s prevented from
whistling. If I told her that I’d said those words for her protection, it would
sound like transparent bullshit.
I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale two lungfuls of frustration.
If only she knew what I did to make sure the man didn’t return with
information about her to Crius. The words rise, but the explanation is so
entangled with the murder—murder I can never talk about—that I cannot
form the words.
 I meet her huge gray eyes that smolder with accusation and try to find a
way to articulate my intentions without admitting to having a higher body
count than a serial killer.
“Phoenix,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Listen to me.”
Her lip curls. “Oh, and don’t even think of demanding a refund. I gave
you more than your money’s worth.”
She shuts the door, but this time, I don’t stop her.
Crius would call me an idiot for pandering to a woman. He’d only be
partially right, but thinking about that man makes me want to stab him in
the throat.
I knock on the door, but this time, I’m ready to break the chain.
The door next to her apartment opens, and I clench my jaw so hard that
I grind my molars.
With the whole banana debacle and Miss Belus’s subsequent attempts at
cancellation, I can’t afford for someone to catch me outside the apartment
of the female student I supposedly harassed.
I turn on my heel and hurry toward the fire exit.

Phoenix doesn’t report to my office later that morning, nor did I expect her
presence, but my raging hard-on has become accustomed to her visits.
I press the heel of my hand into my crotch, trying to ease the strain, but
it surges back with a protest. It’s not just my dick that misses her.
The sound of light footsteps in the hallway has my gaze darting to the
door. Whoever’s out there rushes past and I stand to compensate for the
sensation of my heart sinking.
“Bloody hell.” I glower at the bulge in my trousers. “Can’t you see this
is for the best?”
 With Phoenix no longer associating with me, she will never become a
pawn for the likes of Crius or anyone else who wishes to get to me through
her. I have Mother to concern myself with, and I’m thankful that Quinn is a
paranoid recluse whose idea of leaving her apartment involves spending
time on its roof garden.
Phoenix is better without me, and I’m relieved she ended things before I
could become too attached.
On Tuesday morning, the only thing stopping me from pulling my cock
out at my desk is another visit from Dr. Xander, who tells me that Professor
Eckhart is on the mend.
I walk to the small lecture theater, my steps tense with trepidation at the
prospect of seeing her again, but there’s a lightness in my chest that borders
on relief. Relief that this mission may soon come to an end, and that Crius
will get what he wants and release Mother.
Thanks to my clingy colleague, I arrive at a full lecture theater with
only a few minutes to spare. As I stride across the stage, the chatter falls to
a low hum.
I set up the projector with today’s lecture, and my gaze finds Phoenix’s
who glares back, her beautiful eyes shining with defiance. She breaks the
stare and turns to speak with Veer Bestlasson, the sight of which ignites a
flame of fury that continues throughout the lecture.
The thought of her with that floppy-haired bastard makes me want to
risk everything and abduct him myself.
After giving the class some readings to complete by Thursday, I return
to the desk to gather my notes. Even though my head is bowed, I’m still
aware of Phoenix in my periphery, her gaze burning the side of my face.
The blond figure at her back must be Veer Bestlasson.
Flaring my nostrils, I grind my teeth. She cannot continue associating
with that boy, especially since he’s about to become a hostage for Crius.
 I glance up to find Athena Belus entering the lecture theater. Since I’ve
never seen her grace any of my lectures, and her dark eyes are fixed on me,
I can only assume she’s returned for round two.
When I find the Grace trio hovering close to my desk, all hope of
warning Phoenix vanishes, replaced with a burning resentment.
“Professor Segul.” Miss Belus meets my eyes with a glower harder than
steel. “I apologize for the disruption I caused last week.”
“Why does your remorse sound forced?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
The young woman who has an answer for everything falls silent, but she
draws her elbows into her sides in an unconscious gesture that appears
protective.
“Did your father make you speak to me?” I ask.
She glances toward the trio of sidekicks, her lips tightening. Perhaps
they’re serving as witnesses for Uranos.
“Sorry,” she spits.
I hold up a palm. “Don’t allow anyone to gaslight or coerce you into
changing the way you think.”
“Professor?” Her brows pull together.
“We need more people in positions of power standing up for the rights
of women.” I cringe as I say the words.
No matter how much I believe them, I’m a hypocrite who took
advantage of a vulnerable young woman who had just been abandoned by
her father.
That’s how Phoenix sees me, and she isn’t wrong.
I’ve dealt with persistent women my entire adult life. If I had wanted to
get rid of her, I could have done so with a few well-placed words and
actions.
I could have given her the money she had demanded with no strings, but
I wanted to see her on my knees, with those pretty lips around my cock. I
wanted to fuck her throat until she coated the floor with tears. I subjected a
student to all manner of deliciously sexual acts, and said nothing when a
man called her a whore.
When Miss Belus shoots a second glance at the other young women and
clutches a clenched fist to her chest, I know for certain they’re spies sent to
make sure she carries out her father’s order.
I turn to the Grace cousins. “Do you have an apology for me, too?”
“No,” says the one in the middle.
“Then fuck off to your next class.” She parts her lips but I speak first.
“Let me clarify, before you tell me this is your free period, get out or I’ll
blast every member of the Belus family with clips of you tonguing
lollipops.”
The trio hurries out of the lecture theater.
I wait for the door to shut before turning back to the former women’s
officer. “Is everything alright, Miss Belus?”
Her jaw tightens. “You didn’t need to speak to them like that.”
“Not everyone who makes unwanted advances are men.”
Her jaw tightens. I wait for her to retort, but she only raises a shoulder.
“Thanks. I’ll think about what you said.”
Miss Belus walks out of the lecture theater, letting the door close behind
her with a gentle click.
At times like this, I’m glad to be a bastard. If Phoenix or Miss Belus
knew the identity of my father, their reactions toward me wouldn’t be quite
as mild.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Six

PHOENIX

I should never have opened the door to Charlotte this morning and never
allowed her to drag me to Advanced Finance and Accountancy.
Professor Segul delivered that lecture as though my presence was barely
an afterthought, his gaze wandering to the right side of the lecture theater.
At one point, he was practically eye-fucking the Grace cousins.
There’s no doubt in my mind that one of them has taken my place and
reports to his office each morning. The few times he looked at me it was
with complete indifference, the way a person might switch from one brand
of toothpaste to another.
I can’t exit the lecture fast enough. I leave Charlotte with Veer and Axel
and hurry down the hallway before she notices I’m gone.
It’s great that she and the bass guitarist hooked up last weekend, but I’m
not in the right headspace to hear anything positive about men.
Fresh air is what I need. I haven’t left my studio since returning in the
early hours of yesterday morning. I haven’t turned on the light, opened the
window, or answered the door until two hours ago when Charlotte camped
outside my room and wouldn’t stop pounding.
 Now that I’m out, I need to clear my head of Professor Segul’s scent,
his touch, the sound of his voice.
Closing off and losing myself in croissants and chocolate spread had
helped a little, but seeing him again so soon is a knife to the gut.
When I reach the bottom of the steps, hurried footsteps echo toward me.
“Phee!”
I turn to find Charlotte sprinting down the stairs without Axel, and
something behind my ribcage twists. Why did she leave him to catch up
with me when she’s so happy?
“There you are.” She presses a palm on her chest. “Will you stop
avoiding me?”
My gaze drops to my loafers, and I cringe. “Sorry.”
Charlotte wraps an arm around my shoulders and marches me down the
hallway and out of the building. “Don’t apologize. You’re just like my cat.”
“Um…” I turn to shoot her a frown. “Why?”
“She hides whenever she’s injured. It was okay when she was younger,
because all she did was lick her wounds, but when she got old and started to
hide, it was worrying.”
“What happened to her?” I ask.
“She used to go missing all the time but she’d either come back when
she was hungry, or someone would find her in a tiny nook in the house or
somewhere in the grounds. Then one day, she didn’t come back.”
“Did you ever find her?”
Charlotte dips her head. “There was a dead tree with a hollow in the
base. That’s where she’d been hiding,” her voice is so low, I have to lean
into her to make out the words. “She curled up there and died alone. If she
was more open about her wounds, maybe we could have done something to
save her.”
I blow out a long breath. “Sorry. For your cat, and for always hiding
away to lick my wounds.”
 Wrapping an arm around Charlotte’s back, I pull her into a half hug. I
picture my younger self hiding in my bedroom, whenever Dad came home,
because the sight of me always triggered a rant.
When he’d been drinking, I knew to pretend to be sleeping and stay
perfectly still when he paced my room. Any movement meant hours of
awkward conversation or insults.
We walk across the campus with the late morning sun on our backs. A
warm breeze from the mainland brings the scent of summer meadows and
freshly cut grass.
I inhale deeply to clear my head of the professor.
“Why do people pull away like that?” she asks.
“I can’t speak for your cat, but I didn’t come from a loving family like
yours. It was always easier if I avoided my dad.”
Her features fall, and I can tell I’ve said too much.
“He was always at work anyway,” I add. “And he’s more of a shouter
than a hitter.”
The way her lips tighten tells me she disapproves of even the shouting.
“But why did he want you home on the weekends if he never had time for
you?”
“He probably wanted me home alone where he could control me so I
wouldn’t have too much fun at uni.”
Charlotte shakes her head. “Ugh. I’d go mad with a dad like that, as
well as all that silence.”
I raise my shoulder. “It’s not like I’ve experienced anything different.”
She steers me into her studio, which is more homey than mine and
always tidy. She’s painted the walls an elegant shade of apple white and
mounted oak-framed photos of her extended family.
The bed and all the furniture is either made of the same warm-looking
wood or a shade of gray that borders on pink. Coming here is like stepping
into an extension of a family home.
 Charlotte walks to her kitchenette and picks up a kettle that belongs in a
design museum. It’s triangular with a blue handle that matches the toaster
and with a little bird perched on its spout. Everything about this girl
screams that she’s loved.
“Why are you licking your wounds?” she asks.
I stiffen. “Is it that obvious?”
She pulls off the kettle’s lid and fills it with water. “You only ever turn
into a hermit when something’s wrong, so spill.”
My hand rises to the back of my neck, and I dart my gaze everywhere in
the studio except for Charlotte, whose eyes burn the side of my face. The
backs of my eyes grow hot, and I blink, determined not to cry.
I’ve been called worse things than a whore, and it’s silly that I’m
allowing myself to get so worked up over a single word and one that he
didn’t even say. But it’s those grains of truth in Professor Segul’s
conversation that abrade me like sandpaper.
“Has something happened with your dad again?” Charlotte asks.
I shake my head. “No change on that front. He still hasn’t gotten in
touch.”
“Then the hot guy?”
My shoulders rise up around my ears. “There is no guy.”
She exhales a long breath. “What happened?”
I turn to the window, where she’s left the curtains open, and gaze out
into the campus lawns. Even if I’ve come to terms with how Professor
Segul sees me, it’s still difficult to admit that it’s the truth.
Silence stretches on until the kettle makes a high-pitched whistle that
pulls me out of my wallowing. I turn to Charlotte and force a smile.
“Let’s just say I heard him and another guy say some things I found
unflattering.”
She scowls. “What a bastard.”
 I run my fingers through my hair, blow out a long breath, and focus my
gaze on the pair of men’s socks by the unmade bed. “I’m over it now.
Lesson learned.”
“Phoenix?”
I wait for Charlotte to complete her question, but she remains silent
until I turn to meet her eyes. They shine with so much sympathy that I have
to swallow to loosen the thickening of my throat.
“What?” I ask.
“You were so happy before. Are you sure he was talking about you? I
mean, what could he possibly have said to ruin things?”
I bite down on my bottom lip. In this world, sharing secrets can lead to
arrests, and arrests can lead to retribution on the secret-teller. No matter
how much I trust Charlotte, discretion has been ingrained in me from before
the time I could talk.
“It’s nothing, really,” I murmur.
Her phone buzzes, and she skips to her bag. “That’s probably Axel.”
She opens it and pulls out her phone. “We spent the entire weekend together
—Oh!”
“What?” I walk toward her and frown.
“I got a first for Advanced Finance and Accountancy.” She turns to me,
her eyes round. “I thought I’d get a third. Maybe even a 2:2.”
Some of the tightness in my chest loosens at the change in subject, and I
give her my first genuine smile. Hardly anyone gets first classes here. The
next grade down is a 2:1, which is great. 2:2 is average and a third means
you didn’t mess up enough to fail.
“Hey, congratulations,” I say.
“What did you get?”
“Umm…” I walk back to my bag. It takes a few tries to find my phone
under all the books and papers and crap, but when I turn it on, there are
dozens of notifications from Professor Segul.
 Ignoring them, I tap into the home screen, where there’s a number 2
circled in red on the University Intranet app.
“Come on, come on.” She jogs to my side “If I got a first then you’ll
have a double first.”
“There’s no such thing,” I mutter and fire up the app. “It’s probably
going to be a 2:1 or even a 2:2. My head hasn’t been straight since Dad
left.”
“So?” Charlotte elongates the syllable and rests her chin on my
shoulder.
I stare at the screen, my stomach sinking toward my feet.
“Third,” I rasp.
“What?” she screeches. “But you’re like an accounting goddess.”
My nostrils flare. “Professor Segul graded me a third.”
I’m going to kill that bastard.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Seven

MARIUS

The leather armchair creaks as I lean forward toward the coffee table, my
elbows held at an uncomfortable angle as I type. This is the only place in
this office where I haven’t had Phoenix, and it’s the only place where I can
finish grading assignments.
In a word, I’m pathetic.
Her investment appraisal project was perfectly executed, and the write
up on the theory included points not included in the text books. She even
tailored her answers to the specifics of organized crime. Clearly, her father,
the mobster accountant, has given her instruction on how to direct the
finances of an illicit business.
Everyone else, however, has performed abysmally. I had the misfortune
to read Veer Bursison’s attempt, which was badly calculated and a point-
for-point rewrite of the Gregg, Washer, and Thornbush textbook. It’s
obvious to anyone he’s not suited for the management of business.
And don’t get me started on the Grace cousins. I skim another abysmal
essay and award it a third. And that’s being generous.
 The system brings up another essay. I’m now on the students whose last
names begin with W, and I’m hoping this will be the last. I read the first
paragraph over and over.
None of the sentences will stick. Nothing will when my mind keeps
drifting to the last words I shared with Phoenix. They run around my mind
like ants escaping the nest.
She had exercised her safe word. Not just over a scene but the entire
relationship. She hadn’t given me the benefit of the doubt, but she wouldn’t
find the truth of Sunday morning any more palatable.
“Stop this,” I whisper. “It’s for the best.”
Exhaling a sharp breath, I focus my attention back on the marking. This
joker has copied and pasted excerpts from the internet and hasn’t even kept
the fonts uniform.
“What are they teaching these people?” I mutter, ready to put the entire
document through a duplicate content checker.
A loud knock sounds on the door, tearing my attention away from the
plagiarist.
“Enter.”
It swings open, and Phoenix storms in.
Red spots bloom across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. The
color spreads down her neck, past her collarbones, and into the blue
wraparound top that both separates and showcases her pert breasts.
My gaze lingers on her slender thighs, which are exposed by a
scandalously short denim skirt. When heat surges to my cock, I realize my
mistake and drag my gaze back to her face.
When Phoenix pauses, not finding me behind the desk, she glances at
the sofa and then back to the armchair.
“Miss Stahl?” I rise from my seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of
your company?”
 Her pretty face hardens. “I knew you were a sadistic bastard but a third
for breaking things off?”
“Sit down.” I point at the sofa.
She obeys, but the scowl that flashes across her features tells me she did
so on a reflex that she now regrets.
I walk around the room’s perimeter and secure the door from the inside.
For good measure, I lean against its hard surface. “What are you talking
about?”
She rises from the sofa and curls her hands into fists. I’ve never seen her
look so ferocious. The baser part of my brain wants to describe her as a sex
kitten with claws. I shove it back to the recesses of my mind and remind it
of Crius.
Just the thought of that bastard has all sensation draining away from my
cock and clears my mind.
“You gave me a third.” She points at something on the university
intranet.
“So, you are in possession of your phone,” I say.
Her face drops as the accusation in my words register. I had spent
several frantic minutes on Monday calling and texting, hoping Crius
wouldn’t contact me from her number with a sly ultimatum. If she was
angry, she could have put me out of my misery and send a message telling
me to fuck off.
A heartbeat later, her features harden. “Is this shitty grade your way of
punishing me for using my safe word?”
I huff a bitter laugh. “If I wanted to reprimand you I would do so in a
way we would both enjoy.”
She lowers her lashes, her nipples tightening into peaks that protrude
through her blouse. When she squeezes those thighs together something
deep in my chest rumbles with satisfaction, and heat rushes south. This
time, no amount of thinking about Crius can stem this arousal.
 Phoenix Stahl is temptation incarnate, and knowing that she enjoys my
darkest desires only makes matters worse.
“Stop it,” she murmurs.
I raise my brows. “Care to elaborate?”
“You’re doing that voice thing.” She turns her gaze to the wall. “It’s
distracting.”
My pulse quickens. Only my overwhelming need for her safety keeps
me rooted to this spot. If I take one step toward Phoenix, I’m certain I could
have her on her knees. After that, letting go of her will be impossible.
Bloody hell. I need to get back on track.
“I graded your assignment a first because your calculations were
impeccable and you showed insights into the theory that warranted the
highest accolade.”
“Really?” She glances at me out of the corner of her eye.
“This is work worthy of the London School of Finance,” I reply. “The
flair for applying theoretical concepts to real life and the depth of your
research easily makes you a worthy candidate for a master’s degree at any
prestigious institution.”
Her lips part with a gasp. Half of me drifts forward, wanting to capture
that pretty mouth in a kiss. Fortunately from the angle I’m standing, gravity
keeps my back against the door.
Phoenix runs a trembling hand through her hair. “Then why did you
grade it a third?”
“Clearly, the system mixed up your result with one of the many
assignments I had to endure. As soon as you leave, I will rectify the mistake
and demand that whoever is in charge of communicating grades to students
performs a full audit.”
Her posture deflates.
“That’s it?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
“Disappointed?” I fold my arms across my chest.
 “Well I thought the third was your way of summoning me here.”
My lips tighten. “You ended our arrangement, and I accepted. From this
moment onward, our association is strictly one of a lecturer and student.”
The air thickens with a tension that pushes against my chest. I know
exactly what’s behind those words. My compliment has negated what was
said early on Monday morning, and Phoenix wants to start again.
I’m not an unforgiving man. A light chastisement could cure Phoenix of
the habit of disappearing without permission, but it won’t protect her from
the danger of being used as a pawn.
She remains in place waiting for me to take back the words. Instead, I
step away from the door, giving her room to pull the handle.
“Right.” She nods, her jaw tightening. “I’ll leave, then.”
Phoenix crosses the room with her shoulders squared. As she reaches
grabbing distance, I say, “One more thing.”
Her huge, gray eyes meet mine. “What is it?”
“Stay away from Veer Bestlasson.”
Her brows lower, and she raises her chin with a defiant glower. “Why?”
“Because he and his family are dangerous.”
Phoenix snorts a laugh. “Everyone and their family here is connected to
one or more of the major crime families. This isn’t the London School of
Finance.”
“Watch your tone,” I growl.
She takes a step forward and then another and places both hands on her
hips. All signs of the submissive vanish, replaced by something fierce.
“You can’t tell me what to do. Our arrangement was purely business.”
“Yet your sole grievance is that someone who wasn’t me called you a
whore.”
She flinches. “But you didn’t deny it.”
“Think, Phoenix.” I tap the side of her head. “Apply your brilliant mind
to something other than coursework.”
 Phoenix purses her lips and flares her nostrils, as though what I’ve said
is an insult. She breathes so hard and fast that I resist the urge to lay her
down on the sofa. Instead, I grab her wrist to emphasize my point.
“Let go of me.” She tugs on the arm.
“Not until you listen to what I have to say.”
“What?” she snaps.
“The man who entered my house was an associate of my greatest
enemy.” I keep my voice measured because talking out loud about Crius for
too long makes me lose composure.
“Who?”
“You don’t want to know,” I reply. “My point is that my choice not to
leap to your defense was strategic.”
Her throat tightens as she swallows. “Then why do you pay me?”
Now it’s my turn to be confused. “I seem to recall a haughty young
woman storm through my door, blackmailing me for money and sexual
favors.”
The red on her cheeks deepens to a delightful shade of purple. I have no
idea what she’s thinking or if she is even using rational thought but
obviously the word ‘whore’ is triggering.
“Has it occurred to you that giving you money is an exchange of
power?” I ask.
“What does that mean?”
“Money is a transfer of value, a way of showing appreciation for
another. I pay the expenses of my mother, but it doesn’t imply a transaction.
Gifting money was my way of making your life comfortable.”
She blinks more rapidly than usual as though thinking through my
words.
“So you never saw me as a prostitute?” she whispers.
“If you were a paid professional, we would have negotiated and
itemized our activities,” I say, keeping my words even. “What we had was
spontaneous and I thought you enjoyed playing with me as much as I did
with you.”
Her lips tremble, and her eyes grow damp. The sight of her so upset is a
kick in the ribs. It takes a reminder that Mother is in the clutches of a
psychotic bastard to stop me from pulling Phoenix into my arms.
“Then why did you let that man call me a whore?” The last word comes
out a pained rasp that grates across my conscience.
If only Phoenix knew what I did to that man upstairs in the kitchen. My
jaw clenches. If she knew, she’d never stop screaming. I should make her
leave this instant, but she has to know that my silence on Monday morning
was in no way in agreement.
“Acting as though you were a hired submissive was the quickest method
to get him away from you.”
“So, you didn’t think I was a whore?” she asks as though my first
answer hasn’t registered.
“Never.”
She closes the distance between us until we’re breathing the same air.
It’s about that time I realize that I’m still holding onto her wrist, but I fail to
let go. The tension in the room thickens until it presses against me with an
urgency I’m barely able to resist.
“And the money was like a love language?” she asks.
“In a way.”
“Oh.”
“Will you stay away from Veer Bestlasson?”
“Of course,” she says in a breathy whisper and places a hand on my
chest.
The warmth of her palm seeps through the cotton of my shirt and
jumpstarts my heart. My erection surges against my fly, informing me that
I’ve screwed up. I overshot my mark in assuring Phoenix that I didn’t see
her as a whore, and now she wants me back.
 It would be so easy to restart our relationship, easier to growl at her to
kneel and suck my cock. Even easier to bend her over the table and fuck her
until she swears on her life never to associate with the Bestlassons.
But I can’t.
Phoenix’s pupils dilate, until her irises are tiny rings of gray. I would bet
every Bitcoin I own that her pussy is soaked.
I clench my jaw so tightly that the ache spreads down my neck. The
temptation is so strong that I have to remind myself of the facts once more.
Until I find Crius and put him in the ground, he’ll twist any and all
attachments as leverage to get me under his control.
The man has lost his legitimate son to Seacroft Prison, and he’s
desperate for a means to break him out. I refuse to allow Phoenix to fall into
his clutches.
When she drifts forward and rises onto her tiptoes, I tighten my grip on
her wrist until she winces.
“Run along, Miss Stahl,” I drawl. “You no longer hold my fascination.”
I turn my head, not wanting to see that beautiful face crumple.
“Go fuck yourself,” she snarls and storms out of the room.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Eight

PHOENIX

I step out into the hallway but spin around to have the last word again. A
soft body bumps into me from behind, and I turn to meet the mischievous
dark eyes of Thalia Grace.
“You left in a hurry,” she says, her words heavy with innuendo.
“What do you want?” I snap.
She draws back, her nose wrinkling. “Excuse me?”
I glance from Professor Segul, who stands in the doorway, to Thalia,
who leers down at the blush that’s spread down my chest as though she’s
just discovered my dirtiest secret.
Shit.
“I came to complain that I got a third,” I blurt.
“Funny,” she says with a breezy smile. “Professor Segul awarded me a
first.”
“I distinctly remember your assignment not even meriting a third,” he
says. “Both of you leave this hallway, and spread the words to your fellow
students not to pester me about grades.”
 He disappears into his office and shuts the door. The locking mechanism
turns, telling me he’s in no mood to be disturbed.
“What a dick,” she mutters.
I turn on my heel and continue down the hallway toward the stairs.
“Hey, you,” she says.
My steps falter, but I force my pace to remain even. “What?”
“Why does he let you in his office and not me?”
“I don’t know,” I say without thinking. “Maybe because I hand in better
assignments?”
“Or you could be licking his banana.”
“You wish.” The playground-grade defense tumbles from my lips.
Partly because her accusation is truer than she could ever imagine, but
mostly because I’m a shitty liar with pale skin that broadcasts my every
emotion.
“Hey.” She grabs my arm.
I channel all my anger into a hard shove that has her tumbling toward
the wall. While she’s breaking her fall, I disappear down the stairwell.
This probably marks the start of a vendetta between me and all the girls
even vaguely associated with Uranos, but fuck it. The only thing I now have
left to lose is my degree.
Blood roars between my ears, drowning out the echo of my feet as I
race down the stairs and out through the fire exit. Not even the manicured
gardens or the fresh, sea breeze can cool my blood.
Fuck Professor Segul, fuck the Grace cousins, fuck everyone who
messes with me. I’m going back to my apartment.
My feet stomp the gravel paths, creating a satisfying crunch that makes
a melody combined with my rapid pulse.
Professor Segul is the worst kind of human. He’s even worse than Dad.
At least Dad was a consistent bastard. He never treated me like I was
special, so when the insults fell, they were with dull blows instead of the
slice of a blade.
So the professor doesn’t think I’m a whore. And he remained silent
while the other man said I was because he wanted him out of the way. That
part makes sense, especially when he explained that the money was a gift.
But the other part?
“You no longer hold my fascination,” I say in a Mr. Darcy voice. “Who
the fuck talks like that?”
My jaw clenches. “Wanker.”
“Phoenix,” shouts a male voice from several feet away.
I glance over my shoulder to find Veer sprinting toward me wearing
skinny jeans and a patchwork denim vintage jacket with lapels that bounce
up and down with each step.
My nostrils exhale a gust of disbelief. “Great, another harbinger of
rejection,” I mutter. “All I need is Dad to show his face and my life will be
complete.”
Turning around, I continue down the path that leads to the apartment
block. It’s rude to turn my back on him, but I’m not in the mood to speak to
men who have sex with women before informing them that they’re
unavailable.
His long arms reach around my waist and lift me off my feet.
“What the hell?” I yell, making everyone in a hundred-foot vicinity turn
to look in our direction.
“You’re my lucky charm.” He puts me down and presses an alcohol-
scented kiss on my cheek.
I place my palm on his shoulder and hold him at an arm’s width. “Are
you drunk?”
“Been celebrating.” He pulls me into another hug, filling my nostrils
with the scent of mold and mothballs.
 Ugh. He doesn’t know his own strength. And since when did someone
buy a fifty-year-old garment without first sending it somewhere for
fumigating?
“Okay.” I give him several hard slaps on the back. “What’s the good
news, then?”
He finally lets go and gazes down at me through uneven pupils. I focus
on the spot on the bridge of his nose because I don’t want to get lost in his
eyes.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
I take a step back. “Probably not. What are you talking about?”
“This.” He pulls out his lapel and shows me a silver badge etched with
the outline of a man’s hair, his lashes and a zig-zag running down the left of
his face.
I squint, noticing the image is surrounded by the faint outline of a star.
“What’s that? A David Bowie thing?”
His face falls. “It’s not from you?”
I shake my head. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”
Veer’s shoulders droop. I’m not sure why, considering this is the man
who as much as admitted I wasn’t worth marrying.
Not that I want him, but the rejection still stings.
“Well, catch you later.” I turn around.
He places a hand on my shoulder. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Thank you for the other day.” His words tumble out as a string of
syllables. “For the pep talk, I mean.”
I glance over his shoulder. “You spoke to your dad?”
“And uncle.” He puffs out his chest. “I said business management
wasn’t for me, and I was going to live off my music.”
His gaze is expectant and his entire posture bounces with restrained
excitement, reminding me a little of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. I’ve
never seen Veer act so animated, so whatever he’s about to say has to be
good.
“How did that conversation go?” I ask.
“They both said no. Uncle Odin even threatened to come down to the
University to sort me out, but my dad said to leave it until the end of term.”
“That’s good, right?”
He grins and nods. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”
“Which is?” Veer’s enthusiasm is infectious, and even I can’t help but
smile.
“A concert venue in town wants us to perform a Sunday matinée show.”
His smile fades for a second, as though either the venue or the time of day
isn’t ideal, but he masks the disappointment with another broad grin. “Are
you coming?”
“Which one?” I immediately regret suggesting that I might be
interested.
“Whirligig. Do you know it?”
“Actually, I’m looking for a weekend job. If someone hires me on the
spot, then I might be working on Sunday.”
“Let’s hope you don’t get it.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it that
way.”
My face tightens. “Yeah, well not all of us have your privilege.”
All the joy leaches from his expression, leaving him staring at me,
wide-eyed.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
I shake my head. “Forget it.”
This time, when I walk away, Veer doesn’t follow or say another word.
That comment was really shitty. I would never begrudge anyone for
having more money than me or even a better life, but what happened
between us in the first year still festers like an infected wound.
 I need to retreat, get my head straight, and shake off this resentment if
I’m ever going to be presentable enough to find work.
If I didn’t realize it before, I sure as hell know that relying on someone
to take care of me is just begging for disappointment.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Nine

MARIUS

I lean against the closed door and scowl at the conversation taking place in
the hallway. Phoenix knows better not to drop hints to a girl like Thalia
Grace, but there’s no telling how she will react when upset.
Guilt burrows through my gut, gnawing a path of regret through my
insides and leaving me empty.
I finally found someone who fits me perfectly—one whose company I
enjoy both in and out of the playroom, and now she’s gone.
My anger burns at a low simmer. Too many barriers stand between us.
Both life-ruining and deadly.
It’s better to end things this way. Phoenix can continue her degree
without getting caught and expelled or used as leverage in one of my
father’s sick games.
A knock sounds on the door. It’s either Miss Grace, Dr. Xander, or any
one of the annoying bastards who can’t seem to get a hint that their
presence is unwanted.
The second knock adds lighter fluid to the fury already burning through
my veins.
 I fling the door open, ready to tear into the asshole, when it’s someone
completely unexpected. My employer, who looks on the verge of having a
heart attack.
“Dean Westmore?” I ask, the anger lessening to a background flicker.
The old man mops his brow with an oversized handkerchief. I’m almost
certain that he’s been blackmailed or coerced into leaving academia to
manage Marina University because there’s no other reason why someone as
well-respected as Dean Westmore would leave a prestigious institution like
King’s College.
Finally, he says, “I’m sorry to interrupt your day, professor, but the
matter is related to our founders.”
“What is it?”
“His nephew made a disturbing phone call about not wanting to
continue his studies.”
My back stiffens. As far as I know, the only founder whose relative
seems so disinterested in learning is the one I want to exchange for
Mother’s freedom.
“Who is the student in question?” I ask, keeping my tones measured.
“Mr. Veer Bestlasson.” The dean shuffles on his feet, unable to meet my
gaze.
My eyes narrow. “If you’ve come to request that I talk to the boy or
single him out for special attention—”
“No, no, no.” He raises both hands.
“Then what?”
“His father and uncle would like a brief report on his progress.”
“You realize I haven’t been here long enough to know all my students,”
I say because it’s technically true.
The dean’s shoulders sag. “Please email anything you can share, no
matter how insignificant. I’m asking all members of the faculty.”
“I can email the comments I left on his latest assignment.”
 “What was the grade?” the asks.
“Mr. Bestlasson didn’t even garner a third.”
By the time Dean Westmore waddles down the hallway toward Dr.
Xander’s office, my fury has burned itself out, leaving only the ashes of
remorse.
Did I have to dismiss Phoenix so callously?
In a world where the word no needs to be backed up with violence, the
only way to end an association cleanly is with a touch of cruelty.
The pain in her eyes when I had uttered those words was like a knife to
the gut. The poor young woman had just been callously abandoned by her
father, and now me.
But isn’t it better to be heartbroken than broken by the likes of Crius?
I return to the armchair, minimize the marking, and fire up the
university campus security system.
There’s footage of her brief exchange with Thalia Grace before I switch
to blurred images of her racing down the stairs. The external cameras show
Phoenix marching toward her apartment block, only to stop walking.
My jaw clenches at her conversation with a tall blond figure who could
only be Veer Bestlasson. I rise off the armchair to check on the burner
phone, where Quinn has left a message.
All in place for you know when. Call me.
I can only surmise from the cryptic text that Veer Bestlasson has not
only accepted the offer for a matinée concert, but he’s also received a
tracking device alluring enough for him to wear on the afternoon of his
abduction.
Onscreen, Phoenix hurries toward her apartment block with Bestlasson
staring at her back.
Here’s hoping that Odin won’t hand Crius the information about
Seacroft Prison so easily. I want Veer Bestlasson away from Phoenix
forever.
The rest of the week is a blur. Phoenix doesn’t attend Thursday’s lecture but
emails the assignment days before it’s due. It was another perfectly
executed piece, although with far less of the enthusiasm of her previous
work.
Sunday looms over me like a guillotine. When Crius gets the boy, he
will release Mother. That’s the arrangement.
At least until the next time he coerces me into doing his bidding.
Thankfully, Quinn confirmed that the Bestlasson boy is wearing his
tracking device, and it’s what will lead me straight to Crius, where I intend
to shoot him between the eyes. As much as I would like to carve him into
little pieces and savor his suffering, I can’t afford the chance that he might
survive.
My older brother will continue to languish in Seacroft Prison if he
survives that long. It’s a pity because anyone who rejects Crius is a form of
ally, but Odin wouldn’t have put him there if he was innocent.
I spend each night alone in the playroom, debating whether or not to
pack the toys I purchased from the Red Room.
It’s over.
Professor Eckhart will soon return to the university, and I’ll be able to
leave without suspicion.
Phoenix’s floral and vanilla scent has already vanished from the silk
sheets, but the knickers I cut from her body on our first Saturday together
are still fragrant.
I lie on my back, staring up into the canopy of the four-poster, with the
scrap of lace in one hand and the other holding my hard cock.
With one deep inhale, I fill my nostrils with hints of Sancerre and her
fragrant musk. I squeeze my eyes shut, my mind alternating between
fucking her with the neck of the wine bottle and fucking her with my cock.
 I quicken my pace, pumping my shaft with long strokes and a twist
around the head. It should be Phoenix mounting me, her pert tits bouncing
in my face, while I swat her thigh with the tresses of a riding crop, urging
her to go faster.
My hips thrust in counterpoint to my fist, and it’s almost like the way
her tight little pussy would squeeze me from all angles.
I imagine my hard breaths drowning out her soft mewls, imagine the
blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck, across her breasts, imagine
those pebbled nipples rubbing against my chest as she fucks me at a low
angle.
There are so many things I wanted to try with her, more toys, more
positions, but it wasn’t just the sex.
Fuck, I want to take her out to dinner, to fetish clubs, I want to feed her
Sunday lunch and make her do the dishes. I want to stroll through London
with her arm in arm, where she could be mine openly and without the risk
of repercussions.
Heat gathers at the base of my spine, my breath quickens and my balls
tighten. Most of all, I want to press my lips on hers and explore her mouth
with my tongue. Pleasure surges through my cock, sputtering cum over my
chest and abs.
“Fuck me,” I mutter. “Coming at the prospect of a kiss is pathetic, even
for you.”
On Saturday, my landline won’t stop ringing. Out of spite, I ignore the
phone, tempting Crius to send someone I can kill.
By the evening, someone knocks on the door. I slip on a pair of gray
sweatpants with a matching hoodie, and secure a gun to its waistband
around the back.
But when I open the door, I find Dean Westmore standing on my
doorstep, still dressed in yesterday’s shirt and tie. The man looks like he
slept in the office, if he slept at all.
 “I apologize for interrupting you at home.” He wrings his hands. “Our
founder called an urgent meeting with the faculty.”
“Couldn’t this have waited until Monday morning?” I ask.
He coughs. “Once again, please accept my apologies, professor. Mr.
Bestlasson wants us all to meet him and his brother for Sunday lunch.”
It takes a second to register that he’s talking about Odin. Odin Fucking
Bestlasson, Britain’s most powerful gangster is coming to Marina
University on the very day I’ve arranged the abduction of his nephew.
Fuck.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty

PHOENIX

It’s Saturday morning, four days since he took pains to explain that he
hadn’t seen me as a whore and in the same breath showed me that he was
fickle. Four days of blistering hatred for the entire male species.
I won’t cry. I won’t cry.
I won’t shed a tear for that bastard.
Hell, I won’t even spit out his name.
“You no longer hold my fascination,” I mutter under my breath. “Now,
Run along, Miss Stahl.”
What the fuck?
A sea breeze blows across Marina High Street, cooling my temper, but
as soon as the clouds part and the morning sun shines down on my face, its
warmth ignites a fury that sizzles beneath my skin.
Men are all the same. They see women as objects to be toyed with,
broken, then discarded. It doesn’t matter how they do it—in a friendly way,
in a fatherly way, in a fetishistic way—the result is still the same.
I stop at Marina burger, a busy eatery that doesn’t have any vacancies.
Neither does the Marina bistro, the Marina butchers, or the Marina bakery.
 Maybe I should smile more. Act like I’m capable of being pleasant and
not a font of festering resentment. At this rate, I’ll return to the university
without a job.
As I walk past the Red Room, an urgent tapping on the window breaks
me out of my thoughts.
I turn to find the long-haired shop assistant from three weeks ago
motioning at me to stop. Okay, this is strange. We both move toward the
door, and the man unlocks it from the inside before flinging it open.
“Hi,” he says, sounding out of breath. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, wondering if he’s like this with all
his female customers or just me.
He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “We talked a few weeks ago. I was
at the counter and you were looking for a dom?”
My insides tighten as I remember how I’d acted up to get Professor
Segul’s attention. This guy probably thinks I’m a bratty sub still in search of
some discipline.
“Actually, I’m looking for a job,” I reply.
His face drops. “Oh.” He pulls his brows together. “If it’s work you
want, I might be able to help.”
“Really?”
If half the stores on the high street hadn’t just turned me away, I would
make my excuses and leave. Professor Segul’s four-figure sum will last the
academic year but I still want a financial cushion.
The last thing I need is to become desperate and accept any old shitty
position within the underworld. Not every gangster would find use for a
female business manager.
“This way, please,” he says with a smile.
“Nick, isn’t it?” I ask.
His prominent eyes sparkle and he sweeps his brown locks over his
shoulder. “You remembered.”
 I cringe, wishing I hadn’t because now he’s going to look into it too
deeply.
“What happened with that guy?” he asks. A beat later, he adds, “The
burly one who acted like he was James Bondage.”
“Nothing ever came of it.” I shake my head.
“Thank fuck. I mean, what kind of experienced dom needs to buy
thousands of pounds worth of toys?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to defend Professor Segul and say that
people who sell whips shouldn’t judge those who buy them, but I clamp my
mouth shut.
I don’t owe that man a thing.
Even if he claims it wasn’t a transaction, his parting words indicated
otherwise. Maybe if I had kept emotions out of our arrangement I wouldn’t
feel so much like shit.
Without meaning to, I ask, “What’s wrong with buying up the store if
they can afford it?”
He raises his shoulders. “Nothing, only most doms already have their
own equipment before luring subs to their homes. From the looks of things,
I guess he was a newbie who was just bullshitting about his prowess.”
I stare into Nick’s weak features, which he now holds in a blank mask,
and I wonder what’s really behind the words. Jealousy, a warning, or lies?
There’s no way Professor Segul put together that playroom in a week
with the items he supposedly bought from the Red Room. And nothing
about the man said that he was inexperienced.
But as I glance around the displays, I recognize all the items from his
playroom.
“Do you sell furniture, then?” I ask, my mind running through every
item of apparatus.
“No.” His gaze darts toward a door on the left of the store. “Anyway,
you said you were looking for work.”
 “Yes.”
“You’re a sub, right?”
“Why do you ask?”
He sweeps his arm toward the door. “I rent the downstairs dungeon to
Pro dommes. They charge 250 an hour but they’re always looking for subs
for dual sessions. They add on 200 for that, which you get to keep.”
A knot forms in my stomach, and I swallow. “How does that work?”
“Well, they pay 50 for the dungeon hire, so their profit is 200. Since
having a second girl in the room lessens their workload, it’s a win-win for
them.”
“I mean, what happens?”
“The domme is always in charge, and what takes place in the hour
depends on if the client is a sub or a switch. Sometimes she’ll order you to
dominate him. Other times, she’ll let him dominate you.”
My brows knit together.
“She’ll supervise, of course.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m
being vague on purpose because every client is different. Some want whips,
others watersports. Some of them just like CBT.”
“What’s that?” I croak.
“Cock and ball torture.”
My stomach drops. The idea of kicking some guy in the balls sounds
fine, but I don’t think I’d have the patience for the equivalent of what
Professor did with the clit tickler.
“Yeah, no.” I take a step back toward the door. “That’s too heavy.”
“You could work with me behind the counter,” he blurts.
“Thanks, but no.” I turn on my heel and hurry toward the exit.
BDSM sounds great in the books, but the thought of allowing a paid
client to put their hands on me or the other way around makes my skin
crawl.
“Phoenix—”
 I don’t hear the rest of Nick’s sentence because I’ve already shut the
door. He could offer me 2,000 per hour and the answer would still be no. I
continue down the high street, letting the breeze cool my heated skin.
If only I had the number for Seacroft Prison. Dad would be shocked that
I’d refused an offer twenty times the minimum wage. It turns out that all the
things he said about me weren’t entirely true.
I slow my steps to gaze at the delicatessen’s window display. It’s an old-
fashioned store with cooked meat behind glass counters and salamis
hanging from the ceiling among garlands of peppers and strings of garlic.
My gaze drops to a charcuterie board that isn’t half as elaborate as the
one Professor Segul prepared, and I remember Nick’s words.
“What kind of experienced dom needs to buy thousands of pounds
worth of toys?” I say it out loud because I still don’t understand why
Professor Segul would have all the furniture but no toys.
My throat thickens. Why the hell does everything remind me so much
of him?
“Phoenix,” shouts a voice from down the road.
Charlotte strides toward me with Axel at her heels.
“Hey.” I raise a hand.
She pulls me into a hug. “Feeling better?”
I give her a non-committal nod. “Things could be worse.”
She knows it didn’t end well with my older man, but I still haven’t
mustered up the courage to reveal his identity. Maybe when Professor
Eckhart returns, I might say something. Right now, the thought of Professor
Segul going back to London hurts like a raw nerve.
“Veer’s been on a downer since your argument,” Axel says.
I stare up at the tall bass player, who frowns down at me as though I
kicked his friend in the balls.
“We didn’t—” I shake my head, my mind dredging up the awkward
exchange from Tuesday, when I’d been furious about being dumped by
Professor Segul. “What did he say?”
“That he said something offensive and you’ll probably never speak to
him again.”
I pull my brows together, not quite believing that those were the words
of a person who barely acknowledged my presence.
“Why’s he suddenly interested?” I ask.
Axel raises a shoulder. “He’s breaking away from the family. That
includes breaking away from their way of doing things.”
I give Axel a blank look because Veer only bothered to remember his
family values after taking my virginity.
Axel bats me on the shoulder. “Come on, you and Veer would look good
together. And you like the music.”
Charlotte’s eyes sparkle. “Imagine all the double dates.”
My lips tighten. There’s more to relationships than outward
appearances, although it would be nice not to have to sneak around. But not
with Veer. Not with a guy who would sleep with a woman one night and
then act as though nothing happened for the next two years.
Now I sound bitter about him, which I’m not. I shake off that thought.
“Veer and I are just friends.”
“Are you sure about that?” Axel asks.
My gaze switches to Charlotte, who gives me pleading eyes.
“What exactly do you two want from me?”
“Just say you’ll be there on Sunday,” Axel says.
Charlotte nods and gives me puppy eyes. “Tin Soldiers on Pluto has a
VIP section for the whole night.”
“After our set, we can all enjoy food and drinks while watching the
other bands,” Axel adds.
“If my new employer doesn’t ask me to work tomorrow, I’ll come with
you to the matinée.”
The pair of them exchange smirks.
“I’m only going because you two won’t shut up if I refuse.”
“Yay.”
Charlotte flings her arms around me in a tight hug.
Then Axel joins in, crushing us both.
Oh, shit. What have I just gotten myself into?

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-One

PHOENIX

On Sunday morning, a heavy fist banging on my door wakes me up at

stupid o’clock. I throw the pillow over my head to smother the sound, but
whoever’s out in the hallway keeps hammering.
“Phoenix,” Charlotte says. “Wake up.”
“Why?” I snarl. “It’s the middle of the night.”
She laughs. “What? Eight?”
“And?”
“Come on.”
Someone makes a rapid knock that sounds like a drumbeat. It’s too
rhythmical to come from Charlotte.
“Axel, is that you?” I say.
“Wakey wakey,” replies a deep voice.
“No.” I squeeze my eyes shut and curl into a tight ball. Interruptions
like this should be illegal.
“Will you answer the door so some of us can get back to fucking
sleep?” a voice shouts from down the hallway.
 Axel and Charlotte burst into laughter and continue knocking. I grind
my teeth. That’s the downside of an institution connected to the underworld.
Even though we students are technically equal, we’re not. Each of us
are attached to families, and each family has its place within a hierarchy.
If you’re well-positioned enough, you can get away with shit like
waking up an entire hallway of people at an ungodly hour because who’s
going to be stupid enough to start a feud?
I heard that Axel has connections with the Bestlasson family, and he’s
best friends with Veer, who is Odin’s nephew. Charlotte’s father is Kieran
Bress, who is the first cousin of the man who runs the Irish mob, Declan
Dagda.
Dad chose to enroll me anonymously but he used my mother’s maiden
name, which is connected with a low-level family distantly associated with
Odin.
In short, I’m a nobody.
“Coming,” I yell.
The knocking suddenly stops.
When I reach the door and crack it open, Charlotte shoves her way
inside. “Sorry for the intrusion but the shit just hit the fan.”
I step back and rub my eyes. “What’s happened.?”
“Odin’s coming down for Sunday lunch.”
That has me blinking myself awake. “Why?”
“Your peptalk gave Veer the balls to tell his dad and brother that he
wasn’t joining the firm.” Axel says with a smirk. “Cute nightshirt.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re knocking so early,” I mutter.
“We’ve got to sneak Veer out before Odin arrives.” Charlotte rifles
through my wardrobe, which is better organized after using the campus
laundry service.
“Okay.” I yawn. “Give me half an hour, and I’ll meet you outside.”
“Twenty minutes.”
Half an hour later, I’m sitting in the back seat of a Scooby Doo-style van
with Tin Soldiers on Pluto’s keyboardist on my left, and their drummer on
my right.
I don’t see Veer, but Axel already explained that he’s lying beneath a
pile of equipment because the campus security only concern themselves
with the movement of people, not objects or those hidden beneath them.
I lean into the band’s only female member. “Will Veer be alright?”
She raises a shoulder. “This won’t be the first time we’ve smuggled him
off campus in the back of a vehicle.”
“Can’t he borrow someone’s ID?”
Axel turns around from the front seat. “We tried that, but every member
of staff and security guard knows his face.”
“Shit,” I mutter. Veer’s dad and uncle are worse than mine. At least I
was only a partial prisoner.
Axel drives into the outskirts of Marina Village, which is drenched in
the morning sun. The buildings in this part of town are all densely packed,
and five or six stories tall, with independent stores on the downstairs and
apartments on the higher levels. At the very ends of the streets are distant
glimpses of the sea.
He parks outside the Whirligig, which is not surprisingly shut, but then
jumps out of the van and opens its back door. The keyboardist also steps
out.
“Hey man, the venue is closed,” I hear him say from around the back.
There’s a loud scraping, accompanied by a slight swaying of the van as
the band members move items apart to liberate their lead singer.
I pull out my phone. It’s 8:55 in the morning. I doubt that anything’s
awake so early in a sleepy town like Marina Village.
 “Are you excited?” Charlotte twists around in the front seat, her hazel
eyes sparkling.
“It’s a bit early for me,” I mutter.
The drummer beside me places a hand over her mouth to suppress a
yawn. “I told them this plan was far-fetched. If we’d left at ten like I’d
suggested, we wouldn’t be so fucking tired.”
Her yawn is infectious and my eyes water before I’m also yawning.
“There must be places open for breakfast.”
Charlotte gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Great idea. I’ll tell Axel.”
The front door opens, and the keyboardist sits in front with Charlotte.
Then the back passenger door opens and Veer slides into the seat next to
mine.
“Hi.” He peers at me through his curtain of long, blond hair.
Axel’s words from yesterday rise to the front of my mind: Veer’s been
on a downer since your argument.
It was just an exchange of words between two people who barely know
each other. And his mood still doesn’t make any sense to me, considering
that he spent the first two years of our time here acting like we hadn’t been
intimate.
The more skeptical part of me wonders if he’s just paying me attention
because he thinks I’m a sure thing.
“Hey.” I glance down at my lap.
“For fuck’s sake, can we please go?” the drummer mutters.
“Has Axel made the introductions?” Veer asks.
“I left that honor for you,” Axel says with a shrug as he steps into the
front seat and fires up the engine.
“Ingrid.” The drummer holds out her hand. “I’m only in the band
because I’m related to Veer, and they’ll replace me the moment they find
someone with a dick.”
I shake her hand and offer her a sympathetic smile. “Nice to meet you.”
 “Ingrid is Axel’s twin,” Veer says.
“Oh.” I glance between the pair, not seeing much of a family
resemblance apart from their coloring.
Veer places a hand on the keyboard player’s shoulder and introduces
him as Erik, who is also a distant cousin.
After that, there’s a tense silence. Charlotte turns around every so often
to glance between Veer and me as though playing silent matchmaker.
I clutch my hands together, wishing she wouldn’t try so hard.
She probably remembers how much I raged about Veer not
acknowledging me and now wants to put things right, but the window of
opportunity when I gave a shit expired over eighteen months ago.
My mind drifts to how Professor Segul would never play such silly
games. The man was never vague about what he wanted, even at the time
he discovered I was a student and wanted a clean break.
It’s weird how a man can nurse a girl through a hangover without
demanding anything in return, provide her with a generous living allowance
because it’s his language of love, chase after her when she leaves, and take
great pains to tell her she isn’t a whore, only for his ‘fascination’ to end.
I wish I could erase him from my memory, but the brief time we spent
together set a minimum standard. If a man can’t make up his mind, then he
may as well be invisible.
Axel drives through the high street, looking for a place that’s open on a
Sunday morning at nine, but all he finds is a hotel, which by default has to
serve a breakfast, but the receptionist takes one look at how the band is
dressed and says it’s guests only.
In the end, we find a greasy spoon café, whose owner doesn’t mind how
we’re all dressed. I make a point to sit with Ingrid at the farthest end of the
table from Veer.
When we all order English breakfasts, they arrive half-cooked and
covered in oil. Even the toast is only brown on one side.
 “Hey,” Ingrid says, halfway into the breakfast. “Aren’t you the banana
girl?”
I pick up my mug of tea. “You don’t take Finance and Accountancy?”
“No, but there was a video of you walking out of that professor’s
office,” she answers with a smirk. “I heard that Athena made him grovel.”
“That’s not exactly how it happened,” I mutter.
“He’s so fucking hot, I would suck his banana.”
I choke on my tea.
“Ingrid,” Axel hisses from the other side of the table.
She turns to her brother. “Fuck off.”
“Well, Phee thinks he's gross.” She shoots Veer a hopeful glance. “Don’t
you?”
I shake my head, neither confirming nor denying her statement. Part of
the reason I went out with the band was to forget Professor Segul. The last
thing I need right now is a reminder.
We sit in the cafe for over ninety minutes, with the boys ordering more
and more crap just so the owner won’t kick us out. Ingrid fills the silence,
explaining that she learned the drums when she was younger and the only
way to hang out with the boys was to play an instrument.
Veer rises from his seat. “The Whirligig’s manager just texted to say
he’s arrived.”
Axel drives back to the venue, where we meet a long-haired man
dressed in a flower power shirt with John Lennon glasses. He directs us to a
street around the back toward a parking lot for over fifty cars.
There’s already a few white vans around the space, which I guess were
probably parked there overnight. Before I can wonder why they all have
identical license plates, my stomach rumbles.
Now I wish I’d eaten the greasy breakfast.
“Do they serve food at the Whirligig?” I ask.
“The brunch menu is on their website,” Axel says.
 I drop my shoulder bag to my lap, ready to fire up the phone, when the
manager opens the venue’s back door and beckons at us to come in.
Axel, Erik, and Ingrid open the back and start carrying their instruments
into the venue, while Charlotte picks up a pair of garment carriers, which I
guess contains their matching costumes.
I reach for a guitar, but Veer places a hand on my shoulder. “Phoenix,
can I have a word?”
“What’s up?” I turn to meet his concerned eyes.
“That thing I said the other day.” He sucks in a deep breath, looking like
he’s about to launch into a rehearsed apology.
“I didn’t take offense,” I blurt before he can complete his sentence. “I
was just having a shitty day and what I said came out overly harsh.”
One of the vans behind us opens its doors. I glance over my shoulder to
find a guy in stained white overalls stepping out of the vehicle, looking like
he’s a painter and decorator.
Turning back to Veer, I offer him a tight smile.
“Seriously, don’t worry about—”
The painter and decorator guy rushes between us and grabs Veer.
I whirl around. “What are you doing?”
He ignores me and continues toward his van.
My pulse erupts into action, sending a surge of blood that shoots into
my limbs. I pick up the guitar case and swing it at the man’s head with a
satisfying crack.
“Fuck,” he snarls.
Strong arms wrap around my waist and yank me off the ground.
“Help—”
A huge hand clamps over my mouth and muffles my cry.
“What do we do with this one?” the man asks.
“Take her.”
 Now another pair of men step out of a second van, each holding guns.
My stomach plummets, and I stop struggling. It’s one thing to fight an
opportunist, but this can’t be a coincidence.
Sunday morning.
An isolated parking space.
Guns.
No, this strike is premeditated, and I expect the target is Veer. I clutch
my bag beneath my arm, hoping that no one thinks to check either of us for
mobile phones.
Because the moment they shut us in the back of that white van, I’m
sending our coordinates to the police.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Two

MARIUS

I’m ninety-five percent convinced that Quinn’s anonymous message to Veer

Bestlasson that his father was about to arrive failed to reach him or the
wretched boy will decide to kowtow to his family’s demands and attend this
Sunday lunch.
The other five percent is hopeful that Tin Soldiers on Pluto will have
found a way to escape the campus and attend their concert, where they’ll
deliver Veer Bestlasson to Crius and his men.
Perhaps it’s for the best that I’m attending Sunday lunch with Odin, his
brother, Dean Westmore, and the rest of the faculty.
If my optimistic side is correct, being here will be an iron-clad alibi.
Every member of staff who has taught his nephew stands at the entrance
of the university’s great hall, which they’ve styled after the foyer of a
Victorian-era hotel, complete with an oversized mahogany reception desk,
black-and-white-tiled floors, and brass chandeliers.
We’re arranged in a line like how I imagine an episode of Downton
Abbey to appear when the servants welcome their master back from a long
absence.
 The door creaks open, and one of the security guards pokes his head
through. “Mr. Westmore, sir, the Bestlasson brothers have arrived.”
This announcement results in the dean mopping copious amounts of
sweat from his brow. I stare ahead, feigning indifference. Odin is the most
dangerous man in Great Britain. The last thing I need is his attention.
The door opens, and two figures step inside.
Odin is a hard-faced man in his late forties with sharp eyes and even
sharper cheekbones. For someone with such immense power in the
underworld, he dresses modestly, in a charcoal gray suit and white shirt
more suited for a morning at the local church.
His brother, on the other hand, appears at least a decade younger, with
less harsh features and mahogany brown hair without a hint of gray. Veer’s
father dresses in the type of black outfit I would wear while making a kill.
Strange… I was led to believe Vili Bestlasson only took care of the
admin.
Dean Westmore walks at the brothers’ side, stuttering and mumbling an
extended welcome. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that the man
either owed the Bestlasson family an unholy amount of money or he’s the
victim of blackmail.
“Where’s my son?” asks the younger of the pair.
The dean clears his throat. “I’ve sent security staff to visit his suite in
the founder’s block.”
Vili Bestlasson grunts his approval and continues to the dining room.
It’s a spacious chamber with white marble floors and black furniture
etched with gold leaf. Elaborate chandeliers provide illumination, even
though ample sunlight streams in from tall arched windows.
Odin harrumphs. “This is where you spend our money?”
“The decor was a gift from Mr. Belus,” the dean replies.
Odin and Vili exchange glances, and I can tell from that look that the
treaty between the major families is the only thing holding back a disdainful
comment about Uranos.
Each of them sit at the opposite ends of the table, while Dean Westmore
gestures at us to take our places.
“Professor Segul,” he says. “Please join me to sit beside the guest of
honor.”
I would sooner sit beside Dr. Raring, but I smooth my expression into a
mask of professionalism.
Odin raises his head to study my features as I approach. Right now, I’m
imagining him seeing a younger and darker version of Crius. According to
my father, they’ve worked together since the early nineties. Odin’s religious
beliefs means he won’t touch trafficking or brothels, however, he still
supplies Crius with drugs, alcohol, and ‘protection.’
“Have we met?” Odin asks, his voice tinged with curiosity.
“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” I reply.
“Professor Segul is on sabbatical from the London School of Finance,”
Dean Westmore says, his voice bursting with pride. “He’s here to replace
Professor Eckhart while he recovers from his accident.”
When Odin’s eyes narrow, I realize my mistake. An academic wouldn’t
hold the gaze of a crime boss. Not unless he was completely ignorant of his
organization.
I offer Odin a polite smile. “Apparently Professor Eckhart’s on the
mend, which will cut short this lucrative little jaunt. I understand you’re in
the distillery business. How is that faring in today’s economy?”
Some of the tension leaves Odin’s features, and he dismisses me with a
non-committal comment that neither of us pursue.
As the silver service staff arrive with watercress soup, everyone relaxes
into quiet conversation.
The door opens, and I glance up to see a member of the security staff
stepping in, wringing his hands.
“What’s happened?” Odin’s voice slices through the polite chatter.
 “Young Mr. Bestlasson wasn’t in his apartment—”
“Did you track his ID card?” asks his father.
Tension from around my lungs melts away, and I can finally exhale.
If Crius had an ounce of common sense, he would order his men to
strike before the Bestlasson boy even got a chance to step on the stage. The
relief I feel is almost enough to allay my concern that the student ID cards
contain trackers.
“We logged the movement of his card, sir.” The guard sways on his feet.
“It’s in his apartment.”
“Then my nephew is somewhere on campus,” Odin states. “Because no
students may enter or leave without their cards.”
The security guard clutches his middle and erupts into a coughing fit,
and my five percent of optimism expands into fifty.
Dean Westmore rises from his seat and hurries around the table. “What
did you discover?”
Vili Bestlasson also rises. “Yes,” he hisses. “Tell us.”
“He probably left with the other members of his band—”
“Band?” asks Odin.
“Tin Soldiers on Mars—”
“Pluto,” says Dr. Xander.
Odin’s gaze sweeps to the other side of the dining table, where Dr.
Xander turns a deep shade of red. “It’s a David Bowie tribute thingy. Let’s
see. There’s the Gabrielsson twins, Erik Haig and of course Veer.”
Silence stretches out for a few beats. I keep perfectly still.
Vili sucks in a deep breath. “You allowed my son to leave after we
specifically told you he must never leave the campus.”
The security guard flinches. “It’s only a guess. The boys left with their
girlfriends—”
“Which girls?” asks the dean.
 He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. “Charlotte Bress and
Phoenix Stahl.”
The last name hits like a bullet to the gut. It takes every effort to stop
my hands from curling into fists. I ordered her to stay away from the
Bestlasson boy, and now the brothers will interrogate her about his
abduction.
“Bress?” Odin hisses.
Even I know that’s a prominent name within the Irish mob. A man like
that is probably already calculating the ways a rival gang might hurt his
nephew. If only Odin knew the threat was coming from one of his long-
standing allies.
“Stahl,” Vili says, but I barely hear the words over the roar of blood
between my ears. “Why does that sound so familiar?”
Odin walks around the table. “More importantly, why did you not check
that they weren’t sneaking my nephew out of the campus?”
Before the guard can explain that vehicle checks aren’t mandatory, Vili
grabs him by the throat and slams his back into the wall.
Dean Westmore and everyone else in the room flinches. I’m only
surprised that the brothers are being so reasonable.
“Where did they go?” Odin asks.
“It’s not in the rules to interrogate students—”
“Where?” Vili roars.
My empty stomach digests itself. In a minute, someone will suggest
asking questions, checking emails, or calling one of the other band
members for an update. Then they’ll identify the Whirligig and the
abduction plan will turn to shit.
“Mr. Bestlasson,” Dean Westmore doubles over like he’s going to expire
and grabs onto the back of Dr. Raring’s chair for balance. “Please remain
calm, we’ll find your nephew.”
 Odin turns to fix the dean with a glower that could slit throats. “You had
better.”
Dr. Raring raises her hand. “If the band is already performing, we could
catch up with the boys before they finish their set.”
“What do you know?” Odin advances toward her.
The dean steps back, and Dr. Raring rises from her seat, trying to put
some distance between herself and Odin.
The part of me that might feel culpable for this mayhem slumbers. I
have no sympathy for Odin, his brother, or anyone who would allow a man
like Crius to ruin the lives of countless women in the name of profits.
Veer Bestlasson will be shaken up from the abduction, but Crius will
free the boy as soon as Odin reveals the location of Seacroft Prison.
“Speak,” Odin says.
Dr. Raring folds her arms beneath her breasts, accentuating her
cleavage. Even though the gesture distracts Dean Westmore from his
meltdown, Odin’s gaze remains fixed on the woman’s face.
She licks her lips. “I overheard the students talking about a matinée
concert taking place today. Now that I have more context, I can only
assume it’s Tin Soldiers on Pluto.”
My fingers tighten into fists. If they reach the boy before Crius gets to
him, I can say goodbye to any chances of ever saving Mother. After this,
Dean Westmore will tighten campus security, and it will be impossible to
lure Veer Bestlasson out for a second abduction.
“Call them,” Odin says.
“But I don’t have their number,” Dr. Raring whispers.
“Now.” He says the word with so much menace that my hand twitches
toward one of the firearms I’ve concealed in my waistband.
My ninety-five percent pessimism warned me to come armed this
morning in case Sunday lunch turned out to be an ambush.
 Dr. Xander rises from his seat with his phone held aloft. “I’ve found
their numbers on the intranet,” he blurts. “And I’m calling Miss Stahl.”
Hearing her name again is like a fist reaching into my gut and twisting. I
clench my teeth and keep my features neutral.
Dr. Xander puts his handset on speakerphone. Phoenix’s phone rings but
the call goes straight to voicemail. My breaths turn shallow. It’s not unusual
to miss calls when in a concert hall. Many of them muffle signals to avoid
interruptions to the performance.
“There was another girl.” Odin says. “Call her.”
Charlotte Bress picks up in one ring. “Hello?” the word comes out
rushed. “Veer, is that you?”
“Where is my son?” asks Vili.
Miss Bress falls silent.
My eyes narrow. Crius must have already abducted the boy if his friend
is sounding panicked.
Odin walks around the table and stops at the phone. He holds his hands
behind his back and inhales a sharp breath. “You are the daughter of Liam
Bress, I presume?”
“Who is this?” she asks.
“Odin Bestlasson,” he replies. “I don’t need to impress upon you the
wide-ranging consequences of concealing my nephew, so let’s not waste
time with prevarication and tell me where he is.”
“That’s the problem,” she says with a sob. “He’s been missing for
hours.”
“What?” Vili roars.
A muscle in Odin’s jaw tightens, but that’s his only reaction to hearing
the news. “Explain.”
“We thought he went back to the hotel with Phoenix because she’s also
missing, too, but he would have returned in time for the concert.”
 Odin squeezes his eyes shut, but the fist in my gut reaches up to seize
my chest.
Crius’s people have taken Phoenix. It’s the only explanation for why
she’s also missing.
My optimism dwindles down to one percent. A one percent chance that
Crius ordered her taken because she’s the daughter of the prison’s new
warden, Gordon Gofannon.
It’s more likely that she got in the way or it was easier to take them both
to leave no witnesses.
My ninety-nine percent pessimism knows, without a shadow of a doubt,
that Phoenix Stahl is exactly the type of beauty Crius likes to ruin.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Three

PHOENIX

Cold panic washes through my insides, and I breathe hard to slow my pulse.
This isn’t so bad, I have to tell myself. I’m tied up, but that’s not new. I’m
sore, but so what? And this isn’t the first time I’ve awoken somewhere
unfamiliar.
The cold metal surface beneath me rumbles with the van’s movements,
and my side aches from where the bastards threw me into the back of their
vehicle.
I hadn’t been struggling that much, yet they still subdued me with their
fists. Now, I’m lying with my hands tied behind my back with a damp rope
that rubs against my skin like wire wool.
Fortunately, these abductors are amateurs. Professor Segul’s knots
would have been much tighter, and he wouldn’t have had to beat me into
submission.
Whatever they’ve put over my head stinks of sweat, and the noose
around my neck chafes. Of all the predicaments Dad predicted I would fall
into the moment I broke free from his tyranny, I’ll bet he didn’t imagine
this.
 Veer lets out a muffled groan. They probably gagged him and only
brought enough for one because all I have is a swollen jaw and the threat
that they’ll break my neck if I make a noise.
I’m not stupid enough to test their resolve.
The only way to remain calm at a time like this is to pretend this is one
of Professor Segul’s games. Maybe he’s gone feral and decided to abduct
me somewhere for a hard fuck.
Heat surges between my thighs. I squeeze them together and swallow
back a moan. Now isn’t the time to get excited, but if I’m thinking about
sex, then I’m not fretting about abductors.
My muscles relax, creating a little more slack and loosening the ropes.
Congratulating myself for holding my breath and struggling as the bastard
tied me up, I rotate my wrists back and forth.
The ropes loosen a little further, and I continue the movement until
there’s enough leeway to make a twisting motion. Veer groans, sounding
like he’s in pain, and I quicken my movements.
As soon as I’ve freed one hand, I work at the knot around my neck and
loosen the rope. The fabric the abductors used as a hood turns out to be an
oversized sweatshirt that they knotted at the top. I toss it aside and analyze
my surroundings.
It’s dark in the back of the van with tiny streams of light coming in from
gaps in the back door. There’s no sign of my bag or the phone that was in it,
but Veer lies behind me, his wrists secured with metal handcuffs.
I grimace. This is going to be tricky.
“Veer.” I crawl over to the bound boy.
He stiffens.
“Hey.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s Phoenix. I’m going to get
you free.”
He releases a string of muffled sounds, but I don’t understand a word. I
roll him onto his front and work on the rope they tied around his neck.
These knots are tighter, more intricate, and it looks like the thug who
secured him had a bit more experience than the one who did mine.
The van drives over a pothole, jostling us both. I fall forward, landing
hard on Veer’s ribs.
His pained moan grates across my heartstrings.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “This hood is trickier than I thought.”
A shudder travels down his body, which begins to convulse. I don’t
know if this is something physically serious or a full-blown panic attack.
Of course he’s freaking out. He can’t see anything, he can’t move, and if
that gag is as thorough as I imagine, he probably can’t breathe.
Leaning back on my haunches, I fumble through my hair and pull out a
pin. Maybe I’ll have better luck with an instrument than with my fingers
because the visibility back here is shit.
“Veer,” I whisper. “We’ll get through this.”
He releases a pained groan.
“I know.” I rub a gentle circle over his shoulder.
The van turns a fast corner, making us both roll to the other side of its
interior. I hold onto the pin like it’s the only thing separating us from life
and death, and wait for the driver to continue down a straight stretch of
road.
Eventually, the van steadies, and I rise up on my knees.
“You okay?” I ask.
The groan he gives me is non-committal, which is an upgrade from
panic. It takes several tries, but eventually, I loosen the knot enough to
create a tiny gap.
I pull the fabric hood off his head, only to find a leather band that wraps
around the base of his skull. My fingers fumble over a trio of buckles, and I
finally release the gag.
“Help!” Veer screams.
“Stop that.” I clap a hand over his drooling mouth and grimace.
 He struggles, trying to break free, but I hang onto him like a desperate
koala.
“Think this through,” I hiss. “The van is speeding through the
backstreets on a Sunday morning, and everyone’s either asleep, at church or
too busy to listen out for muffled voices. Everyone except our abductors.”
Veer stills.
“Furthermore,” I say, channeling Professor Segul, “If they know I’m
trying to free you, they’ll stop the van and kill me.”
He flinches.
“Will you stay calm?” I ask, now with both hands clamped around his
mouth.
He nods.
“I’m not messing around,” I say, my voice low. “Those people already
punched me in the face. We need to play this cool because we might have
only one chance to escape.”
He says something I don’t hear through my finger gag but combines it
with a nod.
“Alright, then.” I pull away my hand.
Veer doubles over, coughing hard, making me feel like shit for
restricting his breathing.
“Sorry.” I shuffle away from him in search of my bag. “But I couldn’t
take any chances.”
“What’s happened?” he asks between rasping breaths.
“You got abducted and they took me along for the ride?”
He turns to me, his eyes wide. “What makes you think I was the target?”
My lips tighten, and I continue patting my hand around the dark interior
for signs of my bag.
Veer is obviously in denial. I play along because talking to someone in a
situation as dire as this is calming. “Reasons why I think they want you and
not me.”
 “Go on,” he rasps.
“One, I’m a nobody who comes from an insignificant family. Two, I’ve
left the academy every weekend since first year and nobody has so much as
paid me much notice. Three, they grabbed you and only thought to take me
when I tried to attack your abductor.”
“Oh.” He bows his head.
“Where do you keep your phone?”
“My inside pocket.” He shifts from side to side. “Can you get it?”
I shuffle toward him and pat down his jacket, finding nothing but a
handful of receipts. “They must have taken it.”
“Makes sense.”
“Do you have anything else, like a GPS tracker?”
Veer hesitates.
“What?” I ask.
“My dad gave me a watch that has GPS, but…”
“But digital watches don’t match your vintage aesthetic?” I ask.
“I never thought anyone would snatch me off the street,” he mutters.
“Maybe I should have because it’s happened twice before.”
“No!”
“First when I was a baby and then I was eight.” His voice breaks, and he
stutters through a story about how members of the Irish mob kept him
hostage for a week.
Adrenaline surges through my system, and my pulse pounds so hard that
I can’t focus on the details. We have no way of communicating with the
outside world and my only weapon is a hairpin that’s probably only good
for attacking one abductor.
Since I’m not the target, once these guys take Veer to their boss, I’ll
become surplus to requirements. My throat tightens and the noose that I
worked free from before feels like it’s returned to throttle my neck.
 If I’m lucky, the abductors will put a bullet through my head, but if I’m
not…
A shudder runs down my spine.
The alternative is unthinkable.
Veer stops talking, and I smooth a hand down his shoulder. “Sorry.”
My finger catches something metallic. “Is that your David Bowie
badge?”
He nods. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m going to break it apart and see if I can file it into sharp
edges.”
Veer hisses through his teeth. “You wouldn’t.”
“It’s just a precaution.”
As he breaks into hiccuping sobs, the more cynical part of my psyche
wonders why I spent so long angsting over this guy. His emotions are
understandable, but in this world, getting overwhelmed in times of danger
will only get yourself and others killed.
I unpin the badge, which has a conveniently sharp point around the back
I can use to pierce an eye.
Nausea slithers up my throat at the mental image, but I force it down. If
I can get through this in one piece then I’ll have an entire lifetime to cry
about it later.
“Veer,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Please, stop crying. If they realize I’ve freed you from your gag, they’ll
punish us both.”
“Sorry.”
The van drives through a road with several bumps, and I use that
opportunity to smash the badge until it’s reduced to its metal casing, a flat
battery, and a donut shaped circuit of metal chips and copper wiring.
“Hey.” I turn to Veer. “Did you know your badge has electrical pieces?”
 “What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” I shake my head. That’s not important right
now, I need to turn the casing into a weapon. “Do you know how to break
out of handcuffs?”
“No,” he says with a moan.
“Are your feet free at least?” I scrape the steel casing along the van’s
metallic floor.
When he hesitates, I fumble down his legs and check his ankles. There’s
a rope holding them together, and I clench my teeth at having assumed that
they wouldn’t secure his legs.
Untying him is fast work, and after I’ve freed his legs, I say,
“Eventually, they’ll stop driving and drag us out. I want you to kick as hard
as you can. Forward and backward.”
I wait for him to agree, but he remains silent.
“What’s wrong?”
Before he can answer, the van comes to an abrupt stop.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Four

MARIUS

I need to leave. Leave this room before Phoenix falls into Crius’s clutches.
Leave before his men hurt her.
Rash movements won’t just get us both killed but could jeopardize
saving Mother.
Miss Bress stops speaking, but Vili bursts out laughing.
“Veer disappeared with a girl?” he asks.
“Was it the same one he had in his room in his first year?” Odin asks.
My stomach drops. What?
“Answer me,” he roars, making the people surrounding him jolt.
“They slept together in their first year, and I heard Veer has liked her
ever since. She likes him, too, even though she’s afraid to admit it.”
The girl’s words run into a mass of undecipherable syllables. I don’t
hear the rest of her ramblings because her words become muffled by a
possessive rage.
She’s with that long-haired guitar boy?
She’s been with him since their first year?
 “Where did they go?” Odin’s fury takes solid form, like an iceberg on
the verge of splintering. He shoots his brother a cold glare, who smooths
out his amusement into a mask of disapproval.
“Check every hotel in Marina village,” Vili says.
“I could enquire with the local guesthouses to see if any students have
booked rooms,” adds Dr. Xander with a wave of his hand.
Odin nods. “Good.”
My jaw clenches. Time is wasting. They’re not holed up in a bedroom
somewhere. Crius has taken Phoenix, and I have to get her back.
Now.
I rise from my seat, attracting Odin’s glower.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to bristle at his temerity.
“Marina seafront is a romantic spot,” I reply, making sure to sound
neutral. “If the young lady and your nephew are having relationship
problems as Miss Bress suggests, then a long walk to talk out their
differences is more plausible than them booking a hotel.”
If my chest didn’t feel like ravaged carrion, I would sneer at Odin’s
sharp nod of dismissal. If I wasn’t already picturing Phoenix crying beneath
my sadistic bastard of a father, I would call Odin a hypocrite for setting
such a high moral boundary for his nephew while profiting from a known
abuser of women.
I stride around the table, ignoring the others’ speculations, and stride out
of the door. If either of the Bestlasson brothers follows, I will shoot one first
and then the other.
As soon as I round the corner, I break into a run, exiting the building
and picking up speed until I reach the car.
I accelerate down the driveway that borders the great lawn, pull the
burner phone out of the glove compartment, and call Quinn, who answers in
one ring.
 “Do you have a lock on the boy?” I ask.
She pauses.
“Quinn?”
“This isn’t what we agreed,” she says, her words crisp. “You were going
to wait a few days to stalk the hideout and wait for Crius to arrive.”
“Change of plan,” I say. “They’ve taken an innocent girl, and I need to
find the abductors now. Do you have a lock on the boy?”
She hesitates. “Who is she?”
“Does it matter? She’s missing.”
“Mari,” she says with a weary sigh.
I grind my teeth. Quinn and I have fantasized about murdering Crius
over the years, and she thinks I’m about to ruin our carefully laid out plans,
but Phoenix is more important than revenge.
Fuck.
Phoenix is more important to me than anything.
Falling silent, I slow to approach the gates. The guard sweeps his gaze
over the car and waves me through the opening barrier.
“Listen to me,” I keep my voice even but rev up the engine and
accelerate down the road running alongside the security walls. “When you
met Mother, she was no longer an addict, and the scars on her body were
healed. I shielded you from hearing about the worst of what Crius did to her
while I was growing up, but let me assure you, it was beyond horrific.”
Her breathing quickens. “But if this girl is connected to a powerful
family—”
“She isn’t, and Crius will see her as a nobody. But she’s exactly the type
of innocent he would love to corrupt.” My throat thickens as I say the
words. “Give me those coordinates, and I swear to you that I will not rest
until that man is dead.”
Quinn still doesn’t answer.
 Flames of frustration burn through my insides, leaving me breathing
smoke. This girl is the only thing standing between Phoenix surviving being
abducted and a fate that would make her pray for death.
I clench the steering wheel because there’s no time to shake the
information out of Quinn. “It took just one phone call for Crius to lure
Mother to his side. Because no matter how long she spends away from him
or how much time she heals in rehab, there will always be a piece of her
that craves his cruelty. Do you want to condemn another girl to a lifetime of
that?”
As I drive into the outskirts of Marina Village, I hear her swallow over
the phone.
“You promise to make sure he doesn’t abduct any other girls?” she asks.
“The rest of the family went to their graves never knowing what happened
to my big sister.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I force down a surge of warring emotions. I was
born in captivity but it still never registers how Mother’s family would have
suffered in her absence.
“I swear it.”
“And you won’t stop until he’s dead?”
“I’ll even bring you a souvenir.”
“Alright,” she says. “I’ve been watching them these past few hours.
They’re meandering around the back roads—”
“Why?”
I cringe. That’s what panic does to a person. Dulls their brains. Makes
them overlook the obvious.
“In case they’re being followed? If anyone saw the abduction and
alerted the police, they’ll be searching for the getaway van on all the major
roads. Anyway, it looks like they’re headed for the motorway.”
“Specifics, Quinn,” I say.
 She directs me to a dual carriageway where I can drive seventy miles an
hour. I weave through the sparse traffic at a hundred.
“Have they come out of the side roads?” I ask.
“Not yet.” Her voice slows, the way it does when she’s distracted.
“They’re still meandering.”
“You can call him cruel and callous, but never careless,” I mutter.
“This is textbook paranoia,” she says.
“It isn’t if someone really is trying to kill you.” A police car awaits
several miles ahead, and I slow down to seventy so as not to trigger any
speed detectors. “Crius knows the next time we meet I won’t fail.”
“Alright, take the next exit.”
“This one?” I turn left.
“Yes. Now, take the second road on the left.” Her directions continue
like this for another ten minutes. Ten minutes of chasing abductors I can’t
see in a game where the hunters don’t know they’ve become the prey.
“If you do this in public, someone’s bound to call the police,” she says.
“I trust that you’ll hack into the DVLA and adjust the record for my
license plates.”
“Already ahead of you,” she says. “But it’s still a good idea to stop
using this car.”
“I’ll hire another.”
“Okay, turn… Huh?”
“Quinn, what’s wrong?” I pull into the kerb.
“The GPS signal just died.”
“How could that happen?”
“They must have found the brooch.”
“Which way did you want me to turn?” I ask.
“Right into Algarve Road. They were heading against the direction of
the motorway, but they’re taking the streets so randomly, I won’t be able to
predict where they’ll detour next.”
 “Leave it with me.” I pull out, turn down the road and slow down to
thirty miles an hour. It’s a long stretch of detached houses, broken up by
side streets, dead ends, and cul-de-sacs.
No matter how much I try to still my mind, I can’t stop my gut from
thrumming with anxiety. This isn’t the same as worrying about Mother.
Crius wouldn’t hurt her, now that he needs his bastard son to help
rescue his legitimate son. But he and his men have no incentive to keep
Phoenix safe.
Anxiety flashes through my insides like a lightning storm. It’s worse
than anything I experienced as a child. Back then, I was blind to the
depravities of the underworld. Now, what I’ve seen makes the acid in my
stomach seep into my veins.
As I pass a side street on my left, I catch a glimpse of a white van.
It’s the same size as the one I saw parked around the back of the house
the day Crius sent the clean up crew. I make a U-turn and follow.
This has to be them.
I don’t hear the sound of my car’s engine, or Quinn’s breathing at the
other end of the line. Everything fades under the rapid beat of my pulse.
Hell.
I’ve killed over a dozen men and maimed my own father, but this is the
first time I’ll do this in front of someone I—
My throat tightens.
My affection for Phoenix Stahl might surpass anything I feel for
Mother, and that’s terrifying. It means one more person Crius can use as a
pawn.
Shoving the thought aside, I reach the end of the road and catch the tail
lights of the van turning right.
I follow after it, keeping my speed at forty, until the van drives down
what looks to be a dead end. As it makes a three-point turn, I stop the car in
the center of the road.
 The driver sounds his horn. I reach into my waistband and extract the
gun. This one has seventeen rounds—enough to deal with both the driver,
his partner, and anyone else standing in the way of reaching Phoenix.
I open the door and step out.
The man in the front passenger seat opens his door and raises his gun.
I raise mine, squeeze the trigger, and cringe at the not-so-quiet silencer.
It sounds like a car backfiring. Without hesitating, I hit the driver as he tries
to duck beneath the dashboard.
Head down, I hurry around the driver’s side to check that he’s dead. His
unseeing eyes tell me everything I need to know, and I pull the keys out of
the ignition and continue to the back.
My fingers tremble as I unlock the van’s barn doors. The abductors
probably rendered them both unconscious for easy transportation. I would
do the same in their position.
Thinking about Phoenix lying cold and vulnerable and at their mercy
eviscerates my heart with imaginary blades.
I open the door, and she flies at me like a banshee with her arms
outstretched. I grab her wrists, but she’s so lost in her fury that she
continues to thrash and kick within my grip.
“Miss Stahl,” I snap, using the voice I know will cut through her haze.
Phoenix melts against my body, her eyes focusing. “Professor?”
I set her on her feet. “Are you alright?”
“Professor Segul?” says a male voice I hoped would be silenced.
Fuck.
Veer Bestlasson leans his body against the side of the van and eases
himself up to stand. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same thing,” says a cold voice from behind.
Stepping away from the car door, I move Phoenix behind my back, and
meet the wintry eyes of Odin Bestlasson.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Five

MARIUS

Shit.
Fuck.
Bollocks.
How the bloody hell did Odin work everything out so quickly?
Phoenix trembles at my back, probably wondering what the hell is
happening, while I’m staring down the country’s most ruthless crime lord.
My insides light up with a thunderstorm of self-doubt. Paranoia has
always kept me out of trouble. So, how the fuck did I drive through the
outskirts of Marina and not notice Odin?
I raise my gun, its barrel aimed at his throat. Not between the eyes,
because I need a distraction. If the shot I make is only semi-lethal, at least
one of Odin’s men will forgo killing me to rush to their leader’s aid.
“Uncle?” the Bestlasson boy says from within the van.
Odin doesn’t so much as twitch, but a pair of men wearing black emerge
from the other side of the vehicle, each holding guns.
When the rumble of another vehicle fills the other side of the dead-end
road, my mind makes rapid-fire calculations about my chances of getting
through this ambush alive.
Conclusion: there’s no escape.
“Take my nephew and his fiancée,” Odin says, still not moving his gaze
from mine.
His presumption grates across my nerves like jagged pebbles, and when
Phoenix’s breath catches, I can’t tell if it’s because she’s worked out the
identity of the man standing in front of us or because Odin just announced
he intends for her to marry Veer Bestlasson.
One of the men lifts the boy from the van, while the other trains a gun at
my head, seeming to prioritize the threat to his boss over the order to take
Phoenix.
Odin steeples his fingers. “Please put down your gun, Mr. Vanir.”
“What?” Phoenix whispers.
So, she’s heard of Crius, then?
Of course, she has. He was the threat her father hung over her head to
keep her in line.
“You stand before the son of the notorious pimp, Crius Vanir. If I hadn’t
stopped him, I have no doubt a young woman like you would have ended
up as a delicacy in one of his many flesh markets.”
Her sharp intake of breath fills me with a surge of frustration.
Clenching my jaw, I grit out, “My name is Segul.”
“I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” Odin says as though I
haven’t spoken. “It’s the eyes. Always those eyes.”
Bile rises to the back of my throat. The rebellious part of my psyche
who doesn’t care about the impending shoot-out wants to insist that I look
nothing like my father.
Odin laces his fingers, leaving just the index ones steepled, and rests
them on his chin. In all the times I have pointed guns at men’s heads, only
once before have I seen a potential victim act with such self-assurance.
 It’s no wonder Odin and Crius are such close associates, although I
doubt that Odin still considers him a friend.
“Late last July, Shango and I prevented the mob from decimating the
Vanir family by sending its eldest son to Seacroft Prison. You are his
brother.”
My finger hovers over the trigger. “You’re wrong.”
“I know Crius Vanir as well as I know my artificial eye. Every one of
his illegitimate sons is intelligent, highly educated, and psychologically
aloof. You fit the profile.”
The implication that there are other women out there that he imprisoned
and impregnated like Mother hits me in the gut.
Flinching, I adjust my aim.
“Put down the gun, Mr. Vanir,” Odin says.
“Tell your men to back their vehicles out of the road and I’ll consider
allowing you to live.”
His gaze sharpens.
“How about I give you the benefit of the doubt and suppose that Crius
found a way to coerce you into doing his dirty work.”
“How would you know this?” I ask.
“He cultivates sons the way some men hoard weapons. No job is too
dangerous or too complex when the life of one’s mother is at stake.” His
gaze flicks to the young woman standing over my shoulder. “My question is
why you intercepted my son before he reached Crius.”
Adrenaline courses through my veins. In a one to one, I would have
already shot Odin. The second man has returned and also aims a gun at my
head. I might still have a chance of getting out of this alive if I time my
shots, but I can’t take the risk of getting Phoenix hurt.
His gaze switches to her. “Gordon Gofannon’s daughter, I presume?”
“Yes?” she rasps.
“Walk to me.”
 Phoenix’s remains still.
His lips tighten. “You should understand that the man in front of you
engineered your and my nephew’s abduction for a single purpose.”
Odin unclasps his hands and positions them behind his back, radiating
the self-assuredness of a deity.
“What are you talking about?” she murmurs.
“Your father suddenly disappeared, yes?”
Phoenix doesn’t reply.
“Gordon Gofannon is the new warden of Seacroft Prison. I expect the
professor arranged your abduction to coerce him to send the coordinates of
his imprisoned brother.”
Her breath catches, a subtle sound that pierces me like barbed wire.
Odin’s eyes glitter with satisfaction. “So, Miss Gofannon—”
“It’s Stahl.”
“Stahl,” he says, his voice slicing like a razor’s edge. “Walk around
your professor and join my nephew in the back of the car.”
“What are you going to do to him?” she asks.
“Since no harm seems to have come to you and Veer, the professor and I
will just have a chat. I swear on my honor that as long as you join Veer in
the car, you will not come to any harm.”
“Go with him,” I say.
Without another word, Phoenix walks a wide circle around where I
stand. I can’t afford to focus on her, but the defeat in her posture tells me
that she’s thinking the worst.
As soon as she disappears from behind the van, the mask of neutrality
over Odin’s features morphs into one of malice. He remains silent, and it
isn’t until a car door opens and closes that he speaks.
“Wait for five minutes after we leave before killing him.”
“Yes, sir,” they chorus.
 As two more lackeys drag the people I shot to the back of the van,
options flash before my eyes like a shuffle of cards.
I could shoot Odin now and die at the hands of these two men and
whoever else is behind the van. I could wait for Odin to leave before killing
this pair but spend the rest of my life hunted by the Bestlasson family.
Both options will result in Crius taking his fury out on Mother.
Odin releases his hands from behind his back and turns to leave.
“Wait,” I say.
He raises his brows.
“Everything you said was true,” I lie because telling the truth—that
Phoenix was never my target—might get her implicated as an accomplice.
“Go on.”
“Crius has my mother. He asked me to set this up in exchange for her
freedom.” This part is the unvarnished truth, but the rest of what I say is a
fabrication. “My plan was to intercept the abduction, release the hostages,
and force his people to take me to where Crius is hiding.”
“You miscalculated,” Odin says. “Crius would keep away from a
hostage to make sure he had an alibi for the days surrounding the
abduction.”
Annoyance surges in my gut, but I push down the sensation. Does he
really think I don’t know this?
“Your arrival at the university upset my plans, and I miscalculated,
thinking Crius would wait until after the concert before attempting to take
your nephew.”
A muscle in Odin’s jaw ticks. Based on everything I’ve heard and
observed about this man, he places an importance on family.
“If he hadn’t taken my mother, no force in the universe would persuade
me to come after the Bestlassons. But I would do anything to protect her.”
“Including killing your father?”
 My spine straightens. Odin must be deluded if he thinks I owe Crius an
ounce of loyalty or respect. I would spit this in his face, but I don’t want to
die with so much left unresolved. Instead, I phrase my intentions in a way
that might appease a sanctimonious hypocrite.
“A man who would betray his wife and legitimate children with
multiple women is no father,” I say, meaning every word. “If you let me go,
I will find Crius Vanir and present you with his head.”
Odin turns his gaze to the two men. “If he tries something stupid, put a
bullet through his skull.”
“Yes, sir,” says the taller of the pair.
He turns back to me. “Don’t think of killing my men to escape unless
you want to spend the rest of your life on the run.”
I bristle. “Noted.”
Odin turns on his heel and walks around the van. Two more men in
black approach, leaving me outnumbered. I’ve faced worse. At least this
time, we all have a unified goal: killing Crius Vanir.
I flick my head toward the van. “The pair I killed were following a
peculiar route, but I expect the location of their hideout is programmed in
their navigation system.”
“Already ahead of you,” says one of the men, who looks like a younger,
blonder, and brawnier version of Odin.
I can only guess this is his eldest son, Thor.
The man who I assume is Thor gestures at the back of the van with his
gun. “Drop your weapon and get inside.”
“I’ll come with you, but I’m keeping the gun.”
Thor grinds his teeth, the muscles of his jaw flexing in the same
expression Odin used earlier. It’s a wonder that neither of them have fired
on me yet, but nobody rose to such lofty positions of power being hot
headed.
 After two of the men drag the bodies into the back of the van, they walk
toward the houses. I’m assuming they intend to threaten the residents that
identifying anyone they see to the police will get them killed.
The other pair get into the van, while Thor and I walk to my car. He
slides in the driver’s seat, making my nostrils flare.
“Mari?” Quinn asks.
“Now’s probably a good time to dispose of this burner phone,” I say.
Her end of the call falls silent.
Good girl.
“Girlfriend?” Thor asks.
“Someone who has no knowledge of this world.”
He snorts, but I don’t care if he believes me or not. By the time anyone
thinks to trace that number, Quinn will have vacated the apartment she
rented to carry out this mission and moved to the backup.
It takes a few minutes to line up the vehicles, but after some
maneuvering, Thor follows the van through a less circuitous route.
“Get in.”
“You don’t look like Viktor Vanir,” he says.
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” Thor mutters as we turn into a dual
carriageway.
As the men navigate the highway, I study Thor from the corner of my
eye. He looks more like an athletic version of his cousin when he’s not
pointing a gun, and I wonder how men like Odin sleep at night, dragging
their sons into the world of chaos and death.
In that respect Odin is no better than Crius. He might even be worse,
because at least Crius allowed his legitimate son a normal life.
“How would an eminent surgeon end up in an underworld prison?” I
ask.
Thor runs his fingers through his blond hair. “Do you know Viktor?”
 “No.”
“Someone in Crius’s organization messed with the wrong girl. Her
father was connected to the Irish mob, and they weren’t pleased.”
“I see.”
“The girl’s father wanted to strike back at Crius by killing his son and
had someone cut the brakes of his car. Unfortunately for him, Viktor
survived.”
“That’s when Viktor decided to teach the mob a lesson?” I ask.
“Viktor lost someone important in that car crash. After the accident, the
girl’s father sent an assassin after him, who failed. He survived long enough
to spill the name of his client. Viktor hunted down the man who tampered
with his car, slit his throat with a scalpel, and watched him bleed out.”
“Understandable, but that still doesn’t explain why he had to go to
Seacroft.”
Thor’s expression dulls. “That prison is our way of stopping the mass
destruction of families. With the four leaders mediating over large-scale
disputes, matters get settled without major bloodshed. Anyone tempted to
break the truce for a killing spree gets wiped out to keep the peace.”
“Does that justice also apply if the person who caused the dispute is a
member of the Bestlasson family?”
His abrupt glance toward the windscreen tells me that Odin has
committed someone in the fold to Seacroft. Perhaps it was a brother or
another cousin.
My mind wanders to Phoenix, and how she’s faring with Odin. I knew
Veer Bestlasson was interested in her, but she hadn’t once divulged that
they were more than anything but friends.
Acid roils in my gut at the thought of that boy touching what’s mine. I
exhale a sharp breath through my nostrils. He will not marry Phoenix. Even
if I have to assassinate everyone with the last name Bestlasson.
 The van stops in a narrow road of detached stone cottages, each
standing twenty feet apart and surrounded by hedges.
All the better to muffle the sounds of screaming.
I raise my gun and reach for the door handle. “Let’s go.”
Thor grabs my shoulder, a gun already in his hand. “Wait.”
The driver and his companion exit the van and walk down the pathway
leading to the cottage’s front door. My pulse thrums a rapid beat as we wait,
and my muscles tense for action.
Moments later, one of them emerges from behind the hedge and
beckons at us to enter.
Thor turns off the engine, and we both step out.
The cottage has a surprisingly cozy interior with a living room of stone
walls, cream-colored settees and a fire crackling in a hearth. The men walk
around the sofas and stare at something on the floor and out of my line of
sight.
“Do you know her?”
A fist of alarm strikes at my solar plexus, and I stride forward. “Who?”
As I round the sofa, I find Mother lying on a blood-soaked rug. Red
liquid flows from a gash in her throat that at first glance looks like a velvet
ribbon.
All the color has leached from her features, and she gazes up at me
through bleary eyes. Crius or one of his men has arranged her on this rug
for me to find. It’s revenge for either failing or sabotaging the mission.
Every molecule of oxygen escapes my lungs.
The edges of my vision turn white.
It takes every ounce of self-control to stop myself from imploding with
a mix of rage and grief. I need to hold it together for Mother.
“Call an ambulance,” I snarl.
“We already did,” replies one of the men at the doorway.
 I drop to my knees beside her, and cringe as absorbent granules crunch
beneath my bones. They did this on purpose to mirror what I did to the man
who interrupted Phoenix and me in the playroom.
My throat thickens as I raise Mother’s upper body to slow the flow of
blood. “What happened?”
One of the men returns with a bundle of towels. I grab one and pack it
around her wound. Sunlight streams down on her too-pale skin that
contrasts with her dark hair and eyes.
“He said I let him down,” she says through gasping breaths.
“How?” The word grates on my vocal chords.
She isn’t going to make it. Not after losing so much blood. From the
amount soaking the towel, the only way to save her is with an immediate
transfusion.
“It was me who suggested getting you to infiltrate the university.”
My stomach plummets to the rug. “That’s impossible.”
“Crius and I have been in contact the entire time,” she says with a
hoarse rattle. “When I heard about what happened to poor Viktor, I knew I
had to get you involved.”
“Wait,” says Thor. “You’re not a hostage?”
Mother’s eyes flutter toward the men standing in the doorway.
“Pretending Crius had taken me was the only way I could get Marius to
agree to help.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Six

PHOENIX

I back away from Professor Segul, my mind a buzz. Too much is happening
at once. Odin’s gaze doesn’t leave the professor’s, and neither do the eyes
of the men pointing guns at his head.
Shit, shit, shit.
At this rate, he’s going to get killed.
As I reach the white van, a layer of tension rolls off my shoulders,
replaced by a slew of emotions that hit like blows. Relief that I’m no longer
a captive, confusion because none of this makes sense, and nausea.
It’s a thick swirling sense of sick dread that I’ll hear the sound of a
gunshot and that will be the end of Professor Segul.
Burrowed beneath all this are the claws of betrayal. Odin says Veer
wasn’t the only target of today’s abduction. Professor Segul also told me
Dad was the new warden of Seacroft Prison, which means I was also a
useful hostage.
As I round the van, I find Veer standing beside a black car, still looking
shaken.
“Phoenix?”
 He launches himself at me, wraps his long arms around my shoulders,
and pulls me into his thin chest.
I give him a weak pat on the back. “Are you alright?”
He draws back, his eyes wild. “How were you so calm?”
Cringing at his touch, I force back all the memories of having to stay
tranquil during the worst of Dad’s rants. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry,
couldn’t answer back unless I wanted the words to escalate into blows.
My hand rises up to rub at the back of my neck, and I glance over my
shoulder.
“Survival instinct, I suppose.”
All I can see around me is the front of the white van. I ignore the leg
sticking out from beneath it to focus on the two men standing at either side
of the vehicles, both holding their guns at Professor Segul.
Did he really set this up, like Odin said? Nothing about his actions said
he did. If he arranged our abduction then why now, when he could have
taken me any of the times I visited his house?
He could have abducted me the time he tricked his way into my
apartment and made me kneel.
“Unbelievable.” Veer’s voice breaks me out of my concentration.
I turn to him and frown. “Huh?”
“I knew he was suspicious the moment he walked into the lecture
theater.”
“Because he threw that chair at your head when you were playing the
guitar?” I ask.
Veer falls silent.
One of the vehicle doors opens behind us, and a man clears his throat.
“Mr. Bestlasson?” I turn to lock eyes with a driver, who says, “At a time
like this, the boss would want you inside the car.”
Veer ignores the driver, but the adrenaline propping me up throughout
the van rise now drops, leaving me swaying on my feet. What’s left of me is
filled with so much anxiety that I want to double over and retch.
What’s happening with Professor Segul? I want to say something in his
defense, but nothing makes sense.
My knees bow. If I don’t sit down, I’ll fall.
I tug at Veer’s arm. “Come on.”
The driver opens the back of the car. I step inside and scoot across its
black leather seat, my vision darkening around the edges.
“Hey, Phoenix.” Veer places an arm around my shoulder. “Are you
alright?”
His touch is too heavy, too hot, too hindering. The pulse between my
ears quickens, each beat slamming against my nerves like hammers. I shrug
him off and shake my head.
“Just… Just give me a minute, okay?”
He winds down the window, and I grab his arm.
“Please, don’t,” I whisper. “I can’t stomach any more gunshots.”
He winds it up. “If they kill him then it’s his fault.”
“What?”
“You heard my uncle?” Veer leans against the back seat and spreads his
limbs. “The professor was a kidnapper all along. He just wants to save his
brother from the prison and doesn’t care who else gets hurt.”
“How do you know this for sure?” I ask.
“I stayed behind to hear the rest of their conversation,” he replies.
“That can’t be right.” I bow my head and stare at my lap. “Professor
Segul looked like he was saving us.” Even as I say the words, they sound
off.
“How would he know exactly where to intercept the van?” Veer asks.
“If he was in the area and followed us—”
“He would have been at the Sunday lunch gathering with my uncle.”
Veer shakes his head. “Why are you giving him the benefit of the doubt,
when all he’s ever done is be a bastard? This is the same guy who
embarrassed you in front of the entire class.”
I grind my teeth. “There’s a difference between making a comment and
arranging an assault and abduction.”
“Why are you even defending him?” he asks.
“I’m not,” I snap. “But there’s more to this situation than what your
Uncle says.”
“Go on, then.” He folds his arms across his chest.
The pounding in my head intensifies until it feels like my skull might
explode. “I still need that space, which includes quiet.”
He exhales a long breath. “Sorry, Phoenix.” He reaches across the back
seat and takes my hand. “It was hard for you, too.”
“Yeah.” I pull my hand away and run my fingers through my hair.
Veer might be looking at this situation from the lens of his resentment,
but I can’t believe Professor Segul would do any of the things they’re
saying.
My throat tightens, and I place a hand at the base of my neck. Why
didn’t he deny it when Odin accused him of being the son of Crius Vanir?
He just said something about the man in prison not being his brother.
I bite down on my bottom lip. Professor Segul couldn’t be related to that
monster?
Memories trickle through my awareness. Memories of the tense words
he had shared about his parents. His father was the worst kind of evil
bastard, and his mother was his victim? That sounds like someone
downplaying the malevolence of Crius Vanir.
The door opens, and my heart jumps to the back of my throat. Odin
steps in and sits in the seat opposite.
I don’t know what to call this presence—strangulating, overwhelming
or magnetic, but it sucks in all the air in the car, leaving me struggling to
breathe.
 He stares into my eyes with an intensity that makes me wonder if I’m
on the list of suspects for arranging Veer’s abduction.
“What did you do to Professor Segul?” I blurt.
His gaze hardens, and my insides turn to stone.
Odin has the most unpleasant face. It’s handsome enough for a really
old guy but he looks like there’s a permanent bad smell. Deep-set eyes, a
long, thin nose that wrinkles, cruel, downtrend lips, and sharp cheekbones.
If this was a video game, he would be the final boss.
Which pretty much sums up his position in the British underworld.
“Hedwig Gofannon,” he says with a slight accent. “You and my nephew
had premarital sex.”
I turn to Veer, my mouth dropping open, but he gives his head a
vigorous shake.
“So, the rumors are true,” he says.
“They’re not,” I blurt. “Who’s been telling you—”
“Silence.”
My jaw clicks shut.
“Veer, you will marry Miss Gofannon after graduation.”
“What?” I snap.
This time, when Odin looks at me, my stomach roils.
No criminal is more powerful than the man sitting here with us, but I’ve
had a lifetime of being pushed around by Dad. I’ve had a bellyful of his
misogynistic rants and I’m not about to saddle myself with an even worse
tyrant.
“If you have any objections to the marriage, you should have thought
about them before seducing my nephew. We’ll make the appropriate
arrangements with Declan Dagda and Gordon Gofannon.”
As the car drives down the road, I shake my head from side to side. My
concern over Professor Segul’s fate mingles with the impending doom
about my own. I don’t want Odin as my uncle-in-law and more importantly,
I don’t want Veer as my husband.
I turn to Veer, who stares out of the window as though he can’t
withstand his uncle’s presence.
“Say something,” I hiss.
He dips his head. “It’s best not to argue.”
“Correct,” says Odin.
“Well, I decline.” I turn to the older man and scowl.
“You have no choice.”
Odin doesn’t need to raise his voice like Dad. He's the complete
opposite. While Dad is a live wire, spitting out sparks, Odin is still water. A
deep, dangerous stream that’s so clear you can see its bed, but the moment
you step inside, the current will claim your life.
This isn’t a man anyone should cross, but I’m hoping he’s level headed
enough to see reason.
“Veer.” I kick his foot. “What happened to the guy who wanted to
become a musician? Do you know what your uncle is saying?”
He bows his head, concealing his features under a shield of blond hair.
“Veer,” I whisper.
“My nephew is contemplating how his foolish behavior could have
gotten you both killed today,” Odin says. “He now understands the
importance of obeying his elders.”
Another difference between Odin and Dad is that in his own twisted
way, I think Odin cares for his nephew. Which means he probably won’t
pull out a gun if Veer grows a set of balls.
“What about your career in music?” I say to Veer.
His shoulders rise up around his ears.
My gaze flicks toward Odin, who leans back on his seat like he’s a
malevolent god waiting to smite.
Fuck the Bestlassons.
 If they won’t listen to my refusals, then I’ll run.
The silence filling the back of the van is so heavy that it presses down
on my shoulders and pushes against my neck. It’s a weight on my chest that
makes me lean back in my seat for relief. Several minutes pass, maybe even
an hour.
My thoughts drift to Professor Segul. The only way he could have
tracked us through all those winding turns was if he was in communication
with the driver. But why did he suddenly change his mind?
A phone rings. Odin reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a
handset.
“Thor,” he says.
“We’re at the abductors’ rendezvous point, and we’ve found the
professor’s mother,” his voice is tinny but still audible.
I lean forward, my eyes widening, but Odin’s gaze snaps to mine,
making me cringe back.
“And I expect there’s no sign of Crius?” Odin says.
“He had the woman’s throat slit,” Thor replies. “She’s bleeding out on
the rug.”
My jaw drops, but Odin doesn’t even blink.
“Can she divulge his current location?” he asks.
“That’s the thing.” Thor’s voice turns quiet. “The mother was in on the
plan from the start. From what she says, it was her idea to manipulate the
professor into taking hostages.”
All the air leaves my lungs, making me reel forward in my seat. I expect
Odin’s features to harden, but they don’t even change. My gaze darts to
Veer, who’s covering his ears with his hands.
“Make sure she doesn’t survive the night but be discreet,” Odin says.
Thor hesitates a moment. “What about the professor?”
“He is resourceful and intelligent. If he doesn’t wholeheartedly agree to
assassinate his father, then you will put a bullet through his head.”
 A bolt of anxiety strikes my insides. My mind goes blank as I wait for
Thor’s reply.
“Sure thing, Father, but I get the feeling he wants Crius dead more than
we do.”
The call ends, and I stare straight ahead, my mind whirring.
“So, he planned this all along,” Veer says in a tone that implies he’s
talking to me, rather than his uncle.
Odin slips the phone back into his inside pocket. “It would seem so, but
your professor would never have been able to arrange such a feat if you had
obeyed your father and uncle.”
Any other time, I would make a double take and huff a laugh at Odin’s
pettiness. Professor Segul just discovered his mother manipulated him into
defying Odin and now the woman he risked everything to save is dying on a
rug.
Professor Segul could have done nothing and carried out his mission to
save her. Instead, he interrupted it.
I bow my head, clutch at my temples, and cast my mind back to our last
conversation.
You no longer hold my fascination
That hadn’t been true. Not after the great pains he had taken to let me
know he didn’t see me as a whore.
I want you to stay away from that blond idiot with the guitar.
I told you to stay away from that boy
Stay away from Veer Bestlasson
Will you stay away from Veer Bestlasson?
He hadn’t been jealous of Veer. He had been planning Veer’s abduction
all along.
Not mine.
How many times had he told me to stay away from Veer? The clues had
been all there. He had never warned me against talking to Axel or any other
man. I’d just chosen to believe he was being a possessive, controlling
asshole.
Professor Segul had arranged Veer’s abduction and he wanted me to
stay away from him so I wouldn’t get taken. Because he knew I would fall
into the hands of Crius Vanir, who would either use my connection with
Dad as a way into the prison or use me for something worse.
My chest tightens.
He sabotaged the abduction because of me.
He’s now a target of Odin because of me.
He’s now about to lose his mother because of me.
I need to find Professor Segul. Now.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Seven

PHOENIX

Odin refuses to let me out, but when the car stops at the university’s
security gates, the door flies open. A younger, more human version of Odin
drags Veer out from his seat and wraps him into a bear hug.
This has to be his dad.
The afternoon sun shines down on their heads, turning the ends of
Veer’s strands the color of spun gold. Something inside me crumbles.
This is my first sight of a person within our world showing so much
love to their child. Maybe Veer is seen as precious because he’s a son, and a
legitimate one at that, but it still rankles that Dad treated me as an emotional
punching bag.
He cups Veer’s face with both hands. “I should throttle you for getting
yourself kidnapped.”
“Dad,” Veer whines, his cheeks turning pink.
“Don’t spoil the boy. He’s going to be a married man.” Odin gestures
with one hand for me to step out of the car.
He doesn’t need to ask me twice.
 Vili Bestlasson releases his son and sweeps his gaze up and down my
body. “Welcome to the family, Hedwig.”
Goosebumps erupt across my skin, and I’m suddenly aware that my
skirt is too short, my tank top too transparent, and I’m not wearing any
tights.
The look isn’t so much lecherous, but it’s obvious from the way he
congratulates his son that he doesn’t completely share Odin’s religious
beliefs.
“Phoenix.” I step back, bumping into Odin, who places a gentle hand on
my shoulder.
“Until the ceremony, you will refrain from premarital sex with my
nephew.”
“But I’m not getting married.”
“Don’t waste your breath arguing,” Veer’s dad says with a smirk.
I clamp my mouth shut. He’s right. There’s plenty of time between now
and the end of the academic year to slither out of this arrangement.
Veer’s dad wraps an arm around his son’s shoulders and walks ahead,
leaving me trailing behind with Odin. I glance behind us beyond the
procession of Odin’s men, toward the guards at the gatehouse.
Without my phone or my ID card, I have no way of leaving the campus
and no way of finding or even contacting Professor Segul.
“Why don’t you want to marry my nephew?” Odin asks.
“He’s barely even a friend,” I mutter. “And I was so drunk that night
that nothing even happened.”
His gaze freezes the side of my face, negating the sun’s warmth on my
skin. It looks like he wants me to elaborate.
“One would think that a man as important as you would have bigger
worries.”
The moment those words spill from my lips, I flinch.
 By now, Dad would grab my throat and snarl something menacing, but
Odin is so cold blooded that his gaze doesn’t even waver. The silence
between us stretches out, and the ache in my chest deepens with the anxiety
roiling in my belly.
I’ve got to get out of here and find Professor Segul.
“Earlier, you seemed unusually attached to your abductor.”
My lips tighten. How the hell could he read my thoughts?
“Finance and Accountancy is my best subject.”
“Then you will slot perfectly into our organization because neither of
my brothers have an aptitude for numbers,” he says.
Shit.
I didn’t mean to sell myself as a criminal accountant as well as a forced
bride. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Odin I’ve had lots of wild, kinky
sex with another man but he’s the type to demand his name.
Professor Segul has racked up enough grievances against the Bestlasson
family. I don’t want to give Odin a reason for not allowing him to live.
The walk across the campus is unusually quiet, with students either
swerving out of their way to avoid Odin and his brother but with a few
going out of their way to cross their paths.
By my reckoning, it looks like a quarter of the people here are
associated with the Bestlasson organization.
“Have you heard from your father?” Odin asks.
“Not since he disappeared without a note,” I reply.
He nods. “I will see to it that you and he spend some time together
before the wedding.”
Fuck.
When Veer finally wraps an arm around his Dad’s waist, I know he’s
given up all hopes of becoming a musician and will probably even go along
with this farce of a marriage.
“What if Veer slept with someone else after me or even before?” I blurt.
 “According to his friends, you were the only one.”
Shit.
“But if he—”
“The wedding is going ahead,” Odin says in a voice of steel. “And if the
security cameras catch you and my nephew in an act of hanky panky, then I
will have the guards march you both to the nearest orthodox priest.”
Odin walks me to my apartment because he’s the type of gentleman
who would never leave a girl stranded but has no qualms about trapping her
in an unwanted marriage.
The pounding in my skull returns. I can’t let him leave thinking I’m
going to agree to this wedding.
I tap in the combination to my room and wait for the whirr of the
locking mechanism. This is so dumb and could get me strangled into
submission, but if I don’t tell him something completely off-putting then I’ll
either end up on the run or trapped in a life even worse than the one I had
with Dad.
“Mr. Bestlasson?”
“Odin,” he says with a nod.
I suck in a sharp breath and say the first thing that comes to mind.
“What if I had sex with another man?”
“Who?”
“There were so many…” I bite down on my bottom lip. “It wasn’t like I
was keeping count. Like, if there was a spit roast, my mouth would be full,
so I couldn’t turn around and see the guy reaming me from the back.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” My voice trembles.
I’m such a shitty liar. If I don’t tell him the truth or something close to
it, then I’ll never get him off my back.
Widening my eyes, I meet his hard gaze. “Okay, I was exaggerating
about the spit roast, but I’ve gotten down on my knees and sucked huge
cocks, and had some guy shove a bottle up my twat and drink from my
furry cup. I’ve been edged, spanked, and flogged. That’s not even counting
all that bondage that makes me cum, and let’s not get started with the anal.”
Odin’s blank expression makes my stomach lurch.
I wait for a few heartbeats for him to react, but he continues staring.
“Put it this way. I like sex and lots of it. Not just the vanilla stuff. It has
to be rough and dirty and kinky. Go to the Red Room on the High Street.
The guy working by the counter knows me by name. I’m looking for a job,
and he’s trying to get me clients so I can do double sessions with a
professional dominatrix—”
“Enough,” he says.
I clamp my mouth shut.
Odin steps toward me, and every fine hair on the back of my neck
stands on end. My breaths turn quick and shallow, and my gaze bounces
down to his hands, which remain by their side, and up to his stern features.
“You are hereby expelled from Marina University,” he says.
My jaw drops, and all the blood drains from my face. “What? Why?”
“Lewd conduct and for corrupting one or more innocent young men.”
The corners of his lips turn down with distaste. “I commend your honesty,
Miss Stahl, which is why I am giving you until next weekend to clear your
things.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to go, but he remains in place.
Maybe this is a bluff and he wants me to blurt out the truth?
“Fine,” I say. “But I’m going to need a refund of my unused tuition and
rent.”
His shoulders sag a fraction. I might be imagining things, but he looks
disappointed. Perhaps he really did need a capable finance manager for his
organization.
“Now I understand why your professor sabotaged the abduction,” he
says.
 My stomach trembles. Did I say too much? “What do you mean?”
Without another word, he walks back to the elevator.
I step into my apartment and press my ear against the door. As soon as
his footsteps disappear down the hallway, I tiptoe to the apartment next
door.
Charlotte grills me about my ordeal. She doesn’t seem all that shocked
that Odin wanted me to marry Veer. Maybe it’s because her father found out
that she was messing around with boys affiliated with the Bestlassons and
told her to stop associating with Axel.
I tell her as much as I can without mentioning Professor Segul. The
mere thought of him makes the backs of my eyes burn hot. Odin and his
people might know the professor’s secrets, but there’s still one that I can
safeguard.
When the conversation runs dry, I turn to meet her sad eyes. “Could I
ask you for a favor?”
“Anything.”
“I need to borrow your ID card and phone.”
“What for?”
“There’s something I must do in town.”
Charlotte’s brows pull together. It looks like she’s expecting me to rob
the Bestlassons and leave her ID as a calling card. “I’m already in enough
trouble as it is. My dad called me saying that today’s antics could have
started a full-scale war.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
She purses her lips. “Listen, I’m going to the bathroom to use the toilet
and wash my hands. If you take my entire bag while I’m gone and make use
of my stuff, then that’s not my fault.”
I fling my arms around her neck. “Thank you.”
“Just don’t get hurt.”
“It’s too late for that,” I murmur into her hair.
Thirty minutes later, my Uber takes me to Marina Promenade, where fire
engines block both entrances to Sydney Crescent.
Plumes of gray smoke billow up from the tall, white buildings. I can
already guess from their direction that the house that’s on fire belongs to
Professor Segul.
My heart pounds hard enough to echo across the car’s interior.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
The driver drums his fingers on the top of his steering wheel. “Radio
news says the fire started an hour ago but it spread so quickly, they’re
already suspecting arson.”
I gulp. “Did anyone die?”
He glances at me through the rearview mirror. “One corpse that was
broken and burned beyond recognition. They’ve taken it down to the City
Mortuary.”
A cry escapes my lips.
What if Odin’s peculiar question about Professor Segul was him
confirming a suspicion? What if he also pieced together that the professor
sabotaged the abduction because he wanted to save me?
Shit. What if all that crap I said about blow jobs and spit roasts pissed
him off? All it would take is a few minutes of skimming through the
university intranet to see footage of me leaving the professor’s room and the
petition to cancel Professor Segul for making that comment about the
banana.
In the time it took to walk back to the elevator, Odin could have called
Thor with an execution order.
“Are you staying or leaving?” the driver asks, his voice sharp.
“Sorry.” I open the door and step out.
 The air is acrid, and no amount of breeze coming in from the sea can
dissipate the stench of burning.
I wrap my arms around my middle and force myself to take one step in
front of the other as I round the corner and turn into Sydney Crescent.
Crowds of people gather in the garden square, surrounded by
firefighters and police officers. Half the cars on the street have been moved
to make way for engines. Sure enough, when I look in the direction of the
fire, it’s the professor’s house that’s ablaze.
“You can’t come down here, Miss.” A large man steps into my path.
“But this is where I live,” I say.
He sweeps his arm to the garden square. “If it’s relatives you’re worried
about, all the residents are gathered over there.”
Even if the dead body wasn’t Professor Segul, then someone probably
tried to kill him and he escaped. He’s too clever to stand around, waiting for
the arsonist to call for reinforcements.
I still wander around the square, looking for signs of him before taking
an Uber back to the campus gates.
As I pass an alleyway, a large hand clamps over my mouth, and a strong
arm lifts me off my feet.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Eight

PHOENIX

My instinct is to thrash within my captor’s arms, but the wind comes in

from the direction of the sea, blowing away the stench of burning. In
between the sea breeze are hints of the professor’s scent.
Mahogany, leather, sandalwood. Hope thrums in my chest like the pitter
patter of cherubs’ feet. Could it really be him?
I turn around to catch a glimpse of his face, but he’s moving too quickly
through a narrow alleyway that runs down the side of one of the villas. If
his hand wasn’t clamped over my mouth, I would say something, but it’s
obvious he wants me to stay quiet.
Forcing down my instincts to fight or flee, I inhale a calming breath and
wait.
We’d better not be heading toward the back of a van.
After he rounds a corner, we’re in a paved walkway bordered by tall,
wooden fences. This is the space between Sydney Crescent and Adelaide
Grove.
He finally sets me on my feet but pushes my back against the fence
post.
 The visor on his baseball cap obscures his eyes and a bandana covers
the bottom half of his face, but I recognize the contours of Professor Segul’s
body, even with a gray hoodie and matching sweatpants.
“It’s you.” I reach up to the bandana, but he grabs my hand.
“I told you to stay away from the Bestlasson boy.”
My gaze dips. “I didn’t know you had something planned.”
“Look at me.”
My eyes snap up to meet his, which are obscured by shadow. Even so,
their gold highlights burn through me like rings of fire. A mix of emotions
are etched in those irises. Grief, fury, betrayal. My insides twist at the
thought that he’s directing them all at me.
“Professor Segul, I’m—”
“Don’t speak,” he hisses.
I gulp.
“When I give you an order, you will follow it. Is that understood?”
My immediate reaction to that tone of voice is to nod, even though a
part of me remembers that this is the man who told me I no longer held his
interest.
I push away that thought. Too much has happened since then that proves
I mean something to him. That he values me enough to sabotage whatever
he’d been trying to do to Veer so that I would be safe.
“Is that understood?” he growls.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
A breeze meanders down the alleyway, bringing with it the acrid scent
of burning. I blink over and over, my eyes stinging, both from the fire and
out of relief that he’s still alive.
Professor Segul’s eyes darken. “Tell me what happened.”
“We went to the venue early, and there was a van—”
“From the beginning.” His voice is hoarse. “Explain to me why Odin is
so determined to bring you into his family.”
 My jaw tightens. He heard that too? “He just wanted a free accountant, I
think. But I said enough dirty bullshit to put him off.”
“Phoenix.”
I can’t remember the last time he called me that.
“It was induction week,” I say, my words halting. “Representatives from
the families came in to introduce themselves and the kind of work they do.
After a long presentation, people from Shango’s organization brought
barrels of palm wine and held a party. I got talking to the only group of
people who weren’t dancing, and…”
I cringe as the rest of the story spills from my lips. It’s hard to admit to
getting drunk on fermented tree sap on my first week of freedom. Even
harder to admit to having slept with the first boy who showed me an ounce
of interest, but as Professor Segul stares at me, those dark eyes bore into my
soul.
“It meant nothing,” I murmur. “The next morning, I woke up with a
terrible hangover. Veer lay passed out in his bathroom, so I got dressed and
escaped. He acted like he’d forgotten, and I have no idea how news spread
to Odin.”
“When you both went missing, Charlotte Bress suggested that you’d
gone to patch up your differences,” he says.
My chest deflates, and my gaze drops to my feet. “Oh.”
So, Dad had been right about the dangers of sharing secrets in this
world.
“Then what happened?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“According to Thor, you’re about to become his new cousin, now you
say you’re not. There must be something more to this than a one-night
stand.”
I give my head a vigorous shake. “Absolutely nothing. For the next two
years, he acted like I didn’t exist, and I didn’t go chasing after him.”
 Professor Segul continues glaring down at me, and the lie curdles in my
belly.
“Okay, I tried talking to Veer because I didn’t want to be the kind of girl
who had flings with just anyone. When he pretended that he didn’t
remember, I backed off.”
“Pretended?”
“He apologized last week, explaining that his uncle would have forced
him to get married if he discovered.”
“And that’s when you resumed your relationship?” The menace in his
voice makes my skin tighten.
“No!”
“Then explain why you couldn’t follow one simple order.”
“Charlotte liked his friend, Axel, and she wanted me to tag along.”
When Professor Segul doesn’t respond, I blurt. “That’s it. She’s my friend
and I wanted to support her as much as she supported me.”
Silence stretches out between us for several heartbeats. The hum of
traffic mingles with the chatter coming from the people gathered on the
garden square, and with the distant roar of the sea.
I stand with my back to the fence post, gazing up into his covered
features. There’s no telling what he’s thinking or why he’s so fixated on a
one-night stand that took place years ago, when there are so many other
pressing issues.
So many heinous issues.
The abduction, the arson, the murder of his mother.
Maybe this conversation is a distraction. His way of keeping sane
amidst the chaos.
The hand holding my wrist tightens, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Professor Segul? Once I told Odin that I’d been with someone else, he
backed off.”
“I should have killed that boy when I had the chance,” he snarls.
 My brows pull together. “What’s this about—”
“He took something that was mine.”
Shallow breaths caress the tops of my lungs but no oxygen reaches my
bloodstream. I sway on my feet, my heart pounding hard enough to muffle
the background noise.
“But you… You went to all that trouble to explain I wasn’t a whore,
only to say those cruel words.”
“Had I not ended our association, you would have fallen under the
notice of someone dangerous. You would have become another pawn in his
sick game.”
“Crius Vanir?” I whisper.
His eyes tighten around the edges, and his features twist into a scowl.
It’s an unspoken warning not to mention that name again, but it’s so
notorious in the underworld that I can’t let that information slide.
“He’s your father. That’s why you reacted when I mentioned his name.”
Another silence, this one weighing on me so heavily that I can barely
breathe.
“My mother was his captive for years until I earned her freedom,” he
says.
So Crius Vanir is either his biological father or the only father figure he
had when growing up. I don’t dare to push him. Not on the heels of finding
the mother he fought so hard for with her throat slit.
“You broke up with me for my protection?” I ask.
Professor Segul cups the side of my face with his warm hand and
brushes the pad of his thumb across my cheekbone. Sensation skitters
across my skin, and my eyelids flutter shut.
“I’m sorry,” the words slip from my lips. “Sorry for not listening. Sorry
for forcing you to decide between me and her.”
His hand drops from my face, and my eyes snap open. He straightens,
his body drawing away from mine. A cold wind blows in from the other
side of the alleyway, exaggerating our distance.
“You know?” he asks.
“I overheard Thor’s conversation with Odin in the back of the car. If I’d
known what you were doing, I would have stayed away.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he didn’t trust me with the
information but in our world, questions like that are naive.
Look at what happened with Charlotte.
She had been my confidante for years and the moment someone with
power like Odin demanded answers, she spilled my secret.
Placing both hands on his chest, I murmur, “I can’t imagine what it’s
like to go through something like that—”
“Don’t.” Professor Segul shakes his head. “For the first time, my eyes
are wide open. There’s only one person I would kill to protect.”
My pulse picks up speed. He can’t mean me?
But the intensity of his gaze tells me that he does.
There’s no denying who’s responsible for those gunshots I heard before
he opened the van door. Professor Segul killed those abductors.
To save me.
Gratitude fills my chest until it’s hard to breathe. The backs of my eyes
sting with the onset of tears. I blink hard, forcing them back.
“There’s something you must know,” he says.
There’s an ominous tremble to his voice that makes my heart skip. He’s
about to say something I won’t like.
“What?” I whisper.
“I am nothing like my father.”
“Of course not.” My hands slide up to his shoulders, and my breath
shallows from the confession that he really is the son of the country’s most
notorious trafficker and pimp. “I’ve heard all kinds of rumors about that
man, but nothing about you says you’re anything like him.”
 His arm wraps around my back, and he brings our chests close together.
“Thank you,” he says with a deep sigh. “And you know I hold you in the
highest esteem?”
My eyes widen. Why is he saying this and why does he sound so much
like Mr. Darcy? “Professor Segul?”
“You know you have my utmost respect?” he asks with more bite.
“Of course, but why—”
“Because I’m about to fuck you here in this alleyway like I don’t,” he
growls. “Any objections?”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Nine

PHOENIX

My jaw drops. I would glance from side to side, but I’m still locked in his
gaze, which now burns like molten fire.
Warmth shoots down my spine and settles between my legs. He can’t be
serious about having sex in an alley.
Not with hundreds of people crowding Sydney Crescent. Not with his
house burning to ashes less than a hundred feet away. Not with the road
filled with fire engines, police cars, and ambulance trucks. Not where
anyone walking past can see us fucking.
“What?” I blurt. “Here?”
He pulls down the bandana, revealing his lips. Lips I’ve always longed
to kiss. I raise a hand and cup the side of his face.
“Right here.” He shoves his knee between my legs, quickening my
heart. “You remember your safe words?”
“Yes, but—”
He cuts me off with a kiss that conveys the depth of his lust and fury.
It’s hard and demanding, yet the knee pressing into my clit makes my
nerves tingle.
 My mind tosses away all fears of public indecency. Any scrap of
modesty I might be holding onto drift like smoke in the wind. My pulse
rolls a rapid drumbeat, wanting him to escalate.
I need this man. Need him to fuck me right now against the fence
His hands are everywhere—around the back of my neck, on my thighs,
around my waist. As he devours me with his lips, it’s like he can’t get
enough of touching my body.
I fist the fabric around his shoulders, holding him in place. There’s no
telling what will happen next, but I need to commit this first kiss to memory
because it might be our last.
Professor Segul hooks his hands beneath my thighs and raises me higher
up against the fence post, so I can wrap my legs around his hips. I cling
onto him like he’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“You’ll be punished,” he mumbles.
“I know.”
The kiss deepens, and he explores every crevice of my mouth with his
tongue. I lose myself in Professor Segul. In his touch, his taste, his scent.
While he lavishes me with such all-consuming hunger, the alleyway
disappears, and it’s just me and him and this unending need.
I slip a hand beneath his hoodie, finding him wearing nothing
underneath. My fingers slide over his smooth skin, and I can almost feel the
parts marked with ink.
“Fuck,” he groans as his erection presses against my clit. “You’re
infuriating.”
“Sorry.” I writhe against his hard shaft. Moisture soaks my knickers,
and I’m sure it also stains his sweatpants.
As sex between us goes, this is pretty vanilla. No leather, no toys, no
dungeon furniture. Just a man and a woman and their mutual desire. This is
the closest I’ve ever felt to Professor Segul.
I don’t care that we’re out in public. I never want this connection to end.
 He slips his hand between our bodies, his thick finger brushing over my
covered clit.
“You’re so wet for me,” he rasps.
My cheeks heat, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening between
my legs. The muscles of my pussy clench and spasm in time with my pulse,
eager for his cock to stretch me open, desperate to be filled.
I shouldn’t be this aroused after the events of today. Shouldn’t feel like I
want to peel off my clothes and have him fuck me in a public alleyway like
I’m a cheap whore.
As his fingers run gentle strokes over my clothed clit, I jerk my head to
the side.
“Tell me something, Phoenix,” he says.
“What?”
“How much do you want this?”
My jaw clenches. “You know I do.”
“I want to hear you beg.”
Now, I grind my teeth. So, this was what he meant earlier about respect.
This is another of his games. Since he can’t tie me to some contraption and
doesn’t feel like having me on my knees, he wants me to grovel.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Please, what?” he asks.
“You know what I want.” I reply.
His teeth clamp down at the juncture of my neck, sending a bolt of
arousal straight to my core. Shit. That shouldn’t have felt so good, but at
this stage, anything this man does to me would feel like heaven.
Professor Segul had a choice. He could keep quiet and have the
abductors deliver Veer. I probably would have ended up an unfortunate
casualty, but he would guarantee the safety of his mother. The second
option was to risk his mother’s life, saving me from a fate worse than
abduction or even death.
 He chose me.
I grab the side of his face and look him straight in the eye. “I want you
to fuck me.”
His brows rise. “Elaborate.”
“Bloody hell, Professor—”
“Marius,” he says. “Just for today.”
My heart flutters. I can’t tell if that’s because this is our last time.
Thinking that I might never see him after this would kill the mood. I also
don’t want to ask a bunch of questions and ruin the moment.
I need this, even if he disappears from my life.
“Alright,” I murmur. “Marius, I want you to fuck me in this alleyway,
where anyone can see us. I need you…” I swallow. “I need you to fuck me
nice and hard until I cum around your huge cock.”
Satisfaction rumbles in his chest. I might not be a scholar of literature or
even eloquent with words, but knowing that something I’ve said has
pleased him gives me a thrill of pride.
He pushes the fabric of my knickers to one side, exposing my pussy.
“If I had the time, I would eat your tight little cunt until you squirted.”
“Where are you going—”
He enters me with two fingers, filling me with bolts of pleasure.
My mouth opens in a silent scream.
“You’re so eager for my cock.”
Every muscle in and around my pussy spasms with pleasure. For the
next few seconds even my lungs tighten, and I’m frozen around him until I
can finally exhale.
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice breathy. “What are you going to do about it?”
As his thumb brushes over my clit, sensation surges up my spine,
making all the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I shiver
against his broad body and hiss.
 “You’re so responsive,” he growls into my ear. “I love toying with you.
I love seeing how your body twists at my command.”
Before I can say a word in my defense, he rips off my underwear, balls
it in one hand, and shoves it in his pocket.
“What are you going to do with that?” I whisper.
“What do you think?”
I shake my head because I really need to hear the words.
“Every time we’re apart, I’m going to make myself cum, filling my
nostrils with the scent of your sweet cunt.”
My lips move, but the only sound I make is a moan. He works his
fingers in and out of my channel, filling me, stretching me, preparing me
for his cock. His thumb worries at my aching clit and brushes over every
slick fold. My muscles pulse and tighten around his thick digits, needing
more.
I pant through my parted lips, wanting his cock but saying nothing
because I’m desperate for this moment to last. It’s a miracle that Odin
allowed him to live, or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Professor Segul killed Thor
and the other men before escaping.
He slips his fingers from my pussy, leaving me clenching around
nothing.
My eyes widen. “Wait, don’t take them out.”
The professor lines up the tip of his cock at my entrance, making me
shiver with anticipation.
“You want my cock?”
“Please,” I whisper.
“How much?”
“More than anything.”
“Then take it.”
He enters me, and that’s when I remember he’s built like a stallion.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fifty

PHOENIX

I tremble as Professor Segul’s massive dick opens me up with an incredible

stretch. There’s so much of him that I’m not sure I can take it all.
“F-fuck!” I make a choking sound in the back of my throat. “You’re
huge.”
“Easy now,” he says. “We’ll make it work.”
He presses soft kisses over my jaw and down my neck. “Breathe,
Phoenix. I’ll take care of you. I’ll soften you up and make it fit.”
The sound of my name on his lips makes the backs of my eyes sting
again. He’s surprisingly gentle considering he promised to fuck me with
disrespect.
I inhale deeply, trying to make my muscles relax.
“You’re doing so well.” His deep voice sets my nerves aflame, but it’s
nothing compared to how his cockhead pushes into me.
I flutter around his girth, adjusting to a pleasure so intense that it
borders on pain. His heart pounds against my chest as he enters me, inch by
delicious inch.
When he fills me to the hilt, I groan.
 The arm wrapped around my lower back tightens. It’s like he never
wants to let me go. “You feel so good,” he murmurs into my ear. “I want to
stay inside you like this forever.”
Professor Segul’s eyes meet mine for several heartbeats as I clench
around him. I’m panting so hard through my nostrils that I swear I’ve left
condensation on his shoulder. At this angle, it feels like my organs have to
rearrange around his huge shaft.
When my breathing calms, I nod for him to continue.
“What’s your safe word?” he asks.
“Red.”
“And if you need me to slow down?”
“Amber,” I reply. “Why?”
Professor Segul pulls back his hips, and I almost want to protest before
he thrusts hard with a jolt of pleasure that makes me see fireworks.
I yell. “Fuck—”
He clamps a hand around my mouth.
My muscles seize around him, and all I can do is cling onto his
shoulders while he fucks me against this fence post. He takes me hard and
slow with a rhythmic thrust to his hips that makes every pleasure center on
my body feel like it’s been dialed up to eleven.
His hot breath fills my ear as he pounds into me, and I keen and cry for
more.
“Fuck,” he growls. “So hot and wet and tight. No matter what the
Bestlassons say, I will never give you up.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope this is a promise for the
future. I’m breathing hard, processing the rush of sensations coursing
through my body. The more I whimper the quicker Professor Segul’s pace
becomes, until it’s so fast and merciless that my mouth opens into a silent
scream.
 The distant traffic mingles with the sound of the sea, and I hear the
snap, crackle, and pop of the fire through our combined gasping.
Somewhere on the edge of my awareness, I imagine the opening of a
sash window, followed by footsteps. The thought of someone catching us
against the fence takes my pleasure to a dangerous precipice.
A familiar pressure builds up inside my core, and I’m so close to
orgasm that my legs start trembling.
Professor Segul slows his thrusts and wraps a hand around my throat.
“Do you want to cum?” he says, his voice low with lust.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Then you’ll work for it.”
I grind my teeth, remembering the time he had me hump his shoe.
Digging the pads of my fingers into his shoulders, I jerk my hips, building
up the friction.
My pussy tightens like a vise around his cock, making him hiss through
his teeth.
Right now, I’m determined to make him cum.
“Eager girl,” he growls. “You take your pleasure where you can find it,
even if it’s in an alleyway behind a burning house.”
His taunts roll over me, adding to the humiliation of being fucked in a
public alley. This is along the same lines of embarrassing as the wine bottle,
but my body processes it as the most intense arousal.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to cut off his words, but deep down
there’s no denying how much I enjoy the degradation.
“Eyes on me,” he growls with a hint that he might take away that thick
cock if I don’t obey.
My eyes snap open.
Professor Segul’s pupils are huge pools of black, surrounded by tiny
rings of blue. The angles of his face are rigid, tight, as though he’s holding
back.
 I want him to come inside me in a desperate rush. I want us to climax
together.
But I can’t stop grinding my hips. Can’t stop the sparks of pleasure
racing through my clit.
“Good girl,” he says, deep and low. “You’re all mine, and you’re going
to cum around my cock.”
The command in his tone pushes me over that edge. My orgasm shatters
me from the inside, leaving my muscles quivering around his girth.
I cry out, only for him to swallow the sound in a kiss.
Professor Segul fucks my mouth with his tongue, while he draws out
my climax with powerful thrusts. Every inch of my body trembles through
the pleasure.
I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but ride out the
sensations.
Arousal trickles down my inner thighs, and my body goes limp. My legs
slide down from around his waist and drop to the floor. The only thing
saving me from crumpling like a broken marionette is Professor Segul’s
strong arm around my back.
He tilts up my head, forcing our eyes to meet. There’s a warmth in his
gaze I haven’t noticed before until now.
“You look so good, sullied and spent against the wall.”
My heart swells at the praise, and my chest fills with a sense of
satisfaction that I can provide a measure of comfort, even though he’s gone
through hell.
“Ready for more?” he asks.
I give him an eager nod. “Always.”
“That’s my girl. Now, turn around and face the fence.”
I do as he says.
“Hold onto the post.”
I cling to the concrete stake with both hands.
 He lifts my right leg to the side, exposing my pussy to the elements. The
sea breeze blows across my hot flesh and cools the streams of arousal
trickling down my thighs.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Look up and around.” With his free hand, he tilts my head.
Rows upon rows of tall windows overlook the alleyway. Anyone still in
their homes and not looking out into the garden square can probably see a
masked man in a hoodie fucking a girl in a miniskirt.
The thought of being watched sends my cheeks burning anew, and the
sensation spreads down my neck and across my chest.
I swear that the blush warms my pussy, because it now feels immune to
the effects of the breeze.
“Do you like being fucked in public like a common slut?”
“No,” I say through clenched teeth.
He slips his fingers between my folds. I’m so wet that the noise is
obscene. “Your cunt says otherwise.”
I’m breathing hard through flared nostrils, my thighs quaking. “Are you
going to fuck me or not?”
The chuckle that fills my ears is so wicked and dark that my pulse
quickens.
He rubs the head of his cock over my swollen clit before lining it up at
my entrance.
“You’re going to regret making demands.”
Before I can ask what he means, he shoves his erection into me, sending
a rush of sparks through my pelvis. Every butterfly in my stomach riots at
the intrusion, and I inhale a sharp gasp.
This is a new angle, and it’s pretty deep. The muscles around my lungs
tighten, and my eyes go wide.
“Breathe,” he snarls.
 “I’m. Trying,” I reply through clenched teeth. “But you’re so fucking
big. I don’t know if I can take it all from this angle.”
“You will, even if it means ruining your pretty little cunt.”
A whimper catches in my throat, but my clit throbs enthusiastically at
the threat.
Professor Segul fucks me so hard and fast, that I can’t help but cry out. I
rest my head against the fence post with both hands scrambling at its sides.
The one leg I’m standing on strains and struggles to stay upright as he takes
me at a brutal pace.
“You’re mine,” he snarls as he fucks into me. “Who do you belong to?”
“You.”
“Say.” Thrust.
“My.” Thrust.
“Name.” Thrust.
“Professor Segul,” I cry.
“Phoenix,” he growls with a warning that suggests he might stop.
“I belong to Marius,” I blurt. “I belong to Marius Fucking Segul.”
He huffs, and I’m sure the sound is amusement.
“What’s it like to be fucked so close to dozens of police officers?” he
says. “How does it feel to be pleasured by a dead man?”
My head snaps up. “You’re what—”
“You know better than to babble.” He snaps his hips, entering me so
deeply that I see stars. “Use your words like a good girl.”
At that command, I lose all sense of my line of questioning and blurt,
“It’s the best thing ever.” My words tumble over each other. “I’ve never had
it so deep or hard. I never want it to end.”
He runs his fingers back and forth over my clit with slow strokes that
send tiny bolts of pleasure up and down my inner thighs. My muscles ripple
around his girth, and it’s as though he’s playing my pussy like an
instrument. Every time a climax comes close, he eases his caresses and
pulls me off the edge.
Gripping the fence post tight enough that my knuckles turn white, I
glare at him over my shoulder. “Marius!”
“Do you want to cum again?” He grips my hips harder.
I clench around his thick length. “Please.”
The chuckle he makes is bittersweet. “As much as I enjoy fucking with
you, I have to cut this rendezvous short.”
“Why?”
His finger and thumb close over my clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of
nerves along both sides.
An orgasm tears through my core, cutting off my words, and I clench
my teeth to ride through the sensations. Is this really the last I’ll see of
Professor Segul?
My eyes burn—both with sorrow and with the intensity of my second
climax.
“Bend over double and hold onto your ankles,” he says as he pulls out,
still deliciously hard.
Straightening, I turn to meet his eyes. “Marius?”
The bandana is back around his face with the hoodie and baseball cap
obscuring his eyes.
“Get into position.”
I tilt forward and downward, placing my hands at the base of my shins.
“Like this?”
He flips up my skirt, exposing my pussy and ass.
Professor Segul grips the base of his cock, its shaft and head glistening
with my juices.
My skin heats at the evidence of my arousal.
He kicks my legs out to the side, making me grab onto my ankles.
 My stomach dips. I’ve never in my life been so publicly exposed. It’s
exhilarating, like riding a roller coaster.
“See how much you enjoyed being fucked in public?” he says. “I’ve
never had you cum so hard.”
“You’re wrong,” I lie.
He spanks my pussy with a sting that my nerves interpret as pleasure.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll babble the truth,” he growls, the
pad of his thumb rubbing circles over my asshole.
My jaw drops, and I draw in a shocked breath. Don’t tell me he’s about
to stick his huge dick into my ass without lube!
Out of the corner of my eye, I’m sure I see a flash of black and
fluorescent yellow pass the other end of the alleyway.
My heart skips. Was that the police?
Professor Segul’s large hand grips my hip, and he squeezes one cheek,
spreading me apart.
“You have the tightest, prettiest, little pucker.”
My pulse beats hard and fast, muffling all the surrounding sound, save
for his voice.
“What are you going to do?” I whisper.
“First, I’m going to run my tongue over your sweet ass until you’re
sobbing.”
A breath catches in the back of my throat. If anyone else made a claim
like that, I’d call bullshit, but Professor Segul is capable of anything.
I gulp, a shiver skittering down my spine and settling on my tailbone.
“What next?”
He drops down to his knees and grabs my asscheeks with both hands.
His thumbs are so close to my hole that it trembles.
When his hot breath fans over my exposed asshole, and awakens
thousands of tiny pleasure centers, my eyes go wide.
“Then I’ll finger you until you beg for my cock,” he asks.
 “Please,” I whisper.
Professor Segul breathes so hard and fast that my sphincter muscles
quiver. No one—not even a doctor—has ever seen me spread so bare.
I’m shaking so much. With urgency, with need, with impatience.
Waiting for his tongue is unbearable.
“Marius,” I say, my voice wavering. “If you don’t rim me right now,
I’m going to die.”
That earns a tiny snort of laughter, and my insides light up at having
improved his mood. He places a soft kiss straight on my pucker that makes
anticipation skitter up the length of my back.
I bite down on my bottom lip. “Oh, fuck.”
He ghosts the flat of his tongue over the fine hairs covering my most
intimate part, sending an explosion of tingles.
My calf muscles tighten, and I rock forward on the balls of my feet.
“Careful not to overbalance,” he says, his warm breath drifting over my
skin like a caress.
“A-alright.” I lower my weight back onto my heels.
Professor Segul grabs me firmly by the hips and buries his head
between my cheeks and lavishes my asshole with an open-mouthed kiss that
makes my toes curl.
Bloody hell. I’d expected gentle kisses and subtle strokes of his tongue
—a slow and sensual build-up. Not this assault of sensations.
My arms and legs won’t stop trembling, both from pleasure and shock.
“Your ass tastes just as good as your pussy,” he says between licks. “I’m
going to feast on you like it’s my last meal.”
Professor Segul makes a tight circle over my clit with one thumb and
runs the other up and down my wet folds. When he pushes his tongue into
my asshole, it’s an explosion of new sensations.
Arousal trickles down my thighs, and my pussy clenches and
unclenches like a fist.
 As Professor Segul fucks my ass with his tongue, every muscle in my
body relaxes. I’ve never been this open with another person, and it’s more
intimate than anything we’ve done before.
Having his tongue there gives me a sense of acceptance that speaks
louder than words.
Warmth spreads across my chest, reaching my thickening throat. I gulp
away the emotions and focus on the moment.
My emotions get pushed to the side as he eases two fingers into my
pussy. Quickening the strokes of his tongue, he feels around until he hits the
spot that makes me go feral. My muscles flutter as his fingers rub up and
down, up and down until the pressure around my clit builds to breaking
point.
It’s too much, not enough.
I’m desperate for his cock.
I should be scandalized. This is so intimate, so improper, so indecent.
Nice girls don’t get rimmed and fingered in alleyways. At least not in broad
daylight. But knowing that anyone in those houses can see us only adds to
the thrill.
“You’re dripping for me,” he mutters, his face still buried in my ass.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Wringing wet.”
“Fuck.”
“You’re going to cum for me once more,” he says, his thumb pressing
hard on my clit. “Here, in this alley in broad daylight with the police around
the corner and dozens of windows overlooking you exposing that sweet
ass.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Phoenix,” he growls. “Now!”
His thumb presses down on my clit, sending an explosion of pleasure up
my belly, down my legs, and across every nerve.
 The muscles of my pussy spasm around his thick fingers, each
contraction so powerful that they border on pain.
My vision goes black, and the entire world tilts with the force of my
climax. I stumble forward, my arms splaying out to catch me before I fall,
but Professor Segul pulls me upright.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice the only thing keeping me
tethered to the world as my body convulses with an orgasm that should
have its own Richter Scale. “You’re always safe with me.”
His words send my soul into a state of deep relaxation that pushes away
thoughts of abductions, forced marriages, and murder.
Professor Segul leans my back against the concrete post and asks,
“Ready for one more round?”
“Always,” I gurgle, my body limp.
“Eyes on me.”
I lift my gaze to meet his eyes.
All traces of tension are gone, leaving only warmth. My heart soars at
the confirmation that I’ve distracted him from his troubles… at least for a
few moments.
“Wrap your arms around my neck.”
I cling onto professor Segul’s shoulders, holding him so tight that our
chests press together and that our rapid heartbeats become one.
He wraps an arm around my back and lifts my left leg, so I’m balancing
on my right, and wraps it around his waist.
His cockhead rubs against my over-sensitized clit before lining up with
my entrance.
Excitement surges across my nerves, lighting me up like fireworks.
“No matter what you hear about me, I have no regrets,” he says, his
voice harder than steel. “Do you understand that, Phoenix?”
The intensity in his gaze makes my heart flip.
It almost sounds like he’s about to die.
 I swallow hard and study his features, but all I find there is affection.
“What are you talking about—”
He cuts off my question with a hard thrust that has me seeing double.
Oh, fuck. This is what he meant when he talked about fucking me with
disrespect.
“S-so big,” I say, my voice choked.
“You’ll take what I give you like a good little slut,” he says with a hard
thrust. “Want to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you were made for me,” he growls. “See how perfectly we
fit?”
He’s right. The anal play has made me so soft and pliant that I could
take anything.
Each thrust detonates explosions of pleasure that make me dig my nails
into his shoulders. Either the hoodie he wears is too thick or he doesn’t
mind the discomfort.
Someone from far away clears their throat.
My heart makes a quadruple backflip. Is that the police?
Professor Segul’s breaths quicken and his thrusts become erratic. I grind
against him, determined to time my next climax with his.
I dart my gaze to the end of the alleyway, where a dark figure stands and
watches.
Shit.
Whoever’s out there can see me getting fucked against the wall.
Humiliation burns my cheeks, and the heat of embarrassment spreads
down my neck, over my breasts, and between my legs.
I lose track of my breaths, and it feels like I’m going to faint. Professor
Segul fucks me without mercy or restraint, and my eyes blur with tears.
Spots dance in my vision and all thoughts of the other man in the
alleyway somersaults out of my mind.
 He pounds into me so hard that I can’t speak. I can barely even breathe.
Oh fuck.
I’m so close…
His thrusts become uneven, even though his pace is relentless. As he
swells inside my walls, I know he’s close. I suck in a deep breath just in
time for my body to erupt into a knee-trembling climax.
My entire body quakes with the force of my spasms. Arousal trickles
down my inner thighs, leaving my right leg collapsing.
Professor Segul’s arm tightens around my back, holding me in place
while his cock hardens, throbs, and then jerks.
Jets of hot cum splatter against my cervix as he pulses inside me. My
orgasm moves in tandem with his spurts and for a moment, it feels like
we’ve become one.
This is even more intimate than getting my ass licked. I’ve never felt
closer to another human being the way I do right now with Professor Segul.
“I want to stay inside you,” he says through ragged breaths. “Savor this
moment, but I need to put you somewhere safe.”
“Where are you going?” I whisper.
“I deposited more than enough into your account to pay your expenses
for the next few years. If things go as planned, I will find you.”
When he pulls out of me, a chasm opens up in my heart, and my chest
fills with a sob.
I can’t even voice a protest because the man at the end of the alleyway
makes his move.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fifty-One

MARIUS

Thor Bestlasson strolls toward us with his hands stuffed in his pockets. As I
tuck myself away, the bastard has the nerve to smirk as though we’re
friends.
“Stand behind me.” I steady Phoenix on her feet and pull her toward my
back.
“Isn’t that one of Odin’s men?” she asks, her voice quiet enough for
only us to hear.
“His son,” I reply. “Don’t worry about him.”
I’d like to say Thor is harmless, but he’s just as ruthless as his father.
The only difference I see between the two apart from their age and build is
that the son is decidedly less dour.
Thor’s features split into a grin I want to punch off his face.
“Well, well, you sure know how to work your way through the seven
stages of grief.” He rocks forward on his tiptoes as though that will give
him a better look at Phoenix. “Isn’t that my cousin’s girl?”
She grabs handfuls of fabric at the back of my hoodie. “I already told
Odin where to stick his marriage.”
 Thor raises both palms. “Easy. I just came to get your professor.”
“And I told you to wait for me in the car,” I snarl.
The smirk on his features fades to something more serious. “Crius is
making his move. We’ve got to reach the morgue before him.”
“What’s going on?” Phoenix asks in a small voice.
I turn around and gaze into her wide gray eyes. Her pupils are still
dilated, despite the brightness of the day. Sunlight bounces off the stray
hairs framing her face, coloring them a rich copper. I’ve never seen her look
so vibrant.
There’s a smattering of faint freckles across her nose that I hadn’t fully
appreciated until now that melts away the last shard of ice in my heart. Her
lips are so red and swollen that I want to spend the rest of the day losing
myself in her kiss.
“Marius?” she whispers, pulling me out of my reverie.
“The Bestlassons and I have formed a temporary truce.” My gaze slides
in the direction of Thor, who keeps a respectful distance.
“You’re going to kill your father,” she whispers.
A knot forms in my gut. I want to tell her that Crius has it coming to
him, but I also don’t want Phoenix implicated in what I hope to be a brutal
murder.
“When you get back to the university, I want you to stay away from that
boy,” I say, avoiding the subject.
“Alright.” She lowers her lashes, her lips tightening. “And I’m sorry.”
“It’s me who should apologize for getting you entangled in this mess.” I
cup the side of her face and lean in to press a kiss on her swollen lips.
The mingled scents of citrus and vanilla fill my nostrils. It takes every
effort to tear myself away from Phoenix, but if I want a future with her, then
I need to complete this one task.
Thor clears his throat.
 He’s surprisingly amiable for a man rumored to have executed every
high-ranking employee of Casino Asgard.
I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. “We’re driving Miss Stahl back to
the university.”
“What’s wrong with ordering her an Uber?” Thor asks.
“If you want the rest of today to go smoothly, you’ll help me escort this
young lady back to safety.”

Less than an hour later, after making sure Phoenix is securely behind the
gates of the university, I stand within the antechamber of an examination
room in the City Mortuary.
Cold air seeps in through the door I’m hiding behind, which has a
window overlooking the corpses.
Mother’s body lies beneath a white sheet on a metal table and beside her
is the charred corpse of the man Thor burned in the fire. He was one of
Crius’s minions, sent with a smartphone to deliver a message.
There was no point in listening to it when we needed the fire to flush
Crius out from his hideout. Crius won’t be able to resist coming down to
gloat if he thinks the Bestlassons murdered me and set the villa alight.
Thor and his men are hiding in some of the rooms lining the hallway.
I’m not naive enough to think they’ll allow me to live once I’ve executed
Crius. It’s why I took the back up burner phone, brought extra guns, and
asked Quinn to organize a getaway vehicle.
Quinn is still in survival mode. I can’t blame her.
It’s hard to believe that Mother masterminded her own abduction.
Mother kept that side of herself hidden from Quinn. Now, Quinn must
remain hidden until after I’ve made peace with the Bestlasson family.
 Grief wraps around my chest, until my lungs fall still and the edges of
my vision turn gray. Relief and sorrow war through my insides until I’m
reeling for breath.
I gaze through the gap in the door and force out a long sigh.
Mother is gone.
It’s over.
There are a hundred things I want to ask the woman lying beneath that
sheet, starting with why she kept returning to Crius, even though he
mistreated her at every opportunity.
She was his prisoner for two decades, locked in that apartment and
never permitted to leave. Her only freedom had been the balcony and the
few times Crius took her out, only to return her broken and bruised.
“Mother,” I murmur through the window of the antechamber. “What
hold did that creature have on you?”
I shake my head. Even though the murders I carried out when I was
younger had bought our physical freedom, Mother’s mind had always been
his captive.
It’s the reason why she continued to see him after he had released us
and the reason why she concocted this plan for me to save his legitimate
son.
Quinn said Mother was so conditioned to being the property of Crius
that she never embraced her freedom. She called it baby elephant syndrome
and described a situation where the young elephant learns to give up trying
to escape, even after it grows large enough to break its chains.
“You’re free from him now,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Perhaps
you’ll find a semblance of peace in death.”
The examination room’s door handle turns downward, and my heart
skips. I slip out of sight into the antechamber before it swings open.
A figure in black steps into the examination room and walks up to
Mother’s body and pulls back the sheet. His head is bowed, but I already
know from his athletic frame that this isn’t Crius. My birth father is far too
cautious to enter a room without backup.
The man stares down at Mother for several seconds before reaching into
his pocket and extracting a phone.
“Sir, I’ve found her.” He pauses, walks to the other table, pulls back the
sheet, and winces. “Hard to tell who the second one belongs to. Looks like
they bashed in his skull and burned him to death.”
Holding my breath, I recede further into my hiding spot and hope Crius
takes the bait.
I hear the man walking a circuit around the tables. He tries the door of
the antechamber, making my heart skip. Fortunately, it’s still locked.
“Alright, sir. Coast is clear. I’ll be waiting.”
He slips the phone back into his pocket and tilts his head, staring down
at the charred corpses.
“Paranoid, fucking coward,” he mutters under his breath.
I swallow back a bitter laugh. It’s only paranoia when they’ve lived a
blameless life. Crius Vanir has spent decades trading and imprisoning
women like cattle. It’s time for him to be slaughtered like an animal.
The next wait feels like an hour. I’m so focused on who might step in
through the door that I don’t bother to keep track of the time.
Eventually, the door opens, and the knot in my stomach loosens, only
for it to tighten again when a man I don’t recognize steps into the room.
“All clear?” the newcomer asks.
The first one nods. “All clear.”
When man number two steps out, I reach into my holster, pull out the
gun, and remind myself not to make the same mistake as last time and miss.
The moment Crius enters the room, there’ll be no time to berate, no
time to hesitate. I must take out his guards first and shoot him before he has
time to run into the hallway.
There will be no slow torture, no last words. I will kill Crius and leave.
 “Is that understood, Marius?” I whisper under my breath.
I give myself a sharp nod.
The door opens again, and Crius steps inside, wearing a black jacket
with an oversized black cravat. He walks with a limp and leans heavily on a
cane, looking frail compared to the man I shot at the age of sixteen.
My stomach plummets, and I pause, wondering if I was the cause of his
weakened condition.
When the door clicks shut behind Crius, leaving him making his way to
Mother’s body, I take hold of the key I left in the lock, inhale a deep,
fortifying breath, and remind myself to make a quick execution.
Gunshots sound from the hallway. My jaw clenches. Thor and his
people already got started.
Crius stumbles to the side, holding onto the edge of Mother’s table for
balance. “You two, go out there.”
Both men reach into their jackets and extract their guns. I unlock the
door and burst out, shooting the smaller one first in the head and then his
larger associate between the eyes.
Crius turns around, his eyes widening, his mouth slack. A heartbeat
later, he smiles. Delight twinkles in his blue eyes, as though he isn’t trapped
in a mortuary and facing down his worst enemy.
“It would seem that rumors of your demise were exaggerated, my boy.”
His gaze softens. “I couldn’t believe you of all my sons would succumb to
the Bestlassons. It’s why I risked everything to see for myself.”
Common sense growls at me to shoot him. Shoot him now, before he
worms his way out of retribution. Now, before he pulls out his own gun.
I ignore the voice of reason and continue toward Crius.
“Why?” I snarl.
His brows pull together. “I don’t follow.”
“You killed Mother.”
 All traces of his smile vanish. “I swear to you, son, I didn’t touch your
mother these past weeks. Not once.”
The pulse between my ears pounds against my eardrums and fills my
skull with the resonance of rage. I walk to Mother’s table and yank off the
sheet. “What do you call this?”
Crius gazes down from Mother’s face to the deep slash on her throat.
“Monica always took my words so literally,” he says with a sigh.
“When I said she was dead to me, it wasn’t an instruction for her to commit
suicide.”
“What?” I raise my gun, aiming at the spot between his eyes.
“Ah.” Crius raises a slender palm. “I wouldn’t do that, my boy. Not
when my men have your surrogate sister, Quinn.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. It’s impossible.
No, it’s probable.
Crius would never venture out where I could kill him without a
contingency plan.
“When did you take her?” I ask.
“They confirmed Quinn’s capture moments before I stepped into the
City Morgue,” he says with a gentle smile. “If anything happens to me, my
men have instructions to auction her to one of my overseas associates.”
My jaw clenches.
“It will take months to track her down and by then, it will be too late.”
Crius nods to emphasize his point.
The edges of my vision turn red, and my breath shallows. I couldn’t
save Mother, and now I can’t save Quinn.
A voice in the back of my head screams at me to focus. Focus on
everything I know about Quinn. About Crius Vanir. Focus on the fact that
he is no longer the all-powerful, forward-thinking monster of my childhood,
but a man who will say or do anything to stay alive.
“Prove it,” I say.
 His smile flickers. “I beg your pardon?”
“Where did you find Quinn?” I ask. “How? Show me a hostage video.
Anything.”
“Of course, my boy.” Crius reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.
I shoot his shoulder, all promises of a swift execution forgotten.
He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his teeth. “Marius. Always so
impetuous.”
The hand in his inside pocket falls, as does the gun, which skitters
beneath the table.
“You lied about Quinn?” I snarl.
Crius releases his cane and clutches the edge of the table for balance. “I
hoped to use your weakness for women to my advantage.”
“You’re pathetic.”
He wheezes. “If that’s not you under the sheet, who is it?”
“Your man.”
I slip my gun back into the holster, forgetting all thoughts of a swift kill.
Shooting is too good for this bastard.
He gazes up at me, his blue eyes shining. “Marius, my boy—”
My fist meets his jaw. “You are no father of mine.”
Crius falls backward, hitting the ground with a pained hiss.
“Be reasonable,” he wheezes. “When Monica came to me with her plan,
I saw to it that nobody got hurt or killed at my hands.”
By now, the sounds of shooting have stopped, and the City Mortuary
falls silent. Rapid, rasping breaths grate against my eardrums as I advance
toward the fallen man.
He looks pathetic, lying on the floor, trying to scoot backward toward
the exit. I reach into the inside pocket of my jacket and extract my knife.
“Marius,” he rasps. “Don’t do this.”
“How many women have you had in this position?” I snarl. “How many
of them have begged and cried and pleaded for mercy?”
 He clutches his bleeding shoulder and winces. “You will regret killing
your father.”
“Have you lost count of how many lives you’ve ruined?” I ask through
clenched teeth.
The door creaks open, and I flick my gaze to the direction of the sound
to find Thor slipping inside. As he closes the door behind him, I pull my
gun back out of its holster and turn my attention back to Crius.
“May I ask a favor?” he whispers.
“No.”
I kneel at his side, pull him up by the injured shoulder, enjoying his
pained hiss. He doesn’t flinch or struggle or fight. Perhaps he already
knows he’s defeated. Perhaps he doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction of
seeing him suffer.
As much as I want this moment to last forever, I’m still surrounded by
enemies.
Positioning the knife three inches below his ear, I slice through his
carotid artery. Crius gasps as warm blood spurts out of the wound and soaks
my hand.
“Make sure my other boys don’t starve. They’ll be trapped in their
apartments without me to visit their mothers.”
My nostrils flare at the confirmation that I wasn’t the only one. “How
do I find them?”
“There’s a file on my phone. Use my retina to access it. The password is
beauty.”
I push back my disgust to focus on getting the information I need to
save his prisoners. “All lower case?”
“Yes,” he rasps.
“Is there anything else I should know?”
“Don’t desecrate my body.” He stares up at me, his pupils shrinking.
“Have it sent to my wife and family for a funeral.”
 “I was talking about the boys and women,” I snarl.
His eyes widen, and his mouth gapes open. “Marius?”
“You will die unmarked, unmourned, unremembered, just like all the
women you victimized.”
“And my son?”
I shove him to the floor. “If you truly cared for your legitimate
offspring, you wouldn’t have mounted up so many enemies.”
“Viktor is innocent,” Crius clutches at his neck wound, trying to stem
the surge of blood. “An enemy of mine tried to get to me through him. His
fiancée was killed, and Viktor avenged her death.”
I glance at Thor.
He nods. “The man who killed Viktor’s fiancée was high up within the
Irish mob. They would have retaliated, and then Crius would have struck
back, starting a war no one can afford. Father put Viktor in Seacroft to keep
the peace.”
My jaw tightens. “I regret failing to kill you when I was sixteen.”
Crius gasps, his eyes bulging, his mouth opening and closing but
making no sound. I stand over him until the hand on his neck drops to the
floor. Light fades from his eyes, and he exhales his final breath.
The air in my lungs still for a moment. I wait for him to move or to
mutter a last word, but he remains still.
Crius is finally dead.
None of the relief or euphoria I imagined from this moment
materializes. The physical act of slaughtering Crius is no different to any of
my other kills.
He died just like any other man.
Thor claps. “That was cold.”
I raise my gun. “What’s next?”
“Father ordered me to kill you if you didn’t fulfill your end of the
bargain.”
 “And if I did?”
“He wants you to assign him a substantial part of the Vanir property
portfolio, seeing as his legitimate son is imprisoned. No one knows where
Crius put the daughter. She’s probably ignorant of his affairs.”
“Anything else?”
Thor shrugs. “You’re fired, and he’s revoked your security clearance to
the university.”
“I thought he might.”
I make a mental note to mail Phoenix a burner phone first thing
tomorrow morning. She’s coming to London with me.
“Do we have a deal?” Thor asks.
“Only if it means the end of all the trafficking and brothels.”
“Father will be happy to close down those businesses. He’s only
interested in the real estate.” Thor says with a nod. “We’ll be in touch.”
He walks to the door and pauses. “You’ve got a smart girl, by the way.
No one’s ever managed to escape Father’s forced marriages, not even me. I
won’t say a word about what I saw in the alley.”
My eyes narrow, and he backs away with a smirk. I’ve killed men for
far less, but silencing Thor when I’m alone and surrounded by his men is
suicide.
And I want to stay alive to take care of Phoenix.
I wait for him to step out through the door before lowering my gun.
That property portfolio was never mine to begin with, and if it gets the
Bestlasson family off my back, I’m happy to make the sacrifice.
A group of men in white jumpsuits come in, holding bags of equipment.
I step aside, letting them get on with their clean-up duties.
I lean against the wall, watching them load the two men I shot into body
bags. The phone in my pocket buzzes.
The message on screen says, Leave through the service entrance around
the back of the building. Silver Audi. Keys in glove compartment.
 My shoulders collapse with relief. Crius really was bluffing about
having taken Quinn.
I let my gaze drift to Mother’s pale body, which still lies partially
exposed beneath the sheet. Her betrayal was disappointing, but I’m finally
free. Free of the specter of my father. Free of the threat that Crius will hurt
the ones I love.
Free to love Phoenix.

OceanofPDF.com
 Epilogue

TEN MONTHS LATER

I step out of my bathroom and into the master suite to find that Marius has
laid out a dress on the four-poster bed. It’s a salmon-pink wraparound made
of the kind of lightweight silk that would blow up in a breeze.
On the left is an open shoe box containing a pair of nude-colored
sandals with straps that wind around the foot and ankles. On the left of the
dress lies a Tiffany gift box containing an ornate, silver wrist cuff and
diamond-encrusted drop earrings.
There’s no sign of Marius, and his bathroom door is open. He’s
probably downstairs, fixing breakfast, or still making preparations for the
graduation ceremony.
My teeth worry at my bottom lip. A dress with such a deep V needs a
necklace. Making a mental note to search through my jewelry dresser, I pad
across the room to my dressing table.
A giggle bubbles up from deep within my belly. Marius would call it a
jewelry armoire. When he’s not dealing with crap in the underworld or
playing the wicked professor, he’s working on a cryptocurrency textbook.
 The dressing table is an antique from France. Ivory-colored wood
adorned with polished vermeil standing on beautifully curved legs. Marius
calls the style Rococo. It’s in all the rooms of the house, except for the
kitchen and basement.
I lower myself onto the cushioned stool, gaze into the silver-framed
mirror, and smile at my reflection. These past few months have been
intense.
After I got expelled from Marina University, Marius pulled a few
strings to have me transferred to the London School of Finance. I had to
take a bullshit entrance exam. It was worth it because now I have a first-
class degree from one of Great Britain’s most prestigious universities.
Marius granted his father’s dying wish, and with the help of Quinn, he
tracked down all the women Crius had hidden across London. He ended up
having more brothers than he’d imagined and spent the rest of his sabbatical
tracking them down.
Some of them are just children, others adults who were also on a quest
to murder the man who had imprisoned their mothers.
The first one Marius found was seriously disturbed and had taken a girl
hostage to be his kitten. I shake my head, still not quite believing how one
man could ruin so many lives.
Marius’s footsteps echo across the hallway. I sit up, my heart fluttering.
Even though I’ve lived in his house since the day after we had sex in the
alleyway, I still get a thrill from his presence.
He strides in, already dressed in full academic regalia.
It’s a tomato-red gown that falls halfway down to his ankles with a
black front and matching stripes at the sleeves. He wears a cap instead of a
flat mortar board, because he has a phd.
Judging by his bare arms and feet, he’s wearing nothing underneath.
“Good morning, Professor.” My gaze drops to the long dildo in his
hand. The sight of it glistening with lube makes my ass clench.
 “What’s that you’ve got there?” I ask.
“A mace.” He twists the bottom, making it vibrate. “It’s a symbol of a
university’s authority to award degrees. Since it’s your graduation day, I
thought you deserved a little reward.”
Pleasant shivers run down my spine. “And here I was thinking you’d
buy me a car.”
Marius smirks. “It’s parked outside.”
“Which color?” I rise off my stool, my breath quickening.
“Red.”
Without another word, I rush across the room, my feet sinking into the
silver rug by the four-poster bed.
The master suite is on the top floor of our house, so it would be
impossible to get a proper look at my new car. I don’t want to waste time
going downstairs when Marius is in such a playful mood.
I stop at the huge sash windows. They’re nearly as tall as I am and made
of smaller panes of glass, each set within a frame. We live in Belgravia
Square Garden, in one of the few Georgian houses that haven’t been
converted into embassies.
Marius chose this location because of its security. We live among
important foreign dignitaries and are half a mile away from Buckingham
Palace. The streets are crawling with bodyguards and all manner of police.
Nobody ever comes here looking for trouble.
My gaze drops down to the cars parked across from the leafy garden
square. There’s a red convertible in front of Marius’s silver Maserati with a
bow wrapped around its soft top.
The flutter in my heart turns into a full-scale riot of butterflies. I whirl
around, finding Marius standing behind me, his eyes dark.
“Thank you.” I launch myself at him and wrap my arms around his
neck, not caring if I’m creasing his robes.
 Marius is already rock hard, his thick erection pressing into my belly. I
reach between our bodies and give him a gentle squeeze.
“You know better than to grope your professor,” he says in a chiding
voice that makes my pussy pulse.
“Sorry sir?” I reply with a giggle.
“I don’t think you’re sorry at all.” He draws back, his features stern. “In
fact, I think you did that on purpose to earn a better degree.”
My heart flips like a pancake. Now’s probably not the time to remind
him that the university already awarded me my first. As I run my tongue
along my bottom lip, Marius gazes down to track the movement.
“Naughty girl, fraternizing with a member of faculty on the morning of
your graduation.”
“I can’t help it, sir,” I say, trying to hide my smile.
His arm darts out, and he grabs my neck, making my breath catch. The
grip is firm but not tight, but I still rock forward on my tiptoes.
I can’t wait to see where this is going.
“This will be the last day I fuck you as your professor.”
I nod.
“Then we’d better make it one to remember.”
Marius stalks forward, putting enough pressure on my throat for me to
walk backward. I can’t see where I’m going because I’m locked in his
vibrant blue eyes. His pupils widen, making the golden flecks in his irises
darken to a forest green.
There isn’t a single part of this man that doesn’t make me weak.
The backs of my thighs hit the mattress, and he eases me down on the
bed. It’s the same way he pinned me to his desk all those months ago when
he thought I was connected to Odin.
We have no secrets now. I know all about his childhood with Crius and
how Marius had to buy his freedom by assassinating a bunch of his father’s
rivals.
 I also know that he killed the man who called me a whore, just so Crius
would never find out I existed.
“Do you remember your safe words?” he says with a smirk.
I smirk back. “Do your worst, Professor.”
His face hardens, as though my words have flipped a switch. My breath
catches and my pussy tightens with a jolt of arousal.
Oh shit.
It’s about to get rough.
He flips me over, so I’m lying face-down on the bed. I raise my head,
trying to get a look at how he’s going to pull out his cock from under those
robes, but he shoves my head back onto the mattress.
“Be a good girl and open for your professor.”
A moan slips from my lips.
He kicks my legs apart, spreading me wide, and flips up the back of my
bathrobe. A slap lands on my buttock, sending a shockwave of pleasure
across my nerves.
I gasp into the quilt.
“Wet for me already, Miss Stahl?” he growls, his fingers gliding over
my slick folds.
“Always,” I say through ragged breaths.
“I can’t get enough of your pretty ass.” He slaps the other buttock, hard
enough to make me hiss.
My pussy clenches, and I raise my hips, wanting him, needing him,
yearning for his huge cock.
He yanks off the belt of my bathrobe, grabs my forearms, and ties them
behind my back. I pull my wrists, testing the restraints, but there’s little
give.
Knowing that I’m now completely helpless and at his mercy sends a
wave of relaxation through my body that uncoils my muscles. His weight
settles on my back, and it feels like a cocoon.
 “I’m going to fuck you long and hard, Miss Stahl, do you want to know
why?”
Tingles skitter across my skin. “W-why?”
“Because you belong to me.” He reaches beneath my body and grabs
my breast.
“These perky tits are mine.” His other hand reaches down and slides a
finger into my pussy.
“This wet cunt is mine.” His thumb circles my asshole, making me
shiver. “This tight ass is mine.”
“Yours,” I say, my voice breathy.
“Do you know what I do with what’s mine?” He pulls out his finger and
enters me in one stroke, detonating explosions across every pleasure center.
My mouth opens in a silent scream.
“You feel so good. See how your pussy welcomes its master.”
I squeeze and pulse around him and try to shake my head but the
pleasure of being stretched so wide is all-consuming. No matter how much I
protest, it’s only part of the game. I know deep down in my soul that I
belong to Marius Segul.
“Fuck,” I say through clenched teeth. “You’re too big.”
Marius bites down on my neck. “You’ll take your professor’s cock like
a good little student. And don’t forget that I’ll be grading you for
technique.”
I cry out, my pussy tightening.
At Marius’s groans, my chest thrums with satisfaction.
“Fuck, Miss Stahl, you were made for me. So wet, so tight, so perfect.”
His praise makes my heart sing.
Marius pulls back his hips and fucks me with hard thrusts. He pins me
down to the bed with a hand on the back of my head. With my arms tied
behind my back and my legs spread obscenely wide, all I can do is lie here
on the mattress and take the onslaught of pleasure.
 “Oh god,” I moan.
“God can’t help you,” he says with a hard thrust that makes me choke
on air. “But I’ll be the one who makes you pray for mercy.”
I whimper, my clit swelling, and grind against the mattress. Why does
this man turn me on so much?
The phone that I left on the bedside rings. I glance at the caller display
to see Veer’s number.
Shit.
Charlotte and I kept in contact after I left Marina University, and she
gave my number to Veer. News spread across the students that Marius had
been sent to abduct Odin’s nephew and he was the son of Crius Vanir. I
didn’t make my relationship a secret, and they still think I need saving.
No matter how many times I tell Veer that I’m happy with Marius, he
seems to think I’m trapped. These days, I let his calls go to voicemail.
“Who is that?” He circles his hips, filling me with tight thrusts.
“No one,” I stutter.
“Answer it.” He leans down and unties the belt securing my wrists.
The tension in my arms vanishes in an instant, and I yelp as he brings
the phone to my side.
“Hey!”
I try not to resent Veer. It’s not his fault Odin called Dad and repeated
all that bullshit I told him about my sex life. Thanks to the Bestlassons, Dad
sent me a rambling email outlining how I’d become just like my mother.
It took a few days for my anger to cool before I could send a reply, but
it bounced.
So, I have no idea what’s become of him in that prison, and I really
don’t give a fuck.
“Miss Stahl,” Marius says, his tone low with a warning.
“I can’t form sentences while that huge cock is splitting me open.”
 He threads his fingers through my damp hair and raises me off the
mattress. “Do it,” he snarls into my ear. “Now, or I’ll speak to him myself.”
“Fine,” I grind out and reach for my handset.
“Put it on speakerphone.”
My eyes widen, but I still do as he says.
“Hello?” I keep my voice level, even as Marius snaps his hips. My eyes
roll to the back of my head, and I have to bite down a moan.
“Phoenix,” Veer replies with a burst of panic. “I’ve been trying to reach
you for weeks. Are you alright?”
Marius picks up his pace. I ball my hands into fists and try not to moan.
“I’m. Fine.”
“You sound stressed.”
Each thrust fills my body with bursts of rapture. “My. Graduation. Is.
This. Afternoon.”
“Seriously, what’s wrong?”
“In. The. Middle. Of.” I exhale a shuddering breath. “Something.”
My hand snakes toward the phone, ready to hang up, but Marius grabs
my wrist and pins my arm behind my back.
He pauses, letting me catch my breath.
I blurt, “But I’m a bit tied up right now, and I’ve got a busy day. Call
back tomorrow, okay? Hang up now. Bye.”
Marius draws back and hits a spot inside me that makes me see stars. I
squeeze my eyes shut and groan, “Oh, fuck.”
“That’s not my name,” he growls into my ear. “Try again.”
“P-Professor Segul,” I stammer.
“That’s my good girl.”
My heart flutters, and he continues stroking that spot with his cock until
pressure coils low in my belly. I bite down on my bottom lip, breathing hard
through the sensations.
 Marius keeps up a relentless space, attacking my G-spot over and over
until every muscle in my pelvis tightens. Then one hard thrust pushes me
over the edge.
All the pressure, all the pleasure, all the sensations release at once in an
orgasm that makes me gasp. My lungs freeze up as ecstasy overwhelms my
senses, and it takes a few heartbeats before I can even scream.
“You feel incredible,” he says as I convulse around his dick. “And all
mine.”
“Y-yours,” I say through gasping breaths.
I’m so spent and boneless. My body would collapse if it wasn’t already
pinned to the bed.
Marius is still rock hard inside me. He draws back a little, and I expect
him to thrust, but he parts my ass cheeks with his fingers.
My head snaps up. “What are you—”
Something long and slippery pushes into my asshole, making my lips
part in a low moan. It’s that vibrator from earlier that he called a mace.
“Bottom up, Miss Stahl,” he drawls. “I want to see how deep I can get it
before you shriek.”
I raise my hips, letting Marius slide the dildo all the way in.
“You’re taking double penetration so well,” he says.
“Phoenix?” Veer says through the speaker, his voice strained.
“You’re still here?” My voice rises several octaves.
I reach for the phone, but Marius grabs my arm again. At any moment, I
could call one of my safe words, but I’m so sick of Veer that I flop down to
the bed and don’t bother struggling.
“Mr. Bestlasson.” Marius says between thrusts. “Miss Stahl is unable to
speak because she’s coming.”
A moan slips from my lips.
“Refrain from calling her, assuming she’s in danger. As you can hear,
Phoenix is completely safe.” Another thrust. “And completely satisfied.”
 “Phoenix?” Veer says.
“For fuck’s sake, hang up the bloody phone!” I yell.
“You’re making such pretty sounds,” Marius says, his hand slipping
beneath my body and between my legs. “Show Mr. Bestlasson who you
belong to.”
Rubbing my clit with fast strokes, he fucks me mercilessly with the
dildo and his cock.
I forget about the man listening on the other line when my second
orgasm rips through my convulsing core. It’s so powerful that my body
ejects the dildo.
Marius comes inside me with a roar, but I barely hear him through the
blood rushing through my ears. As he pulls out, I also try to rise, but he
places a hand between my shoulders.
“Stay down. I don’t want you to spill a drop.”
“I’ll have to get up eventually,” I mumble from the quilt.
He opens the bedside drawer and then something thick and rubbery
presses into my opening.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“A pussy plug. So that a part of me will be inside you when you go up
to receive your degree.”
“That’s romantic,” I mutter.
He spanks my ass, making me clench around the toy.
“Oh, that feels nice,” I say with a sigh.
“How about this?”
The plug vibrates. It isn’t powerful enough to make me climax, but if
it’s anything like the inflatable butt plug, then Marius will use a remote to
dial up the intensity.
“Oh, fuck.”
“I will be judging your composure when you give your valedictorian
speech.”
 My breath stills, and I push myself off the mattress to meet his smiling
eyes.
“Wait a minute,” I say. “I can’t go up there on stage with a toy up my
twat.”
He raises a brow. “Is that a refusal?”
“I don’t trust you not to fiddle with the remote.”
“That just earned you level two.”
The pussy plug vibrates harder, making me moan. “You’re so wicked.”
Marius returns to the bedside table and opens the drawer. I glance at the
phone on the mattress to see that Veer has finally hung up. When I turn
back, Marius stands in front of me, holding a black jewelry box.
I squeeze my thighs together. “Is that a necklace for me?”
“A graduation gift.” He flips the box open.
Inside is a delicate silver chain with an O ring. My gaze snaps up to
meet his.
“A permanent collar?” My voice turns breathy with awe.
The warmth in his eyes melts my heart. “And a token of my eternal
love.”
A token of my eternal love.
My breath catches. Marius only ever gives praise during sex or when it
comes to classwork. Words of affirmation aren’t his usual love language.
It’s gifts and acts of service.
“What?” I blurt.
“Over these past months, you’ve come to mean everything to me.
You’ve accepted everything about me from my kinks to my sordid
beginnings. I never thought I could find my perfect match. When I watch
you sleep, I still can’t believe you’re real, but waking up to find you still
here gives me joy beyond measure.”
My throat thickens, and tears rise to my eyes.
This can’t be real.
 Marius gazes down on me, his features held in a tight mask of calm. It’s
almost as though he also can’t believe how much he’s saying.
“I feel the same way,” I reply. “I-I-I mean, I love you, too.”
His chest deflates, and the corners of his eyes soften with the beginnings
of a smile.
“Phoenix, will you consent to being my wife?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice choked.
He places the collar around my neck. “We’ll go shopping for a ring
tomorrow.”
When I turn around, he kisses me with an intensity that makes my toes
curl.
I send a silent word of gratitude to Dad. If he hadn’t abandoned me all
those months ago and left me with debts, I would never have been so
determined to find a sugar daddy.
Now, I live in a beautiful mansion in Central London, I’m about to
graduate at the top of a world-renowned university, and I have a sexy fiancé
who would kill to protect me.
Life couldn’t get any brighter.

SIGN UP HERE FOR PHOENIX’S GRADUATION SCENE

www.siggyshade.com/graduation

OceanofPDF.com
 About the Author

I write dark contemporary and paranormal romance featuring villains, monsters, morally gray heroes,
and the women who make them feral.
When I’m not writing steamy scenes, you’ll probably find me at my TikTok,
@SiggyShadeAuthor
Join my newsletter for exclusive short stories and updates on upcoming books:
www.siggyshade.com/newsletter

OceanofPDF.com
Also by Siggy Shade
Contemporary Romance
Manacled to Medicine

Paranormal Romance
Stalked by the Boogie Man
Swallowing Water

OceanofPDF.com