Chapter 21

DIMITRI

The rush of footsteps coming down the stairs piques my curiosity. Blake just came back a few minutes ago.

~Where is he going now?~

I get out of my room and go to the bottom of the stairs, where my son is shoving his arms into a black leather jacket, his boots kicking dirt onto the floor. His motorcycle keys are dangling from his index finger, ready for use.

“It’s late. Where are you going?” I ask him, crossing my arms and glaring down at the boy.

Blake looks up, his eyes rimmed red and clouded with lack of sleep. He has grown thinner in the past few weeks, and I guiltily wonder whose fault that is.

“Why do you care?” he says with a scoff before zipping up and reaching for the doorknob.

“I care ’cause I’m not dragging your drunken ass back home again.”

A snort slips from him as he half turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Congrats! Father of the year!” His words are biting, aiming to burn.

It takes strength to ignore them, which makes me extra grouchy. “Don’t be out too late,” I tell him.

He opens the door, giving me the middle finger. “Fuck off.”

“I mean it,” I say gravely. “Be back soon. I’ll be waiting up.”

“Go and sleep, Professor. You’ve other people to care about.”

“Blake—”

He steps out, slamming the door shut before I can finish.

I sigh, rubbing my eyelids with the heels of my hands and feeling my body weighted with responsibilities and secrets. After I drag my way back to my room, I pick up my half-drunk bottle of beer as I settle on my desk chair to finish grading the rest of the assignments.

The moment I glance at my phone screen on the desk, my mind immediately shifts to Anya. We have fallen into a crazy routine in the past few weeks.

After I ate her out that day, she rode my cock after classes, and then I saw her at the club again—much to my irritation—where I spanked her ass red for defying my orders. The punishment didn’t have any effect on her except to make her wetter.

Our days have passed in a blur of sex, sex, and more sex. In every position and every second we have gotten together.

Now, she is home for the holidays, and I miss being able to touch her, taste her, and smell her. I even miss her voice; I haven’t talked to her in three days, afraid that calling her would be too risky.

As if eating her out and fucking her on my office desk wasn’t risky enough.

But three days is my limit, it seems, because I find myself grabbing the phone, dialing her number, and placing the device to my ear.

After a few rings, her faintly sleepy voice answers the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, did I wake you?” I ask.

There is a clicking sound from the other end as if she is adjusting herself, followed by Anya letting out a yawn. “No,” she replies. “I was just finishing my homework for next week.”

“Is everything all right?”

“No. It’s really tough,” she complains with a whining groan.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, contemplating what to say. “Can I help?” I ask eventually.

“Actually, you can.” Her voice gets chirpier at my offer. “Wanna Skype?”

“Sure. I’ll get on my laptop.”

“Okay,” she says, cutting the call.

After unburying my laptop, I open it and bring up Skype. Almost immediately, her caller ID flashes on the screen. I click to answer, and a slightly blurry image of Anya in a beige tank top and sleep shorts fills my screen.

Her hair hangs down in long wet strands, her face is devoid of makeup, and her toes bounce at the bottom of the screen under starry-patterned socks. The light from the bedside lamp makes her legs shimmer, which ignites an urge in me to run my hands over them.

She sits crossed-legged among a pile of papers splayed about her, some with images and some with text. Squinting at the screen, she adjusts something that brings her closer to the camera, giving me a glimpse of the depth of her cleavage through the thin top.

She leans against a wall of posters and positions herself at the center of my screen. “Hey,” she says, smiling. “You look sleepy as fuck. Are you okay?”

I rub at the corner of my eye, chuckling. “I’m fine. What did you need help with?”

Anya explains the assignment to me, and I make her start it over, giving her tips on how to do it perfectly. She nods along and takes notes, paying more attention now than she ever does in class.

Not many would label Anya as a good student; she is very average. What she lacks in in-class participation, though, she makes up for in her homework. She seems to learn by doing, and she puts in 100 percent effort, which all her teachers appreciate, or so I have heard.

A faint smile plays on my lips as I watch her on her belly, focused on taking notes, and moving her mouth while she writes.

Once she is done, she looks at her paper, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Wow!” she exclaims, dropping her arms and looking at the screen with a slack jaw. “You explained it all so easily. I owe you one, Professor.”

I arch an eyebrow as she shoves the papers to one side, bringing the laptop closer. “Oh, yeah? How do you plan to pay me?” I ask teasingly, picturing all the ways she could.

She smiles sheepishly, understanding my insinuation. “What would you like?” she asks. “A blowie? Me in a sexy dress? Handcuffs? Blindfolds? You’ve all the options.”

I place my forearms on the desk, finding all her suggestions attractive but deciding on one of my own. “How about…you tell me more about yourself? What’s up with your family? Are you having fun?”

“Oh,” she says, jerking her head back. “I thought we were going in another direction, but okay.” She pulls her knees up to her chest, crosses her ankles, and places her folded arms on her knees. Resting her chin on her arms, she sighs.

“It’s wild out here. My cousin married well. Her husband is rich as hell.” She giggles. “And my mom told me if I didn’t settle with a good one myself, she would have a heart attack from yelling.”

Anya fires off the last sentence, likely in an attempt to keep the rhyming meter, but when her last word doesn’t fit, she bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but laugh with her.

~She is so fucking adorable.~

“Your mom sounds fun,” I say after we settle down.

“She is…kinda.” Anya shrugs. “I never really understood her. My siblings are more family to her than I am.” She looks down and to the side. “Being the middle child sucks, you know.”

“I wish I did know, but I don’t. I was the only kid growing up,” I say. “One of your brothers is a lawyer, right?”

She widens her eyes. “You remembered! I’m surprised. Blake always forgot, he—” Anya cuts off her words as her expression turns apologetic.

Not wanting her to think there are topics we cannot discuss, I say, “Yeah, Blake is like that. I’m sorry.”

Anya gives me a soft smile, but then her face crumples. She stares at something beneath the screen, and her eyes lose their spark. “He didn’t care about me, did he?” she prompts slowly. “Did he ever talk to you about me? Anything at all?”

I try to recall any moment, but nothing comes to mind. Anya notices that in my expression and shakes her head.

“Anya…”

“He didn’t. Knew it,” she says, scoffing. “All that time I was thinking we were going somewhere, but he was just fucking around with me.” She rests her head back on her arms and closes her eyes.

Seeing her hurt causes my protective instinct to kick in, and I decide to try and lighten the mood. “And now you’re fucking around with his dad,” I say, taking a sip of my beer.

Her head jerks up, and shock paints her face. “Don’t put it like that!”

I smile and keep my tone playful as I say, “Why not? Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Her face floods red as she eyes me behind thick lashes. “You tell me.”

“Anya, I don’t know what we’re doing,” I confess. “It’s risky, downright dumb, in fact.”

One corner of her lip curls up. “And yet we can’t stop.”

I nod as I ponder her words. “Strange, isn’t it?”

“Weird, ~definitely~.” She gives a breezy laugh.

We both stare at each other through the screen. My fingers want to reach out and touch her, my mouth salivates from the need to lick her body, and my cock swells as I watch her sexy frame so near yet so far from me. I wonder if she is feeling the same way.

“I miss you, Dimitri,” she says, causing my heart to swell.

“I miss you too.”

“I wish you were here.” Her voice turns huskier, and she uncrosses her legs, spreading them slowly.

My senses spring to attention along with my cock. “And what would happen if I were there?” My eyes shift to between her legs, and my chest heaves with anticipation of her next action.

“We would have sex,” she says.

“Just that?”

She raises a shoulder in a shrug. “With breaks in between, but we would have sex all day.”

Her fingers rubbing her inner thighs catches my eye, and the absent-minded nature of it suggests to me that she is feeling just as turned on as I am.

“That confident, huh?” I ask, squeezing myself over my pajama pants, which do nothing to hide my hard-on.

She looks directly into the camera, her half-lidded gaze brewing with untamed lust. “I want you, Dimitri.” Her legs spread further, and her hands inch up her shorts.

“Show me.”