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I couldn’t wait until the next class to see her. Surprisingly, there were a lot of books with the type of shit I was into. And the bonus was, most of them were romances. So she still got her sweet, unrealistic happy ending, but I got to inundate her with the type of sex I expected from her.
Luckily, I’d been able to find a copy of one of the books at a local bookstore, so I picked it up, wrote a little note, printed out a copy of her schedule, and was heading straight to Winnie’s house. I’d taken this route so many times in the last few days, I could get to her house blindfolded.
Instead of pulling into the thicket of trees, I drove straight up to the house, parking where that truck had been parked the other night. Thankfully, it wasn’t here today. But the light coming from inside told me Winnie was home. But I knew that already. I knew where she’d be at all times now.
The stairs creaked under me as I walked up them onto the rickety old porch. Hand-painted terracotta pots with pretty blooming flowers contrasted with the run-down shithole surrounding them. She must’ve planted them to brighten the place up. But they were drooping and were far from perfect.
I shook myself. The flowers didn’t matter. The rusted junk surrounding me didn’t matter.
The screen door squeaked as I carefully pulled it open and knocked on the front door. Light seeped through the gap between the door and doorframe, and I ground my teeth together.
This place wasn’t safe. It was a shithole. It was gross and dangerous, and Winnie deserved to live somewhere far better than this.
My grip on the books in my hand tightened as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, lifting my hand to knock again. Hesitantly, the door opened a crack, and a pair of massive blue eyes stared up at me. Confusion filled her face moments before shame did.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes darting past me to my car. “You have to go.”
“I have something for you.” She shook her head as I spoke, but I ignored her and stepped closer. She didn’t open the door further. If anything, the small gap that let me see her seemed to get smaller. “Can I come in?”
“No,” she squeaked, sounding horrified, and my brows rose. I wasn’t used to being told no. I took another step closer, wanting to shove the door open, but refrained.
With a deep breath, I held the books up. Her gaze darted to them, then back to me. “A gift.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, looking at my car behind me again. “You have to hurry.” I barely let her open the door before I barged in. My arm immediately went around her waist, and I pulled her to me, using my foot to shut the door behind us.
Her lips met mine in a frenzied kiss, her hands shaking as she let them roam up my chest and lock around the back of my neck. My tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her as my hand dropped lower, squeezing her perfect ass.
She groaned into my mouth before pulling away. Her breathing was ragged as she stared up at me, her eyes flicking between mine. I loved when she looked like this—flushed and breathless, her lips shiny and slightly swollen.
“Hi,” she breathed, and a stupid smile spread across my face.
“Hi, little fawn.” A blush rose to her cheeks, and she dropped her eyes. Straightening to my full height, I held the books between us. “I’m returning your book, and I have another for you to read.”
“You already finished?” She cautiously reached out, taking the books from me.
“It wasn’t too long, and I really enjoyed the story.” I cleared my throat, and she peeked up at me from under her lashes. “I really enjoyed certain parts of the story.”
Her lips tightened as she tried to hide her smile, but the corners of her eyes crinkled, telling me how happy she was. Reaching out, I rested my hands on her round hips and gently tugged her closer.
“I brought another book for you, too,” I murmured. “It’s another professor/student story. But this one is…different.” Her brows twitched together, and I lifted my hand, trailing my fingertips down her cheek. “He’s a little darker, a little more twisted than the professor in your book.”
One of the things I loved about Winnie was that she couldn’t hide her thoughts. They played clearly on her face, so I never had to try to be a mind reader with her. I always knew.
“I promise you’ll like it,” I said softly, bending to press another kiss to her lips. When I pulled away, she swayed, a dreamy look on her face. “That’s my girl. Read the book and tell me what you think.”
“Yes, sir.” She said it automatically, but the words sent a bolt of pleasure through my body. Blood filled my cock, and I silently thanked myself for not putting the cage on before I came over here.
I kissed her again, forcing my tongue into her mouth this time. There was nothing gentle or exploratory about this kiss. It was possessive, and hot, and all-consuming. All I wanted to do was bend her over the arm of her ratty old couch and fuck her until she couldn’t walk.
“I like that,” I rasped against her lips between kisses. “I want you to call me that from now on. Understand me?” I didn’t give her a chance to reply before my mouth was on hers again. My hands roamed over her body, squeezing and groping every soft curve.
Pulling away, she breathed, “Yes, sir.” Then her lips were on mine once more, kissing me as hard as I kissed her.
The books in her hands were a thick barrier between us, and I reached for them, wanting to throw them to the floor. Before I could, she pulled away again. Instead of looking as dazed as she had before, she looked frantic. Not frantic in the way we just had been, but frantic in a worried way.
“You have to go,” she said, glancing at the window. The lacy curtains were pulled back, exposing the window. I thought she’d been staring at my car before, but seeing her now made me second-guess that. She stared past it and down the long dirt road that led to the main road.
“Why?” I asked, stepping closer to her. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the books, her massive eyes turning toward me.
