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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.
ChapterTwenty-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.
