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Recognition dawns on Whitney’s face, as though she was working through a puzzle and can finally see where the pieces fit. “Oh, uh, sure,” she says breathily as a hint of cinnamon and delicious spice reaches my nose.
Driven by the need to touch her, I wrap my arm around her bicep and guide her away from the registration lines until we’re out of earshot of the other students and their families. Whitney’s eyes widen as they land on my hand, and I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my fingertips. Whether out of fear or attraction, I don’t know, but I can work with either. My pants tighten as my arousal intensifies at the thought.
“You are Whitney, yes?” I ask as I turn to face her beneath a wide-trunked maple tree.
Whitney’s tongue dances nervously across her lower lip, and she swallows hard as she looks up at me. Then her mask falls into place as her arms cross over her chest and she pops a hip with attitude. “And that matters how?” she demands, raising a delicate eyebrow.
I respond with my own warning brow raise as I stare her down, making her squirm beneath my gaze. “It might matter to someone who could help alleviate your financial troubles if you cared to listen to his arrangement.”
“And what arrangement would that be?” she asks, her tone shifting toward curious, though still tinged with suspicion.
“I’m a generous man. I would be willing to pay for your tuition in full, your living expenses, clothes, whatever your heart desires for as long as our arrangement is intact,” I start, watching her closely to gauge her reaction.
“And in exchange…?” she asks, her curiosity replaced by a deep skepticism. She knows the way of the world. No one gets anything for free, and she’s well versed in that rule. I can see it all over her face.
“You would be mine to do with as I please. I would not interfere with your studies or schooling, but when you are not in class, you will make yourself available to me.” It feels good to be wielding my power before her, reclaiming my manhood after Lorenzo so blithely undermined me. The intensity of my arousal at so boldly laying my proposition out before her makes my voice harsh, almost raspy, and Whitney’s eyes darken as they dilate in response.
She’s clearly attracted to me, though her body language would tell me that she’s put up a wall about a mile high. But she doesn’t turn and leave, which I half expect from the look on her face.
“What exactly would you have me do?” she presses, her chin rising impetuously.
“I won’t lie to you,moya feya,” I murmur. “My desires can be quite dark andsinful, but I promise I will teach you a pleasure you can’t even imagine if you give your body to me.”
A shiver brings goosebumps to Whitney’s flesh, and I can see the hint of her hardening nipples beneath the cropped T-shirt she wears, but the derisive snort she releases contradicts her body’s response.
“You’re offering to pay my way through school in order to have sex with me?” she asks in disbelief.
“I will pay for everything, and in exchange, you’ll give me more than sex,” I promise. “You’ll be my woman. You’ll join me for dinners and events, come to me whenever I desire, and yes, give your body to me in whatever way I crave.”
I yearn to touch Whitney again, to show her the kind of pleasure she might experience in my hands, but I sense that I’m walking a fine line between a yes and no, and any contact might dissuade her from agreeing. This has to be her decision. I can read in every line of her body that she needs to feel in control of that choice if she’s going to be of any good to me. I like a girl with fire in her soul, and Whitney’s a raging inferno of rebellious independence. I want nothing more than to stoke that fire, to awaken it and see just how brazen it proves to make her sexual desire.
“But I should warn you that choosing to be my woman comes with a certain amount of risk. Of course, you will be under my protection for as long as you are by my side, but I am a dangerous man, and I have many enemies.”
Whitney rolls her eyes, keeping her arms firmly crossed beneath her pert breasts as she entirely dismisses my warning. “I’m not afraid of a littledanger,” she states casually. “But prostitution isn’t high on my list of ways I’d like to make money.”
“You would not be a prostitute,” I growl, my accent thickening in my irritation. “If you take my offer, that would mean you are mine alone. No other man would be allowed to touch you. Is that clear?”
Whitney’s eyebrow quirks as her lips purse. “Crystal.”
I straighten my suit jacket as I regain composure, eyeing her more fully as I comb down over her curves, the defined planes of her abs, the impressive muscles in her athlete’s legs. She would be fun to play with, a handful I would love nothing more than to knead into submission. I’m half tempted to take her regardless of her answer, but I want to persuade her. It’s so much more fun that way.
“Can I think about it?” she asks, catching me by surprise. I’ve never had a girl hesitate before, not for more than a conversation’s length.
Intrigued by Whitney’s response, I agree, curious to see where the extension might put her. I imagine she’ll have to get back to me within the week, considering that’s when her tuition will be due.
I nod wordlessly and extend my hand toward her, silently requesting her phone. She withdraws it from her pocket and unlocks it, pulling up her contacts list before handing it to me. I put in my cellphone number, calling my phone so I will have hers as well before I hand it back.
“You can reach me day or night, but don’t take too long,moya feya,” I warn, leaving it open ended for her to fill in the consequences.
“And why is that… Ilya?” Whitney asks, confirming my name on her phone’s screen. The sound of it departing her lips quickens my pulse.
I step closer to her in response, placing a finger under her chin and tipping it up until our lips are mere inches apart. “Because I am not a patient man,” I assure her as my eyes flick down to their full pink shape.
Whitney’s breath catches in her throat, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips once again. I release her quickly, stepping away from her intoxicating scent before I lose control of my carefully enforced restraint.
“You ready to go?” Bianka asks, innocently cutting into the conversation.
I offer her a smile. “Yes.” Then I turn my gaze on Whitney once more. “I will speak to you soon,” I promise before placing my hand between Bianka’s shoulder blades and guiding her toward the parking lot once more.
