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Fuck, she’s amazing.
“It’s not name-calling if it’s true, you dumb slut,” he spits, slightly angling his head to peer at her. “You’re always strutting around here like you own the place—proud to be pregnant before you’re twenty with no idea who those bastards’ father?—”
Springing from her seat, Ariah presses the blade that is no longer in Owen’s hand into his carotid. “Finish that sentence, Beau. Please do it so that I can decorate this room with your overprivileged blood,” she snarls, and he hisses as a trickle of crimson liquid runs down the column of his throat.
My cock stiffens in my jeans, and I stand, striding over to the podium to hide my very obviously growing hard-on. I’m safely behind the lectern when I decide I’m going to fuck her after I punish her. My dick is so hard it hurts.
Beau remains silent, and Ariah quirks a brow. “It’s always assholes with no spine that talk the most shit when they can hide behind their mommy’s Dior skirts. Well bitch boy, mommy can’t save you. So finish your goddamn sentence!”
Ariah’s demand filters through the air as she pushes the metal tip harder into his flesh. The scent of urine fills the room.
“Did you just piss yourself?” Wes laughs, briefly pulling my attention away from where she’s holding the knife against his neck to the undeniable wet spot on Beau’s pant leg.
My gaze travels up in time to see molten rage painting Ariah’s complexion. Her nose scrunches as her gray eyes narrow to slits. “I could set up a gang bang on the professor’s desk after hours to sell it to some porn site, and it would be my fucking prerogative. I could give less than a fuck what you have to say about it.”
“Over my dead body,” Lev mumbles, but Ariah’s so focused that I know she can’t hear him. Otherwise, a few choice words would be thrown in his direction.
Beau barely breathes. His snot mixes with blood as fear emanates from his body in palpable waves.
Ariah lowers her mouth to Beau’s ear and declares, “But what you, or any other stupid fuck, won’t ever be allowed to do is disrespect my kids. I’ll slice off your lips and shove them up your ass since you like to talk so much shit.”
“Fuck, I think I just came in my pants,” Owen groans, and I can’t help but silently agree.
It’s time for everyone to leave. “Class dismissed,” I announce, adjusting my cock. “We’ll pick this up next week. Until then, I strongly suggest reading so you don’t embarrass yourself like Mr. McCarthy.”
No one moves. “That means get the fuck out,” Wyatt barks, springing everyone into action. People don’t bother to pack up, snatching their belongings and rushing out of the room instead of incurring our wrath.
“Okay, Dove. Let us take the trash out. I think he understands he fucked up. Don’t you, Beau?” Lev mutters before kissing the top of her head.
“Y-y-y-yes,” he stammers, barely opening his mouth for fear of being cut any further.
Wyatt slaps his shoulder. “You’re not a complete dumbass, after all. Which is unfortunate because I’d love nothing more than to have her covered in your blood.”
Ariah’s nostrils flare and her chest heaves like the idea excites her. Oh, my Spitfire has a thirst for blood. That image makes my dick grow even tighter in my jeans.
“Let me take this, Angel,” Owen says, coaxing his knife from her hand. His mouth curls into a smile at the sight of McCarthy’s blood on his blade before he lifts it and wipes off the blade across Beau’s cheek. “Can’t have you tainting the purity of the metal with your subpar DNA.”
Resting his palm on Ariah’s stomach, Wes bends and kisses her temple. “Wait here with Bash while we take out the trash,” he instructs while meeting my eye. Then he lifts Beau from his seat by his throat and storms out of the room. Lev and Owen immediately follow behind him.
Wyatt steps in front of Ariah and then dips his head until his mouth ghosts along her neck. “We’re going to need to reenact this scene later tonight, Love,” he murmurs, lowering his lips to hers. Then he’s pulling back and running to catch up to the guys.
Turning, I walk toward the classroom door and flick the lock. “Desk. Now,” I order, already unzipping my pants.
“Bash,” she begins but stops. Her gray eyes heat as a flush blooms across her chest.
Ariah moves, and I meet her in time to assist her. “That’s it, Spitfire. Lean back and spread your legs for me,” I groan, grateful for the knit sweater dress she’s wearing once she’s seated.
Resting on her elbows, Ariah’s thighs open, and I bite my knuckle. I was right. She’s turned on. My eyes remain glued to the evidence of her arousal, and all semblance of my patience evaporates.
I stalk forward, bending over to push her dress up until it bunches around her hips. “Bastian,” she whimpers, pulling my focus from the outline of her pussy.
The sight that greets me makes my dick twitch, reminding me of its confinement. The rise and fall of Ariah’s fuller breasts stretch the fabric of the dress, making her nipples poke through the material, and I ache to pluck one while I suck the other.
“Fuck me,” she pleads, licking her lips.
Needing no further encouragement, I pull out my cock. “This is going to be fast and hard,” I exclaim, aiming the swollen tip at her entrance. We groan together as I sink inside her. “God, I never want to be anywhere but inside you ever again.”
Ariah’s moans mix with the sound of skin slapping skin as I thrust inside of her. I watch as her mouth falls open. Her incoherent demands for more urge me on.
