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They might not know who I was, but they knew better than to eye fuck Joy, even if she was so sexy it made me fight getting hard. Her breasts jiggled with her every step and her ass swayed in a tempting way that made me want to take a bite out of it. Because the neckline of her shirt was lower than what she normally wore, the tops of her breasts bounced every time her gold platform wedge sandals hit the concrete. The shoes were tall enough to bring the top of her head up to just under my chin, and I liked the way they looked on her cute little feet. Damn, her tiny waist flared out into a pair of heavenly, thick hips, and I had to look away before I got a noticeable bulge. I’d worn a tight pair of boxer briefs to try and minimize the visible signs of an erection, but they could only do so much.
Late afternoon sun beat down on us, and I glanced over at Joy, who was doing her best to ignore everyone staring at us.
“You hungry?”
She slipped on a pair of designer sunglasses and gave me an angry look then said in a low voice, “Why was the dean afraid of you?”
“He’s afraid of me,” I smiled and lied to her face, feeling like an asshole, but unable to trust her with the truth, “because my family donates a great deal of money to the University directly, even more money in the form of research grants, and through the various scholarships we fund. Like the ones we gave your students. He knows that if he pisses me off, we’ll take our money elsewhere.”
“Right,” she muttered, once again lifting her chin minutely as she ignored everyone watching us walk by. “Must be nice to have that kind of power.”
“Considering I was able to use it to help right an injustice that both you and Hannah suffered, and provide a chance at a life those kids deserve, it is nice to have that kind of power.”
The mention of the scholarships distracted her, and I let out a mental sigh of relief. She didn’t need to know that the dean at one time had owed my family a great deal of money for smuggling in a cancer drug for his wife from our lab in El Salvador. A cancer drug that was still going through testing with the FDA, wasting time he didn’t have. Another thing he didn’t have was money, because her repeated treatments for stomach cancer had drained them to the point of bankruptcy. Lacking the funds to get what he so desperately needed, he approached my mother and pleaded his case. She, being the master manipulator that she was, bought his loyalty that day by saving his wife’s life. A loyalty that had been tested many times over.
I bet he regretted not taking out a third mortgage on his house to pay for the pills, because my mother’s price was much higher.
Allowing the girls to take classes online was probably the easiest thing we’d ever asked of him, and my treatment of Joy seemed to puzzle him. At first, he’d appeared angry as he stared at Joy—angry at me in a way I hadn’t seen before. It was probably from the huge bruise on Joy’s temple that inched down the side of her face to her cheekbone. Despite her attempts to disguise it with makeup, the dark mark still drew the eye.
During our talk, it no doubt became obvious that I was wrapped firmly around Joy’s pretty little finger. I’ve never been an affectionate man in public with anyone but my family, so I’m sure it threw the Dean to see me hanging on her every word. Still, I wonder how close he’d been to calling the police before he figured out I would never hurt Joy. I hated the bruises covering her pretty golden skin, but the experimental therapeutic cream we’d used on her was doing its job and healing her much quicker than normal. Dealing in illegal drugs made by the best mad scientists in the world had its benefits.
I vowed that the only marks she’d wear in the future would be ones made while I fucked her until all her worries went away. Her mind was always moving in hyper drive, thinking ten things at once, and I often wondered how she didn’t drive herself crazy. She had to be busy, had to be doing something, and she collapsed exhausted into bed each night. It had both surprised and gratified me this morning when she’d slept for so long in my arms, barely stirring as I got up to use the bathroom. She’d been so soft, squishy, but in the best way. Women hear the word squishy and they freak the fuck out, thinking it’s something negative, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Curvy women felt so fuckin’ good to hold tight, and Joy was just about as sweet of an armful as any man could ever hope to have.
