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That outfit was designed for a sex dungeon.
Except for the fact that it covered her from shoulder to thigh.
But it was the kind of outfit that hid something sexy beneath—a present for a Dominant to reveal in front of the masses before worshipping the female with his fingers and tongue.
I glanced at the minifridge of my temporary office, irritated that I’d only stocked it with water.
This woman was driving me to drink.
And she was now over twenty minutes late.
Which meant she’d blown me off entirely.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number, livid with her show of disrespect.
It went to voicemail.
“Jenica, this isn’t cute,” I said as soon as the beep sounded. “I told you to see me after class. I told you to—”
A knock sounded, interrupting my message.
“That had better be you at my door, or I’m going to hunt you down and scold you in a way you will never forget,” I threatened, hanging up the phone.
I opened the door to find her standing on the other side with slightly pinkened cheeks, her hair mussed.
My gaze narrowed. She looks freshly fucked.
It was a look I liked and despised at the same time because I wasn’t the one who had put her in that state.
But I absolutely wanted to replicate that look.
Beneath me.
In bed.
“Sorry,” she said, breathless. “I got all the way to my apartment before I saw your email.”
I arched a brow. “Even the one from last week where I asked you to meet me after class?”
She scrunched her nose. “No, that one I deleted without reading.”
Well, at least she was honest. “Do you treat all your professors that way?” I couldn’t help the note of censure in my tone.
“No,” she admitted, glancing downward in an uncharacteristic display of shame. Or maybe it was a natural submission to my tone.
I cleared my throat and stepped to the side, allowing her to enter.
She took in the small space—it was a temporary office for a reason—and the slender window behind the large oak desk. I had an empty bookshelf and two visitor chairs as well.
And a tiny fridge full of water bottles.
“I see you’ve settled in nicely,” she deadpanned, noting the plain off-white walls and lack of items on my desk. I’d set my bag there and nothing else. There wasn’t even a lamp.
“I don’t intend to stay long,” I reminded her.
“Right. New York City.” She sat in one of the chairs, her gaze on the window rather than on me. “Jax says you have a nice place there.”
I muttered a version of an agreement as I took a seat behind my desk.
