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“I read it,” she said in a breath. “But I didn’t think it meant after …” She sucked on her inner cheek and teetered from foot to foot, her gaze dropping. “I mean, we are just in a Sex Education class. I thought it was …”
“For committed relationships?” I finished. “No.”
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Do you need fresh clothes? Underwear?”
Cheeks red, she nodded. “If you have any, that would be nice. I have a long ride home.”
I held out my hand for her to place her panties in. She stared at it for a moment, then placed her books on the desk and shuffled out of her underwear. She glanced at the trash, as if she was going to disobey me and toss them out, then she placed them into my hand.
“Good girl,” I cooed, earning another blush.
“Professor Patton,” she whispered, following me out of the classroom and into the main hallway toward the closet, where Michelle made sure to keep fresh clothes in case there was any type of accident. “Was what we did … okay?”
After handing her some fresh underwear, I turned around to face her, looking for any sort of regret on her face. “Why are you asking? You do remember your safeword, don’t you, Miss Monroe? If you didn’t—”
“It’s not that I didn’t want it—or even like it,” she added, face turning a darker shade. She played with the ends of her skirt again, avoiding eye contact with me. “But you’re my professor and so much older and more experienced than I am.”
“You don’t have to participate,” I said honestly to her. “Stop me at any time if you don’t feel comfortable because I am a greedy bastard and will take and take and take whatever I want—that is, until you speak your safeword.”
“O-okay—”
“How was your first real class?” Michelle asked, walking into the hallway toward us with a stack of papers and beaming at Sierra.
“Good.” Sierra tucked some hair behind her ear. “I need to head home.”
“Not so fast,” I said, catching her arm before she could escape. “You’re not walking.”
“The next bus is in forty-five minutes,” she said. “I have to—”
Once I waved good night to Michelle, I pulled out a set of keys from my pants pocket and placed my hand on her lower back, guiding her from the front of the club to a side door, which was for exclusive use.
She glanced up at me and shook her head, as if she wanted to argue with me. But I would have none of it. I wouldn’t let any student walk home this late at night.
After unlocking my car, I opened the door for her. She stared at it through wide eyes for a moment, mouth dropping open slightly. My dick twitched as the thought of pushing myself between those full lips drifted through my mind.
“This is your car?” she asked, sitting in the passenger seat. “It’s so nice.”
“Yes,” I said, shutting the door softly behind her, then slipping into the driver’s seat.
I set my buzzing phone on the center console, ignored the call from my financial adviser, and started the car. Last year, I had sold the artificial intelligence software company that I had been building since eighteen and invested the majority of the money back into stock and properties for low-income and financially struggling families. And Jeff, my adviser, sometimes didn’t know when to stop calling me about potential opportunities.
I respected it, but I had enough on my plate right now.
Like figuring out how not to … think about Sierra the way that I was.
Fifteen minutes later, after following Sierra’s directions to Forbes Avenue in Oakland, I pulled up to the side of an apartment building right on the main street. A group of rowdy college-aged guys sat outside on the curb, hiding beers.
“You live here?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, glancing out the window. “With a roommate.”
When she pulled on the handle, I grabbed her wrist. “You’re safe here?”
She giggled nervously. “As far as I know.”
I released her wrist and let her exit the car, swinging her backpack over her shoulder.
