“That’s not exactly how your principal described things to me on the phone,” she insists as Victor’s fingers trail just a bit higher up on my thigh than appropriate. Shit. I’m trembling again, and my hands shake as I polish off my croissant and reach for some coffee instead. If I were a smart girl, I’d push Vic off with a giggle. You know, play the part but show him I’m not a slave to the tension between us either.

Instead, I sit there with my back ramrod straight, my heart thumping so loud I can barely hear the stiff back and forth of their conversation, and I do my best not to actively groan when those hot fingers brush against the front of my panties.

I sip the coffee, hot bitter liquid splashing against my tongue as I try to tell my body to ignore the sweeping surge of pleasure from my core. Already, I can feel liquid pooling between my thighs, and find myself shifting in my seat.

“Principal Vaughn?” Vic asks with a hoarse laugh, his full lips twisting into a smirk. “You’ll have to forgive him. Sometimes he gets a bit busy running that child sex-ring of his, and gets confused. You know, like how he thought I had drugs in my locker last week.”

Ophelia’s nostrils flare, but whatever retort she was about to spit out is cut short by the appearance of an older man, his salt and pepper stubble well-groomed, his eyes wandering a bit too much for my taste. He stares at the low-cut shape of my top, eyes tracing the tattoos there with interest before he actually remembers that his girlfriend is in the room with us.

“Ophelia,” he purrs, sinking down to give her a kiss on the mouth. She pulls away from him slightly, a frown working its way onto her face. I can hardly believe Vic just dropped that bomb about Principal Vaughn.

My mouth gets dry, and I suck down another gulp of coffee to keep my throat from closing up. Victor’s fingers play a dangerous game, stroking the silken flesh of my inner thigh, working closer and closer to that desperate heat. The first deliberate stroke is almost too much. I set the coffee cup down on the saucer so loudly that it clinks and both Ophelia and her beau turn to look at me.

Vic, however, keeps his attention straight forward, his mouth a cruel twist of lips.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Mother?” he asks, the dutiful son act slipping slightly. There’s an edge of danger in his voice that says he’s ready for whatever it is she wants to throw at him. “I’m your only son, after all.”

“Tom Muller,” the man says, introducing himself. He’s polished and well put-together, but with a total sleazebag vibe, like he has a punch card for young girls’ cherries. He holds out a hand which Victor doesn’t take, and then turns his attention to me. “And you are—”

“Don’t talk to my fiancée,” Victor growls out, clenching his teeth, his fingers stiff against the wet silk of my panties. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds, mixing copper into the bitter taste of coffee on my tongue. “She doesn’t like you.”

“The girl can speak for herself, can’t she?” Tom asks, smiling at me like a used-car salesman.

“I don’t like you,” I repeat, and his face falls, the illusion of niceties shattering into a million pieces. Does his sleazy act really work on anyone at all? When I flick my attention back to Vic and find a dark shimmer of satisfaction in his gaze, I almost wonder if he’s had bad experiences with his mother’s boyfriends around his own girlfriends before. “How long do we have to sit here and pretend like your egg donor isn’t purposely trying to sabotage you to steal your inheritance to fund her slutty boyfriend’s pretentious lifestyle?”

“Just long enough to figure out how far she’s planning on taking this. I’m nearly eighteen and she has yet to find something that’ll derail me. What’s next? You sell all your fancy clothes and hire an assassin?”

I’m staring right at Victor when he slips his fingers under the edge of my panties and pushes them into the molten heat of my core. I’m shaking so bad now that Ophelia and Tom are bound to notice.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ophelia snorts, sliding her hands along her thighs to smooth out her skirt. “I don’t need your money, Victor. I'm just trying to make sure that when and if you receive my mother's money that you won't blow it all on drugs and nonsense.”

My entire world seems to shrink down to a fine point, my senses hyper focused on Vic and his fingers as he pushes them inside of me and then pulls out, teasing wetness over my clit. Ophelia's looking right at me now, chastising me for calling her an egg donor, and for purposely trying to create tension between her and her son.

I barely register any of it.

The whole world falls away around me until I feel this burning ache inside of me that starts in my spine and unfurls through me like a whip, striking all the cold, dead parts of me and bringing them to brilliant, painful life.

“Excuse me,” I choke out, shoving back from the table and stumbling to my feet. I smooth my skirt out as I go, taking off into the labyrinthine halls with no clue as to where I'm going.

As soon as I find a bathroom, I slip into it and start to shut the door.

Vic is there though, blocking the door with his forearm and pushing his way in. He slams it behind us, flicks the lock, and turns to me, lifting me onto the counter. My hands go around his neck and find his skin just as slick with sweat as my own.

Our mouths hover close, but for whatever reason, I just can't make myself close that distance to kiss him. Instead of fucking me into the counter like I'd expected, Vic continues teasing me with his hand until I'm trembling so hard I can barely keep my fingers clasped behind his neck. He looks right at me with those ebon eyes of his, pushing his own fingers deep inside of me and using his thumb to stroke my clit.

“Wait,” I start, because I feel too exposed right now, too vulnerable. That numbness is fading away, and I'm feeling too much, too quick.

“Wait?” Vic asks, flicking his thumb against me and making me cry out. “What are we waiting for, exactly?” His voice is deep, low and edged with a crack that I want to reach out and push on, just to see if he'll break. “It's just an orgasm. Tell me you've had an orgasm before?”

“I—” I start, but then Vic is moving his hand again, manipulating me like a puppet. “Of course I have.”

“Good. Then I don't have to kick Aaron's ass.” Vic presses his hot mouth to mine finally, tackling that pesky space between us, stirring up an entire universe of emotions in me. My body finally loses the fight against itself, and I shudder with a climax, pleasure cascading over me and destroying what little self-control I have left.

Victor pulls back slightly, one arm still around my waist, his mouth just a fraction of an inch from mine. The way he smiles at me stirs up motes of anger in the dusty storm of my feelings. I reach out for his pants, and he jerks back, letting go of me and leaving me cold.

“No,” he says, and there's a sternness in his voice that makes me want to snap back. How is this fair, for him to take away my protective layer of numbness and leave me aching? My anger rushes to the surface to protect me, and I scowl.

“Let me perform my duties,” I grind out, gesturing at his hard cock. “Like you did yesterday.”

Victor grits his teeth, his jaw clenching with anger. There it is, I've done it, I've thoroughly pissed him off. He hates himself for losing control; it proves he isn't some sort of dark god, that he's actually human.