THIRTY-ONE: You're Desperate... Why?

I didn’t realize that it had been raining before I stepped outside for my ride.

I wait for the driver with my bag covering my head and duck inside as soon as it pulls up. Sitting into the plush seat, nothing is on my mind but Harlan, and with every stretch of road that shrinks behind me in the rear-view mirror, I grow more and more anxious to see him, its peak hitting me as I step out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of his towering brownstone home. I listen to the low roar of the engine as the car drives away, leaving me alone and in the darkness. I let the fading sound ground me.

My stomach is still in knots. Seeing Harlan more regularly doesn't make it easier. The man just makes me nervous. He incites a certain degree of fear in all of his students. And surprisingly, I'm not an exception. I still find him just as intimidating.

But I'm different. Because I also find him thrilling. I take one step up his front porch.

Dark. Another step.

And above all, dangerous.

Harlan yanks the door open before I can even lift my fist to knock. Completely shocked to see him so suddenly, to be so abruptly standing in his menacing shadow, I have to crane my neck upwards to look him in the eye at this proximity.

His eyes are dark and swimming with severity and hunger. He'd been waiting for me. He eyes me like a predator before slowly opening the door wider for me to step through. I slip inside timidly, suddenly feeling like I'm being hunted. Stalked. I want to jump him. I keep my arms clenched at my sides to prevent myself from encircling him within them, testing my own resistance.

But I know that as soon as he touches me, I'll be melted putty in his hands.

I can feel his burning gaze drinking me in as if he wants to engulf me completely, swallow my timidity. And I'm not timid, not truly.

But standing before Harlan feels akin to standing before the Lord of the Underworld.

But when he is looking at me like this, I'm not sure if he wants to defile me or beat me up. Knowing Harlan, it’s likely a combination of the two.

But why isn't he saying anything? I lift my gaze as he circles me like a beast, watching him make his rounds, raising my chin in dignified defiance. He wants me.

It is undeniable.

"I've been thinking about you," he finally says. His voice sounds like gravel, and makes me feel cold.

My stomach does a 180-degree-flip, and I try not to flinch. And I never stop thinking about you, I somehow keep myself from blurting.

"You impressed me today," he adds when I hold my tongue. "You were such a good girl for me." He takes a step forward, his fingers lifting to trail down a strand of my hair and roll it in between his fingertips. "And so bad."

I melt.

I feel my cunt clench and then flutter before my hands are on him, yanking him against me as if his proximity is my very lifeblood. Our lips finally, finally come together. His tongue dives into my mouth to battle with my own, sliding against it in wet heat. I suck in air through my nose, the sudden exasperation of such a forceful kiss knocking the oxygen out of my lungs completely.

Suddenly, Harlan is moving, legs pushing me backwards until my back hits the front door. He presses me against the wood, his broad chest flush with mine. Hungry and desperate, my lips mold to him to deepen the kiss, my tongue prematurely venturing from my mouth in an eager attempt to taste him, hands holding myself against his thigh to grind against.

But Harlan pulls away just enough for me to see his brow knit together in curiosity. His hand remains cupped to my cheek as he searches my face.

"You're desperate," he observes, voice a contemplative murmur. "Why?"

His eyes seem to darken as he drinks in my features: my lips parted from heavy, desperate breaths, my pleading eyes wide and glued to his flawless, beautiful face.

"I need you," I whimper, seizing him by the belt-loops and pulling myself closer against his towering frame.

"After what I did for you earlier," he murmurs, eyes brow raising in pejorative disbelief, "you still need me?"

Chewing on my lower lip, I feel a flush rise to my cheeks, staining me with shame.

No man has ever made me feel the way Harlan makes me feel – so full of pleasure and ecstasy that it is somehow never enough. And it isn't because he doesn't leave me satisfied. He leaves me more than satisfied. He leaves me trembling and dripping, lips kiss-swollen and body wracking with violent trembles and shaking limbs, unable to take another agonizing inch of his cock. And even so, I can't stay away from him. He makes me drunk, and all I want to do is keep drinking. I don't know what has possessed me, what has been awoken inside of me. But once I've tasted it, it – he – is impossible to quit.

He watches my expression melt into one of shame and want, and he inhales sharply in response. His lips dive to my ear and he inhales deeply again, breathing in my desperation. Lips trail my earlobe, making me tremble and drip with want. I can hear his soft, laboured breaths. It’s music to my ears.

As gentle as the movements are at my ear and curve of my neck, I feel a suddenly jolt of pressure as his hand rises to clasp my jaw. Not a drop of gentleness is left in his touch – only tension and hardness.

Control.

"You're a needy slut," he mutters against the skin of my neck, his words low and evenly paced.

He isn't just saying it. He is telling me. His words land hard against my ears. And they ignite me.

He is so close that I can feel the hardness of his crotch pressing against my own middle.

"Do you know what I do to whores who pretend they can handle this cock?" he breathes, teeth catching my earlobe and dragging down the skin.

I hum in response, my head leading back against the wall.

Just then, I feel the hand around my jaw tighten. "I make sure they can't walk for a week when I'm done with them."

He releases my jaw with a shove, causing my head to drop to the side from the impact. I gasp, jaw hanging loose, my breathing laboured and shallow.

He chuckles at my struggle to keep afloat when I'm drowning in lust.

"Greedy slut wants to cum again, does she?" he growls. "I'll make sure you're too wrecked to ask for it a second time."