Semua Bab Submissive Academy: Bab 31 - Bab 40

We stop talking when Adam throws both thumbs up to the roaring crowd. The medics leave the field, and to my absolute amazement, Adam continues playing. Surely he has some sort of brain damage after that knockout. A scrum begins. Adam's team is the first to score a try. The crowd explodes in cheers as loud music blares for half a minute, and pure glee floods the stadium. Our team huddles together. There's aggressive chatter, slaps on the back so hard their bodies jolt forward—but instead of hurting, it fires them up. The energy shifts. They’re more determined, more dangerous. Then our boys score the next try. Our little club of twenty-five girls erupts. We leap to our feet, arms raised, screaming at the top of our lungs. The boys on the field respond with equal excitement, their energy matching ours. Aiden glances up at me. He nods, smirking—liking what he sees. The way his eyes lock on mine, that cocky confidence in his expression, it hits me hard. I laugh. A full, wild laugh

Of course I win. Even the other team ends up cheering for us, their voices echoing through the dusky air like we’ve pulled off a miracle. The men from Redford keep stealing glances, their gazes trailing over our laughter and flushed cheeks, our flushed skin catching in the dim light like a beacon. They try to edge closer—curious, maybe intrigued—but they never cross the invisible line. Every girl is guarded by her dom. That rule is unspoken, absolute. No other man dares come near. Their need to shield us is so deeply ingrained that even alcohol can’t strip it away. That instinct to protect is one of the only things they seem to take seriously. Aiden hasn’t left my side. Three drinks in, and it’s like I’ve become his personal magnet. His arm stays locked around my waist, his fingers trailing lazy circles over my hip as he downs twice as much liquor as I do. He's laughing, talking with the other boys, more unguarded than I’ve ever seen him. And the other doms? They let their subs

We stay silent for a long while. The wind rushes past us, and I realize we haven’t stopped to put on helmets or any protective gear. I feel naked beneath my jacket, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins keeps the cold at bay. “Question, Danika,” Aiden’s voice breaks the stillness. Instantly, my guard snaps up. He only uses my full name when it's something serious. “Yeah?” I answer, trying to sound casual. “When everyone’s looking at you... like in the stadium, when Adam gave you his attention... what goes through your head?” he asks, keeping his focus on the road ahead. I frown, caught off guard. “Uhm... I don’t know.” “You do,” Aiden replies instantly. “Tell me.” I hesitate, the memory of that moment at the stadium crawling back. “I feel... anxious. Judged. There’s this heavy weight of dread that settles over me. I just... I want to disappear. I don’t want to be seen.” Aiden nods, his voice thoughtful. “And after?” “I feel... suffocated. Like their eyes are still on m

"How is David?" Aiden asks instead as he sits down at the table. I move to sit next to him, my legs aching from standing so long today, but he stops me with a single word—calm, commanding, distant. "Stand." He doesn’t even glance at me. Just that cold, indifferent word, and I freeze, staring at the back of his head like it betrayed me. Emma’s sitting beside Henry, a smug smirk playing at her lips. Across from them, Daniel chats with Isla, who throws me the quickest look of pity before bowing her head again. My arms fold across my chest, sourness radiating off me like acid. I stand there behind Aiden like his obedient pet, which—thanks to the thick collar around my throat—I technically am. I feel ridiculous in this motorcycle jacket, but it's not like I can just take it off. My bra isn't even on properly. With every tiny shift of movement, the coarse material scrapes over my nipples. It’s a quiet torment that only I feel. "His leg is broken. He's in the hospital now, but it does

Danika Addison runs into my bathroom like she owns the place—like every inch of it was made for her. She’s laughing, wild and beautiful, and that sound lodges itself somewhere deep in my chest. She doesn’t even bother closing the door behind her. Just slips in like she belongs here. And fuck… maybe she does. I watch the empty doorway for a second longer than I should, my heart hammering against my ribs as I finish changing. Italy will be warm. Elegant. We have to look the part. I throw on a pair of fitted black trousers, button up a dark shirt, and slide my new sunglasses onto my head. I’m styling my hair in front of the mirror when my eyes flick to the crack in the bathroom door. The shower is on. Steam curls into the room like a siren’s invitation. My body stills. Goddamn it. I mean, I've seen her naked before.. I've seen all her parts, but I would literally murder anyone to see them again. Her body is the kind of art that makes men weak, makes monsters crawl out of their cag