When I saw one of the other professors eyes glazing over like he was headed to his happy place, making me realize I was describing her perfection in too much detail, I gave him a stare down and a snarl and he quickly pulled his mask up and over his head and scurried off somewhere.
Good, because none of these “monsters” scare me.
In fact they’re thinking I’m a real life monster myself after the way I spoke in no uncertain terms about laying a finger on my Penelope.
“She just cleared the corner. Coming your way,” pops up on my cell phone.
I exchanged numbers with the professor one “scare station” as they call them before mine so I’d known when she was near.
But now I realize I didn’t even need to do that.
I swear I can smell her. Her scent. There’s something very primal about it. It’s like the darkness of fear mixed with the sweetest flower in the world. I memorized it on the ride over and I recognize it now.
And the groups are coming through staggered so I won’t have any trouble doing exactly what I have planned.
I look through the little peephole and see her. She’s just a few feet away as her hands move from one wall to the other as if she’s in a maze trying to find her way out.
And I have to find a way to get my erection back under control when I see the way the purple light hits that white T-shirt of hers, highlighting her perfect breasts.
And then my eyes lock in on her nipples.
Holy fuck! They’re rock hard and pebbling though her bra and her shirt.
She’s turned on and it can only be for me.
I can’t wait any longer and I jump out early.
She sees me and screams at the top of her lungs before turning to run in the other direction.
But I’m too fast, too big, and too powerful.
Two steps later I’ve got her, scooping her up from behind and carrying her back to my lair kicking and screaming.
“Let me go!” she screams and I hear the voices of the group behind her scream out in fear as well.
But I don’t care about them. They won’t know what it’s like to experience the kind of fear I can deliver.
And more importantly no one will get the chance to experience the kind of pleasure I can give either.
No one except her.
Chapter Nine
Penelope
“You don’t really want me to let you go…do you?” the deep, husky voice says to me.
It’s only then that I realize I was so terrified that I somehow missed what had happened.
“Bishop.”
“You know I wouldn’t allow anyone else to lay a finger on you, let alone pick you up and carry you against your will,” he says. “In fact is this against your will?”
It’s like a switch inside me flips and my fear turns to lust.
“No, it’s…okay. It’s…what I want.”
“There’s a big difference between what’s okay and what you want,” he says matter-of-factly.
And he’s right. “I want it,” I say, responding directly in kind.
“Good, because last night you came to me to see what I would do. Well here’s your answer. You didn’t have to come to me a second time because I saw what I want and now I came and got it for myself,” he says, and even through the mask I could see his eyes move over my body as he said, “what I want.”
“Are we going to get caught?” I say.
“Caught implies we’re doing something we shouldn’t be doing. Something that is wrong. And there’s nothing wrong about the way we feel about each other.”
I know Bishop is a decisive guy, my dad has told me stories. But it’s one thing to know he’s decisive and it’s another to see just how decisive he is in person…especially when what he’s decisive about is claiming me as his.
And that’s exactly what I want. What I came to Tulane for. What I came to his front door for yesterday.
Him.
And now I’m so close to having him, or more accurately him having me.
There’s no way I could do anything to him. He’s so much bigger and stronger than I am…and likely experienced too.
Whatever he saw in me he could have. Yes, I was going to do my best to please him, but it would be foolish to think I could maneuver a man as big and strong and dominant as he is into any sort of position that I might want.
And judging by the grip he has on me there is no doubt he wants me. All of me.
The way he holds me with his fingers not just underneath me, but around me…in a possessive grip. And his short, direct sentences which are more like something a caveman, or some barbarian out of the annals of a history book, might say.