Wicked Games: A Forbidden Romance

by T. K. Leigh

  “Like this?” His breathing labored, he reels back, the force of his blow and drive pushing me forward.

  “Harder!” I bite the pillow to muffle my cries.

  He stills, preparing for his next assault, which is more brutal, yet erotic.

  “Harder!” I scream once more, unsure how much more I can take, but I’m willing to find out, to test my limits.

  Like a beast unleashed, he drives into me, pressing his hand to my back, keeping me locked in place so my pleasure is completely at his mercy. But the buildup to this moment was so intense, so drawn-out, it doesn’t take long for me to fall over the edge, crying out his name as forceful waves of ecstasy wash over me, my legs trembling as I come undone.

  “Fuck, Chloe.” His words come out almost like a strangled plea. He increases his rhythm even more before he stills, clutching my hips as he finds his own release.

  We remain motionless as we attempt to get our breathing under control, my body still shivering through the aftereffects of what is probably the most body-numbing orgasm I’ve ever had. Being with Lincoln has always been an adventure. He’s able to satisfy me in a way I never thought possible. But this… This may be the hottest experience to date.

  Looping an arm around my waist, he slowly pulls out, then helps me roll onto my back. When he unfastens my blindfold, I’m met with blazing green eyes.

  “Hey,” he says sweetly.

  “Hey.” I reach up, running my fingers through his hair, my arm quivering from muscle fatigue. Grabbing my hand to help steady it, he closes his eyes, arching into the touch before returning his gaze to mine.

  “How was that?”

  “Hot. Insanely hot.”

  “Are you sore?”

  “A little.” I curve toward him, brushing my lips with his. “But just think. Every time you see me squirming in class because of how uncomfortable those hard chairs are, you’ll know it’s because of you.”

  “I would offer to bring my office chair in for you, but I fear more students might expect the same treatment.”

  “There are quite a few girls who I’m sure would love for you to tie them up and spank them,” I jest, although my statement’s not a complete lie.

  He wraps his arms around me, and I kick off my heels, allowing them to fall to the floor with a load thump. “I was talking about bringing a chair in. You’re the only one I want to tie up and spank.”

  “Good,” I say drowsily, closing my eyes, and he covers our bodies with the duvet.

  “Good.” His soft kiss on my temple is a stark contrast from his earlier dominance. I love that this man can give me both. He can be fire and ice. Harsh and endearing. Wicked and honorable.

  And he’s all mine.

  “Can I ask you something?” I press after a few moments of silence.

  “Anything. Except where Jimmy Hoffa’s buried. I’m sworn to secrecy on that one.”

  I turn around, playfully pinching him in the side as I snuggle into his chest. “Why did you want to do this?”

  “Have sex with you?” He touches my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “In case I haven’t made myself clear, I am absolutely addicted to you.”

  “Not that. I meant the whole role-playing thing. Well, technically, it’s not exactly role-play with us.”

  “True,” he responds thoughtfully. “It’s not. I guess I didn’t want this to become an elephant in the room between us. Is our situation ideal? Far from it. When we’re together like this, I want to be able to be us and not worry about life outside these walls.” He returns his mouth to mine and pushes me onto my back, hovering over me, resting his weight on his forearms. “And I’ve been fantasizing about some role-play with you ever since I met you.”

  “Is that right?”

  He leisurely licks his lips, his gaze darkening once more. “That’s right.”

  “And what kinds of things did you have in mind?”

  “Oh, you know…” The corners of his mouth twitch up in a flirtatious grin as he lowers himself, dragging his tongue along my collarbone, traveling farther south before tugging on my nipple. “The usual.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Doctor-patient. Boss-secretary. The virgin college freshman.” He moves to my other breast, giving it the same treatment. I close my eyes, hooking my leg around his waist, feeling his erection slowly return to life. “But I am certainly partial to professor-student, especially after today.” He covers my mouth with his, trailing a hand down my torso before sinking a finger inside, my body reigniting.

  “Oh, Professor.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Chloe,” a tender voice says, rousing me from one of the most erotic dreams I’ve had in quite some time.

  I slowly blink my eyes open, taking in my unfamiliar surroundings. The instant my gaze locks on Lincoln, I realize it wasn’t a dream. This afternoon was real. Lincoln lured me into a hotel room for the sole purpose of having hot, naughty sex.

  “Here.” He extends his hand, revealing two ibuprofen. “This will help with, well…any discomfort.”

  I scoot up, wincing, my ass sore. But I’d gladly suffer through this pain again, the pleasure I experienced still making me feel like I’m on a high.

  “What time is it?” I place the pills on my tongue, then grab the bottle of water he holds out, taking a sip.

  “After two thirty. We need to get to class.”

  “Uh-oh.” Passing him a coquettish look, I reach for his tie that served as a blindfold mere hours ago. “It appears I’m going to be late again.” I yank him toward me, my words coming out breathy. “Perhaps I need a reminder of your rather strict tardiness rules.”

  “Perhaps you do.” He crushes his lips against mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth as sparks shoot through me. I rake my fingers along his back, about to push his jacket off his shoulders when he abruptly pulls away, adjusting his belt. “But at a later date.”

  “Oh, really?” I roll onto my side, propping my head in my hand as I narrow my eyes on his crotch. “From where I’m standing, you’re hungry for more.”

  “I’ll always want more of you.” He brings his hand to my cheek, lovingly brushing his thumb along the skin. “My sweetest addiction. But we still need to go.”

  “Ugh…” I throw my legs over the side of the bed. “So serious.”

  He flashes a beautiful smile my way, then his expression falls as I turn to grab the dress he placed neatly over a chair, his attention focusing on my ass.

  “Chloe, I—”

  I press my mouth to his before he can utter another word. “Don’t. I liked it. Actually, I really liked it. I don’t want you to feel bad because then you won’t want to do it again. And I really want you to do that again.” With a bounce in my step, I head toward the bathroom. “But next time, you be the doctor. I’ll be the patient, and you can give me a very thorough exam.”

  I close the door behind me, grinning to myself when I hear him curse under his breath.

  Aware of what a stickler Lincoln is for being on time, I hurriedly run a washcloth over my body and freshen my appearance so I don’t look like I’ve just been fucked, especially on my first day back to class after missing three weeks. A bruise has already formed on my neck, teeth marks visible, so I smooth my hair over my shoulder, covering it as best I can.

  When I emerge into the bedroom, Lincoln’s re-adjusting his tie. He appears just as put together as he did when I first walked into this hotel room, apart from his hair, which has a mussed-up, just-fucked look.

  Sauntering up to him, I bring my hands to his neck, helping to straighten his tie. “Every time I look at you and see this tie, I won’t be able to stop thinking about the things you did to me when you used it as a blindfold.”

  “That’s the point.” He waggles his brows.

  I touch my mouth to his, then allow him to help me into my jacket. After a quick check to make sure I have everything, apart from my panties, he walks me to the door. “Thanks for this afternoon.”

&n
bsp; With a smile, I lift myself onto my toes, kissing him. “Thank you.”

  He pulls back the door, holding it open for me. I step into the hallway, turning around when he doesn’t immediately follow. “Aren’t you coming?”

  Hesitation flickers in his expression. “I don’t think it’s a smart idea for us to walk out of a hotel together. We are only a few blocks away from campus.”

  “Oh…” My heart deflates.

  “It’s just…” With a sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose before returning his eyes to mine. “We need to be careful. I want to be with you, but I’ll lose my job. Probably both jobs, so…”

  “Of course.” I force a smile, the high I was on crashing to the floor now that reality has set in.

  Will we ever be able to be seen together? Or is this all we’ll ever have? A few clandestine meetings. Some really hot sex. Then being sent away before anyone realizes the truth. It reminds me a little too much of all the men who came before him.

  “Well…” I hold my head high, re-securing my mask. “I’ll be on my way.”

  He steps toward me. “Chloe…”

  I hold up my hand, stopping him. “It’s no big deal.” My tone turns icy. “Thanks for the private session… Professor.”

  By the time I step off the elevator and make my way through the familiar corridors of the journalism building, my blood is boiling. No matter the questionable things I’d done in my past, I’ve never felt as cheap as I just did with Lincoln. Why did I expect things would be different? It was stupid of me to think we’d ever have a normal relationship.

  When I barrel into the classroom several minutes after three, all eyes go to me in expectation, then disappointment when they see I’m not Lincoln. A few of the girls rake their disapproving gazes over me. I wonder if I have a blinking sign on my forehead, advertising the fact that I’d just fucked our professor. This must be how Hester Prynne felt. Except she knew she wore a giant sign announcing her sins to the world. My sins are still invisible. How much longer will they remain that way?

  I take a few seconds to compose myself, feeling unnaturally exposed without the panties I can only assume are still stuffed in Lincoln’s pocket, and meet Owen’s confused stare, which doesn’t leave me the entire time I walk in his direction and sit down, shrugging out of my coat.

  I pull a notebook from my bag, flipping to a free page, squirming in my chair. I smooth my hair over my shoulder, ensuring it adequately covers the mark Lincoln left. I should have sat on the other side of Owen so he wouldn’t have as many opportunities to see it. Better yet, I should have kept my coat on.

  “Where have you been?” he asks once I’m situated. “I figured Professor Prick kicked you out. And since you haven’t responded to any of my texts—”

  “He didn’t kick me out. I had some…personal stuff come up.” I fidget with my dress, tugging the skirt to cover a few bruises on my thighs. But as discreet as I try to be, it doesn’t escape Owen’s attention.

  “Is something going on?”

  “What?” I shoot my eyes to his. I notice his gaze flicker to my neck, so I quickly hide the mark with my hair once more. “No. I just…” I stammer, needing to come up with something to tell him, to bring his attention away from the questionable bruises that cover my body. “My mom’s sick.” It’s not a complete lie. “That’s why I haven’t been in class. I had to take care of her.”

  “Oh god,” Owen responds with all the compassion I’ve come to expect from him, his shoulders dropping. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” He shakes his head. “Do you need anything?”

  “Thanks, but she’s doing much better now. We both are.”

  “That’s good to hear, but next time, answer your damn texts. I was worried about you.” He reaches for my hand, covering it with his before I have a chance to pull away. “Worried the Big Bad Wolf ran away with Little Purple Riding Hood.”

  “Mr. Campbell!” A booming voice fills the room.

  Owen and I jump in our seats and I yank my hand from his, hiding it in my lap. I expect Owen to shift his attention to Lincoln, but he doesn’t, his analytical eyes studying me. I straighten my spine, feigning confidence, praying he doesn’t put the pieces together. He wouldn’t, would he? Then again, the last time I was in this very room, class ended early due to some unexpected fireworks.

  “Do you mind? Or is your conversation with Miss Davenport more important than, say, a journalist’s privilege to keep their source anonymous?”

  “No, sir. I apologize, sir.”

  Lincoln glares for several uncomfortable seconds before turning around, scribbling on the whiteboard. I keep my eyes glued to the blank page of my notebook, ignoring the way Owen steals a glimpse of the bruise on my leg, then shifts his attention back to Lincoln, as if on the brink of putting a puzzle together.

  “Now, Mr. Campbell,” Lincoln begins when he turns around, a cocky smirk on his face. “What can you tell the class about the Branzburg cases?”

  I blow out a breath. As much as I hate when he intentionally picks on Owen because of our friendship, I’m grateful for it today, since it forces Owen to focus more on Lincoln’s line of questioning and less on me.

  All throughout the three-hour class, I do my best to focus on the material and compartmentalize this Lincoln from the Lincoln who called me his sweetest addiction, from the confusing Lincoln who recoiled the instant I suggested we leave the hotel together.

  The more I stew over his behavior, the more my irritation grows. He can’t order me to a hotel room, treat me like he’s only interested in getting between my legs, then get mad if Owen, a friend, appears genuinely concerned about my mysterious absence. He wants to have boundaries about where we’re seen together. Well, I need boundaries, too.

  When the class finally ends, Owen turns to me, raking his hand through his sandy hair. “I didn’t think I was going to survive that.”

  Thankfully, any earlier suspicion has disappeared, probably because Lincoln called on me, much to everyone’s surprise. But I suppose it’s best to remove any appearance of impropriety.

  “You did great. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.” I playfully nudge him in the side as we walk toward the door. I pay no attention to Lincoln, pretending to be more interested in whatever Owen’s telling me. If he wants to treat me like I’m disposable, two can play his game.

  I know it’s juvenile and a bit rash, but after this afternoon, he deserves a taste of his own medicine.

  As I’m about to leave with Owen, Lincoln’s voice sounds from behind me. “Miss Davenport, I’d like a word, please.”

  I turn to face him. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

  “I insist,” he grits out, his jaw clenched. “We need to discuss your absences and devise a plan going forward.”

  “You can email me. I need to get to an appointment,” I lie, although I am supposed to meet the girls for happy hour.

  “You’ve already missed enough classes for me to fail you, Miss Davenport. A few minutes of your time to discuss this is the least you can do. Rest assured, despite any…connection I may have to your father, I have every right to fail you.”

  I clench my jaw, my hands balling into fists. The room is still, dozens of curious stares watching our conversation. The last thing I need is to draw any more attention to us. That’s the last thing Lincoln needs, too. So why is he doing this?

  Fixing my expression, I give him a saccharine smile. “I apologize, Professor. You’re right. There are things we should discuss regarding expectations going forward.”

  Nodding curtly, he adjusts that damn tie, then grabs his messenger bag. “Follow me, Miss Davenport.”

  “With pleasure, Professor.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “What the fuck was that?” I strain in an irate whisper the instant the door to Lincoln’s office clicks closed. “You think you can order me around in class? Threaten to fail me just to get me alone? Like this is some fucking game?”

  “I
know it’s not a game.” His voice is soft, a complete juxtaposition to mine, which only aggravates me more.

  “You don’t get to treat me like that,” I choke out. “You don’t get to fuck me, toss me onto the street, then act all jealous when I talk to a classmate, a friend.”

  He grabs my hips, his earnest gaze attempting to put out the fire within. “I know. And I’m sorry.” His lips part as he struggles to find words, a rarity for a man who always seems to know what to say. “We’re skating on very dangerous ice here. One slip and we can both sink. I just…” He releases me, pacing the office, tugging at his hair.

  “We don’t have the luxury of being able to go out to dinner wherever we want, or going to see a show, or going away with friends for a weekend. Hell, even if you weren’t my student, I still wouldn’t be able to tell any of my colleagues at the paper about you because you’re the goddamn boss’ daughter! Did I overreact when I saw Owen squeezing your hand? Joking with you?”

  I open my mouth to say something, but he interrupts me.

  “Absolutely. But I can’t help it around you. I can’t reel in this insane jealousy that rips me apart, Chloe.”

  The vein in his neck throbs with the passion and intensity with which he speaks, and I remain still, speechless, my earlier anger dissipating with every word.

  “I can’t even hold your hand in public without worrying about who could be lurking around the corner. About someone snapping a selfie that has us in the background, then posts it on Instagram for the world to see. For the wrong person to see.”

  He clutches my hands, his expression frantic, a man on the edge. “I want to be able to take you out. I want to be able to show you off and shout to the world how fucking amazing you are.”

  His face falls and he drops his hold on me, heading to the window. “But I can’t.” He peers at the city surrounding us, his shoulders drooping as his realization this will never work rings out between us.

  I stare at him, swallowing hard through the lump in my throat, my heart sinking to my stomach. It was nice while we were in our own fantasy world earlier, but the fantasy never lasts. It’ll fade and all we’ll be left with is the sad truth of who we are. Two people who can never be together. We were fooling ourselves to think otherwise.