The Deal (Arranged Book 1)

by Stella Gray

  Luckily, a few minutes in, my favorite professor showed up and pulled me aside. Her surname was Dhawan, derived from the Sanskrit word dhav, which meant ‘messenger’; when she’d explained this on our first day of class, I’d felt relieved to know she thought of herself as a messenger, bringing knowledge to all of us.

  Relief flooded through me. “Professor! I’m so glad to see you. I mean, not in class.” My nerves had me rambling. “Not that I don’t love your class. Which I do, as you know—”

  “Of course I do! You’re my best student,” she said, and laughed. “Have you met the dean of the school yet?”

  I shook my head, feeling a little nervous. I wanted to make a good first impression.

  “Come with me,” she said, leading me across the room. But halfway there, another professor cut in and asked to borrow Professor Dhawan, and I was left to meet the dean alone.

  Dean Hutton was an imposing older woman with severe brows, short, dark hair, and a suit cut so sharply it would have given Stefan a run for his money. She was addressing a cluster of people in front of a glass case that gleamed with a variety of alumni awards and trophies. This woman oversaw the entire program I’d worked so hard to get into. I was incredibly intimidated.

  I was just about to introduce myself, battling a resurgence of awkward shyness, when I felt a hand on the small of my back and inhaled the scent of a familiar cologne. For a second I was convinced I was imagining things, but when I turned around Stefan was standing there.

  He looked polished and confident, just like always, but it was a nice surprise to see how well he blended in with the collegiate crowd. His suit was more subdued than usual, grey instead of black, and he’d traded out the dark dress shoes for brown oxfords. Not that he could ever fade into the background—though he was dressed appropriately, he was still the most magnetic man in the room. But he looked like he belonged there. With me.

  “Dean Hutton.” I held out my hand. “I’m Victoria, one of the first years. I wanted to say how excited I am to be a part of the linguistics program.” I turned to gesture to Stefan. “And this is my husband, Stefan.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Stefan said, shaking the dean’s hand.

  Was that a smile on his face? It was! Stefan was smiling warmly at the dean, who returned the favor.

  “Lovely to meet you both,” Dean Hutton said. “Always glad to meet our new students.”

  “Tori’s been singing the praises of your program ever since she started the term,” Stefan said, oozing charm. “I have no doubt she’ll be one of your most dedicated students.”

  I blushed. How could I not? Stefan was buttering up the dean like a pro, and all I could do was watch as he talked me up.

  “I’ve heard nothing but good things,” the dean said before turning to me. “Your professors are very impressed with your work so far. A genuine thirst for knowledge is something that will serve you well over the next few years. It’s refreshing to see.”

  “You’d be hard pressed to find someone who loves language as much as my wife does,” Stefan agreed. “I can barely get her to talk about anything else, but you have to admire that kind of passion. When I was a year deep into my MBA program at U Penn, I found that the one thing…”

  He admired my passion. Why did it sound so good when he said it like that?

  Something swelled in my chest as Stefan and Dean Hutton talked some more—about me. It wasn’t just the fact that it was flattering, but that Stefan was talking about me like he knew me. Really knew me. And like he was proud of the person I was. Could it be that I was more than just a warm body to him? More than just a contractual obligation?

  But all the emotion building up inside me was dangerous—because I knew exactly what it meant.

  And I knew that falling in love with Stefan was the last thing I should be doing.

  Stefan

  Chapter 21

  Coming to this event had been a big mistake. I wasn’t even sure what had driven me to make such an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment decision. With all the upheaval at work, the last thing I had time for was a student mixer at my wife’s school. I had no reason to play the doting, supportive husband. That was the role Tori and I played for our parents—for my father and for hers. To support their brand, their image. That was the whole purpose of our marriage, after all.

  So attending this event, where the only possible networking opportunities would be with Tori’s fellow students or professors, would do nothing to further either of our fathers’ goals. Nor our own.

  And yet, for reasons I still wasn’t sure of, I was here. I hadn’t even planned to come, but I’d found myself wrapping up my projects early, changing into a less formal suit of clothes I kept at the office, and then getting in a car to go straight to UChicago’s campus. To spend what would doubtlessly shape up to be a total waste of an evening drinking cheap wine, making small talk with a bunch of academics, and blowing countless hours of my time. Why had I agreed to this?

  In a word, because I was a fucking idiot.

  I’d made a huge mistake when it came to Tori. I was normally an excellent judge of character, yet I kept finding that she surprised me. I thought I’d be marrying someone who knew the game, but was well aware of her appointed role in it—and of exactly how to behave like a good girl. And those things were true enough. But lately it seemed like she had lost any interest in acting like a good girl. She was starting to spread her wings, rebel against her boundaries. And like it or not, I had to respect her for it.

  Despite her guileless charm and her obsession with pursuing a higher education, I had ultimately expected her to be just like her father—self-absorbed and hyper-focused on her ambitions, to the point of being oblivious to half the people around her. But with Tori, her ambition was benign. And self-absorbed was the last word I’d use to describe her.

  But even still, I’d come to realize that she was far more of an innocent than I had thought. She didn’t have any idea of the dark, grotesque work that lay just below the surface of what our families did. She was hopelessly naïve about the ways of the world.

  It should have disgusted me. Should have pushed me further away from her.

  Instead, it just inflamed my desire.

  And tonight, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. That dress of hers was something else. It was modest—everything was covered—yet it only managed to accentuate her curves, clinging to her tits and ass like a second skin. I couldn’t wait to get her home and rip it off. To discover what she was wearing underneath.

  It hadn’t escaped my notice that she wore nothing but fragile wisps of lingerie when I came to bed every night. My animal desire, my rough destruction of those expensive items, the torn scraps of lace and silk on the floor the next morning; all of it only seemed to make her hotter. I spent all day thinking about what she’d be wearing and how fast I could get it off her.

  In fact, I was thinking about that even now. Wondering what she’d put on for me, and only me, underneath that silky blue dress of hers.

  It wasn’t just desire revving me up tonight. That was the main thing driving me, but I felt a sense of pride for her as well. This was a room filled with intelligent, ardent academics, and I knew Tori could hold her own with the best of them. It was irrational, I guess. I probably didn’t know her well enough to be proud of her. I barely knew her at all.

  Yet I could see the fire in her eyes as she chatted with her co-eds and instructors, brimming with enthusiasm and passion for language. For words, for fuck’s sake. It should have been merely precocious. It shouldn’t have been impressive, or be affecting me in any way.

  Somehow it was.

  I watched her hold court, charming her professors and the Dean, and found myself smiling at how animated she seemed. I didn’t like the way that most of the men in her department seemed to be undressing her with their eyes, but I couldn’t blame them. She was gorgeous, but sometimes I fucking hated the fact.

  Didn’t they know she belonged to me?

&nb
sp; I’d never been possessive before, but Tori made me that way. Made me want to blacken the eye of any man that looked in her direction. I wanted them to know that she was mine.

  It was illogical. I knew that all of this was temporary. That whatever was happening between us was going to be over as soon as I got what I wanted.

  I never should have fucked her.

  That was where everything had gone wrong. I prided myself on my self-control and I had been able to hold out up until the honeymoon with hardly a second thought. But by the time she’d been called home to care for her father, I had secretly thanked god, because I hadn’t known how much longer I would have been able to resist.

  Apparently not long at all. The moment we’d been alone, my control had shattered. First, when she’d stood in front of me naked, in the closet, begging for my touch. Then, afterwards, when she had pushed me past my limit. Pushed me past the point of my reasoning mind.

  Now that the floodgates were open, there was no stopping me. She was like a drug I couldn’t resist. I wanted her all the time. I couldn’t think about anything else but her tight, inexperienced body and all the things I wanted to do to test her limits. She never stopped me. Never resisted. She wanted everything I gave her.

  It was hotter than I could have imagined, and completely unexpected. And entirely, utterly perfect.

  That was the problem. I was becoming too accustomed to our new routine. I was beginning to look forward to the end of the day, eager to get home and fuck her. Make her come, moaning my name. It was all I could think about, the way her body felt under my hands, the way her pussy felt around my cock. Everything was new to her, and everything I did made her wet.

  I shouldn’t have liked it as much as I did.

  Almost two hours had gone by, and I was becoming impatient with the situation. I shouldn’t have come in the first place, and I wasn’t going to stay any longer. Tori would come home with me and I planned to punish her for dragging me out to this event in the first place. I’d remind her what this relationship was. Nothing more than a contract, a marriage of convenience. Sex and convenience.

  I put my hand on her back, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

  “We’re leaving,” I told her. “Now.”

  Her brow creased, but she nodded. Quickly, she said her goodbyes. We were out of there in less than five minutes.

  I didn’t say anything as we got into the car I’d ordered to take us home. I was angry. At Tori. At myself.

  I was letting myself get affected by this woman—this naïve, needy girl. She was driving me to distraction, and I hated that. I hated that I couldn’t resist her.

  “Thank you for coming tonight,” Tori said, her voice quiet as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress.

  A dress that would be in shreds once we got back home. I would take all these confusing, unwelcome emotions and push them aside, allowing myself to revel in the anger and frustration and nothing else.

  “It won’t happen again,” I said gruffly.

  “Well, I appreciate the effort and I’d still like to thank you,” she said. “Properly.”

  Her hand settled on my knee.

  “Watch your hand, kitty cat,” I warned her. “You don’t want to play with fire.”

  “Maybe I do,” she said, a little smile playing on her lips.

  They were a glossy pink tonight, soft and wet-looking, and I had thought about them wrapped around my cock from the moment I saw her. I was still breaking her in, and I’d been waiting to make her suck my dick. But she was offering now. And she could use some lessons.

  It was exactly the kind of mindless I needed.

  I glanced at the driver through the dark tinted partition and pushed the button for the intercom.

  “Take the long way home,” I told the driver. “Stay off I-90.”

  “Yes sir,” he replied, and I turned the intercom back off.

  Then I looked at my wife, taking her hand and sliding it from my thigh to my cock, which was already swelling behind my zipper.

  “Tonight I’m gonna teach you how to suck cock,” I said. “You think you’re ready?”

  She would have to make the next move. And she did.

  Her hands trembling slightly, she undid my belt first, then slowly dragged the zipper down. My cock sprang free into her waiting hands. She squeezed me tentatively and I shuddered.

  What was wrong with me? I liked my women experienced and eager, not fumbling and innocent. Yet here Tori was, driving me wild with a single touch.

  “What do I do?” she asked, a tinge of fear in her voice. It only made me hotter.

  “Wrap your hands around me,” I ordered. “Then use your mouth.”

  She nodded and bent over to taste me, darting her tongue around the head.

  “Make it wet,” I told her. “Lick it like it’s a popsicle on the Fourth of July.”

  As she switched to long drags of her tongue, tracing me from base to tip, I let out a groan. At the sound, she increased the pace. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. She was inexperienced and awkward, but it was incredibly hot knowing she’d never done this before. I could teach her what I wanted. I could mold her to be, and do, whatever I wanted.

  “That’s good,” I told her. “You got it good and wet. Now take it into your mouth. That’s a good little kitty cat.”

  Encouraged, she wrapped her mouth around me, sucking softly.

  She popped it out of her mouth. “And then what?”

  “Try to get the whole thing in your mouth,” I instructed.

  “The whole thing?” She looked nervous, and my arousal ticked up a notch.

  “All of it. As deep as it’ll go. All the way to the back of your throat.”

  She did as I said, taking me far deeper than I would have expected. Frissons of electricity were shooting into my toes, and I started to thrust back and forth, keeping it slow at first so she could get used to it. When she moaned, I could feel the vibrations in my cock.

  “You like that?” I asked her, palming the back of her head. “You like feeling my cock against the back of your throat?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she moaned again.

  “Good. You’re gonna get some more, then.”

  I tightened my grip on the back of her head, guiding her hot, wet mouth up and down my cock, plunging deeper into her throat. She did exactly as I directed, fucking me with her mouth, her hand following the movement.

  Knowing I was her first blowjob, despite her inexperience, had me getting close much faster than I would have expected, but I didn’t want to come in her mouth. Not yet.

  “Stop,” I ordered her.

  She pulled back, gasping for breath, her lips wet and swollen, her blue eyes wide as she looked up at me. I nearly came from the sight alone.

  Thankfully, we had pulled up in front of the condo. I quickly zipped up and tucked my shirt back in.

  “Go inside,” I said, and Tori nodded before scrambling out of the car.

  I paid the driver and then followed her in, avoiding her eyes in the elevator. Once we were back in the apartment, the door closed and locked behind us, I grabbed her roughly and shoved her against the entry table.

  “You like my cock in your mouth?” I demanded, my hand in her hair, forcing her head back.

  “Yes,” she gasped as I worked my other hand up her dress, finding the crotch of her panties were already soaking wet.

  I hooked my finger around the lace between her legs and gave a sharp tug, letting them slide to the floor at her feet.

  “Now go to the couch and bend over it,” I ordered. “Ass up.”

  I watched her walk to the sofa and bend over one of the arms, her hands holding tight to the cushion as I shoved her dress up over that peach of an ass. Then I dropped my pants to the floor and slid hard into her, pumping back and forth like a piston in hot oil. There was nothing gentle about it.

  She cried out breathlessly, from surprise or pleasure I didn’t know—but I didn’t care. I was furious that I had allowed mysel
f to get so distracted by her. To feel things for her. I wanted to fuck that emotion out of the equation. Wanted to fuck her until I remembered myself.

  Because all of this was her fault. I reminded myself of that with each thrust. This whole thing was her fault. Her. Fault. Her. Fault.

  Tori’s moans pitched higher with each brutal thrust, but she pushed her ass back against me, spreading her legs wider, so I knew she was enjoying it. I knew she wanted it.

  That only made me angrier. I wanted to punish her for making me feel this way.

  I gripped her hips hard and moved faster, pounding into her over and over again. I hadn’t even kissed her. I wasn’t going to. I was going to fuck her until both of us remembered that this was nothing more than a marriage of convenience. That what we had between us was money and an arrangement and sex.

  That was it.

  If she expected anything more, that was her fault. Her. Fault. And she deserved to be punished for it.

  “This pussy is mine,” I told her as I fucked her harder, my skin buzzing, my adrenaline rushing. “Mine. All mine.”

  She let out a gasp and I felt her come, her pussy clenching tight as a glove around my cock. That was all it took, and I was coming right along with her, pulling her head back by her hair and reaching around to grab her breast.

  “Oh my god,” she panted, the contractions still squeezing inside her.

  As soon as the aftershocks were gone, I pulled out and left the room, abandoning her while she was still bent over the couch.

  I told myself it didn’t matter. Her feelings didn’t matter. I couldn’t let her get under my skin. I had to stay focused. I wasn’t going to let a hot piece of ass get in the way of what I had worked for years to achieve.

  Letting Tori distract me was the last thing I should be doing.

  Tori

  Chapter 22

  I was in big, big trouble. After last night, I knew without a doubt that I was really and truly falling for Stefan. I’d known that I had feelings for him, sure, but this was bigger. Stronger. Deeper. I was falling in love. And it wasn’t just the blazing hot sex, or the fact that he had come to my event to support me, though that had been the impetus for everything I was feeling.