Professor Cline: Redeemed (Professor #2)

by J. M. La Rocca

  Professor Cline

  Redeemed

  The Professor Series

  Book 2

  J.M. La Rocca

  Copyright 2015 by J.M. La Rocca

  Cover Design by Sharee Faircloth of Sharee Faircloth Creative

  Photographer: Garreth Barclay

  Model: Marcel Snyman

  Editing by: Hot Tree Editing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner

  Dedication

  To my twins, who think mommy’s favorite jobs are to write books and wash dishes.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other works by Author

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Mason

  Seventeen years old

  I wasn’t always like this. Dark. Malicious. Empty.

  He made me this way.

  Years ago, I was happy and content. Living a life beside my mother, a light so bright that she transferred it to others. She was a beacon. All the goodness she had in her bled into me.

  Then she was gone.

  My beacon faded away.

  I was left with him.

  That darkness seeped into my soul and took over. It flipped a switch and showed me things I’d never known. It showed me how one’s pain could be my pleasure.

  At first, I fought it. I knew right from wrong.

  This was wrong.

  But if it was wrong, why did I enjoy it?

  I battled with my subconscious on a daily basis, but he kept pushing me further over the edge, so far that there was no more light to be seen.

  I knew why I embraced it. She was magnetic. A new beacon to consume me, but the darkness was overpowering.

  I told myself I hated it. I was evil. A murderer. Deep down…I enjoyed it.

  I closed everything behind a door in my mind and kept it there until it needed to be opened again.

  I despised myself, but the inner part of me enjoyed that, too.

  I’d never win this battle.

  I lost myself when I was seven.

  There was no redeeming who I would become.

  One

  Mason

  I sat with my head resting on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. The blood on my hip was already starting to clot, the pain from the cut no longer registering in my brain. Luke would be there soon, and I needed to get my head on straight.

  So many things whirled through my mind, but Emma’s terrified expression as I yelled at her to leave was front and center. I tried to block it, like I’d done with so many other things, but it was too fresh.

  Running a hand through my hair, I sighed as the night’s events played over in my head again. I was stupid. So fucking stupid.

  I heard a soft tapping and lifted my head to look in the direction of the front door.

  “Yeah!” I shouted then laid my head back down.

  I heard the door open and light footsteps as Luke made his way to me.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  I turned my head and looked toward Luke to see him standing in the doorway. “You bring your kit?”

  “Yeah,” he said, lifting it up for me to see as he looked at my hip.

  “Good.” I turned to lie on my side, exposing my torn flesh for him, not worried in the least of what he’d think of my nudity.

  He walked into the room and set his bag on the table. “Talk to me, Mase. What the hell is going on?”

  I stared at the wall, looking over the painting Emma had examined a week before. The colors swirled together as I stared intently at the purple splotch in the corner. It truly was a window to my soul.

  “Do you ever wonder what your life might have been like if you had made a different choice?”

  I looked toward him and waited for him to answer. It wasn’t something I thought of often, but there were times I wondered how my life would’ve turned out if I’d chosen a different path. What would it have been like if my mother hadn’t died? What if I’d tried to get Sophia out? There were so many times I was left in the house on my own with her. We could have both run. I could have kept her safe. I could have found a way. I destructed my own life. I’ve made all the choices.

  I heard him sigh and open his bag before he knelt on the floor beside the couch.

  “I’ve been your best friend for a long time, Mase, and I’ve never questioned your choice not to tell me why you do this to yourself, but I’m not leaving tonight until you tell me what the fuck is going on inside your head.”

  I chuckled before bending my arm back behind a pillow and resting my head to get comfortable.

  “If I told you all the fucked-up shit going on in my head, you’d be just as fucked up as I am.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  I looked away from the painting to see a small smirk on Luke’s face. He’d been with me through thick and thin all of my life. He was the only one I’d ever consider telling, but that wouldn’t be a wise decision on my part.

  “There’s too much to even try to explain.”

  “That’s the main word there, Mase: try.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking down at my naked body and then over to my hip. “Fix me up first, will you? Then we’ll talk.”

  He nodded somberly and got to work on my hip after bandaging the shredded skin on my hand.

  After he stitched and dressed the cut, I sat up and grabbed one of the decorative throw blankets from the side of the couch to cover myself up.

  “Can you go to my office and grab the bottle of scotch?”

  He closed his bag and did as I asked, pouring a glass for each of us when he arrived back in the room.

  “You can take your time, man, but I’m not leaving until you give me…something.” He gestured with his hand as he sat down in the chair across from me.

  I grabbed the glass of scotch and downed it before leaning back on the couch. I tried to get comfortable, ignoring the sting from the stitches pulling at my skin every time I moved.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I ran a hand through my hair. I had a hard decision to make. He’d been there for me through so many things, and for me to keep all of this from him? He’d feel betrayed. Especially since it had to deal with his father, as well. I squeezed my eyes
closed for a moment before finally looking up to meet his gaze. I didn’t want to tell him anything, but I knew he wouldn’t leave it alone unless I gave him something.

  “You’re the only person who knows me, Luke,” I said, taking a short pause. I opened my mouth to say more but closed it again, shaking my head.

  Luke furrowed his brow then leaned forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees.

  “Just let it out.”

  Filling my glass, I drank half before staring down at my hands as I rolled the glass between them, contemplating what to say.

  “There are things I can’t tell you. Things I’m not at liberty to say. Things that plague my mind and cause me to do what I do to myself.” I looked down at my covered hip and for the first time, shame washed over me. Something I’d never felt before.

  Cutting had always given me a sense of freedom. The control I never had. I’d never been judged for my actions because I’d kept it hidden. Although Luke had known about it, he kept his opinions to himself. But as I looked over his expression, the thought of him silently judging me in his mind didn’t sit well with me.

  “I can’t tell you why I do it or why I started. You’re asking for answers I can’t give you and for ones I don’t have.”

  “Then what can you tell me, Mase? You’ve been on this road of destruction for as long as I can remember. Let me help you.”

  I let out another sigh and leaned back on the couch, running a hand through my hair. What could I tell him that wouldn’t get him involved?

  “There’s no helping me. I have to figure this out on my own. It’s the only way.”

  “I know you’ve been through some hard times. I can’t tell you that I understand how you feel, but you’re like a brother to me, man. I hate seeing you like this. I can bust your balls all day long when we’re around our friends, but in the end, I worry about you. And I know things between you and John were never the same after your mom passed, but I hope you know that my dad loves you like a son, too. If you need something, you have people willing to be there for you.”

  I brought the glass to my lips and swallowed the rest of the scotch as I took in his words. I appreciated everything he had to say, and I knew he worried about me. His dad had always been there for me. While John was off doing whatever the fuck he was doing every day, Victor was the one who actually treated me like a son.

  Then it clicked.

  I’d been pondering what I could do to get revenge. Wondering how I could bypass the barricades I knew would be waiting for me. I couldn’t get the proof that John was up to no good, but I knew the one person who could.

  Victor.

  “Are your dad and John still as close as they were when we were kids?” Victor and John were never a source of conversation when we were together, so I didn’t know what their relationship was like.

  Luke placed his glass on the table and shook his head. “I wouldn’t say they were close. John’s changed over the years, but so has Dad. I’d say they’re basically just partners now. They do what they need to do for business. Why?”

  I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just wondering.”

  Luke scoffed. “If you’re asking, there’s a reason.”

  There was a reason.

  If John was doing any of his side business within the firm, then he’d basically fucked himself over. I had no idea what I could do about Donicko, who was the leader, also known as the Black Widow. He was untouchable, and his money put a lot influential people in his back pocket. But he could wait; I needed to focus on one at a time. Anything I could do to John would ultimately harm Donicko in some way, but I needed to be careful. I still didn’t know Donicko’s end game. Why did he have me in his sights so long ago? Why’s he calling on me again after so long? These were the things I had to figure out, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t make me wait long.

  He was up to something.

  Then there was the fact that he knew about Emma. I didn’t honestly think he would do anything to her. He was just trying to get under my skin, and he’d achieved his fucking goal.

  Emma.

  My eyes drifted back up to the painting. I didn’t know what it was about her that made her different from all the rest. I’d spent my whole life hiding behind a mask, hiding my inner and outer scars. But she’d seen part of me. A part of me I never wanted anyone to see.

  It was my weakness.

  I didn’t want the looks of sympathy, the looks of pity and sadness. I wanted the fucking memories to go away.

  “Hey, man, where are you?”

  I pulled my eyes away from the painting and met Luke’s brown ones. “Sorry,” I said as I cleared my throat and sat up straighter on the couch. “I think I need to head off to bed. The night’s events have worn me out.” The adrenaline was leaving my body, and I felt exhausted.

  “All right,” he agreed as he slapped a hand on his leg and stood up. “Just remember, I meant what I said. If you need anything, I’m here for you. Just—” he started as he gestured to my hip, “stop fucking cutting yourself. If you get the urge, call me. I’m here for you. You may feel like you can’t talk to me, but you can.”

  I nodded and clasped my hands together. I hated seeing that fucking look on his face, but I appreciated it all the same. Being cared for wasn’t something I was used to.

  “I’ll try, okay?”

  “That’s all I’m asking.” He grabbed his bag and headed for the door. “I’ll call you soon!” he shouted over his shoulder as he opened the door and headed out.

  Sitting back on the couch, I ran a hand down my face and closed my eyes. I needed to go to bed. I’d start thinking about everything else in the morning.

  Two

  One week later

  Mason

  Reaching under the covers, I ran a hand down the length of my cock and grabbed my balls, groaning at their tightness. I’d been lying in bed for the past half hour thinking about Emma.

  The dream I’d woken from was so vivid in my mind. Her on her knees with my dick in her mouth, it was something I’d dreamed about many times, but this time was different. Her beautiful eyes stared up at me as she bobbed up and down, her spit shining off my skin like a beacon. The way she looked at me with want in her eyes as she enjoyed every inch I thrust into her mouth made me pump faster.

  A blindfold was always in place with my conquests, never wanting my scars to be on display. Their hands were also held behind their back, so they didn’t grab on to me and feel the risen flesh from my scars.

  It was the reason I did everything I did. I had secrets and I wanted them to stay hidden, but with Emma? With her, it was different. She’d seen my scars and all I could think of was her face. Every fantasy was with her in mind. She’d seen through my mask and for the first time, I saw light.

  It terrified me. My whole life had been darkness. I didn’t know how to handle this new obsession I was beginning to obtain.

  Wrapping my hand around my cock, I slowly stroked from base to tip and back again. Rolling the head of my cock in my hand, I kept picturing it down her throat.

  I never thought I’d get to this point again. A point where all I’d think about was a woman. She consumed my thoughts just like Sophia did, but in a different way.

  I wanted her to be consumed by thoughts of me, like I was of her. I wanted her to crave every inch of my body, like I did with her. I wanted her to need me, like I felt I needed her.

  Squeezing my balls until I felt pain, I pumped faster and harder until my body tensed. I released all over my stomach and hands, groaning at every stroke against my sensitive head.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I closed my eyes and pictured Emma’s face. Staying away from her was what I should do. I’d told myself that many times. She didn’t need to be involved in anything that was going on in my life. After all, Donicko was up to something, and I still had no idea what that was.

  I hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring out what I could do to bring him down, either. I was doing this alone, and t
here was a chance things could get bad. The only thing I was sure of was Victor, Luke’s dad and John’s partner.

  John did way too much business in the office, and I knew he mixed business with pleasure. Victor was the primary shareholder of the company. He was the main money holder while John was only partial. Some would say Victor made John what he was today.

  John was lethal, but if he was using the business to hide what he was doing, then I knew Victor would take him down, leaving me to watch the whole thing from the sidelines.

  It wasn’t ideal for me because I wanted to be the one to do it, but I had nothing and no way to get anything to prove my theories. In the end, that’s what they were—just theories, plus Donicko’s pull at every corner.

  Money was a big incentive, and I knew Victor had a lot of it.

  Only time would tell how it would all work out. I just needed to get a meeting with Victor and begrudgingly tell him my story.

  Three

  Emmalynn

  “What are you doing after your classes?” Mel asked me as she poured a cup of coffee.

  I looked up at her over the rim of my mug and sighed inwardly. “I’m probably coming back here to study.”

  It’d been a week since that night at Mason’s, and Melanie had been mothering me ever since. I didn’t fault her for it, but it was unnecessary. To say she was disappointed that I kept things from her would be an understatement. She didn’t once judge me like I thought she would, but she was disappointed that I didn’t confide in her like I used to when we were younger. She did, however, state that seeing my professor wasn’t a good idea, which I knew. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  After letting the night’s events play over and over again in my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. He was a cutter. I knew deep down it was true. I didn’t see him do it, but I saw the scars, and there was no other explanation. It intrigued me, and it shouldn’t. Not after the way he treated me. Not after everything I’d seen, but it did.