Peyton stood up, her heart beating in her chest hard and fast. He was going to touch her in front of the class. And he was going to do it in a way where it would be OK for him to do this. He was trying to get his footing back, trying to throw her off and make her realize that he was the one with the power in their weird, toxic relationship, if one could even call this a relationship. She couldn't let that happen. She had to let him do what he needed to do without reacting. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a new way to throw him off in front of the class once again.
She walked toward him, knowing that her face was probably a shade paler than usual because she was nervous. The arrogant smirk on his face said enough. When she reached him, he looked her up and down and licked his bottom lip. Peyton didn't know if he had any idea the class was watching him, or maybe he just didn't particularly care. There was also a good chance that nobody would assume he was clearly trying to make her uncomfortable. Their fear of him might inhibit them to realize what was going on between Logan and Peyton.
"Blondie," Logan called, not looking at the timid girl in the second row as he questioned her, "read page sixteen, where Carter begins to explain just what happened to her. It should start with a 'He came up behind me.'" Logan perked his brow and looked at Peyton expectantly. He didn't have to tell her; she knew what that meant.
Slowly, Peyton turned around so she faced the desk, her back to Logan. She had never felt more vulnerable, not even the few times she had almost decided to have sex. She could feel his eyes on her even though she couldn't see him. He wasn't lecherous, just curious and maybe a tad appreciative of what her appearance offered him. Her back was exposed. He could come up behind her and -
No. It was probably best if she didn't think that way.
"He came up behind me and placed his hand on my back, pushing me down on the bed," Blondie - Britney, Peyton remembered - read, her voice shaky.
Logan placed his right hand on the small of Peyton’s back and his left hand on her hip. He slowly trailed his palm upward until he reached the center of her back and pushed her forward gently. Even so, Peyton had to brace her arms on his empty desk. Her face burned at the position he was in. There he was once more, showing her who was in charge.
"From there, he ripped my pants off and proceeded to enter me from behind. He kept one hand on my hip so I couldn't escape and one hand gripping my hair. I couldn't break free."
Logan dropped his right hand from Peyton's back so he could grab her pigtails and pull them back. The slight pain caused her to arch her back, and without intending to do so, she brushed her backside against his crotch. He hissed silently, a sound only she knew she could hear. Peyton felt her face turn red but an idea flashed through her mind as to how to get him back for this, how to keep somewhat equal footing with him. She didn't know how she had the balls to actually follow through with it but she definitely wanted to.
"When he finished, I didn't have time before Cornell flipped me around and shoved me on the bed."
Logan did exactly that - released her hair, grabbed her shoulder, and whirled her around. He wasn't tough with her but he did his limit just so, just to remind her that he was in control. He kept one hand on her shoulder and gently forced her on the desk so now she was sitting on its surface, facing him. She grabbed the edges of the desk, leaning back without lying down. Logan didn't take his eyes off of hers as she did so. Peyton refused to look away from him.
"He spread my legs and put them over his shoulders and proceeded to rape me vaginally until he ejaculated inside of me."
Logan smirked but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said under his breath. "I won't make you do that." He turned to the class and Peyton let out a sigh of relief. "Does anyone think her statement is sound?"
The class was silent for a long moment. Logan rolled his eyes.
"Come on, assholes," he said. "Fucking say something."
"No." The word was out of Peyton's mouth before she could stop it. He spun around and locked eyes with her. "Her statement isn't sound."
"Besides the fact that you don't like her, what the fuck makes you say that?" Logan asked.
"There's no way a typical woman can spread her legs and put them on a man's shoulders," Peyton pointed out. "She can spread her legs and wrap them around his waist or she can straighten them and put them over his shoulders. She can't do both."
"Interesting fucking assessment, sweetheart," Logan said. "Clearly you've never seen a porno before because those women do fucking anything." His eyes swept over to the class. "Flattop, tell me the heights, weights, and ages of the alleged rapists."
The young student, Gary, looked down at his notes. "Cornell was seventeen at the time, six foot three and two hundred and twenty pounds. Luke was also seventeen, six foot one, two hundred and five pounds."
"You seem like a smart fucking kid," Logan said, his eyes steel as he regarded Gary with an unflinching stare. "What would you put me as?"
"Approximately?" Gary asked. He tilted his head, taking in Logan with blue eyes. Peyton continued to sit on the edge of the desk, feeling awkward, remaining silent. "Age forty-two, six foot two, two hundred and twenty pounds. You seem to have more muscle on you than Cornell does, sir."
"Sir," he said with a grin, his eyes twinkling in merriment as he gave Peyton a look. "I like that."
She had to refrain from rolling her eyes.
"So let's just say I was one of the guys," Logan continued. "Let's say I'm fucking Cornell. And her legs are on my shoulders and spread, do you see any potential issues here?"
Nobody answered. Logan clenched his jaw before throwing his eyes to Peyton. "You willing to demonstrate for these idiots?" he asked. Then, in a voice only she could hear, he asked, "Do you trust me?"
Peyton did not trust him at all. Not with the mischievousness in his eyes, not with the boyish smile and those dimples. But regardless of her feelings, she still felt herself nodding. Logan was actually caught by surprise, judging from the way his brow shot up and his cheeks sucked in.
"Lie down on your back," he told her. His voice was still sandpaper but it was gentle and spoken so only she could hear. Peyton obeyed without question, keeping her eyes locked in hers. "Now spread your legs and put them on my shoulders."
Peyton felt her cheeks turn red but she didn't argue with him. She spread her legs and lifted them on his shoulders, which was just awkward, especially considering her crotch was near his chest rather than his groin.
"We already see a fucking problem, don't we?" Logan asked. The class murmured their assent. "Flattop, how tall was Carter?"
"Five foot three."
"And how tall are you, sweetheart?" he asked, looking down at her.
"Five foot six," she replied.
He turned his head to the class while keeping his body positioned toward Peyton. Her legs started to pinch with strain.
"So her crotch would probably be roughly in the same area as Peyton's is," Logan pointed out, "if not higher."
Peyton didn't hear him, however. He had said her name. Logan referred to her as Peyton. Not sweetheart, not anything else. Just Peyton.
He called her by her name. Logan called Peyton by her real name. It shouldn't mean anything. It probably didn't. But she knew that there was something in the way he spoke her name, like a foreign word he didn't quite understand but he knew how to say. It didn't make much sense to her, to be honest, but it made sense in its own way.
"Blondie," Logan said, throwing his eyes back over to the girl who had read the first half of Michelle Carter's statement. "Continue reading."
Britney looked down at her notes and continued where she left off. "I didn't even get a chance to catch my breath before Luke came over and flipped me over so I was on my knees," she read.
Logan didn't give Peyton a moment to comprehend what was happening before taking her waist in his hands and gently spinning her around so her back was to him and she was bent over the desk. Her fingers splayed out on the smooth su
rface and her behind was thrust into the air as one hand came and held her down at the middle of her back to hold her in place. The thought of him dominating her, the thought of him being in control when she was left completely at his mercy caused her insides to tremble with moisture reserved solely for him.
"His left hand was on the bed next to my face," Britney continued. Her voice had grown stronger, getting more comfortable reading because that was all she was doing. She wasn't being used to demonstrate or forced to defend her opinion. "His right hand was in my hair. He continued to thrust inside of me until he was spent."
Logan grabbed Peyton's pigtails in his hand once again and tugged on them before maneuvering his left hand so it rested next to her face.
"There's something special about being in complete control," Logan murmured in a voice only she could hear, in words that seemed to send lightning bolts straight to her core. "I could do anything I wanted to you and you would fucking thank me for it, Peyton."
There it was. Her name.
That caused her to come undone.
She closed her eyes and whimpered. Anyone who might have caught the action would think it was because his grip on her hair was too tight but they both knew why she had made the sound.
She liked being out of control. She liked being in a vulnerable position.
But not just by herself. With him.
With Logan.
"You're more than just a good fucking girl, aren't you, sweetheart?" he drawled lowly, his lips tickling her ears before he shot up straight and said, "Anyone see a problem with this? And someone other than fucking Peyton, please. I'm sick of her voice."
"Oh, fuck you," she muttered.
It was only when his brows raised so high the reached his hairline and his hazel eyes were tossed her way and his gravelly voice let out a warning, "Excise me?" did she realize she had said the words out loud.
She didn't know why, but her head immediately went back to last night, how she had gotten herself off with this exact scenario playing in her thoughts. She hadn't figured she would be literally bent over in front of the entire classroom as a demonstration but she found it rather ironic that this was how things played out. The fact that she had talked back to him gave her a dangerous thrill. And, judging by the hardness pressed against the back of her thighs, she would have to conclude that he felt the same way about her that she did about him, in this moment.
However, that didn't mean that Peyton knew how to respond to his demand for an answer. On the one hand, she wasn't regretful about what she said. She had said what she said and she was proud of herself for saying it, even if she hadn't exactly meant to. On the other, he was still her professor and advisor, and because of that, he deserved respect. But not to the point where he liked to remind her who was in control and who had power.
Somebody answered his question but wasn't paying attention. She didn't think Logan was either, even though he responded with a grunt and a quick dismissal of the classroom. However, he didn't let Peyton leave the position she was currently in. When the last student left, Logan gripped her waist once more and leaned over her back so his hardness pressed into her and his lips were close to his ear.
"You better fucking watch your mouth, sweetheart," he muttered. "That thing will get you into trouble." He released her and took a step back but still stood in her personal space as she turned around. He trapped her within his arms once again, placing his hands on either side of the desk so she couldn't break free. "Don't fucking tempt me."
Peyton continued to say nothing but she met his gaze with one of her own, not flinching or cowering.
"Am I free to leave?" she asked him. She was proud of how cool and steady her voice came out even though she was shaking inside.
Logan said nothing. His eyes were on her lips and he seemed to be contemplating something. What that was, Peyton didn't know - and wouldn't. Without a word, Logan stepped back and gave her enough space to walk around him and leave.
Chapter 5
The weekend couldn't come fast enough. Peyton had been invited to a party Friday night from one of her friends at a frat house. Typically, Peyton avoided parties like the plague. She had no interest in boozing it up with college kids going through their initiation rights as a full-fleshed adult on their own for the first time. She hated the stench of spilled beer and heavy smoke stained in clothing mixed with the sweet smell of pot. Everyone was either drunk or high or both, everyone wanted to get laid, and there was really no point to attend unless one counted the social aspect of needing an excuse to do bad things. Because if she chose to do these things by herself, it could be perceived as a problem.
However, after everything that had happened with Logan Jeffrey this week, Peyton decided she needed a distraction, something to get her mind off of the man that currently plagued her thoughts. She shouldn't be attracted to him. Not only was he her professor and advisor, but he was older and an asshole. The thing was, there was something about him that she couldn't get over. Something that drew her to him. Something dangerous. Like a moth to a flame, knowing she was eventually going to burn but taking the chance and continuing toward it anyway.
He was beautiful in all of his darkness, a gruff sort of man that was probably very rarely gentle. He clearly liked to be in control at all times. Peyton could sense that in the way he grabbed her hips during that demonstration.
Her face burned just thinking about it. She had fantasized about him taking her from behind over his desk when she released stress on Tuesday and the next day, he had her bent over a table, his rough hands gripping her waist like he owned her. She might have been a virgin, but she knew enough to know that he was affected by her in some way as well, at least judging from how hard he was against the back of her thighs.
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to suppress the shudder that ripped through her body. She needed to stop. What needed to happen now was she needed to focus on what she was going to wear to this party. She only owned a few dresses and they were in summer dresses that hung on her frame and billowed in the breeze. Club dresses weren't something she invested in, even if they were cheap and cute. To be honest, she felt awkward trying to be sexy. Every piece of clothing she owned, she felt comfortable in.
Because it was still warm, she pulled on her white summer dress. It was spaghetti strapped so she couldn't wear a bra but one was built into the bust. Her breasts weren't abundant but with the right push-up, she could amplify her cleavage and create a nice illusion. The dress cinched in at the waist and the skirt fluttered down to the middle of her thighs. She made sure to wear nude boy shorts on the off-chance that the Santa Ana's were still present and could potentially blow her skirt around.
As she stared at herself in her small vanity mirror, she imagined, for a moment, what it would be like if Logan saw her in something like this. It was a stupid thought, she knew. One she was actually embarrassed that crossed her mind. It had to be that stupid kiss. That kiss ruined everything. She thought it would be a power play, one that caught him off-guard. Instead, it caused her insides to turn into melted chocolate and slide heavy in her stomach. Even thinking about it now, about the sounds he was making, about the way he gripped her hair, how he spread her legs apart with his thigh, about how she could feel how much he wanted her, little shockwaves split her core into a thousand pieces and the shards pierced their inner walls with a sensitive thrum.
He had kissed her back.
Despite his no-kiss rule, he had kissed her back. He hadn't transferred her to another professor or removed her from his class. As far as she knew, she was still his TA. He hadn't gotten angry or upset.
Maybe his little demonstration on Wednesday was his own power play. She had only been a few minutes late and he had bent her over in front of the entire class in order to demonstrate Michelle Carter's statement about her rape. The way his hands had grabbed her waist like she belonged to him. The way his hardness rubbed the back of her thighs...
She needed to stop thinking about this,
about him and what he did to her body or else she would soak her panties and she couldn't afford to do that in her white dress.
Her phone chirped and she answered it on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Peyton, it Rikki." A pause. "You almost ready?"
"I'm heading down now."
She grabbed her small white clutch and stepped into her black converses. It didn't exactly go with the simplistic wholesomeness of her white dress but her Chucks were comfortable and added an edge to it she found unique. It didn't matter anyway because Logan Jeffrey would not be at some grad party and wouldn't get to see her anyway. She was free to dress for herself and now for anybody else, and she didn't want that to change just because she had a very small attraction to her professor.
Rikki Hasslehoff's only claim to semi-fame was the fact that she had a familiar sounding last name, even though she had absolutely no relation to the celebrity. She had checked back in high school. Her father was German, her mother was Russian, and they met at an airport in New York. Apparently, it had been love at first sight and they eloped to Southern California after three months. She liked to tell that story to those she first met to gage whether or not they would be her friend. If they found it romantic, Rikki wanted nothing to do with them. If they made a judgmental comment on it, Rikki still wanted nothing to do with them. If they were indifferent or tactful about their critique, Rikki was immediately won over. She was very particular about her friends, more than she was about her men.
Peyton passed the test with flying colors and ever since freshman year of college, the two were relatively close. They both majored in Criminology and were both getting their graduate degrees with the University of Newport Beach's Criminology grad program. Rikki had Logan as her professor during undergrad and had the biggest crush on him due to the fact that she had a thing for older men with asshole tendencies. She had even tried to seduce him during his office hours one time but he made her feel terrible and she never brought him up again. Because of that, Peyton had kept her mouth closed regarding how deeply connected she was with Logan - how he was both her professor and advisor and how she was now his exclusive TA. That, on top of everything, on top of the kiss and the feelings and the frustration, she didn't want to mention it in case it made her upset in any way.
A Reputation Dark & Deadly (A Dark & Deadly Series Book 2) Page 7