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Date

I walked through the familiar double doors of Deacon's classroom and found him dressed nicely instead of in his regular paint-stained pants and tank top.

"What?" I hesitated.

"Let go," he held his hand for me to take.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To dinner," he clarified.

"Why would I want to go to dinner? I thought this was a work thing. You help me work through my fears, and I help you work through yours," I reminded.

"Yeah," he concurred while closing the gap between us.

His left arm held my waist, pressing me up against his rock-hard physique. I always wondered how an art professor had such a well-fit body. He leaned down to my right ear.

"That was before you begged me to fuck you the other night. Now I can't get your perfect body out of my mind," he confessed.

I tried wiggling from his grasp, but there was no use. He bit down on my neck.

"Ugh," I moaned

"Now, let me take you on a date," he added.

"Fine!" I whimpered, "You don't have to be so mean."

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