7: PROJECT PARTNERS WITH A BAD BOY

APRIL

Air was a luxury I’d lost access to.

At least since I walked into the dorm room that I and Natalie shared. She’s practically been on my neck since last night because of the call she where she witnessed me on the verge of an orgasm, followed by the fact that I arrived him in a ripped dress and a man’s shirt.

In her opinion, I must’ve gone through several rounds of hardcore railing to return in that manner. Little did she know that I’d only been humiliated and had my boobs fondled roughly until I came violently while my entire life was dangled before me on a thread.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t share that with her, especially since it’d involve revealing the secret I held so dear and admitting that I’d stopped to being the shared plaything of the three most ruthless playboys in Enigma college.

“You’re not leaving this room until you tell me who owned that Dolce and Gabana shirt you returned home in,” her eyes shone with curiosity as she blocked the door, “that particular shirt costs over seven thousand dollars so I need to know what big fish you landed,” she spoke like the fashion enthusiast she was.

I sucked in a sharp breath, knowing she’d brought me to my knees with that threat. I had a class in fifteen minutes and I had to be at least five minutes early else the lecturer would kick my ass to the curb for being tardy.

And of course, that meant coming up with a convincing lie as soon as possible to get Natalie off my back. Especially since she was already rambling on and on about different conspiracy theories that were making me want to tear my ears off my head.

“Was it a potential sugar daddy in his early fifties with the fashion sense of a man in his twenties? Or some overpaid car salesman who does nothing but squander his commissions on hot college chics? Orrrrr a deranged oil company heir with the self co—”

“None of those,” I cut her off before she could go any further, “It was just an old flame from high school that I never thought I’d see again,” I lied through my teeth.

Natalie’s eyes lit with mischief, “and he couldn’t wait to jump your bones, I see,” she pointed at my ripped dress that was peeking out of the garbage bin.

I rolled my eyes at her so hard that it hurt.

“Come on, April, don’t leave me hanging. I need the deets!” she grabbed my arm and shook me impatiently, ever the drooling gossiper.

“I need to get to class soon so I can only offer the highlights,” I threw her a bone.

Immediately, she took it, nodding happily, “I’ll take that!”

“Well, it was hella steamy and exhilarating,” I felt a chill run down my spine as I remained how blissful the mix of pain, pressure, and pleasure was, “I barely got the catch my breath and he dominated me recklessly until I uhm….”

“Had life changing orgasms like the nasty slut you are?!” Natalie giggled and batted her lashes excitedly.

My cheeks filled with heat and I shushed her, “can I leave now?”

“Yeah, right after you tell me your ‘Mr. Grey’s’ name,” she referenced her favorite book series; fifty shades.

“Hell no,” I hissed, shoving her aside and pulling the door open.

“Fine, keep your secrets, I know enough anyways,” she threw me a dirty wink just before I shut the door behind me.

I adjusted my student President name tag proudly as I stepped out of the forms and headed towards the lecture halls. Everyone either greeted me heartily or offered to carry my books as usual, hoping to get in my good graces since the school board valued my opinion in most student matters. I relished the attention and respect, deciding to do whatever it’d take to keep it that way.

Even if it meant being a plaything that would be subjected to sexual humiliation.

That thought surprisingly brought heat to my core as I recalled the scenes from last night but I quickly shoved it aside and settled into my preferred seat as Mr. Zen walked into the class. Once the class was in full swing, I was fully focused on the principles he was dissecting with his PowerPoint presentation.

Until, a latecomer waltzed in and the entire class of over hundred students turned their attention away from the lecturer and to him.

All the students that had arrived after Mr. Zen entered the class were turned away, it didn’t matter if they were a second or a minute late, he hated tardiness and never tolerated it. Well, unless the tardiness was being exercised by an alpha’s heir whose family could end his career with the flick of a finger.

One like Nick Bright, who was nearly an hour late by the way.

“Fuck, he’s heavenly.”

“Are his eyes real? If he looked at me with them, I would melt.”

“I’d kill for a minute with him.”

“Nick should be at the right hand of Zeus.”

“He could screw me into next week and I’d have fulfilled my life’s purpose.”

“Oh my god! He looked my way!”

Need I mention the endless fawning and disgusting desperate comments that straight girls and gay guys threw around whenever he walked into a lecture hall? It was irritating to witness and made my skin crawl like hell.

On a normal day, irritation was the only emotion I’d feel, but this wasn’t one of those days.

Why? Because Nick had chosen to sit right beside me even though he usually sat at the farthest end of the class and buried his head in his phone. It was clear that he was doing it out of spite, to remind me that I was at his mercy and he’d never let me live it down until he and his friends had used me to their non existent hearts’ content.  

To worsen things, I was being tortured with the events of last night when I’d been unfortunate enough to be trapped in a mansion with him and his friends.

The memory of how his dark eyes had been filled with so much lust that the hazel specks in them were nowhere in sight slammed into me. Knowing that his lustful gaze was borne from watching me have my nipple pulled, my tits spanked, and my neck choked dominantly made me wish to be washed to hell by a violent wind.

I’d completely deserve such a fate because I was stupidly turned on by the scenes flooding my memory without end.

Mr. Zen was going on about the very captivating story of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, but I was barely listening because of the heat searing in my lower tummy. I felt ashamed of how thrilled and pumped I was at the prospect of a repeat of what had happened last night, but my shame wasn’t strong enough to douse the fire in my loins.

For the rest of the class, I was in an internal battle between my raging hormones and desire to learn and it was nothing short of a hellish experience. No thanks to fucking Nick Bright who didn’t even throw a glance my way to acknowledge my presence despite the trouble he was causing me.

“Alright, listen up everyone, this is important because it’ll account for twenty percent of your grades this semester,” Mr. Zen immediately got my attention when he mentioned grades.

When he was convinced the entire class was facing him, he continued.

“I’ll be putting everyone in groups of twos for this project and you’re required to find an author of your choice from the earliest century possible and dissect his work from a unique and fresh perspective,” he explained.

Almost immediately, he dove into pairing students, reading the names off a sheet of paper in his hands. I said a prayer quietly as I waited for my name to be called, I hoped that I wouldn’t be paired with an airhead that would flunk the project or leave most of the workload on my shoulders.

My prayers weren’t answered, because I was paired with the worst person possible.

“And lastly, April Lawson and Nick Bright,” his words made a painfully ringing noise go off in my head as I hoped I’d imagined them.

Horror seeped through my skin and into my soul as I realized the severity of that seemingly harmless pairing. It was beyond clear to me that it would be nothing but another Avenue for Nick and his friends to take advantage of me in every and any way the pleased.

“Oh,” Mr. Zen paused at the door, “I’d forgotten to mention, but this project will last the entire semester so that you have enough time to read whatever book you choose from cover to cover and dissect it properly.”

As he walked out of the class, my head pounded violently, drowning out the noises of the students dialoguing left and right. How the hell was I meant to survive a fucking semester of meetings with Nick? How was I supposed to get any work done when he’d likely be tormenting me the entire time? How on earth was I meant to earn the twenty percent of my grades when I’d likely be slaving away at his feet?

How!?

I might as well dig myself a grave and jump into it now, or Nick would make sure of it later on.