All Chapters of The Teacher's Obsession: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The chaos of the situation swells around me as Jace cuts through the crowd, his voice commanding and sharp, sending students scattering out of our way. His arms remain firm around me, his skis gliding effortlessly across the icy ground. Despite the surge of pain and embarrassment swelling within me, I can’t help but notice how focused he is on getting me to the doctor. "Norali!" Lina calls out from the edge of the group, wine glass in hand. "Are you okay?" I glance at her and give a weak nod, relieved I don’t have to explain much. Brian and Michael swoop in, eager to recount the drama, and everyone’s attention shifts to them. Jace takes the opportunity to pull me away, steering me toward the entrance. By the door, Jace sets me down briefly, his hand still gripping my arm as he removes his skis and boots. Connor and Adam appear, their expressions tense with concern. "I fell," I say quickly, cutting off any questions. "I need to see the doctor." "What hap—" Before Connor can finish

He waits for me to respond, but I don’t have an answer. So I stay silent. The pasta looked rancid, and all I wanted was some wine. Mr. Control freak. “What’s wrong with you?” he snaps, his voice sharp. I stand up too quickly, spilling some water onto the carpet. Jace has the decency to step back slightly, but his intimidating gaze remains unchanged. “I can’t stay long—people will notice I’m gone,” I say, my annoyance rising. Jace takes a slow sip of his drink, his calculating gaze never leaving me. It softens briefly when he looks down at me, but I try to ignore it for my own sanity and take a sip of the cold water. “Can you just finish your water, please?” His tone is firm, but the "please" is enough for me to down the entire glass in one go. The cold liquid jolts me awake, dulling some of the alcohol's buzz. He takes the empty glass from me, setting it on the nightstand. Some of his anger seems to fade. “I’m dying to know what you chose,” he says with a hint of desperation, and

The warmth of her skin against mine is intoxicating. I giggle when Charlotte bounces excitedly on the barstool, eager to order a drink. She pulls me in front of her, pressing her body into mine, and I have to swallow a moan. The contact is electric. This night is going to be interesting. But Mitch is still hovering nearby, too close. I barely have time to react before his cold fingers slide across my back. The icy touch shocks me, and I instinctively flinch away. He doesn’t back off, though. His eyes widen in surprise, mirroring mine, but he holds his position. "Your hands are freezing," I manage, my voice breathy. He chuckles, low and unapologetic. "Sorry," he says, though it feels more like a lie than an apology. A tray of cocktails is suddenly in front of me, and I don’t hesitate. I grab one, any one, desperate for distraction. Before I can take a sip, Hannah wedges herself between Mitch and me, forcing him away. Her glass clinks against mine, and her knowing eyes tell me she sa

Jace releases me as soon as he notices Lina and Charlotte approaching, his expression hardening into a scowl. "Hannah, watch where your clumsy legs are going," he says, his voice stern but not harsh. "Hi, Mr. Adkins!" Lina slurs, clearly drunk. "You having fun?" "Not really," Jace replies flatly. I see Lina tilt her head, confused by his response. Charlotte bounces up beside her, her face dazed and unfocused. "I wouldn't consider this my definition of fun," he adds, a secret smirk to Hannah. "Gosh, maybe another whiskey will loosen you up, Mr. Adkins! Maybe you'll have fun then!" Charlotte suggests, half slurring her words. "You girls should head to bed. It's late," Jace orders, his tone shifting back to the strict teacher mode. "Ooooh, bed! Nora wants to go to bed!" Hannah squeals, suddenly wrapping her arms around me and pulling me toward the crowd. The dance floor has become packed, the air thick with sweat and excitement. Nearby, Ryker is dancing, jaw clenched as if he's chew

Jace thrusts into me again, and I gasp, trying to relax, but my muscles are too tense. The pressure is overwhelming. “I’m the only one who’ll ever enter your body,” he growls. Suddenly, he bites down just above my breast as he pushes further inside, and the sharp pain from his teeth dulls the ache between my legs. My body trembles as I try to adjust with him inside me. I’m in pain. I’m on fire. He’s dragging me into hell. He’s the devil himself, devouring me with his hands, teeth, and body. He’s marking me as his, forcing me to surrender with every torturous touch. And so I do. I stop fighting and let my body give in. I let my body drown in pain. The pain becomes part of me, and I push against him, craving more friction. When he pulls back and thrusts again, I meet him halfway, falling into a rhythm. I welcome it. I let my body become the devil with him. The pain is part of me, and I own it. My body is being pleased. These are bites of love, not hate. My brain automatically assu