Professor Sterling’s Obsession

Chapter 5: Touch-Her-And-Die

Sterling didn’t let go of Maya’s hand as he marched her out of the Humanities building. He held her tight—almost too tight. He walked with long strides, forcing her to keep up as they bypassed the crowds and headed for the faculty parking garage.

The silence between them was heavy. Maya’s heart was still racing. The fear she had felt in the hallway was turning into something hot and inappropriate. She had just watched the most intimidating man on campus bring an arrogant frat boy to his knees with a single look. The raw power of it was intoxicating.

They stopped at a sleek, black Aston Martin. Sterling opened the passenger door for her. As Maya slid into the cream leather seat, she smelled his sandalwood cologne. He closed the door, walked around the hood, and got into the driver's seat.

He didn’t start the car.

He sat there with white knuckles, gripping the steering wheel. His back was rigid. The air in the car felt thin.

"Alistair?" Maya whispered.

He turned slowly. His blue eyes were dark, his pupils wide. The cold professor was gone. In his place was something primal. He looked at her with a hunger that felt like it could consume her.

"He touched you," Sterling said. His voice was a low, rough rasp.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she breathed, though her arm still stung where Julian had grabbed her.

"It is not fine."

Sterling unbuckled his seatbelt with a sharp click. Before Maya could react, he leaned across the center console. The luxury car suddenly felt tiny. He grabbed her waist and pulled her across the console until she was straddling his lap.

Maya gasped, bracing herself on his shoulders. She could feel him pressing against her, hard and unmistakable.

"You are my student," he growled. His fingers dug into her thighs with possessive force. "You are my research assistant. You are mine. And some entitled little boy thought he could put his hands on you."

He leaned in, breathing her in against her neck. "I should ruin his life. I should find every secret his family has and burn it all down."

"Alistair, please," she whimpered, her hips moving against him. The danger of being on campus and the force of his jealousy pushed her over the edge. "Don't think about him. Look at me."

Sterling let out a low sound. He bunched up the fabric of her skirt and pulled her panties down with urgency.

"I am looking at you," he murmured. "The only thing in this miserable world that actually matters."

He kissed her hard. It wasn't gentle; it was a claiming. It was rough and desperate. His tongue swept into her mouth while his hands mapped her body. He moved to her jaw and neck, biting her collarbone and then soothing the sting with his tongue, leaving a dark mark on her skin.

"Let them see," he whispered, teasing her n*****s through her camisole until she moaned. "Let every boy on this campus see the marks I leave. Let them know you belong to me."

"Yes," Maya sobbed, pulling him closer. "Yes, Alistair."

His hand slid between her thighs. When he finally touched her, Maya arched with a sharp cry. He didn't rush. Despite his anger, his touch was precise. He wanted to unravel her.

She took all of his shaft in, soaked and thirsty for him. She felt warm.

"Tell me," he demanded, his thumb pressing exactly where she needed it. "Tell me who you belong to, Maya. Tell me who owns you."

"You," she gasped. "I belong to you. Only you. Alistair, please!"

"That's my good girl," he purred. "Shatter for me."

The climax hit them hard. She buried her face in his neck and bit his collar to muffle her screams.

Sterling held her tightly. His breathing was ragged, and his heart hammered against her ear. He kissed her temple and wrapped his arms around her like a shield. For a long time, the only sound was their breathing and the hum of the garage ventilation.

Slowly, the adrenaline faded. Sterling helped her fix her clothes. His touch returned to that of the composed, meticulous professor. He used a handkerchief to wipe his hands and adjusted his cuffs.

Maya slumped back into the seat, flushed and exhausted. She felt claimed. She felt safe.

She leaned her head against the cool window and looked at the concrete pillars. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw movement near the stairwell.

It was Julian.

He looked pale and was glancing over his shoulder. He wasn't walking like a defeated boy; he looked like a man on a mission. Maya watched as he pulled a small, silver flash drive from his pocket.

He approached the blue evidence drop-box used for anonymous tips to the campus police. He glanced around, slipped the drive into the slot, and disappeared into the shadows.

Maya’s blood turned to ice. The afterglow vanished.

Julian hadn't just been trying to sleep with her; he had been distracting her. He had evidence, and he had just given it to the police.

"Alistair," Maya gasped, grabbing his arm. "Look."