I walked out of Damien’s office on legs that still felt like they belonged to someone else.
My thighs were sticky, my dress was wrinkled and my hair was a mess.
I could feel the faint ache where he’d slapped my ass and the deeper one where he’d f****d me so hard the desk had creaked. I kept my head down as I moved through the hallway, avoiding the curious glances from students and staff who had seen me leave the presentation early, flushed and shaky.
The risk had been everything I hated and everything I was starting to crave.
I hated how wet I still was, how my body hummed with pleasure and how part of me already wanted him to do it again. But mostly I hated how right he was. I was addicted. The thought made me sick with shame and excitement at the same time.
I slipped into the librar
