Chapter 121
Fig’s POV
The classroom door swings shut behind me as I stumble into English class, late, my book bag thudding onto the desk, my breath uneven from the chaos of the morning. My tie crooked, my shirt slightly rumpled, and my mind’s a storm. Alison Blake’s absence from my phone screen is a gnawing irritation that’s been killing me since Sunday.
I sent her texts—“You okay? Can’t get you out of my head. Dying to bang you again”—and got nothing, her silence a slap, a challenge that’s left me hard and furious, craving her wild, untamed fire.
I scan the room, my eyes darting over desks, searching for her golden hair, her sultry smirk, but she’s not here. My chest tightens, a mix of disappointment and hunger, her absence a void that sharpens my need to claim her, to make her mine after Friday’s reckless, consuming fuck.
Instead, my gaze lands on Crew Manchester, slouched beside Lily Carter, his arm brushing hers, his smug grin a taunt that twists my gut. Disgust surges, hot and bitter, at the sight of them—Lily’s shy innocence, Crew’s possessive posturing, their closeness a mockery of my own obsession.
Crew’s eyes meet mine, confident, and I want to wipe that smirk off his face, to punish him for existing in her orbit, for being the one she’s chasing while I’m left ignored. Anger flares, my hands clenching, but I force it down, my jaw tight, my role as teacher is to be professional. I clear my throat, my voice rough. “Sorry I’m late. Give me a few, then we’ll start the test.”
The class buzzes, whispers rising, but I’m hyper-aware of Crew and Lily, her soft voice murmuring to him, his hand grazing her arm, a claim that makes my blood boil.
I hate him—his wealth, his arrogance, the way he’s got Alison twisted up, her eyes hungry for him in the cafeteria, not me. I fucked her, owned her body in that club bathroom, her pussy tight around my cock, her moans loud over the music, and in my car, her breasts bouncing as she rode me, her nails marking my skin.
She was mine, wild and fierce, but now she’s ignoring me, and Crew’s casual intimacy with Lily feels like a personal insult, a reminder of my failure to hold her.
I shuffle papers, distributing test questions, my movements mechanical, my mind replaying Friday night in vivid, searing detail. Sneaking Alison out, her thighs teasing in my car, her black dress at my house, cleavage spilling, begging for my mouth. I’d kissed her hard, my tongue thrusting, her moans a drug, and in the club bathroom, I’d pinned her, fucked her raw, her orgasm pulling me under. In my car, she’d climbed onto me, her pussy milking me, our release a shared wildfire.
The memories make my cock twitch, my anger spiking—she felt that, she wanted that, so why the fuck isn’t she answering me? I glance at Crew, his head bent toward Lily, and I want to drag him out, to make him pay for being her obsession, for stealing what I crave.
The door creaks open, and Alison comes in, late, her golden hair catching the light, her blazer hugging her curves, her skirt scandalously short, a deliberate tease.
My breath catches, desire slamming through me, my cock hardening despite my fury. She’s a vision, her lips red, her green eyes cool, detached, like she didn’t ride my dick two nights ago, like she didn’t scream my name.
The class quiets down, all eyes on her, but she’s unmoved, sliding to a desk, her hips swaying, every move a calculated seduction. I grip the test papers, my knuckles white, my voice sharp. “Miss Blake, you’re late. This behavior is unacceptable. Care to explain?”
She meets my gaze, calm, her voice smooth, almost sweet.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Fig. I overslept. It won’t happen again.” Her apology is a mask, her eyes flickering with something—amusement, defiance—that makes my blood burn. She’s playing me, this wild girl who fucked me like she owned me, and now she’s sitting there, composed, ignoring my texts, my need, my claim. I want to grab her, drag her to my office, rip that skirt off, and fuck her until she’s begging, until she acknowledges me.
“See that it doesn’t,” I snap, handing her the test, my fingers brushing hers, a spark that makes my cock throb. She doesn’t flinch, just takes the paper, her lips twitching, and I know she feels it too—the memory of my hands on her ass, my cock deep inside her, her body yielding but fierce.
I turn away, my heart pounding, forcing myself to focus, to pass out the remaining tests, but my mind’s on her, on the bathroom’s gritty wall, her legs spread, my thrusts punishing, her pussy clenching. In the car, her moans, her nails, the way she took control, riding me until we both shattered. She’s a drug, and her silence is a rejection I can’t stomach, a challenge I’ll answer.
I sit at my desk, my eyes darting to Alison, her head bent over the test, her hair spilling, her breasts pressing against her blazer. I imagine bending her over that desk, her skirt up, my cock slamming into her, her moans loud, her defiance broken.
Crew’s still beside Lily, his presence a thorn, and I hate them both—him for having Alison’s heart, her for daring to want him when I fucked her, claimed her. My texts—“I need you again”—hang unanswered, and it’s a wound, a fire that fuels my resolve.
After class, I’ll corner her, use a grade, a detention, anything to get her alone. I’ll fuck her silly, make her scream, make her mine, erase Crew from her mind.
The test continues, the room is silent except for scratching pens, but my body’s alive, my cock aching, my anger and desire a tangled knot. Alison’s here, late but untouchable, her apology a lie, her power intoxicating. I’ll have her again, in a corner, a closet, anywhere, my hands on her thighs, my cock inside her, her body surrendering. She’s wild, dangerous, but I’m a predator too, and she’s my obsession, my prize, no matter who she wants, no matter the cost. The bell will ring soon, and I’ll make my move, her silence is a game I’ll end, her body a battlefield I’ll conquer.