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Second Semester (A Campus Tales Story Book 2) by Q.B. Tyler (1)

 

Hungry green eyes with traces of gold look up from between my legs. Eyes that tell me everything I already know about the person behind.

I know the type.

Daddy issues. A wealth of them.

A girl that wants a man who will give her the love and affection that she didn’t get from her father. A man that will let her sit on his lap, call her princess, and five minutes later spank her pretty little ass pink.

I run my hand through the hair of the green-eyed goddess in front of me and pull at the wild curly brown locks that I’d long released from the confines of the bun at the nape of her neck.

The gold flecks in her eyes reflect off my Rolex and I watch them widen at the watch that I’m sure she knows it costs more than her salary.

Her eyes flit back to me before fluttering closed as she continues to take me in her mouth and force my dick down her throat. She sputters and chokes slightly as she goes too far and my dick hardens more in appreciation as drool forms at the corners of her mouth.

“You’re such a pretty little doll, aren’t you? Are you going to be a good girl and make me come?” She nods, giving me a look that tells me she’s dying for my praise. Eyes that bore into mine and practically beg for me to tell her that she’s doing a good job. I grip her face pushing my dick further and harder into her mouth and I watch as the tears form in her eyes and run down her cheeks. Streaks of black trickle down her ivory skin and hit the hardwood floor of my office.

But she doesn’t let up. Years of feeling like she’d let her father down. Feelings that told her she wasn’t good enough and that she would never be good enough push her forward, determined to make me come.

Preston will kill me when he finds out that I’ve fucked yet another one of his paralegals. But honestly, he had only himself to blame. Stop hiring highly fuckable women. You know I’m a man going through a brutal divorce.

I grunt, thinking about my soon to be ex-wife, Jana Fucking West. The mother of my son and also the devil in disguise. My phone beeps, and I welcome the distraction from thinking about the woman who is gunning for half of my money and even more than half of all my properties.

 

P. Mitchell: Be there in ten.

 

“Fuck.” I groan. “If you even have a prayer at getting off, I’d work quicker. I need you out of here in eight and a half minutes.”

I feel her lip tremble slightly under my dick before she lets it slide out of her mouth. I shoot her a look, wondering what exactly she thinks she’s doing. “Can’t we just have sex?” I glower at her, wanting her to feel the heat of my disappointment, and I see her eyes preparing to backtrack. “I just mean…”

“Let me get this straight,” I rub my cock from root to tip in front of her face. “You tease me for the entire length of this morning’s meeting, running that sinful tongue all over that goddamn pen. You send me the obscenest texts last night when you were out with your friends of just what you wanted to do with my dick today, and now…you’re backing out?”

“I’m not, I just…”

“Oh, Olivia.” I emphasize her full name and I watch as she shrinks beneath my gaze. I usually call her Liv or Livi like everyone, but I use Olivia to be a dick. To remind her of the other man who called her that.

Her eyes well up with tears as she stands and straightens her navy pencil skirt. “I’m done with this. This isn’t good for me.” I blink, preparing for the inevitable tantrum that is just moments away. “You’re cold and hurtful and…”

“But I eat your pussy better than anyone ever will. You’re not going anywhere, pretty girl. You’re addicted to this. To how I make you feel. To how this makes you feel. I’ve ruined you for other men, Olivia, and you know it.”

She tucks an errant curl behind her ear and looks at the floor, unable to meet my gaze. “You’re married.”

My heart has been enclosed in a block of ice for what seems like a full year, and Olivia seems to be wielding an ice pick. Do not go down this road with disposable pussy, West. “I’m separated, which you know, so I’m failing to see your point.”

“I work here. This is against the no-fraternization policy.”

“Cute.” I pull my pants up, realizing that my best friend and partner will be walking through my door in less than five minutes and there was no chance I’d be coming before then. I straighten my tie and fiddle with my cufflinks to ignore her imploring eyes.

“I’ll sue for…sexual harassment.”

My blood runs cold and a chill slithers down my spine. But then I remember who the fuck I am: a ruthless lawyer with an axe to grind with a large number of the female population having been burned by one and feeling the need to take it out on the rest of them. Call her fucking bluff.

“You’d do that?”

She’s silent, and I know I’ve got her. Olivia may be pissed, but she wouldn’t do that. Not when she was the one that came to me. Not when she was the one to initiate the first interaction. Girls like Olivia thrived on men with power. They wanted in, no matter what it took. Too bad all the women want Preston at first. And Preston Mitchell, who has been hopelessly in love with his wife since the moment he’d laid eyes on her, is never going to fucking stray.

They want the hero they can’t have.

So, they come to me and it made me realize that they don’t really want the hero.

They wanted the villain.

I’m not respectful. I don’t open doors or send good morning texts. I fuck them rough and hard and make them come so many times they often pass out from the pleasure.

And the rate in which they come back for seconds and thirds and fourths does nothing but convince me that women don’t want the hero. They want the villain.

I take a step towards Olivia and begin to re-button the blouse that I’d torn open in my haste to get her pert nipples in my mouth. “You’d really say I forced myself on you? That I did something you didn’t want…that you didn’t beg for? That I initiated this whole thing?” I was a lot of things, but I’d never touch a woman who didn’t want it. This was just a bitch looking for a payout.

“I…”

Two raps on the door, followed by Preston walking through, stops her from speaking. His phone is glued to his ear, giving me a chance to take a long look at who follows him into the room: a petite, slender brunette that my dick responds to before my brain can even tell it to abort mission. My eyes trail up her body, long toned legs accentuated by pumps and a pair of perfectly tailored gray slacks that I briefly wonder what would look like on the floor of my office. A white silk blouse is tucked into her pants with a jacket that matches her pants over it. Her hair is pulled back off of her face, allowing me to see perfectly flawless, tanned skin and hazel eyes accentuated by thick-rimmed, square glasses. She looks like a fucking pinup girl. A sexy librarian.

No.

She looks like someone who shares Preston Mitchell’s DNA.

Fuck. Serena?

I blink away from her, grateful that Preston is still on the phone and unbeknownst to the fact that I was just ogling his oldest daughter. But then I remember there is someone else in the room, and the way she’s looking at me, it seems she has noticed.

Olivia tucks a hair behind her ear and raises an eyebrow full of judgment and, if my intuition is correct—which it usually is—a hint of jealousy as well. “Is there a reason you’re still here?” I narrow my gaze at her and she turns her face towards Preston to avoid further embarrassment, though I can see the flush creeping up her neck.

“Yes, I’ll be there in twenty.” I hear Preston end his call and turn to me and Olivia. “Miss Barrett?” He gives me a disapproving glare, masquerading as a joke. “Landon, what did I tell you about abusing my paralegals. You have your own.” He chuckles, though I can hear the nervousness in his voice. He’s going to chew you out, West.

She clears her throat and nods slightly. “Mr. Mitchell.”

“I left a few things on your desk for you. I’m due in court in twenty, do you think you have time to type a quick memo?” he asks her. That’s one thing about Preston Mitchell. He asks. I demand. He treats his interns the same way, and they are never prepared when they leave our firm. Mine, on the other hand, go on to take over the world with stellar recommendations from me. My last one, who just left for Stanford Law last week, emails me updates every two weeks. I can’t wait to hire her ass the second she gets out of law school.

Thank God, I didn’t fuck that one.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Mitchell. I’ll be right on it.” Olivia flees from the room as if she’s on fire and closes the door. Just as she does my best friend glares at me.

“I will fucking kill you,” Preston growls.

I hear a gasp from the corner of the room. A gasp under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have heard. But I am acutely aware of the gorgeous proverbial elephant in the room and I’ve made note of every movement she’s made since she’s walked through the door.

I swear to God, if she fiddles with her glasses just one more time.

“She’s the best paralegal I’ve ever had. Can’t you keep it in your pants for one goddamn minute!?” he snaps.

I’d met Serena Mitchell before. She was the older more reserved sister, very unlike her sister Skyler, who Preston is ready to go into an early grave over.

Thank God, I don’t have a daughter.

Although, I’d met Serena a few times in passing, I hadn’t remembered her looking quite like this.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Serena.” I take a few steps and reach for her hand. She swallows and touches her glasses again, pushing them further up her face.

“Mr. West.”

“Landon.” I give her a warm smile, probably the most genuine one I’m capable of. Not the one I use when I want in a woman’s panties, but the one I use when I’m talking to Griff, the boy who shares my DNA but also as of lately, hates my guts.

My heart squeezes slightly, the ice cracking in my chest as I think about my sixteen year old son who blames me for everything. A son who is currently dealing with the ramifications of a DUI, more than likely as a result of the divorce his mother and I are going through. A DUI that is also somehow my fault according to his mother.

“Would you mind if I spoke with your father for a moment, alone?”

Preston, who must have remembered that his daughter was in the room turns to look at her. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Rena, can you go wait in my office?” He winces, probably feeling horrible that his twenty-one year old daughter heard him swear. I swear he coddles the shit out of them both. Skyler is a firecracker who can take care of herself; I could see that the moment I met her, in addition to what her parents had told me. But this one: Serena. She is sensitive and innocent. And those wide bright eyes behind her glasses...

Fuck, they haven’t seen anything yet.

The need to shelter her from all the bad shit in the world comes at me in full force, and suddenly, I have a moment of clarity that rocks me to my core.

I am the bad shit in the world.

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