I use my sassy voice to hide the sudden rush of guilt I feel because I absolutely did touch myself. As soon as I heard Enzo start to lightly snore, I rubbed my clit until I came and I fell asleep satisfied, if naughty.
He quirks a brow at me, that low voice of his doing wonderful things to my body. “If you did, then I'm going to spank you.”
“I guess you'd better spank me, sir," I smirk. I want him to spank me. I want to feel those big hands all over me, controlling me, making me feel all those sinful sensations I’m not supposed to know about. I'm supposed to be a good little virgin. I am a virgin, but I am in no way good.
“Brat," he says with a growl. “I’ll deal with you tonight. But we have to go. We both have classes.”
I look at his hand. His knuckles are still swollen from beating the hell out of Davo. I wonder what the other students would think if they saw their professor as he really is. I bet they’d be terrified of him. I feel a rush of something like power because I’m not afraid. I don't have to be. Enzo would never hurt me. He'd die to protect me, and that makes me feel very, very safe.
He glances down at his hand and flexes it. “It’s fine."
"I wonder if Davo's face is fine.”
Enzo shrugs.
He really doesn't care. I'm reminded again that there are the people he cares about, and then there is everybody else in the world. Enzo is the kind of man who could have ravaged nations back in the old days, before city states and laws and the pretense of criminal justice made him take this form, a professor, off to tutor his students in right and wrong.
"What are you smirking at?”
“How out of place you are in the modern world,” I answer honestly. "You're a warlord in a sweater.”
Enzo laughs, pleased at the comparison.
“Flattery won't save your ass, little girl. Tonight, you and I are going to have a long, hard discussion about doing as I say.”
I feel a thrill of excitement, a tingling in my clit as anticipation establishes itself low in my belly. Tonight is too far away. I want him to deal with me now. Long and hard, hard and slow, hard and fast, I don't care. I want to see him as I saw him last night, completely naked. He looks good nude.
“It’s time for school, Mia,” he reminds me in that deep voice. He extends his hand to me and I take it, feeling a simple but deep security as I do. Enzo is going to look after me. I am in his care, and I am his little girl. When we walk out into the world, I feel his protection wrapped around me even after we've gone our own separate ways.
I don't see Enzo again until lunch time. We’re having lunch together off campus in an Italian restaurant he thinks is decent. I think it's okay, but I’d be happy with fast food if it meant eating with him.
It's nice to sit and talk and steal the occasional sip of his wine. They carded me when I came in, but nobody here has the balls to tell Enzo that his lunch date can’t drink if she wants to. That’s his job, and at first he doesn't really seem to mind. I get the feeling that as long as I'm sweet about it, I can probably get away with a lot where he is concerned. Italian daddies like to spoil their little girls.
“You really shouldn’t be doing that,” Enzo smirks at me as I suck my lower lip in and draw his glass toward me.
“I’m used to much harder stuff than this," I remind him.
That is not the thing to say. Enzo reaches out and takes the glass from my hand before I can get my lips near the rim and all I’m left with is the faint scent of red wine.
“Not fair,” I pout.
“Life isn’t fair.”
“Hey, chumps,” Emilio throws himself down like he owns the place. I didn't even see him walk into the restaurant, but I'm guessing he didn't just materialize out of thin air. When Enzo is around, he is all I have eyes for.
“We're having lunch, Emilio,” Enzo says.
“Yeah. Me too. I’ll have the gabagool,” Emilio says to the waiter who appears next to us, summoned by the arrival of a third unexpected member. I take advantage of the situation by swiping Enzo’s glass while he is glowering at Emilio.
“Brat,” Enzo sighs, curling his finger toward me in an indication to give it back. I slide it over to him, but it is a sip or two lighter when I do.
“So I checked this Davo kid out,” Emilio says, grabbing for the breadsticks like he's starving. “I think he's alright. Talked to him about the drugs. Turns out his mother’s sick, so he’s selling to pay for her meds.”
I look at Enzo without saying a word. Enzo looks back at me. We both know what I'm thinking. I don't have to say anything, but I choose to anyway.
“You beat the shit out of a teenager who was trying to look after his sick mother,” I say.
“I’d do a lot worse to make sure you are safe,” Enzo says without any outward sign of guilt.
"Yeah, so anyways. That’s something going for us, you know? This town's getting real crowded. Lotsa factions. Lotsa bullshit. There’s the Mexicans, they’re coming further north all the time, and not because they want to open taco shops, if you know what I’m saying.”
We all know what he’s saying.
“Those guys, they like to get a little rough. They musta heard Mia was in town, she's a potential kidnapping target. Rich father, lots of leverage business-wise. I reckon it might be time to head home."
I stare Emilio down. “I’m not giving up on school because some asshole decides I’m useful to him. Just take care of him.”
“Take care of him!” Emilio laughs. "She talks just like her father. Bet she’s better in bed."
Enzo smacks the bread right out of Emilio's mouth. A chunk goes flying across the restaurant and lands in some woman's soup. She makes a gasping sound of affront.
“Shit, chill out.”
"You know better than to speak that way about, or in front of Mia,” Enzo says.
“Fucking asshole,” Emilio curses. He has a red mark on his cheek where Enzo cracked him one and I’m guessing a heavily bruised pride. “Why, I oughta…”
I finish off Enzo's wine before we’re all asked to leave about twenty seconds later.
After a sharp exchange of words, most of which come from Enzo, Emilio takes off in the other direction, and Enzo and I walk back to campus.
“You guys have an interesting working relationship,” I observe.
“He's like a little brother,” Enzo says. “I’m sorry, Mia. That was inappropriate. We shouldn’t be drawing attention to ourselves that way."
"The college probably wouldn’t like to hear about one of its professors beating people at lunch time.”
“Probably not,” Enzo agrees.
We've wandered back to his office. Finally. Some privacy. I know we can't have sex on campus, but maybe we can have sex on campus. Enzo draws me in and shuts the door behind me.
"You're sure you’re not too drunk to go to class?”
"I'm not drunk at all," I say. It's true, because I'm only tipsy. I want him. I want to touch him. I want him to redirect all that dark, dominant energy onto me.
“Professor. Mia. You're both here!”