Page 57 of Pink Ink

“Get on your knees, Miss Sinaga.”

Hungry green eyes stare down at me. My breath catches as I lower myself onto the plush carpet, staring up at Maddox’s naked body. Heat unfurls low in my core, sending tendrils of desire to every corner of my being.

The smell of sex and sweat sticks to my skin from the hours we’ve spent in his office, unleashing every whisper of tension that’s been brewing between us. My nipples pebble in the cold room, and I arch my back in search of friction.

“He can’t touch you the way I can.” His thumb skates over my bottom lip. “Tell me you want me to bend you over the—”

An alarm blasts through the room, yanking me out of my lust-addled haze, and I slap my surroundings to put an end to the sound. The blankets twist around my body as I pant, blinking away the vivid dream. The duvet wedges between my thighs and presses against my swollen center. Desire swirls in my stomach, and I clamp my mouth shut to suppress a groan.

My legs curl around the thick maroon fabric to increase the pressure, and my eyes flutter closed to relish in the sensation. The foggy haze of sleep edges my mind as I move my hips against the blanket. It whispers the same tempting words that Dream Maddox said to me.

That’s it. You can take it.

My fingers snake down my waist, beneath my sweatpants. My hips buck at the first caress against my clit.

So responsive, Miss Sinaga.

The pads of my fingers press against my aching core. Sparks of pleasure thrum up my spine, and I shudder when I imagine it’s Maddox dipping his—

I jolt upright, snatching my hand out from my pants.

No. Nope.Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Having a sex dream about my professor is bad enough. I amnotabout to have an orgasm because of him. That’s crossing way too many lines.

Jesus Christ. No. He’s an ass. Not to mentionmy teacher.

Plus, I’m late. And Maddox doesn’t deserve my climax. Or my dirty dreams.

I rub the back of my neck, glaring up at the ceiling, cursing the sound of cars on the other side of my bedroom’s window and of Kimi chatting away on her phone in the kitchen while something sizzles in the background.

Huffing, I drag myself over to the end of the bed and intentionally don’t make eye contact with the pile of laundry I dumped on my computer chair. My room isn’t messy per se, but I’m not about to welcome guests with open arms either.

A couple of books I thrifted are lying around, waiting for me to make space for them on my shelf. I dumped my filming equipment in the corner after helping Nicole with her project yesterday. It’s also been on my list to get double-sided tape to stick down the corner of one of my movie posters that’s lifted from the exposed-brick “feature” wall—my guess is that it was a cost-cutting decision. The landlord special.

So much to do. So little energy.

I force myself to extract my body from the comfort of my bed and all things associated with the deplorable things my professor did to me in my dream last night.

“Morning sunshine!” Kimi twists around from the stove when I whip open the door.

She gives me a once-over like she knows what I was dreaming about, and the thought that she might have caught me makes my stomach flutter in an extra concerning way.

Fucking hell. I need a cold shower.

I walked into the biweekly film workshop early with my chin high and every intention of getting on with my life and pretending like whatever weird shit went on yesterday never happened.

After tossing and turning all evening, I boiled Maddox’s reaction down to stress and exhaustion. What I thought was jealousy was probably just irritation that his brother was potentially harming his career.

I’m not sure how far the scope of fraternization goes, but it probably covers family members dating your student, right? Public perception doesn’t need a contract for that type of stuff to be considered wrong or taboo.

To make matters substantially worse, the dirty words Dream Maddox said to me in his sultry accent keep playing on repeat in my head, and I can hardly focus.

Frankly, I don’t think I can look him in the eye ever again.

I expected Maddox to glare at me when I arrived. Maybe he’d sneer or scowl or make some scathing comment about my abilities, but nothing. Nada.

I respectfully said, “Hi, Mr. Shaw,” as I passed, and he didn’t acknowledge me.