CARMEN POV
"I'm I supposed to be here or the lecture room?" I asked, irritated.
Hunter didn't even look up. "Shut the fuck up, little one. You talk too damn much."
My jaw tightened. "You're not my father. You can't tell me what to do."
That finally got his attention. He looked at me—slow, deliberate—and then chuckled.
"Keep that mouth running, and I'll have my dick down your throat in less than a minute."
My breath caught. My throat clenched around the lump forming there. He was so calm—like threatening me was second nature.
"You're disgusting," I hissed.
He stood from his chair, unfazed. Tall, controlled, and frighteningly close.
I took a step back. "What… what are you doing?"
He didn't blink. "Punishing you."
Then he held out a slip of paper and a small metal key. "Your schedule. Locker key. Come take it."
"We said we weren't going to do this anymore," I whispered.
"Don't make me repeat myself. Come here, kneel down, and unbuckle my belt."
I blinked at him, stunned. "What? You're my stepdad."
He tilted his head, expression unreadable. "You've had my dick in your mouth before."
"That was before I knew who you were…" I mumbled.
"And now you do," he said. "Still doesn't change what you are to me."
I shook my head. "I can't… it's wrong. You're my stepdad. It's disgusting."
He let out a slow sigh and tossed the key and paper onto the couch.
Then he sat back down at his desk, ignoring me like I didn't exist.
I stared at him, pulse hammering in my throat. No look. No glare. No smirk. Nothing.
So I did what any sane girl would do in that moment—I snatched the items and bolted.
The hallway outside his office felt like oxygen. But even as I walked away, one question echoed in my head:
Is he mad at me?
I shook it off and hurried to my first class—Psychology. Tried to listen, to focus, to breathe.
After class, I hit the cafeteria for something sweet. A little sugar therapy. It didn't help.
Then it was time for Business Law. I stepped into the lecture room just as the session was about to start. The room was full. Settled. I found a seat in the middle.
And then he walked in.
Hunter.
Professor DeLuca.
My stepdad.
Wearing a black suit and a scowl that made my thighs clench. Students straightened in their seats. Some whispered. A few even smiled.
But his eyes? His eyes were locked on me.
This year might just kill me.
I quickly glanced away from him, pretending to scribble something in my notebook.
But I could feel it—his stare.
Heavy. Sharp. Personal.
He stepped in, the door clicking shut behind him like a warning shot.
The room fell silent instantly. Every head turned. Every breath held.
He walked to the front of the class—measured, powerful, confident. Like he owned the damn place.
He set his briefcase down, adjusted his cufflinks, and looked up.
Sharp. Cold. Unforgiving eyes.
"Welcome to the new session. I'm Mr. DeLuca. And you'll address me as that—nothing more, nothing less."
"This is not high school," he said, voice low and commanding. "This is Business Law. My class."
A few students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. I didn't dare move.
"I don't tolerate laziness. I don't accept excuses. I don't pamper."
His gaze swept the room… then landed on me.
"If you fail, you repeat. If you miss deadlines, you're out. If you can't handle pressure, transfer now and save us both the time."
I swallowed hard.
His voice dropped lower, like a dare. "This class will break you—or make you."
And just like that, he turned, picked up a marker, and began to write on the board like he hadn't just sent a chill through the entire room.
But I couldn't focus. My heart was racing. My mind was screaming.
Because every time he said pressure…
…all I could think about was the weight of his body on mine that night.
I stared at the whiteboard, but the words blurred.
Business Law 101 – Foundations of Corporate Ethics.
Right. Ethics.
Funny.
My throat went dry.
I could feel his voice still echoing through the room—strict, cold, professional—but my mind had already left the lecture.
I remembered the first time I heard that voice.
Not in a classroom.
Not behind a desk.
But in a dark club, in a stranger's mouth, pressed against my ear like a secret.
"Take it… just like that."
I blinked fast.
No. Don't go there, Carmen. Focus.
But it was too late.
The memory slammed into me like a wave I couldn't outrun.
The music.
The lights.
My hands pinned above my head.
His mouth on my neck, my chest, lower.
His voice—rougher then, less polished. A dangerous kind of velvet.
"You feel what you do to me, little one?"
I shifted in my seat.
My thighs pressed together without thinking.
Shit.
I wasn't just zoning out—I was unraveling.
"Miss Reyes," his voice snapped from the front of the room.
My head shot up. "Y-yes?"
The whole class turned to look at me. I wanted to disappear.
Hunter—no, Mr. DeLuca—stood at the front, marker still in his hand, expression unreadable.
"If you plan to daydream in my class, you might as well leave now. I don't teach fantasies."
My cheeks flamed.
My heart felt like it might fall out of my chest.
He knew.
That smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth?
He fucking knew
"Sorry, sir," I mumbled, then sighed, forcing myself to concentrate on the rest of the lecture.
The moment class ended, I gathered my things and headed to my next session. By the time that one wrapped up, I was completely drained. My first day had officially taken the life out of me.
Since I had no clue how to get home—and Mom had just dumped me into this without much of a plan—I made my way back to his office.
Hunter.
I sat on the long black couch, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt while he focused on his laptop. Not a single glance spared me. Not even a word. Just the soft clicking of his keys and the occasional, quiet hum of his breath.
My phone buzzed.
Mom.
I answered quickly, trying not to sound annoyed. "Hey, Mom."
Hunter looked up at the sound of my voice, and our eyes locked—for a second too long. I blinked and looked away immediately.
"Carm, how was your first day?" she chirped like she wasn't the reason I was stuck here in the first place.
"Fine. Why are you calling?"
"I won't be home tonight," she said, casual as ever. "Be a good girl, please, and don't be rude to him."
"Why aren't you coming home?" I whispered, glancing toward Hunter.
"I have things to do at work."
The line went dead. Just like that.
I stared at my phone, then muttered under my breath, "What the fuck…"
"Let's go," Hunter said. He was already up, locking his laptop.
I stood and followed him out. We hadn't even made it ten steps down the hallway before a voice called out.
"Mr. DeLuca!"
I turned to see a woman in her mid-thirties strutting toward us in a fitted dress and sky-high heels. Fake smile. Fake hair. I instantly hated her.
"You're going home already?" she asked sweetly.
"It's freaking obvious," I muttered.
"Obviously," Hunter snapped. "What do you want, Sara?"
I stifled a laugh. She blinked at him, then turned the charm back on.
"I just thought maybe we could have some… fun."
I gagged a little, audibly. "He's married. And busy."
Her eyes scanned me like I was something she scraped off her Louboutins. "And you are?"
I smiled up at Hunter. "Let's go, Daddy. I'm famished and tired."
His lips curved into a smirk. "Alright, little one."
He patted my head, and we walked off, leaving her frozen in place, face pale and speechless.
The car ride started silent. Tension curled in the air between us.
Then he broke it.
"Daddy, huh?"
My face flushed. "I was just trying to save myself."
His hand moved then, slipping over the leather seat between us until it rested on my bare thigh. My breath caught in my throat.
"What are you doing?" I asked, heart pounding.
"I saw the way you squirmed in class," he said, voice low and lethal. "You couldn't focus. You were wet, weren't you, little one?"
My thighs clenched. "No…"
He didn't believe me.
"You were thinking about my cock."
The words made my skin flame.
His fingers brushed dangerously close to my core. I arched my back slightly, thighs twitching, breath shallow.
He hadn't even touched me fully, and yet—I was dripping.