Fuck, I want her.I want her so much it makes me violent with need. And no matter how many times I stroke myself or what I imagine her doing, it won’t be the same. I know this when I finally come, shooting my release across my knuckles, and my dick refuses to fall limp.
Stella. Stella. Stella.
Her name is a mantra in my thoughts. She’s supposed to be my project for this year. I want to break her but not like this. Not by corrupting her.
Yet I fear that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
UNSURPRISINGLY, Stella arrives on time today, making a show of placing her textbook neatly on the desk in front of her.See, Mr. Carter, I can be good.
It’s almost too fucking easy. When she offers me a secret smile, she may as well be whispering that she’s mine. Briefly, I consider how fucked up it is that she’s so eager to please me. And then I remember that I don’t care. I’m here to make this year hell for her and wear her down until I get to the core of her emotions. Her desires.
What does Stella LeClaire really want? And how far will she go to get it? Despite her resolve to put her head down and do her best at Loyola Academy, we both know she doesn’t really belong here. She is too free spirited to be just another cog in the machine. She isn’t chasing her dreams; she’s chasing a feather in the wind. And I’m not here to teach Stella. I’m here to open her fucking eyes and wake her up. This path she’s headed down is a collision course with misery, and until she sees that, I will take pleasure in reminding her every day that she isn’t one of these trust fund brats. Starting right now.
She’s obviously exhausted and tense as she waits quietly for class to begin. A girl like Stella has been deprived of her parents' attention for so long that she will look for it everywhere else. And as long as I set the bar higher, she will keep jumping to reach it.
“Let’s get started.” I rap my knuckles against the desk, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the class. “Stella, shut the door for us, will you?”
Her eyes flare as her name rolls from my lips with a cadence that lulls her into a false sense of comfort. She doesn’t hesitate to get up from her seat. Today, she’s wearing a crushed red velvet skirt, antique white blouse, and a pussy bow tie. I’m not the only one watching her as she crosses the room. Every pair of eyes is on the exotic creature cloaked in red. She shuts the door with a softness befitting of a mouse and returns to her seat, eagerly waiting for the next set of instructions.
“Today’s class will be free form discussion as noted in the syllabus,” I begin. “Every second period of the week, you will seek out academic papers on a chosen group topic to discuss. Today’s umbrella term is ancient philosophies. Now, who would care to throw some ideas into the ring?”
A few hands go up around the classroom, and I scan the crowd as they wait to be called on. But it’s Louisa who speaks first. “I have an idea, Mr. Carter.”
“What is your suggestion, Louisa?”
She smirks in Stella’s direction before returning her gaze to me. “The curse of the red hair gene throughout history.”
Her friends snicker behind her, and Ethan decides to chime in too as he sneers in Stella’s direction. “Yeah, we could answer that age-old question. Do gingers really have souls?”
Stella frowns at his newfound animosity toward her, but it’s apparent I’ve made my stance clear. He won’t be bothering her anymore. At least not while he’s doing dishes in the cafeteria for the next two months.
“There’s no need to waste precious time in class on that answer,” Stella bites back. “I can already tell you… I sold mine to the devil.”
My gaze returns to Stella, and despite her bravado, I can tell she doesn’t like this. And why would she, being the only redhead in the class? Louisa’s suggestion is designed to make her feel small, and admittedly, I want to see how she responds to the pressure. So even if it is utterly bullshit, I decide to roll with it.
“The curse of red hair throughout history. You have twenty minutes to do your research, and then we will discuss as a group.”
Stella’s mouth falls open, and Sybil foolishly tries to make her feel better about the situation. Perhaps it is cruel, but Stella will learn.My God will she learn.
CHAPTER NINE
STELLA
“ICAN’T BELIEVE THIS,”Sybil whispers beside me. “This isn’t fair.”
“It’s okay.” I maintain my attempt at stoicism even though I feel anything but.
“It’s not okay,” she hisses. “This is basically a roast. You’re the only redhead in here, and Mr. Carter knows it. He seriously has it out for you.”
“I know.” I choke back the awful feeling in my throat. Stupidly, I came here this afternoon hoping to make a better impression. But instead, he chose to put a target on my back. I don’t get it. I really don’t understand how he can be so cruel.
“Just don’t let anything they say upset you,” Sybil advises. “That’s what they want. A reaction. And besides, I wrote down all the good things about redheads. I promise it won’t be one-sided.”
“Don’t get yourself in trouble on my behalf,” I whisper. “I’ll be fine, I swear.”
But as Mr. Carter calls time on our research, I don’t exactly believe that myself. He stands in front of his desk, expressionless with his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Who would like to go first?”
“I will.” Louisa flips her hair over her shoulder.