Page 52 of Devious Obsession
“Let me up,” I say. I haven’t peed, and the urge is getting insistent.
“What would you do if you got pregnant?”
I freeze. WhatwouldI do?
I’d probably go to a clinic. I’m too young to have a kid, so I wouldn’t. In this state, at least, the choice is available to me. It’s why I’m proactive with my birth control. And, until he came along, I never had sex without a condom.
He hums, shifting. Eventually, his cock slips out of me. But his fingers are right there, pushing his cum back into me.
“Too early to say,” he murmurs, more to himself than me.
“Steele.” I roll onto my back. I use my heel to shove him away, and he goes.
He laughs at me, at the way I probably look like an absolute train wreck. Instead of commenting, or acknowledging that I didn’t answer his question, he tugs on pants and heads for the door.
I snag my leggings and grab a t-shirt from his closet. My bra is on the floor, too, so I add that to my pile. My phone, plugged in on his dresser, goes off. I glance at the door.
Steele is gone.
But there’s a text from his dad, and my mood plummets.
Stephen
Call me now.
Oh, great.
I hurry to the bathroom and lock the door, dumping my stuff on the counter. I sent him an email—does he need more on Steele?
Or did he find out about the website? It was taken down in record time. It’s all lies anyway. I need the weight of anxiety off my chest, which means calling himimmediately, as ordered. I just have to ignore the sour taste that invokes.
My hands shake as I click on his name and press the phone to my ear. The ringing tone picks up. I wipe my other hand on my leg. Jittery nerves hit me.
“Aspen,” Steele’s father greets me.
“Good morning,” I say in an attempt to be cheery. Like there’s nothing wrong.
“Can you please explain to me why I’m getting calls from the Dean of Students about your conduct on campus?”
I go silent. Because no, I definitely can’t. Not without throwing his son under the bus… which doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. Why am I protecting him anyway?
“There was a prank that got out of hand,” I hedge.
Stephen clears his throat. “I see. And who started this prank?”
I let my non-answer fill in the blanks for him.
“My son,” he guesses.
“I suppose that would make sense,” I agree.
“Thank you, Aspen,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”
The call ends, and I sigh. People are alwaystaking care ofthings for me. Like my uncle with the website, and Steele’s dad with whatever the hell the Dean of Students is moaning about. Probably the website, and me being painted as an on-campus prostitute. Or maybe Amanda decided to complain about public sex… even though it was in a house, technically.
Does that count?
And anyway, I’ve always been curious about how these things are handled. Do they just make phone calls to the right people, who then pull some magic strings, and the issue goes away? Or do they get their hands dirty?
