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“Hi, Dean, may I have a moment of your time, please?” Before he can answer, I’m in his office and seated on his guest chair.

“Why sure? Won’t you come in and make yourself at home? What can I do for you, Aspen?”

“You can start by telling me everything about Arthur Aldereyne.”

Chapter Seventeen

Aspen

PONDEROSA PINE (PINUS PONDEROSA)

My head lols across the pillowcase, the jaws of repose not ready to release me just yet. The skin on my cheek welcomes a reverent touch as I will myself back into unconsciousness.

“Shhh,” the voice coaxes and my eyes fly open. A faint glow from a smartwatch I don’t own breaks up the inky middle of the night blackness. Next to my bed, with a gloved hand over my mouth, is a Larcher. The same sepia-toned, organic skull mask, with botanical symbols where the bony recesses should be. The scream I want to release is swallowed down when he lies on top of me, over the comforter, and I feel his erection through the layers of material and polyester fill. Holy shit.

“Shhh,” he repeats. A gentle caress, a potent promise to not hurt me as long as I comply—or punish me soundly should I disobey. A tiny nod forms, and if I’m not mistaken, his posture softens. Gone is the rigidity of his forearm, and the pressure of his hand over my lips. I blink into the low light as my conscious fires a kind of wakefulness that only fear beckons. Plus, something else. Want.

“Good,” he praises. Another whisper, and no easy ride for me to discern who this may be. His other hand peels back the bedding, and when he discovers I’m naked underneath, his head hangs between his shoulders. Is he… disappointed? By the way his cock is straining, I guess not. He holds my hand over the ridge of his dick, so I can feel what my nakedness does to him. No need, buddy, I know. He beckons my other hand to join my first, and motions for me to unfasten his pants. I comply with no further instructions. I know what he wants, and I couldn’t agree more. Being confronted by a masked man in your bedroom while you’re unconscious isn’t everybody’s fantasy, but it is mine. A rush of slick between my thighs has me clenching them together, and he tisks while shaking his head. He lowers his dark trousers and briefs in the same action, pausing only to retrieve a condom from the pocket, which he rolls on with ease.

I’m a drooling, dripping, panting mess from his edging alone. How the fuck is he not inside me already? A masked intruder who edges… just my luck. Settling over me, he adjusts his hips to line them up with mine, and with one hand, drags a thumb through my arousal before bringing it to my lips and plunging inside. I taste myself on his gloved digit, the sweet-tart flavor bursting over my tongue. If I’m going to hell, I’m dragging this fucker with me for taking so damn long to fucking sink inside!

“Such a fucking tease,” I whisper, and he chuckles. The act catches me off guard, bringing on laughter of my own, which he silences with his mouth on mine. He surges forward, filling me with no time to adjust. For us both, I’m more than ready. I guess some primal edging can really make a girl drip. Not drip—gush. The lewd sounds of him thrusting in and gliding out are enough to wake the neighbors, only Tali went to bed early with allergy medication. I don’t think I’m ready for another audience this time, and not when I don’t know for sure who’s filling me with his enormous cock. It doesn’t feel like one I’ve had before, so in my mind I count off Lukaz and Jay.

“That’s it,” he encourages in nothing more than a whisper. I wrap my legs around his taut ass and squeeze. He stills, as deep as he can be. Inside me. His body quivers with the realization that I’m as turned on by this primal act as he is. More. There is no resistance, no raked nails clawing at skin. I would not tell him to stop if I had a knife to my throat. My sexual awakening didn’t rouse from slumber with a stretch and a blink. No, she jumped out of bed with a forward roll and a full double twist before finishing in a readied stance, fingers beckoning. Come at me, or should that be, come in me. I don’t care, as long as I come.

His bunched shoulders are explored over his plain black sweater. When my fingers creep up his neck toward his chin, he captures both wrists in one hand, pinning them in place on the pillow above my head.

“No!” It’s a barked order not to explore him further.

Bossy! The accompanying growl seals the deal, and my pussy flutters around his thrusting dick, appreciative, as always.

“Don’t!” It’s an order. Yes fucking sir. No reveals today, or should that be tonight? I can’t see the time on his watch because that’s the hand pinning my wrists. All I know is, I’ve got a field excursion with Wyldan’s class tomorrow, and at this rate, I’ll be waddling through those woods. With his other hand, he presses down on my throat, not enough to restrict airflow, but a warning, nonetheless. Behave, or breathing isn’t optional. It becomes a privilege, not a right.

“I need to come,” I rasp on a veil of breath.

“Same,” he purrs, and I almost melt. His tone has more body than the whispers of earlier. No hissed disguise, no holding back on projecting his voice. It’s part muffled with throaty grunts, but that was a clue. Deep, low resonation. Is this Larcher older? Every time my climax threatens, he slows or changes angles. Punishment, or drawn-out pleasure? He’s exceedingly good, knowing just how to bring me to the edge and claw me back before freefall. Again and again, the promise of nirvana is dangled like a carrot, only to be snatched back and chomped on. A sadist?

His palm presses again, fingers flexing along the column of my throat. A push and forbidden breath, then a reprieve and welcome oxygen. Whoever this is, he’s a master at manipulation, or has experience with kink. I recall my tongue resting under a pinecone, bent over Elijah Wyldan’s desk. What would this Larcher think of that scenario? Do they know each other?

He withdraws his hand, snaking it down my decolletage and over the locket. His fingers pause for a moment before they move to the swell of one breast, a touch almost reverent. Just as I’m peaking again, he takes a nipple between index finger and thumb and tugs hard. Fucking ow, dude. Holy shit, that hurt. The orgasm leaves the building.

“You are such an ass. That hurt.” He hums, the only response to my statement. No whisper-hiss, no deep timbre. He rises to his knees, arranging my legs over his shoulders, locking each knee in place under his heavy hands. This new angle is incredible. My moans grow in volume and length as his cock buries to the hilt before retreating to do it all again. The hip roll at the end is new, and so fucking welcome. Now that my hands are free, I pinch my own nipples, not as hard as he did, but hard enough to make him groan. I’m so slick, it’s coating him as he pulls back, only to surge again, over and over with delicious rhythmic drives to send me into space. The nipple stimulation is enough, and in moments, I’m right there again. This time, thankfully, he doesn’t halt my climax, but encourages it, holding himself as deep as he can go for a second longer, and each new nudge on my cervix has my mouth falling open. “Fuck, fuck, holy fuck you’re⁠—”

He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy filling the condom, grunting through his grinding release. The jerky spasms and head thrown back are further evidence his orgasm didn’t just wash over him, it arrived like a fucking tsunami. All that edging. Worth it? You better believe it. My arms splay to the sides of the bed, crucifix-style. I’m exhausted. Without a watch or my phone, I have no idea how long we spent lost in each other, but—it was worth it. While I catch my breath, and relish the opportunity to breathe unrestrained, he’s up off the bed and tucking himself away. I don’t even see what he does with the condom, but if it’s here somewhere, I could theoretically get it tested for DNA, right? We have labs on campus and extract DNA from plants. Could I get his identity from a cum-filled condom? Before I can plan the logistics of this, I see his boots disappearing out the window. Bolting off the bed, I make it to the glass just as it is lowered, and the Larcher disappears into the night. His outline is just visible between the first few ponderosa pines, only for him to be lost to the onyx forest not one second later.

“Are you okay? You’re moving slower than my old man after a bottle of bourbon. Long night?”

Sure, Lukaz, you could say that. “No, why?”

“Walking here, you were slow as fuck, now you won’t even crouch down to examine the lichen. Spill it, Aspen. What’s up?”

How do I tell the guy I slept with four nights ago, who I would like to sleep with again soon, that someone from the Larch decided that once wasn’t enough, and he wanted dessert after his entrée? It’s bad enough that Wyldan is in a particularly pissy mood today, too. Someone didn’t just urinate in his cornflakes; they did it all over him. The man is always aloof, even distant. Today his icy outer layer has solidified further, making conversation impossible.

“Good morning, Professor. A gorgeous day for our field study, isn’t it?”

The man spared me less than half a second before turning back to the other students securing packs containing sample tubes, first aid and safety gear, and food provisions. When Lukaz showed up, slinging his arm around my shoulder, I thought I saw Wyldan bristle. Or it could have been part of his ice layer shifting, like glaciers do. Lukaz, Fox, and Tali have been my lifelines here at college, which is fortunate for me, as friendships with my peers were never high on my agenda. That’s the problem when you grow up in an environment as an only child, to an older parent. All their friends are your friends, because the novelty of recreational team sports on the weekends is forsaken for forest walks and museum tours. There was no same age best friend to help braid my hair, or gush about lash extensions making my eyes pop. No, my recreational activities comprised of making sure my dad’s head was out of the last pool of vomit he’d just produced, laundry, food preparation, and surviving the hopelessness of Mom’s departure. Then I lost myself in leaves, trees, and botanical science, and never left.

I move with caution, not wanting to strain my sore groin and muscles stretched taut like a bowstring last night. The way he manipulated me into positions he wanted, before restricting my breathing to have me at his mercy. Rather than callous and cruel, his actions spoke a secret language to my core, and my vagina was fluent, answering with a flood.