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"What?"
"And secondly, yes, there is a photo. You've already met him." Once again, Luna shoved her phone in Emily's face. This time, the article was open, and underneath the headline, there was a giant photo of Professor Dalton Rogers. Master Cole. Arabella Cole.
Emily's jaw dropped and her heart sank to her toes.
"No!" she exclaimed, shaking her head.
"Yes." Luna nodded. "Isn't it cool? The professor you are in love with is also your favorite author!"
Visions of their time together exploded in Emily's brain, beginning with that first meeting in the library where he had watched Derek spank her with a hardcover copy of one of his own books, and ending Sunday night, with her promising to call if she needed him. She burst into tears and flung herself backward onto the bed.
Luna stared on in shocked confusion. "Em! What's wrong? Why are you crying? This is so cool!"
Emily was crying too hard to respond. All the tears she had been holding in just flooded out of her. The dam had broken. Any second thoughts or hopes she’d had that someday she could belong to Professor Rogers were dashed in a single second.
A man who wrote like that, such delicious, dark, dirtiness, could never be happy with a submissive like her, just like she could never be happy in an intense 24/7 dynamic. They had been doomed from the start. How stupid she must have looked, being spanked with his book! And everything else. It had all been fun, but it wasn't a dynamic she would be able to carry day in and day out. And a man like Dalton Rogers would need someone without limits, willing to be the muse for all his depraved fantasies. This weekend for him must have been child's play compared to what he was used to.
She cried harder and pulled the blanket over her head. She was never getting out of bed again.
There was a knock on the door, and she ignored it, assuming it was her dinner delivery. True to his word, Derek had been checking her meal tickets to make sure she was ordering three squares a day.
Next to her, Luna sighed deeply. She got up and flounced across the room to get the delivery. The door creaked open while she cried. She was sorry she was making the food exchange so awkward for her friend, but not sorry enough to try to rein herself back under tight control. She was just too sad.
The door closed.
"Uh… Em?" Luna's voice was tentative and soft.
"I'll eat later," she hiccupped through her tears.
"Um, no, it's not that… You should really get up."
"I can't!" Emily cried dramatically. "Everything is falling apart."
"You broke a promise to me, pet. You were supposed to call if you were not okay."
His words did not register, but his voice induced rage. Before Emily could stop herself, she jumped out of bed like a shot and smacked him across the face. Right as the palm of her hand connected with the shadow scruff on his cheek, she saw Derek standing behind him.
Her mouth dropped open. The three other mouths in the room followed suit.
"Emily Vaughn!" Derek's voice was stern and low, filled with a menacing warning she had never heard before. At least not when it was directed at her.
She took a step back and Derek took two steps forward. Her bottom clenched and she gulped. Just when she thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, Dalton held up a hand and stepped in front of Derek.
"With all due respect, sir, I'll handle this."
Her eyes widened and she stared at Derek with a deer in the headlights expression, shaking her head. She would rather deal with the angry ranch owner than the man she loved and hated simultaneously.
In response, Derek nodded. He was not going to save her.
"Luna," he said, addressing her friend. "You are excused. Professor Rogers and I have things to discuss with Emily.”
"Don't go!" Emily squeaked involuntarily, tossing a pleading look at Luna, who was still standing there with her mouth hanging open.
"Sorry, babe. Big boss. Have to obey. Unlike you, I don't have a death wish." Luna fled the room, leaving Emily alone with two very angry Doms.
Well, fuck it. She was angry, too, and she wasn’t feeling very submissive at the moment. She was pissed.
Before she could figure out what to do, Dalton grabbed her hand, spun her around, bent her over, and landed two heavy swats to her pajama clad bottom. "I'm not sure what that was about, pet, but you don't ever get to raise your hand to me and get away with it."
