Jacqueline’s smoke permeates through our penthouse apartment on the upper side of downtown, her family’s money and ours evident all over the place. My nostrils flare as I prepare to meet her at the end of our entry hall. I suspect she will have a glass of red wine pressed against her lips, the red of her lipstick staining the glass and causing me to find one more thing that makes me detest her even more. She’s as acrid as the dry wine she drinks nightly.

Before I make it to the end of the hall, I remember the bitterest taste she left in my mouth, the day she ripped me away from my tiny thing, my aphrodisiac, my perfect obsession—my little bird. Today I came in that plastic cup with the image of my small, dainty yet womanly little pet underneath me, and I swear my body felt her as if she were there with me. Even closer than I could imagine. But I left her broken and alone years ago, and now I am stuck with a wife who I despise and who loathes me even more.

As I step into the kitchen, her eyes penetrate me, boring into me and spewing hate before words have even left her crimson lips. She was once beautiful, young, and vibrant, the life of the party, a showstopper in her youth. Then one day, she snapped. She left me for another man, and when she came crawling back, her eyes lost their life, her hands that warm touch, and her soul was sucked dry. I went back to her, because I didn't have a choice. I was going to be with Lizith, but when Jac found out about my love affair with a student, she took me by the throat and threatened to sic her father—the dean of my university—on me and my name. She also swore she would find the one I was with and ruin her as well.

Charlie Aimworth is one of the most well-known and respected deans in academia; he would’ve had my fucking balls in a vice and I’d be dead to the world. My reputation would’ve been destroyed, and God knows what my little bird would have gone through. Jacqueline's ruthless, and I wouldn't let my pet suffer at her fucking hands. I sacrificed my life with Lizith for hell with Jacqueline.

I agreed to stay married and walk away from Lizith as long as Jacqueline agreed to give me a child. I’ve always wanted a family, even though one wouldn't peg me for a family man. I may be dark and my desires even more cryptic, but deep inside me there is still that normal human desire. The darkness surrenders to that light, and if I am going to stay in this unhappy marriage, then I need something to bring me to the surface when I begin to drown in Jacqueline's rip-roaring river.

“How was your chump in a cup? Did you get enough in there to prove how weak your shitty little swimmers are?” Her eyes narrow in on my cock behind my jeans.

I scoff, dropping my keys and traveling to the fridge to get myself started on a drinking bender to prepare for the fight of the night. “Darling, insulting me won’t make me insecure. Don’t be so childish. It only ages you.” I throw the lid of my beer in the trash and scorn her with a look over the bottom of my bottle after I raise it to my lips.

Seething, she hisses her response. “God, I fucking hate you.”

“There is a door, babe.” I nudge my shoulder in the direction of the door, hoping this will be the time she walks away without a fight. But I would be foolish to think her leaving, even on her own freewill, would be clean. Jacqueline would never let me be happy.

“I plan to make this worse for you. Don’t you know that?” she asks, rising and rounding the counter to stand in front of me. Her dragon nails still wrapped around the rim of the wine glass, she stops just inches in front of me.

“You and I both. You think you stand a chance of outdoing me, Jac, but you don’t. Take as long as you want making me wait for my child, but just know the longer you keep up this cruel, miserable bitch act, I will stand on the sidelines laughing.” I step in closer, within an inch or two of her Botoxed face.

“You sick bastard, I fucking hate you!” She loses the glass, throwing it behind me and letting it shatter against the kitchen wall, her wine staining the paint and hardwood floor. I don’t even flinch, my cares fucking gone. She storms out to the foyer, kicking the metal suit of armor some of my students gifted me with three years ago, as she screams, “And get rid of this ugly goddamn thing!” like she does almost daily before leaving the apartment with her bag and keys. Off to complain to her fucking father, I'm sure, but better for me to have the rest of the night off from her and her mind games.

Grabbing another beer, I head for my study, ready to blow off some steam. My red-blooded desire to mate has hit me. I’m angry and pent up, and her attitude just reminds me of a certain darker-haired beauty who used to defy me just to rile me up. Lizith loved my heavy hand on her pert ass, my grip wrapped around her throat while I fucked her wildly, and goddammit if she were here, I would do it. I would go to my little bird and fuck her mercilessly, filling her with my cum.

The dark wooden floors and my floor-to-ceiling windows invite me in, setting the dark mood to match my rage. I take a seat at my desk and close my eyes, letting my breathing mellow out, repeatedly inhaling and exhaling deep and loud. My veins are on fire with hot blood pumping like lava inside me, and my mind is spinning with the images of my possession.

“Lizith. What a beautiful name. Exotic tasting.” I look over the brunette siren with green eyes standing in front of me. She’s my student; this is taboo, and it’s everything I want. I’ve never fucked a student, but I want to fuck her, mark her crudely with my cum on those pouty lips. My bite marks would decorate her already luscious tits even more. And hidden behind that tiny denim skirt, I know in my very bones there is a virgin pussy waiting to be fucked by a real man.

Her cheeks have flushed red, and the bridge of her button nose and the tops of her cheeks have also darkened a shade. Everything about her screams virgin.

“Um, I’m sorry, what?” Lizith’s eyes sparkle, damp with aroused tears. I see the crazy in her waiting to be discovered. I want that crazy, and it’s just sitting inside her, dormant, and I plan to be the one to set it free. Technically still married to a woman I hate will not hold me back. Because the second I saw that innocent little thing step into my classroom, I knew hell had handed over my wild little bird. The devil danced inside me, and Lizith answered to her master’s call for a waltz.

“I know you didn't really come up here to my desk on your first day to ask me if I prefer papers to be typed or handwritten,” I respond cockily, my brow quirked. I take note in the way her breath hitches and the veins in her neck move with her swallow.

“Professor, I… I don't think I understand. I really just want to know which you prefer.” She bats her lashes and bites her lip, and I see it then. Little bird is asking for her wings to spread.

“Fine, pretend you didn't come up here to tempt me.” I stand, knowing I am playing with fire. This is the first conversation we have ever had, seeing as she stepped into my classroom barely an hour ago. Yet, little does she know I’ve been anxiously waiting for her, Lizith Morrison, to arrive. Checking the door of my classroom to make sure it is closed, I see shadows pass outside the tapered glass as I step up to her. Her front touches mine and I smirk. Without a second longer, reading her willingness to stay and tiptoe into the water of the unknown, I wrap my hand around her throat forcefully, and she gulps, her eyes widening, but a little smirk tugs at her lips.

This crazy fucking temptress. She is nothing like I expected.

“I like my papers in pen when you are the one behind the ink. But make sure you don’t draw outside the lines, Lizith. I don’t like to be disobeyed.”

A lone tear leaves her eye and her cheeks color, a beautiful shade of fucking rose. “Yes, Professor. I promise to stay inside the lines.”

And just like that, she becomes mine. I will be her keeper, and I will train her to obey all I want her to. I know this woman has the power to change me just like I have the power to ruin her. And I can’t wait to see just how much she can take.

I come to, leaving the memory on repeat in my mind. I miss Lizith, and if I could I would find her, touch her, fuck her, and steal her back from whatever fool is probably occupying her time in a poor attempt to replace me. But if my heart is as in tune with hers as I believe it is, I know out there I am still ruling her mind, her fucking soul.

I need my little bird.