She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother - Chapter 375: Stray Dog

Chapter 375: Stray Dog

The interior of the car had become a pressure cooker. The air thick with the smell of rain, expensive leather, and the heavy, musky scent of a boundary being systematically destroyed.

“Do you like being handled like this, Professor?”

Alex’s voice was a low, jagged rasp that seemed to vibrate through the very frame of the vehicle.

He leaned into her, his breath hot against the skin he had just exposed.

​”So strict in the lecture hall,” he murmured, his tone dripping with a dark, mocking reverence. “So poised behind that mahogany podium, looking down at us with those cold, untouchable eyes. But here? You’re just a loud, desperate mess, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He removed his fingers for a heartbeat before driving three of them back inside her at once, completely without restraint.

​”Anhh!”

​Tisha let out a sound that was less of a moan and more of a jagged cry. She could feel the breadth of him stretching her, tearing through the last of her professional composure as her hips bucked involuntarily against the leather.

​”You’re a very bad… student,” she managed, her voice a fractured wreck of itself, caught between a half-sob and a breathless laugh. “Bullying your teacher… like this…”

​”I’m giving you exactly what you deserve,” he murmured, his eyes tracking the way her head thrashed against the headrest. “The ’Ice Queen’ who can’t even control herself in front of her own colleague.”

***

Heena’s grip on the steering wheel trembled, her palms drenched with a sweat that made the leather slick and difficult to hold.

Every filthy word from the back seat landed on her skin like a lit match, sparking a fire she was powerless to extinguish.

Despite every instinct screaming at her to keep her eyes on the road, Heena’s gaze betrayed her, flickering once more to the rearview mirror.

What she saw was enough to make her vision swim.

She watched Alex’s hands close around Tisha’s waist… firm, effortless… and lift her off the seat as if she weighed nothing.

Tisha made a sound that was half surprise, half surrender as he repositioned her onto his lap, her skirt riding up around her hips, her knees bracketing his thighs.

She settled against him with a shuddering exhale, her forehead dropping against his, her fingers gripping the headrest behind him.

Something detonated inside her as she watched him handle Tisha with a raw, physical authority that bypassed any need for permission.

​Heena was lost in the sight of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and simply took it. It was a display of power that made her own polished, intellectual world feel like a fragile lie.

Heena’s mouth went dry.

Her imagination flared white-hot. She felt herself in Tisha’s place… being handled with that same bruising strength, being picked up and consumed by someone who didn’t care about her tenure or her age.

Instinctively, she clamped her legs together, a slow, involuntary moan escaping her lips as she felt the damp, heavy heat of her own arousal.

A sound escaped her… small, involuntary, barely louder than a breath. But it was unmistakable. A moan. Soft and fractured and soaked in a want she hadn’t felt in years.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Too late.

The cabin went quiet for one horrifying second.

She looked up, helpless, and found Alex’s eyes waiting for hers. Dark. Still. Knowing. He was looking at her the way a man looks at a door that has just opened on its own.

She became lost in that bottomless gaze, feeling a magnetic pull so fierce it threatened to drag her right over the seat and into his lap. It wasn’t just desire; it was the terrifying realization that he had already seen through her, and he wasn’t looking away.

Heena wrenched her eyes back to the road. Her face was on fire. Her thighs were pressed together so tight her muscles burned, and beneath the pressure, she could feel herself… slick, aching, undeniable.

’No. No. This isn’t me. I don’t—I’m not—’

She was a professor. A married woman. A forty-seven-year-old academic who did not get attracted to a man half her age.

But she was. God help her, she was.

“Pull over, Heena.” Tisha’s voice came from the back seat… wrecked, breathless, but carrying a strange authority that cut through the fog.

“You can’t drive like this. You’ll kill us all.”

A pause. Then, softer, with that edge of mischief that never fully left her voice even when she was falling apart:

“Besides… you can watch more clearly when the car isn’t moving.”

Heena’s face burned. The words landed exactly where Tisha aimed them… on the raw, exposed nerve that Heena had been pretending didn’t exist for the last ten minutes.

Her hands moved on the wheel. Not a decision… a surrender. The car drifted toward the shoulder the way a body drifts toward sleep: slowly, inevitably, because fighting it had become more exhausting than giving in.

Gravel crunched beneath the tyres. The car rolled to a stop beneath a row of darkened trees, the headlights cutting two pale tunnels into the empty road ahead before she killed them.

The engine died. The silence that replaced it was deafening.

Heena sat with her hands still on the wheel, her knuckles aching, her chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. She stared through the windshield at absolutely nothing.

The humiliation was a living thing… hot, pulsing, wrapped around her throat like a fist.

She had moaned. In a car. While watching a colleague straddle a student. And that colleague had heard it, acknowledged it, and responded not with shock or disgust but with an invitation to keep watching.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

’It’s Your fault you bastard.’

The thought surfaced like bile… hot, bitter, aimed directly at the man whose Audi was probably still sitting in that parking lot while he planned his next conquest.

Sterling. The man who hadn’t touched her in months.

Who had let her body go cold and numb while he chased warmth in every woman except the one who shared his bed.

’You did this to me. You left me empty for so long that a stranger’s moan in a back seat is enough to make me fall apart.’

The silence in the car wasn’t empty; it was a living, breathing thing, vibrating with the rhythmic friction from the backseat.

Heena remained frozen, her forehead almost touching the steering wheel, trying to find the breath that had been stolen from her.

A sudden, sharp shift in the weight of the car made her head snap up. The leather groaned as Alex adjusted his position, his movements predatory and certain.

She turned before she could stop herself.

Tisha’s face was inches away… closer than Heena expected, tilted back against the headrest, her eyes half-closed. Her lips parted around sounds that no lecture hall had ever heard from Professor Wells. Her hair was loose. She looked like a woman who had been dismantled and was enjoying every second of the wreckage.

“Yes… just like that… Anhhh… so good,” Tisha whimpered, her voice a humid, broken thread.

Heena’s gaze dropped… instinct, horror, curiosity, all three pulling her eyes downward.

She saw Alex’s head between Tisha’s thighs, his hands gripping her hips, his mouth working against her with the slow, methodical focus of a man who treated pleasure like a discipline he’d spent years perfecting.

Heena’s brain went white.

She should have turned around. Should have looked away. Should have stared at the dashboard and pretended the back seat didn’t exist.

But she was frozen… her body twisted in the driver’s seat, one hand still on the wheel, her eyes wide and unblinking as the scene behind her burned itself into a part of her memory she would never be able to erase.

Tisha’s eyes opened. Glazed, feverish, barely focused — but they found Heena’s face with the unerring precision of a woman who had known, the entire time, exactly who was watching.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Tisha breathed, her voice fractured around a moan that interrupted the sentence like a crack in glass.

Heena opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

Tisha smiled. Wrecked, breathless, savage.

“Look at you,” she whispered, her eyes drifting down Heena’s body with a knowing, merciless accuracy. “Flustered… and wet. You don’t even have to answer me, Heena—ahhh… yes, right there—your body’s already told me everything.”

Heena’s thighs clenched. She felt the truth of Tisha’s words soaking through her underwear, damning and undeniable.

“He’s so good,” Tisha continued, her words coming in broken, gasping fragments as Alex’s mouth continued its slow devastation, “that you… would never—mmh—have felt anything like it. Not with that pathetic husband of yours.”

​Heena flinched as if she’d been slapped.

“Tisha—”

​”He is really pathetic, isn’t he?” Tisha continued, her words dripping with a mixture of pity and venom. “Despite having such a pretty wife, Howard is always wandering around like a starving dog… looking for a scrap of meat.”