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

The car's cabin had turned into a sweltering pressure cooker. The atmosphere grew thick with the aroma of rain, premium leather, and the potent, musky fragrance of a limit being deliberately shattered.

"Do you like being handled like this, Professor?"

Alex's voice emerged as a deep, rough growl that echoed right through the vehicle's chassis.

He pressed closer to her, his hot breath grazing the skin he'd freshly bared.

"So strict in the lecture hall," he whispered, his words laced with dark, taunting respect. "So composed at that mahogany podium, gazing down on us with those icy, unreachable eyes. But right here? You're nothing but a noisy, frantic wreck, right?"

Without pausing for her reply, he pulled his fingers out for a split second, then plunged three back into her without holding back at all.

"Anhh!"

Tisha unleashed a noise more like a sharp wail than a simple moan. The width of his fingers stretched her wide, ripping away her final shreds of professional poise while her hips jerked wildly against the leather.

"You're a very bad... student," she gasped out, her voice shattered and ragged, hovering between a choked sob and a panting chuckle. "Bullying your teacher... like this..."

"I'm delivering precisely what you merit," he whispered, watching intently as her head whipped back against the headrest. "The 'Ice Queen' who can't hold back even before her fellow colleague."

***

Heena's hold on the steering wheel shook, her hands slick with sweat that turned the leather slippery and hard to grasp.

Each crude word from behind struck her like a flaming spark, igniting a blaze she couldn't put out.

Though every urge urged her to fix her eyes ahead, Heena's glance disobeyed, darting back to the rearview mirror yet again.

The view hit her hard enough to blur her sight.

She observed Alex's hands seize Tisha's waist... strong, seamless... hoisting her from the seat like she was featherlight.

Tisha emitted a noise blending shock and yielding as he shifted her onto his lap, her skirt hiking up over her hips, knees framing his legs.

She sank down onto him with a trembling breath, her brow pressing to his, fingers clutching the headrest above.

A explosion rocked her core as she witnessed him command Tisha with brutal, commanding strength that ignored any request for consent.

Heena drowned in the vision of a guy who knew his desires cold and seized them outright. Such dominance rendered her refined, scholarly life a brittle illusion.

Heena's throat dried up.

Her mind blazed with vivid fantasy. She pictured herself as Tisha... gripped by that same forceful power, lifted and devoured by one indifferent to her position or years.

On reflex, she squeezed her thighs shut, a faint, unwilling moan slipping free as the wet, throbbing warmth of her excitement hit her.

A noise slipped from her... tiny, unbidden, just above a whisper. But clear as day. A moan. Gentle, splintered, drenched in longing untouched for years.

Her palm slapped over her mouth. Too slow.

The car fell silent for one awful moment.

She glanced up, trapped, meeting Alex's stare locked on hers. Dark. Calm. Perceptive. He eyed her like a guy spotting an unlocked door swinging wide.

She tumbled into that endless look, yanked by a pull so strong it nearly hauled her across the seat into his lap. Beyond mere lust, it was the chilling truth that he'd pierced her facade, refusing to glance elsewhere.

Heena tore her gaze forward to the road. Her cheeks blazed. Thighs clamped so fiercely her muscles ached, and underneath, she sensed herself... drenched, pulsing, impossible to ignore.

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

She was a professor. Married. A 47-year-old scholar who didn't crave a man young enough to be her son.

Yet she did. Heaven save her, she craved him.

"Pull over, Heena." Tisha's voice drifted from behind... ruined, gasping, yet edged with odd command slicing the haze.

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

A beat. Then quieter, laced with that playful spark that lingered even in her unraveling:

"Besides... you can watch more clearly when the car isn’t moving."

Heena's cheeks scorched. Tisha's words struck true on the tender spot Heena had ignored for ten minutes straight.

Her hands twisted the wheel. No choice... pure capitulation. The car veered to the roadside like a form easing into slumber: gradual, unavoidable, resistance too draining to sustain.

Gravel ground under the tires. The vehicle halted under shadowed trees, headlights carving twin ghostly paths into the deserted stretch before she switched them off.

The motor cut out. The quiet that followed roared in her ears.

Heena stayed put, hands locked on the wheel, knuckles throbbing, chest heaving in ragged bursts. She fixed on the windshield, seeing zilch.

Shame coiled alive... scorching, throbbing, squeezing her neck like a vise.

She had moaned. In a vehicle. Watching a coworker mount a student. And that coworker caught it, called it out, replying not with horror or revulsion but urging her to keep spectating.

As though utterly ordinary.

'It’s Your fault you bastard.'

The idea bubbled up like acid... searing, acrid, targeted at the guy whose Audi likely waited in that lot as he schemed his next prize.

Sterling. The husband untouched her for months.

Who left her form chilled and dead while hunting heat in every female but his own wife.

'You did this to me. You left me hollow so long a stranger’s groan from the back sets me crumbling.'

The hush inside wasn't vacant; it pulsed alive, humming with steady friction from the rear.

Heena stayed rigid, brow nearly on the wheel, scrambling for the air robbed from her lungs.

A abrupt, harsh sway in the car's balance jerked her head up. Leather creaked as Alex shifted, moves sleek and assured like a hunter.

She twisted around before stopping herself.

Tisha's features hovered close... nearer than thought, head thrown back on the headrest, lids half-shut. Lips spread wide for cries no classroom knew from Professor Wells. Hair tousled free. She appeared a female taken apart, reveling in the ruin.

"Yes... just like that... Anhhh... so good," Tisha mewled, voice a steamy, snapped filament.

Heena's eyes fell... drive, dread, intrigue, all dragging downward.

She spotted Alex's head wedged between Tisha’s legs, hands clamped on her hips, mouth devouring her with deliberate, expert rhythm honed over years like a mastered art.

Heena's thoughts blanked white.

She ought to face front. Ought to avert. Ought to gawk at the dash and deny the back existed.

But paralysis gripped her... torso angled in the driver's spot, one palm on the wheel, stare vast and fixed as the display seared permanent into her mind.

Tisha's eyes fluttered open. Hazy, burning, scarcely sharp — yet locked on Heena's visage with pinpoint certainty of one aware precisely of her audience all along.

"He’s good, isn’t he?" Tisha panted, tone splintering mid-moan like shattered crystal.

Heena's lips parted. Silence.

Tisha grinned. Destroyed, winded, feral.

"Look at you," she hissed, gaze sliding over Heena’s frame with cruel insight. "Flustered... and wet. No need to speak, Heena—ahhh... yes, right there—your body's confessed it all."

Heena's legs tightened. Tisha's verdict soaked her panties, condemning and real.

"He’s so good," Tisha pressed on, phrases tumbling in shattered gasps amid Alex’s relentless oral assault, "that you... would never—mmh—have felt anything like it. Not with that pathetic husband of yours."

Heena recoiled like struck.

"Tisha—"

"He is really pathetic, isn’t he?" Tisha went on, words steeped in scornful sympathy. "Despite having such a pretty wife, Howard is always wandering around like a starving dog... looking for a scrap of meat."