She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother Chapter 380: Mrs. Sterling(2)

Tisha’s bungalow stood as a stunning architectural gem, blending expansive glass with refined dark stone, hidden behind a curtain of perfectly manicured ivy.

Under the gentle radiance of the evening lights, it emanated a quiet, lavish elegance that evoked a secluded haven.

Howard Sterling observed from a distance of half a block, his headlights off, his vehicle idling in the profound darkness cast by a delivery van.

His eyes fixed on the silver vehicle at the apartment entrance, his hands trembling on the steering wheel with intense, anxious tension.

He saw Tisha emerge from the back seat.

By herself.

She straightened her skirt, fixed her hair, and proceeded along the garden path without glancing back at the car even once.

No drawn-out farewell, no hug, no quiet exchange through the window.

She merely approached the door, entered, and vanished from sight.

Sterling let out his breath... a prolonged, gradual expulsion he hadn’t known he was retaining since Garrison Avenue.

‘That’s it. That’s all it was.’

He chuckled. The sudden, utter relief verged on pure bliss.

‘She didn’t ask them in. Didn’t even look back. Just got out and closed the door on him like he was a mere taxi driver whose job was done.’

A gradual, victorious grin spread over Sterling’s features.

Everything clicked into place now. The entire night reordered itself in his thoughts, forming a configuration that posed no danger to him.

Tisha hadn’t been with the young man; she had merely exploited him.

‘Smart girl,’ he mused, true respect underlying the patronizing tone. ‘You’d prefer traveling with a boy and a married lady over ten minutes alone in my vehicle. That’s not dismissal. That’s terror. And terror shows I’m nearer than you realize.’

He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

‘How could I have been such a fool? Believing she genuinely liked that boy.’

‘A woman like Tisha Wells, intelligent, cultured, with the keenest intellect, going out with a student?’

‘Please.’

The notion was ridiculous. He saw it clearly now. Jealousy had obscured his view, transforming mere shadows into threats.

The boy served only as a chauffeur Tisha had commandeered for the night, simpler than agreeing to ride with Howard Sterling.

He stared at the quiet townhouse, his gaze sharpening with a hunter’s desire.

‘No need to fret, Tisha. I’ll proceed carefully, one step at a time. Let’s see how long that icy barrier holds. You’ll end up beneath me soon, begging for the mercy you refuse me today.’

As for Heena, still sitting in the car with the boy? He scarcely considered her.

He knew his wife’s nature well... knew the dull, reliable woman he had molded over fifteen years. She wouldn’t step out of line, much less betray him.

To Howard, Heena was mere decor; Tisha had brought her as added shielding, a bystander to prevent Howard from making a fuss.

He was so immersed in his victory that he nearly overlooked his companion.

He looked at the passenger seat.

Siobhan sat there, her profile rigid and icy against the window. She had witnessed the whole pursuit in chilly, aloof quiet that now irritated him.

"What? Are you jealous?" Howard inquired, his grin widening into a vicious edge.

Siobhan offered no reply. She didn’t flinch. She just turned her head aside, gazing at her reflection in the shadowed glass.

Howard barked a laugh, the noise echoing in the confined area.

He extended his hand, fingers seizing her chin and turning her face to meet his. He craved the bitterness in her eyes; it fueled him.

"You don’t need to worry about her," he stated, his tone shifting to that slick, persuasive depth he employed for sealing grant agreements. He held her gaze, his hold unyielding.

"I just want to teach Tisha a lesson," Sterling whispered, his voice a deep, deliberate rumble. "I want her to grasp her true position."

He drew nearer, his thumb stroking along Siobhan’s jaw with claiming, steady force. "You are the only woman I desire, Siobhan. The only one I truly savor."

He observed her, anticipating the spark of yielding he hungered for. "Now... let’s depart. I’ve arranged the most lavish setup for our evening. Don’t squander it."

Siobhan met his stare, her face an immobile veil of apathy. A change flickered in her eyes... not trust, but a cool, pragmatic choice to embrace the falsehood. To her, his underlying need was laughable; the deception proved more practical.

She showed no smile, yet didn’t withdraw. She stayed a lovely, mute figure in the passenger seat.

Sterling let go of her chin, content with her quiet. He started the engine, the car’s hum echoing the agitation in his torso.

He cast one last, prolonged glance in the rearview mirror... the silver car lingered, a specter in the night. Through its back window, the two figures sat still, trapped in their own intimate, oppressive world.

He engaged the gear, choosing to drive off before Heena noticed him.

He merged into the road, a man assured of his success, oblivious that behind him, in the silver car, the decor was igniting.

***

"Are you jealous, Mrs. Sterling?"

The query lingered in the air like mist.

"What?" Heena’s back stiffened instantly, her tone rising sharper than planned. "Why would I be jealous? That’s... that’s utterly ..."

She sounded like a pupil busted copying on a test. She heard it herself. And from his expression, he did too.

Alex chuckled... deep, leisurely, the tone of someone who had seen another stumble into their own snare.

"Look at you," he remarked, his eyes narrowing in wicked humor. "Behaving just like someone busted in the act."

"I have not been caught doing any —"

His hand shifted. Gradually. Intentionally.

His fingers located a stray lock of hair stuck to the moist skin of her neck and placed it behind her ear.

The contact was minimal... just a light brush, a motion so minor it might seem unintended if not for his eyes fixed on hers with unerring focus that ruled out chance.

Then he inclined toward her. Near. His lips brushing the spot by her ear, his breath hot and even against the heartbeat racing to burst from her throat.

"Aren’t you simply envious of Tisha," he breathed, "for receiving all the focus tonight? While you just sat by... observing."

Heena’s hands balled into fists on her thighs.

"Weren’t you picturing yourself in her spot, Mrs. Sterling? All evening. Wondering what it would feel like if your skin was beneath my touch rather than hers. How wicked of you."

"Don-n’t... don’t speak nonsense," Heena stuttered. She attempted to channel the Professor’s spirit, to reclaim the sharp command that dominated rooms. "There is nothing like that. You’re being... delusional."

The refusal rang hollow. It echoed like a woman sinking, and both recognized it.

"Still denying, huh?" Alex eased back slightly to study her. The playful spark in his eyes hardened into keen intensity.

His look drifted downward, from her features to her throat, to her bosom, to her knees.

To her thighs.

His palm descended. His digits reached her knee... exposed where her skirt had hiked up despite her desperate pulls... and drew a languid, purposeful path up her inner thigh.

The shiny evidence of what her body had admitted while her words rejected it.

"Oh God... no..." The phrase slipped out before she could stop it. Her palm grabbed his wrist, but her clasp lacked power. Her pulse hammered fiercely enough to echo in her jaw.

Alex raised his hand. His finger gleamed in the faint glow... wet, undeniable.

"Then what is this, Mrs. Sterling?"

She parted her lips. Silence followed. No fabrication could hide what shimmered on his digit.

He maintained eye contact.

Then, without averting his gaze, he drew his finger to his mouth.

His tongue slid along it. Gradually. Purposefully. Sampling her as one savors a vintage meant for endless nights.

Heena ceased breathing.

"Delicious," he murmured.

The term struck her like a spark on fuel. Her cheeks flamed. Her legs tightened. A deep throb in her center surged so intensely she almost folded in the driver’s seat.

She couldn’t utter a word. Couldn’t stir. Couldn’t tear her eyes from the lips that had savored her sans consent and framed it as praise she’d craved forever.

Before Heena could absorb the lingering word, Alex bridged the gap.

His hand gripped the nape of her neck... solid, resolute... and his lips claimed hers.

"Mph—!" The noise vanished before turning to objection. Her palms pressed to his torso, fingers splayed... the urge to shove, to fight, to embody the professor who forbade this.

Yet his mouth worked over hers with measured, authoritative calm that eroded her defenses moment by moment.

Not forceful. Not hasty. Merely assured... the kiss of a man resolved that this would occur, allowing her form time to align with its choice from hours prior.