DIRTY ADDICTION

Ivy’s POV

“Oh God, this can’t be happening,” I muttered under my breath as I sat in the dean’s waiting area, my knee bouncing so hard it made the cheap plastic chair creak.

My palms were slick with sweat and I kept wiping them on my jeans, but it didn’t help.

They’d pulled me straight out of the morning lecture without a word, just a curt message from the department secretary that Dr. Marcus Hale wanted to see me immediately.

My stomach twisted into knots. I knew exactly why.

The door to his office swung open and a deep voice cut through the silence. “Miss Bennett. Come in.”

I stood on shaky legs and walked inside.

The office smelled like polished wood and expensive cologne, heavy and masculine. Dr. Hale sat behind a massive oak desk, his broad shoulders filling out the dark button-up shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms.

He looked every bit the powerful dean—sharp jaw, dark eyes that pinned me in place, and that calm, controlled expression that made my throat go dry.

“Close the door,” he said.

I did, the click sounding way too final. “Dr. Hale, if this is about the paper I turned in late last week, I can explain—”

“Sit down, Ivy.” His tone left no room for argument.

I dropped into the chair across from him, heart hammering. He didn’t speak right away.

Instead he opened a folder, spreading out several glossy photos across the desk.

My stomach plummeted.

There I was, clear as day at that underground party two weekends ago—red solo cup in hand, dress riding up my thighs, laughing with people I barely knew while someone passed around pills and bottles.

One shot showed me grinding against a stranger on the makeshift dance floor.

Another caught me in the corner with a joint between my fingers.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“Indeed,” Marcus said, leaning back in his chair. His eyes never left my face. “These were sent to the disciplinary board. Along with witness statements.

You’re looking at immediate expulsion, Ivy. Your scholarship would be gone by the end of the day.

Everything you’ve worked for—finished.”

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I gripped the edge of the chair so hard my knuckles turned white. “Please… I was stupid, it was one night. I’ve never done anything like that before. I can’t lose this. My mom would—”

He held up a hand, cutting me off. Then he said something that made the room spin.

“I know your mother. Quite well, actually. She married my father three months ago.

That makes me your step-uncle, Ivy. I’ve known about this for weeks.

I’ve been watching the evidence pile up, deciding what to do with you.”

My mouth fell open.

“You’re… what? Step-uncle? You never said anything when I enrolled here.

You let me sit in your classes like it was nothing.”

Marcus’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “I wanted to see what kind of girl you really were.

Turns out you’re a naughty little thing who likes to play with fire when no one’s looking.

Those pictures don’t lie. Look at you in that tight dress, ass out, letting strangers put their hands all over you.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I squirmed in the seat, thighs pressing together.

Part of me wanted to sink through the floor from shame, but another part—the dark, twisted part—felt a low throb between my legs at the way he said it, low and rough, like he’d been thinking about those pictures more than he should.

“I was drunk,” I mumbled. “It won’t happen again.”

He stood up and came around the desk, towering over me. Up close he smelled even better, and I hated how my body noticed. “You’re right. It won’t.

Because you have two choices. One: I sign the expulsion papers right now and you pack your bags. Or two…” He dropped a single sheet of paper in front of me. “You sign this Redemption Contract.

You become my personal assistant for the rest of the semester.

You do exactly what I say, when I say it. In return, I will wipe this entire incident from your record.

Your scholarship stays safe. No one ever knows.”

I stared at the contract, the bold black letters swimming in front of me. My hands trembled as I picked it up. “Personal assistant? Like… fetching coffee and typing notes?”

Marcus leaned down, one hand bracing on the arm of my chair, his face inches from mine.

His breath brushed my ear. “Among other things.

You’ll learn quickly what I expect. And you’ll keep that pretty mouth of yours shut about our family connection. Understand?”

My pulse raced. I could feel the heat coming off his body, the way his eyes dropped briefly to my lips, then lower to where my nipples had tightened against my thin shirt. Fuck. Why was I getting wet right now? This was insane.

He was my step-uncle. My dean. And yet the thought of being under his control sent dirty little sparks through my belly.

“I… I don’t have much choice, do I?” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

“No, you don’t.” He handed me a pen. “Sign it, Ivy. Be a good girl and sign.”

My fingers shook as I scratched my name on the line.

The moment I finished he took the paper, folded it, and locked it in his drawer. Then he tilted my chin up with two fingers, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Good. Now cancel the rest of your classes today. Come back to this office in exactly one hour. And Ivy?” His thumb brushed my lower lip, sending a jolt straight down between my legs. “Wear something appropriate for office work.

Tight blouse. Short skirt. Heels. No panties. I want easy access if I decide to inspect what belongs to me now.”

My breath hitched. “No panties? You can’t be serious—”

“I’m very serious,” he said, voice dropping lower. “You signed the contract. You’re mine for the semester.

That means this tight little body follows my rules.

Go home, change, and come back ready to start your new duties.

If you’re even one minute late, I’ll bend you over this desk and give you a taste of what real discipline feels like. Understood?”

I nodded quickly, cheeks burning, pussy clenching at his words despite how wrong they were. “Yes… Uncle Marcus.”

A dark spark lit in his eyes at the title. “That’s my girl. One hour. Don’t make me wait.”

I stood up on wobbly legs, thighs slippery now, and headed for the door. His voice stopped me just before I left.

“Oh, and Ivy? Those pictures of you at the party… I’ve got copies.

I’ll be looking at them while I wait for you.

Thinking about how much fun we’re going to have turning a bad girl into my perfect little assistant.”

I slipped out of the office, heart pounding, body already aching with a mix of fear and filthy excitement I didn’t want to name. One hour.

I had one hour to decide how deep I was willing to fall.