Boys? What does he mean by boys?
My brain is still completely fried from that little performance. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s not dribbling out of my ear. However, that one word, ‘boys’, sinks in and plays on repeat, whirling round my head until suddenly I awaken from my lusty haze, coming to with a start.
Surely I can’t have been put in a dorm with all guys…can I?
I guess there’s only one way to find out. I pull up my big girl panties, obviously, those metaphorical ones as I’m still naked as fuck under this towel, throw my shoulders back, and stride out. Yep, in just my towel. Own it, girl, my inner self tells me.
Because, of course, my bag is not in the bathroom, it’s in the living room with all my probably soaking wet clothes inside. I’m just that lucky. Fucking cuntflap Uber driver.
I come to a sudden jerking halt. My heart rate picks up and my tongue darts out to trace my lower lip when I see who these ‘boys’ are.
Sweet baby Jesus. Where do guys like this even come from? This is enough to make even Dorothy throw those beautiful red shoes away and live forever in Oz.
Before me stand four boys, though men is a better descriptor. Saying that, they didn’t make boys, men, or even fucking gods like this back home. Holy fuck with a waffle on top!
They are exquisite, indescribably beautiful, and sinful in every way that counts. My breath quickens as I drink them in.
The fallen angel to my right has that smouldering smile still plastered on his face, as well as his tented sweats. It’s like he gives no fucks that he’s got a raging hard-on right in front of his dorm mates.
Next to him is a guy so broad that I wonder how he even fits through the door. I bet he could pin me down real good. My nerve endings tingle with the image of his huge hands doing just that to me. His shoulder length blond hair has a slight wave to it and is mussed and loose down round his face, highlighting a closely cropped blond bearded jaw. His eyes are a piercing blue and hold a predatory look that reminds me of being in a wolf’s gaze, and I shift with excited unease.
He’s leaning his arse on the back of one of the sofas, staring at me, his predator’s gaze turning calculating, and his massive arms crossed over his equally huge chest. He has some sort of black tribal tattoo sleeve down one arm and spilling across one pec, my eyes narrow as I try to focus and make sense of the shapes. I can see from his long black shorts that the opposite leg also has a similar design wrapped round it.
Overall, he gives the impression of a Viking warrior, ready to set sail and pillage new lands, shed blood and take what he wants. There’s an almost visible aura of violence that surrounds him, colouring the air in shades of black. I shiver, not just from fear, but with a longing that begins to stir in my chest.
I briefly wonder if it’s a longing for his body in a sexual way, or the protective vibe that rolls off him in waves that I desperately want extended to me. Either way, it’s enough to make me take a small step towards him before I can catch myself and stop the movement.
To his right and standing a little ahead of the others is what can only be described as Lucifer himself. You know, like the one from that TV show, all dark virulent looks and black suits with a wit sharp enough to cut. I wonder if his words hurt, too?
His hair is so black, it’s as if a moonless night has descended, kissing his head. It’s neat and slicked back from his face, despite the late hour, and I get the impression it would never be otherwise. Perfectly arched black brows lend a cruel look to his devastatingly beautiful face, his cutting steel grey eyes are wholly bared and slicing into me like a honed blade, leaving me wounded. Yet my eyes feast on him all the same whilst a slight tremble comes over me.
He’s in red and navy long tartan PJ bottoms with a navy tank top that showcases his beautiful muscular arms, which are covered in simply stunning black ink. My gaze follows it as the tattoos swirl and eddie down his arms like patterned sleeves, right over the backs of his hands. The pictures spread up his neck right to his jawline in a repeated geometric pattern, and my heart pitter-patters at the sight, my breath leaving my lips in a rush.
It’s so fucking hot it’s unreal. I mean, he’s nowhere near He-Man to his left in terms of bulk, but he definitely works out and could certainly hold you down in all the right ways. Ahem! Head out of the gutter, Lilly!
Finally, on the end is a guy who’s smaller than the others, and although he has more of a gymnast’s body, he is still drool worthy as fuck. He’s the epitome of a sexy boy next door geek, yet there’s also a darkness about him, like how I imagine the poet Byron would look. Beautiful but not entirely wholesome and with the glint of a tortured soul peeking through his eyes. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, right?
His dark, chestnut brown hair is tousled, sticking up in all directions like he rakes his hands through it all the time, his thoughts consuming him. My fingers ache and tingle with the need to run them through it and mess it up even more.
He’s got beautiful amber eyes, like liquid honey full of sweetness, and they’re outlined by thick black frame glasses that heighten his hot nerd look. He, too, is wearing PJ bottoms, but his are plain shiny black which looks a lot like silk. I know, right? Silk!
He combines these with a black t-shirt that does nothing to hide his ripped torso, muscular arms, or the six pack that I want to cover in chocolate sauce and lick. What do they feed these guys for them all to be so fucking gorgeous?
“So, you’re the new student,” a low voice drawls, disdain and dismissal clear in his tone.
My eyes snap back to Lucifer, and I catch him giving me a once over…finding me lacking if the tilt of his head and his hard jawline are any indications. What the ever loving fuck?
He raises an ebony eyebrow haughtily, not dissimilar to the way Crow looked at me earlier, his face blank. My nostrils flare, and my eyes narrowing in response, heat flushing through my body for a completely different reason than it did moments ago.
“Yes,” I say quietly. Then, I clear my throat and raise my chin, deciding to not let him get to me. Fucking twatwaffle. I cross my arms over my chest and say in my haughtiest tone “Lilly Darling, and you are?”
I raise one of my own brows, face blank like his. If the narrowing of his gaze is anything to go by, I am at least marginally successful in pissing him off. Serves you right, smeghead!
He stares at me for a second longer than is comfortable, clearly trying to make me squirm. He obviously doesn’t realise who he’s up against.
“Asher. Asher Vanderbilt,” he drawls, carving into me with his gaze once again until it feels like he can see right into my tarnished soul. Like he’s picking it apart and drinking all the light from inside me.
“Kai Matthews,” the guy to his right murmurs, purposely interrupting our glare off, and making my gaze turn to his honey eyes, which are shifting and trying desperately not to stare at me in my towel. He fails and then blushes. Cute.
“Jax Griffiths,” comes a deep rumble of thunder, and my head whips to look at He-Man. My god, that man could make a fortune in the phone sex industry. Or reading audiobooks.
I shiver before I can help myself, and am rewarded with an almost imperceptible smirk. Oh, hell’s bells. There’s a dimple.
“And I’m,” the fallen angel steps forward, arms wide like a showman, a gleam in his eye and a playful smile on his lips, “your next orgasm,” and then he fucking bows.
It’s so ridiculous that a delighted laugh escapes me, my hand coming up to cover my mouth, and causing said angel to raise his head and give me a brilliant smile.
“Cut it out, Loki!” Asher snaps, turning his annoyed slate gaze onto his friend.
“Loki? As in the Norse trickster god?” I question the beautiful redhead, ignoring Grumpy McGrumpface.
“Yeah,” his smile dims as he rubs the back of his neck. “My parents are mythology nuts.”
“I like it.” I smile. “It suits you,” I add, a little of that heat from earlier in the bathroom returning to enter my voice. He grins back.
“So…” I begin, turning to look back at Lucifer–I mean Asher. “Why am I in a dorm with all guys?”
Again, his steel eyes cut me to the quick, and he waits before responding. This guy…he definitely is the king of all Hell, intimidating peons with only his glare.
Ugh, I bet he’s fucking mind blowing in bed. Wait, what?! Always gotta lower the tone, Lilly!
“I have no fucking idea,” he grumbles, almost to himself as he looks to Kai.
“It’s the first I’ve heard of co-ed roommates,” Kai pipes up, then blushes and quickly breaks eye contact when I look at him. So adorable.
“Well, if you guys show me to my room tonight, I’ll see the administration in the morning and try to sort it out.” I turn my head and notice a spiral staircase leading up to the floor above. Nice.
“That won’t be necessary,” Asher bites out, his tone as razor-sharp as those incredible grey eyes.
“Oh?” I question, turning my narrowed gaze back to him, my brow furrowed in confusion.
“You see,” he begins, strolling towards me like a tiger stalking its prey, stopping a hair’s breadth away. I have to crane my neck to look up at him. Fucktrumpet. “No one gets that room. Ever. So you’ll need to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” He smiles like the Cheshire Cat, a malevolent grin pulling those pretty, plump lips up.
Why are the pretty ones always such arseholes? Because you know they hold you down in all the right ways and make you come the hardest. My mind argues smugly. Bitch.
“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice raised as my mouth drops open.
“I’m not in the habit of repeating myself, Rose, was it?” he replies, looking at his nails like he’s bored of this conversation already.
“It’s Lilly, arsehole,” I snap back. Can you believe this guy? Like, what the fuck? I take it back. I bet he’s shite in bed.
His slate eyes flit back to mine, darkening and then narrow to slits.
“Well, Lilly, you will not be staying in that room now or ever. Did you get that, or do I need to write it down?” he snarks, looking down at me with cold hard eyes like I’m the shit that’s dared to get on his shoe.
“Where the fuck am I going to sleep then? It’s the last room in the dorm,” I ask, voice low, one arm sweeping round the room.
The others’ gazes bounce between us, like a tennis match at Wimbledon, their faces full of interest at the outcome of this showdown.
“Frankly, my dear,” he drawls, flashing me a frigid smile to match the coldness in his eyes. “I just don’t give a fuck.”
“Fine,” I seethe, a plan forming in my mind.
I head to my holdall and snatch it up roughly to take with me to the bathroom, hoping something is dry. Just before I go in, I turn and stare at Asher straight in the eyes.
“By the way, Clark Gable was a hundred times more of a gentleman than you’ll ever be. So I wouldn’t attempt to emulate him again. At least have some originality so everyone knows what a prick you really are.” With that, I walk in and slam the bathroom door.
