I DON’T KNOW what has come over me—over us. I didn’t know it could be like this. I mean, I’ve heard of things like this. Dominance and submission. Being told what to do and getting off on it.
I just didn’t realize I would actually like that sort of thing.
“Carolina.” West’s voice is sharp, and I automatically slide my hand down, cupping myself. Testing myself. My pussy is hot. And so wet—embarrassingly so. I didn’t know it could get this wet, and when I start to stroke, the sounds fill the room.
“Touch your clit,” he directs, and I press my finger against it, a sizzling jolt of electricity pulsing through my veins. “Rub it.”
I wish he was the one who was touching me. I love that he’s telling me what to do, but I want more. I want him to be the one who’s stroking me.
I want to know what it feels like, to have his mouth on me.
Increasing my pace, I rub my clit in tight circles, my stomach clenching, my entire body electrified. I brace my feet on the mattress and bend my knees, lifting my hips toward my busy hand as I continue stroking myself. I could come like this, I think, my mind growing hazier and hazier. I could come over and over again, knowing West was watching.
“Stop.” He’s on me in an instant, his hands on my ankles as he yanks my legs down, spreading them as wide as they can go. I open my eyes just in time to see his face. His eyes wild, his skin flushed. “It’s my turn.”
Thank God, I think as he bats my hand away from my pussy, his hot gaze drinking me in. He reaches out, his fingers tracing my slit, gathering my juices before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them between his lips.
His gaze never strays from mine as he licks his fingers before returning them to my pussy. His touch is gentle, barely there, and I strain toward him, needing more.
Needing it harder.
He dips his head and kisses my stomach, his lips hot. Soft. A sigh leaves me as he blazes a trail across my skin, his body shifting between my legs, his mouth drawing closer and closer to where I want him.
I rest my hand on top of his head, my fingers curling in his thick hair. I tug on the strands, testing to see how hard I can take it, but he doesn’t say a word. Just continues licking and kissing my skin, his mouth sliding over me, his tongue a hot rasp against my sensitive skin.
When he settles his mouth directly on my pussy, I nearly bow off the bed. He rests his hand on my stomach, keeping me in place as he sucks my clit between his lips, his other hand braced on the inside of my thigh, squeezing tight.
It hurts in a delicious way. The contrast of his soft tongue and hot lips and the firm grip of his hands has me spiraling. I’m on sensory overload, and I can already feel the orgasm pressing down. Drawing closer. I pull my legs in, clamping either side of his head with my thighs, and he pushes a finger inside me, then adds another.
Then another.
He stretches me full with three fingers, slowing pumping them in and out while he attacks my clit with his mouth. Shuddery moans leave me and I arch my neck, my mouth falling open when the orgasm slams into me out of nowhere. Like a punch to the stomach.
I’m coming. Heat radiates through my blood, along my skin. I’m trembling, my stomach heaving, my heart racing.
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
When it’s finally over, I lie in the middle of my bed in a boneless heap, only just noticing the sounds of the storm raging outside. Wind batters at the windows, rain splattering against the glass, accompanied by the low rumble of thunder.
I feel like that storm. Chaotic and destructive. What West just did to me …
Is hard for me to wrap my mind around. How my body could react to his touch, his words … his commands. It’s as if I have no control over myself.
He’s the one who controls me. At least in this way.
The mattress shifts and I open my eyes to watch him climb off the bed and walk over to the window. He stares out at the darkened sky, his brow furrowed as he watches the storm, his fingers tugging at his bottom lip. I’m sure his face smells like me.
I want to kiss him and see, but I’m suddenly shy.
“I should probably go,” he says, his voice low, his gaze still on the window.
“It’s too stormy outside.” I sit up, realizing my skirt is still on so I tug it down, covering my lower half. “Maybe you should wait it out.”
“No.” He barely glances at me. “I’m leaving.”
I blink at his stern tone. What’s wrong with him? Is he mad? Upset with me? What did I do? Grind on his face and come all over his mouth? Is that a crime?
Maybe in West’s eyes, it is.
“You don’t care, do you?” He turns to face me and I take in his messy hair and flushed face. His rumpled shirt that’s untucked, hiding what I assume is a raging erection tenting his pants. I remember feeling it against my leg, so I know it’s there. “You don’t seem like the cuddly-after-sex type.”
Not sure why, but I’m offended by his assumption. Even though he’s right. I don’t like cuddling. As he well knows, I’m not fond of physical touch.
But for some odd reason, I want him to hold me close. Whisper reassuring words in my ear, making me feel wanted instead of used.
That’s how I feel right now. Used. Even though I’m the one who got off, I still feel that way, and I don’t like it.
“I’m out.” He heads for the door, his tone so casual I almost don’t believe he made me come with his mouth and fingers just a few minutes ago. Only my still throbbing pussy and aching thighs remind me that’s exactly what happened.
I remain quiet, unable to speak thanks to the lump in my throat. Besides, what would I say? Don’t go? Please stay?
That’s not my style. It’s not his either.
“See you tomorrow.” He rests his hand on the door handle and glances back at me from over his shoulder, his gaze finding mine. There’s no emotion in his eyes. They’re almost … flat? “Bye, Carolina.”
The door shuts at the same time I whisper, “Bye,” but he didn’t hear me.
I remain rooted to the bed, bending my legs at the knee and wrapping my arms around them, curling my body into a ball. I’m shivering, the angry storm not helping matters, and I rest my head on top of my knees, closing my eyes.
I don’t know what just happened, but I’m rattled.
And I’m pretty sure West is too.
THE NEXT DAY dawns dark and dreary, the clouds hanging low in the sky, fat with rain. It drizzles all morning and by the time I’m in American Government, I’m a mess of nerves, both eager to see West, yet dreading it too.
He probably won’t even look at me.
Brent enters the classroom, his gaze landing on me, and he heads straight for my desk, settling into the one behind mine.
“How do you know Sadie?”
I turn around to face him, trying to contain my excitement. Did she get up the nerve to talk to him? I’m so proud of her. “How do you know Sadie?”
“She’s in my art class.” His cheeks turn the faintest pink, as if he’s embarrassed he takes art. Men. Toxic masculinity is strong here at Lancaster Prep. “She mentioned that you two are friends. I have no idea who she is.”
“She’s new here and she’s really sweet.” I tilt my head. “How did you two get to talking?”
“We were assigned to work on a project together. We just sort of started talking and it was—easy.” He shrugs, purposely trying to seem like it was no big deal. Which gives me a hint that maybe he likes her? I don’t know. I’m probably reading too much into this. “She’s nice.”
“She is. I like her a lot. We hang out at lunch together.”
“I’ve never seen the two of you together at lunch.”
“We hang out in the library together.” I smile at him. “You should join us sometime.”
“I don’t know—”
“Don’t you two look cozy?”
We both glance up to find Mercedes standing in front of us, Marcy next to her, both of them wearing matching shitty smiles.
“You finally going for it with her, Brent? Like you said you would?” Mercedes’ eyebrows lift.
Something tells me Brent never said anything like that to Mercedes. She’s just trying to cause trouble. Possibly to get my hopes up, only for me to be let down.
Ah, if she only knew who had his face buried between my legs last night, she’d die of mortification, wouldn’t she?
“I, uh …” Brent glances over at me before he ducks his head, as if he might be embarrassed.
“Aw, did I expose you just now? Sorry.” Mercedes makes a tsking noise and Marcy laughs, like what her bitchy best friend said is soooo funny.
It’s not.
“Why don’t you mind your own business and go sit down?”
I’m shocked the words came out of my mouth, but then again, I’m not. This girl keeps pushing me and I’m tired of it.
Mercedes’ eyes narrow and there’s a sneer on her face. “What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.” I lift my chin. “Stay out of my business. Not that I should bother telling you, but Brent and I are just friends. Right, Brent?”
I send him a look when he lifts his head and he nods in agreement, the relief on his face obvious. “Yeah. We’re friends.”
“Right.” Mercedes frowns. “Friends who fuck maybe? I’ve heard stories, you know. Brent has a reputation around campus.”
“Mercedes—”
“As a matter of fact, no, Brent and I don’t fuck. Ever. West, though? You should ask him all about us. Like what we did together last night.” I smirk at her, not even caring that I blew our cover. That I exposed our secret. This shitty girl deserves to hear it. To know that West isn’t interested in her.
He’s interested in me.
Mercedes laughs in my freaking face like the bitch she is. “Please. You wouldn’t know what to do with West’s dick if he slapped your cheek with it.”
“I’m fairly certain he’d rather slap my cheek with his dick rather than yours, but maybe I’m wrong? Maybe we should ask him.” I raise my brows, doing my best not to contain my own laughter.
Her good mood fades, her face contorting into an ugly, angry mask. “You wish. I can’t wait to tell him about you acting like he’s into you. Please. You’re just a child. A sheltered, little good girl who’s scared someone might dare to touch you.”
How does she know I don’t like to be touched? God, did West tell her? He would never.
Would he?
Class eventually starts and West is nowhere to be found, which leaves me confused. Where is he? Where did he go? Is he sick? Did he leave campus? Did he ditch school?
By lunchtime I scan the dining hall, but he’s not there. Before I get caught by Mercedes and her rude crew, I head to the library, grateful when I spot Sadie’s smiling, excited face in the back of the building.
“I talked to Brent,” is how she greets me.
I settle into the chair beside her, trying to get caught up in her good mood versus wallowing in my bad one. “I know.”
Her smile slips. “How do you know? Oh God, are people talking about us? About me?”
“No, no. He told me. Asked me how I knew you.” I give her a reassuring pat on the arm, snatching my hand away from her when I realize I’m voluntarily touching someone else and not minding it either.
“Was he nice about it? Or does he think I’m pathetic?” Sadie’s worried expression almost breaks my heart, she seems so distressed.
“He doesn’t think you’re pathetic. You’re completely overreacting. He had nothing but nice things to say about you.”
“Okay.” She nods and exhales loudly, her lips pursed. “That’s good.”
“Don’t freak out. Just—take it slow and see what happens.” I smile at her and she smiles back, but it’s tentative at best.
There’s no way I can tell her what happened with Mercedes. How she’s spreading rumors that Brent and I are a thing—though maybe I should tell her and confirm that it’s not true.
She’d know it wasn’t true though, right? I’m not interested in Brent like that. He’s nice, he’s good-looking, but when I talk to him, I feel nothing.
All West has to do is look at me and I’m a trembling mess.
Instead of bringing any of that negativity up, I let Sadie ramble on about her interaction with Brent, slowly but surely losing focus, my thoughts returning to West. Where is he?
Why did he run away?
