by Becker Gray
I still wanted to catch criminals when I was older, I still wanted this life, but god, I didn’t want to investigate my friends. My boyfriend.
I wanted even less to lie to my boyfriend, which was what I was doing every day I didn’t confess.
“I’m here,” I said to Cash, offering him a weak smile. “Just thinking.”
“Well, I’m always here if you want to talk,” he offered hopefully, his eyes dropping to my mouth.
“I don’t talk,” I reminded him, unwinding my hand wraps.
“I know,” he said with a swallow, his eyes still on my mouth. “But, uh, if you wanted to. I could be there. Listen. Shoulder to cry on and all that.”
I wound the hand wraps into neat bundles and fixed him with a look. “Do I look like the type of girl who needs a shoulder to cry on?”
“Well, no. But maybe you’re the type of girl who needs someone who’d help her bury a body? I could do that too. The Constantines aren’t always as up-and-up as they claim to be, you know. I could maybe help destroy some evidence for you?”
That did make me smile again. “Maybe you do know me after all, Cash.” I tossed my hand wraps in my bag and stood. “And thank you. It’s just parent problems.”
And Lennox problems.
“I definitely know all about those,” Cash said. “Anytime you need me, Sloane. I’m serious.”
“Same to you,” I said with a nod. And then I went back to my dorm to shower.
That night passed as they all have—with Lennox licking my pussy until I came against his mouth and then me passing out in his arms—but the next day did not pass as it should have. I emerged from my last class to find Lennox leaning against the wall opposite my classroom door, a smug, evil smile on his face.
“You’re coming with me, my sweet, vicious darling. We have plans.”
Lennox was a prince.
I forgot that sometimes, when it was just us in his bed, just his fingers inside me and his raunchy murmurs in my ear; I forgot that he had the kind of money and influence someone like me would never fully understand.
And so when I followed Lennox outside—thinking he’d planned another autumn picnic for me or something—I was led not to the lawn or the woods, but to his family’s waiting Maybach, where a bag of my things had already been stashed in the trunk and my coat was waiting on the seat, folded neater than any coat should be.
“It’s all arranged with the school,” Lennox had said as he’d handed me into the car. “They think you’re visiting your father.”
“What do you mean? What’s been arranged?”
“You’re mine for the weekend, Sloane Lauder.” He’d given me a look that sent goosebumps popping all down my arms and legs. “All mine.”
And so now here we were in New York City, in a hotel so expensive and glamorous that of course it belonged to the Constantine family. We were whisked through a soaring, Beaux Arts lobby by a private butler, who also saw us up to our room and shepherded in a lavish dinner served on embarrassingly fine china before he left us to eat and explore.
“Come eat,” Lennox said as I wandered over to the window nearest the food-laden table. “I promise it’s not fairy food, you won’t be bound to me forever if you eat it.”
He almost sounded sad about that when he said it, but when I turned to look at him, there was only his usual mocking smile, the one that looked so unfairly good on him.
“Sloane,” he prompted after I turned back to the window. “Come.”
“I can see Central Park from here,” I said to him. “And so much of the city too. And these rooms . . .”
I pivoted on my heel as I gestured to the sumptuous suite around us. It was done up in dark wood floors and soft gray walls, hung with silk brocades and upholstered in leathers and velvets. Beyond the dining room, a four-poster bed waited in a bedroom the size of some apartments. It was in the very center of the room, like an altar of fluffy pillows and Egyptian cotton.
“Why are we here, Lennox? Why did you bring me here?”
He got up from his chair and prowled over to me, his smile fading into something darker. Hungrier.
“Guess.”
You deserve better than a bloody dorm bed, Sloane.
“We’re going to have sex here,” I said, not as a question, but as a statement.
“Yes, we are,” Lennox replied, sliding his hands over my hips and down my legs. I was still in my Pembroke skirt, and so he was able to ruck up the fabric and grab handfuls of my ass, squeezing the flesh there until I gasped and dropped my head on his shoulder.
He kneaded my bottom as he whispered in my ear. “Always with these sensible knickers, my little virgin. It’s like you know how much they fucking turn me on. Because you don’t mean to get me hard, do you? You don’t mean to make me crazy. But just seeing you makes me crazy. And now that I know how soft this pussy is, how wet it gets for me, I can’t even think when you’re around. I can’t even think when you’re not around. My mind is just filled with you and when I can see you again. When I can touch your cunt again.”
He moved from kneading my ass to pushing his fingers down the front of my panties. I slumped in his arms as he found the swollen bud of my clit and started rubbing.
“So yes, darling girl, we are going to have sex tonight, and tomorrow night. I’m going to make you as crazy as you make me. I’m going to make you as obsessed with me as I am with you, so that you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t even exist because wanting me is that excruciating.”
His clever fingers moved down even farther, and he nudged my boots apart with his handmade Italian brogues to spread my legs.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, pushing his fingers inside me. “How are you already so wet?”
I bit his neck in response, right above his uniform shirt collar, and he groaned again.
“Forget the food,” he breathed. “I have to fuck you now. Tell me you’re ready. Tell me you want it.”
I grabbed his hand and pushed his fingers deeper. “I want it.” God help me, I wanted it. Even though we’d hated each other. Even though I’d spied on him. Even though I was pretty sure I was falling in love with him and it might be the worst mistake of my life.
I wanted it.
I lifted my face for a kiss, and he obliged me immediately, his lips firm and hot on mine, wasting no time before they demanded I part for his tongue. And then he stroked inside my mouth with it, kissing me like I belonged to him, kissing me like he’d caught me and now he would claim his prize.
And when I opened my eyes as we kissed, I saw that his were already open, heavy-lidded and sultry, like a lion watching his next meal.
Lust kicked me in the clit; my belly was a bottomless well of want. All I wanted was him, was his erection deep inside me. I wanted him to fuck me so hard it felt like fighting. I wanted us to tear each other apart until we were both sated and wet and spent.
“Lennox,” I murmured, moving my mouth to his jaw, to his throat. “I don’t want to wait.” My hands went to his belt; they were shaking as I tried to work it open, that’s how needy I was. “Right now, let’s do it right now. Right now, please—”
He was half-laughing, half-groaning as I finally managed to get his belt open. “Let’s at least go to the bed—you deserve—”
“We’ve nearly fucked on a rugby field and in a maze and in a cold-ass scullery, I’m not a princess or a shrinking violet. Goddammit, Lennox, just put me out of my misery.”
His cock jumped in my hands as I freed it from his uniform trousers, and pre-come was already beading at the tip. “I think you’ve got it wrong who’s been more miserable,” he growled and then he spun me around. “Hands on the fucking window, Sloane. Stick that pretty arse out. Present yourself for me.”
I obeyed, letting out a shuddering breath as he flipped my skirt up over my ass and tugged my panties down to the floor. I heard the tear of a condom, and a low, ragged breath as he rolled it over his length, and then his fingers were back at my slit aga
in, smearing my wetness all over.
“It should be like this,” he said hoarsely, fitting his wide crown to my narrow opening. “It should be exactly like this. In our uniforms. Dirty and urgent. Just like I’ve been stroking myself thinking about for years.”
My head dropped forward against the cool glass of the window. “If I’d known . . .”
“We would have both failed out of Pembroke, wouldn’t we? We would have never left our rooms. We would have been fucking every chance we got.”
“We still hated each other then,” I pointed out, my breath hitching as he pushed the head of his cock inside me.
“That would have made it all the more fun,” he purred, giving me a small stroke. Just that plush crown going in and out. “Think of the scratches you would have left on me. Think of the handprints I would have left on your tight little bottom.”
I was barely breathing now. “Lennox . . .”
He kept going with his magnificently dirty words, giving me another toe-curling nudge of his thick cock. “Think of how you would have pinned my wrists to the floor and took what you wanted until I couldn’t give you any more. Think of how fun it would have been to have me between your legs and not know if I was going to tongue-fuck you or bite you or both.”
“Are you saying that we’re not going to do that now?”
“You want me to fuck you like I hate you? Because I’ll happily oblige, my cruel temptress. I may not hate you, but you can bet everything you own that I still hate how much I want you.”
I lifted my head enough to look over my shoulder at him. He’d taken off his uniform blazer when we got to the room, so it was just him in his shirt and uniform tie, with the sleeves rolled up and the tie loosened. His white-blond hair fell onto his forehead, and his sharp, beautiful features looked sharper than ever in the low, ambient light of the hotel room.
“I hate how much I want you too,” I admitted in a whisper. “It’s a weakness.”
“Then it will be a weakness we share.”
And for some reason, that felt like the most romantic thing he could have said. He wasn’t promising me forever, he wasn’t promising me eternal devotion. He was telling me that we would suffer this sickness for each other together. That we were both in this, and that we would try to survive it together instead of separately.
And if my traitorous heart ached for more—if my mind warned me that I was in real danger of loving Lennox Lincoln-Ward—then I ignored them. I would take Lennox with a blindfold and my ears stopped up, that’s how much I needed him with me and in me.
He leaned forward, not to kiss me, but to bite the back of my neck. “I’m there, Sloane, can you feel it? I can feel it. Right fucking there.” He nudged his hips a little to prove his point, showing me exactly where the resistance was just inside my channel. “I’m the first man inside you. The first you’ll ever have. Almost like you saved yourself for me. Almost like you knew you were supposed to.”
“Oh, is that right?” I challenged, but my breathless squirming belied my words.
“Yes, that’s right. You were mine from the moment I saw you. I would have killed anyone who touched you, who got to know what your cunt felt like before I did. Who got to know exactly how you liked to be rubbed . . .” His fingers followed his words, finding my sensitive spot at the top of my seam, and caressing it expertly, sending tremors all down my legs.
“Lennox,” I murmured. “Please . . .”
“Breathe in, sweetheart,” he said, and I breathed in. At that moment he bit my neck again right as his hips punched up—right past my virginity.
The pain from his bite was the perfect distraction from the pain between my legs, but I cried out all the same, crumpling against the window as Lennox bottomed out inside me.
I was used to pain—both the pain of being struck in sparring and the sore muscles that came from sparring—but this was something different. Something deeper and sharper. But there was no escaping it, no recoiling away, because I was still impaled on him, I was still caught between his lean but powerful frame and the window.
He kissed my neck and stroked my hip under my skirt. “Stay still, my little sprite, and I’ll make it better.” His fingers resumed their strumming on my clit, sending confusing signals of pleasure to compete with the pain of his invasion, and then he started talking, and my body melted at his words.
“You’re so fucking tight, Sloane, just like I knew you would be. So narrow you can barely take me, can you? And it feels so good in here, it feels so hot all around my cock, I don’t think I can ever leave. I don’t think I can ever stop fucking you. I want my entire life to be fucking you . . .”
Abruptly, and I didn’t know how because his thick erection between my legs was still taking my breath away, I came against his fingers. My knees buckled and my entire body shook as I screamed out his name against the glass.
And that seemed to be the last straw for his control. All of a sudden he was gone, no longer inside me, and then I was being scooped up and carried into the bedroom.
“I feel like a princess,” I said dazedly as he placed me on the giant fairy tale bed.
“Well, I am a prince,” he said, yanking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. “Just say the word if you need me to make things more princess-y.”
I watched him strip off his shirt, revealing etched muscles and a line of golden hair arrowing down from his navel. I parted my legs and raised up my skirt so he could see my wet cunt as he undressed, and his gold eyes practically scorched me into ash.
“On second thought, I’ve been told I have more of a fairy assassin who fucks vibe,” I said as he crawled onto the bed. His wet, latex-covered cock jutted lewdly from his uniform pants as he did. He was like having my own personal pornography.
“I’ll take the fucking literally,” Lennox said, covering my body with his own and then entering me with one rough thrust.
I arched against him, running my hands up his back, grabbing at his shoulders and arms. He braced himself on his hands and stared down at me with a raw animalism that took my breath away. All that muscle, all that power, all that unfiltered will—all of it was bent towards fucking me. To claiming me. As if this was the inevitable outcome after all these years, and the insane thing was that I welcomed it, I wanted it, I was claiming him right back. Scratching his back like he said I would, writhing underneath him as my second orgasm built and built.
And as I panted his name and shivered through my climax, as he gave me several deep, bed-rattling thrusts as his own orgasm tore through him, I decided I didn’t want to know if this was still revenge for him. I didn’t want to know if part of him still hated me, if all of him still hated my father, if I was the tawdry means to a bitter end. I didn’t want to know, because somehow, against my better judgement, I’d fallen for him. I’d fallen in love.
Fuck me.
19
Lennox
I never slept better than when a well-pleasured Sloane Lauder was snuggled in my arms. There was something about someone so strong, someone so fierce and yet so remote, trusting you enough to sleep in your embrace. And that it was this girl, the one I’d known was mine since the moment I saw her . . .
Well. It made my cock hard and my chest feel strange. The usual Sloane problem.
I woke her up that morning with slow, wet kisses between her legs, knowing she was sore and would need to be eased into more fucking. But there would be more fucking, if she’d let me. Whatever tender feelings were growing for Sloane were still indelibly tied to my need to possess her, for her to belong to me, and those feelings were indelibly tied to my cock.
And after she came, we ate a leisurely breakfast and then went for a walk around Central Park to enjoy the last of the leaves. And when we came back, I had a surprise all ready for her.
“Oh, Lennox,” I heard her say as she walked into the bedroom and then caught sight of the bathtub in the doorway beyond. “Jesus, I’m so cold and that looks so good right now.”
I was sm
iling as I came up behind her. Steam curled off the surface of the bath I’d arranged for us while we were gone. Champagne chilled nearby, and fresh rose petals drifted on top of the water, subtly scenting the air. “That’s the idea, darling.”
Sloane turned and gave me a look like I’d just moved a mountain for her. “You did this?”
“What better way to warm up after a bracing stroll in the cold autumn air?”
She nearly smiled, catching her lower lip with her teeth just in time to stop it. “You shouldn’t have.”
I was obsessed with her smile, obsessed with seeing it as much as possible. “On that, dear ferocious one, we shall have to disagree,” I said as I pulled her lower lip free of her teeth with my thumb. “Now, let’s get you naked.”
An arched eyebrow. “Ah, so there’s an ulterior motive.”
“You doubted that there was?” I asked as I unwound her scarf and unbuttoned her coat. I tossed both on the bed, and then started on her clothes—a black turtleneck and leggings, along with her boots—and she let me undress her with a small sigh.
“I guess I don’t mind. If you didn’t have an ulterior motive for this afternoon, then I would have.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Once I had her naked, I took my time looking at her. At her small, high breasts, at her flat stomach and narrow hips. Her arms were sculpted with elegant curves of muscle, as were her thighs and calves, and between those firm thighs was a triangle of dark, silky curls that I knew would smell like honeysuckle if I buried my nose in them like I did this morning.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I murmured, already hard against the placket of my trousers.
She blushed. “Thanks.”
“I mean it, Sloane. Feel me.”
She reached out and wrapped her strong, slender fingers around me through my trousers, and we both made a noise. I’d never been this horny, never needed to fuck so goddamn much, but with Sloane, I felt insatiable, like an animal in rut. I needed to fuck her more than I needed my next meal or swallow of air.