by Becker Gray
“How did you find out?” I asked, coming to sit in front of her.
“The address on the letter was a solid lead. It didn’t take long to piece everything together once I realized Nicholas was only seven years old. And of course, there were the contents of the letter itself. I finally translated it. You want to meet him someday, but in the meantime, you’re giving him all your money.”
I shook my head. “Not all. I set up a small trust fund for him, and the rest of my trust fund is going into new, smaller funds to help the children of the people my father defrauded.”
She was still gazing at the tree, her head turned away, but I could see the quick flutter of her eyelashes as she blinked. “Oh. The transactions. The lawyer.”
“It’s not strictly legal, you see,” I explained. “The trust fund is designed to hold money, not for it to be split up and sent all over. My lawyer and I had to be very creative to make it happen, but I had no other option, Sloane. The alternative was just letting the wound my father made in the world fester, and I couldn’t live with myself that way. He’d already humiliated my mom, gutted our family . . . the least I could do was try to help the other families he’d humiliated and gutted, you see.”
She finally turned her head to look at me. She looked miserable, her green eyes dark and open. “God, Lennox, I’m so stupid. It was all to help people, wasn’t it? All that money you were moving around, it was to make things right.”
“I want to make things right with you,” I told her softly. “I was so angry about the breach of trust that I didn’t stop to ask myself why you might not have trusted me. I was so angry at being treated like my father that I didn’t ask myself if I’d partially brought it on myself. I spent so long making myself the bad guy—your bad guy—that I hardly deserved the right to be aghast when you treated me like a villain.”
“I talked to my father. About Nicholas. I told him that it seemed that the money was going towards your brother and not toward anything shady, and he agreed. And when I tell him about the other people you’re helping . . . well, he’s already backed off. And he’ll stay backed off.”
“I know,” I said. And then I put my hand over hers where it still rested above our initials. What I was about to say next was so hard to say and yet when I said it, it felt so good I could cry. “I trust you, Sloane.”
“How can you?” she asked thickly. “After what I’ve done?”
The answer was so easy. “Because I love you.”
A tear spilled out of each moss-green eye, twin tracks running down her face.
I leaned forward to kiss them. And then I kissed her. Gently, without demanding anything, until she could speak again.
“I love you, Lennox,” she whispered, “and I’m so sorry, so incredibly sorry. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy. I shouldn’t have taken anything. I shouldn’t have hid it from you after. We spent so long being enemies, so long in this fucked-up game of chess with each other, that when the game changed and we became something more, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to change with it.”
“Me either,” I told her. “But we can start now, can’t we? Start our new game?” I flatten my hand over hers, pushing her palm against our initials hard enough that I knew she could feel them against her skin. “Because if the alternative is being without my violent little sweetheart, I don’t think I can handle it.”
Even though tears still spilled from underneath those long lashes, a smile tugged briefly at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not that violent.”
“You dry-fucked me on the rugby field after tackling me and mounting me. You choked me while you did it.”
The edge of her mouth tugged upward again. “You brought that on yourself.”
“Then let me bring more of it on myself. I’ve spent the last four years making you miserable, so I think it’s only fair that you torment me for the next four years. Maybe for a handful of decades on top of that, just to make extra sure I’ve paid my debt to you.”
“And how should I torment you?” she asked.
“Well, the dry-fucking was nice,” I said, and she giggled a little. She’d uncurled enough that I could pull her into my lap, and so I did, guiding her lithe legs to wrap around my hips. She was all lean muscle and black boots and soft lips. Her eyes were the color of my entire world. And the minute her core rested against my semi-erect cock, we both sucked in our breath. My shaft quickly grew hard as granite underneath her and she started rocking against it.
“Dry-fucking is all well and good, but I think the best revenge would be something a little more intense,” she said, reaching between us. When I realized what she was doing, I groaned.
“Darling, people might see.”
“My skirt will cover it.”
“But—” It was too late. She had me out of my trousers, and she had her knickers tugged to the side, and then she was spearing her soft cunt with my erection, wiggling and squirming her way down to the root.
“Bloody Nora,” I swore, dropping my head forward onto her shoulder. “How are you even tighter than I remember?”
“Does that mean that I’m succeeding in tormenting you?” she asked coyly, moving her hips in such a way that her heavenly pussy caressed my entire length. My testicles drew up tight, and already a knot of urgent tension was pulsing at the base of my spine. I was about to come.
“God,” I rasped. “Yes.”
“Good,” she purred, her tears drying, her nipples visibly hard even through her uniform jumper. “I have a lot of torment to pay you back for.”
“Please,” I groaned. “Torment me forever. Make my life agony. As long as you’re in it, I’ll suffer anything. I’ll give you anything. My mouth, my cock, my fingers.”
“What about your heart?” she asked, stilling her movement in my lap to look into my face.
“My vicious darling, it’s yours,” I said, flattening her hand over my chest like I’d flattened it over our initials earlier. “It’s been yours for four years. Since the moment I first heard your name.”
And that glorious smile of hers bloomed across her face like a flower finally facing the sun. “Then I suppose I better take good care of it.”
“I don’t care if you stomp on it, as long as you know it’s yours.”
“And how long is it mine for?” she asked as she started to come.
I held her shuddering and pulsing in my lap, savoring each and every flutter of her body before I followed her over the edge. What started in hate, in revenge, in lust, was now the one good thing in my life that I would never, ever let go of. Even if it was still dirty as fuck.
But that was how we liked it.
“How does forever sound?”
Epilogue
Sloane
“Is it cold?” Lennox murmured evilly in my ear as he gave me a slow, deep thrust. “It looks a little cold.”
“Fuck you,” I gasped, my naked breasts pressed to his dorm window. Outside was a blizzard—a real New England blizzard that was flinging snow and ice everywhere—and behind me was a very delicious, very naked prince, using my pussy. All while my nipples ached with a wonderful agony I couldn’t decide if I loved or hated.
The lights were off, so no one would be able to see us, especially not with the storm, but there was something exciting about being in front of the window. Of knowing anyone could look up and see Sloane Lauder, the pierced and booted badass, getting railed by her former bully and loving it.
“I thought I was supposed to be tormenting you,” I managed to say.
“Oh but you are,” he breathed. “Do you know what torment it is to have this silky pussy around me? What suffering it is to see my cock sliding in and out of your tight little hole? The affliction of knowing your nipples are rock hard? And don’t forget your clit against my fingers right now—it’s so swollen and ripe, and that’s just pure pain to feel, my lovely. Pure pain knowing you’re about to come all over me.”
“Lennox, after I come, I want . . .” I cleared my
throat. I could be brave. After all, I’d climbed dorm room walls for him. I’d risked my heart for him. I could say this thing I wanted. “I want you to fuck me somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else? You don’t want the window anymore?”
I gave him a look over my shoulder. “No, your highness. Somewhere else.”
“Oh,” he said, his beautiful face going blank with shock. “Oh.”
His cock throbbed inside my cunt; it clearly was on board.
“I know you have lube, and I want to try. I want—” I was shy about saying this too, but I made myself because it was important that he know. “I want you to have been everywhere. I want my entire body to know you. To have felt you everywhere.”
He stilled, his head dropping onto my shoulder. I realized he was catching his breath, as if the idea of fucking my ass was too much and he was having troubling existing just knowing it was going to happen.
“Darling,” he finally said. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this. If this is you trying to prove that you’re some kind of sex assassin, then I already know that—”
“I’m sure,” I said softly. “I want to do everything. And I know you’ll make me feel good.” Even when he thought he hated me, he still made me feel good. Like it’s part of his genetic makeup, wired right into his very brain, that he has to make Sloane Lauder orgasm as many times a day as possible.
Lennox didn’t answer me, only resumed his rough thrusts from earlier, and his exquisite handling of my clit. And within seconds, I was coming, keening, rocking back against him and arching against the cold glass at the same time. He let me use his erection as long as I needed, and it was only until I slumped back into his arms that he pulled free and carried me to the bed, where he settled me on my side.
I was still limp and boneless from my climax when I heard the click of the lube bottle and felt the cool slickness smeared over my tight entrance. He was generous with it, coating me inside and out, and then sliding a finger inside to make sure I was completely ready.
And when he decided I was, he knelt behind my ass while I stayed on my side, and he pressed the flared crown of his cock to my slick rim. “I’ve never done this,” he confessed to me with a sheepish smile. “I guess that makes me a kind of virgin.”
I smiled back, and I could see him melt. He always melted for my smile.
“I hear the first time hurts,” I teased him. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“No,” he said, but he pushed forward anyway.
The invasion was intense, scorching, like nothing I’d ever experienced. It felt obscene, utterly filthy, and even though I didn’t know if I could come again, I felt the stirrings deep in my belly of another orgasm as he slowly wedged his cock deep inside my tightest hole.
“I—” His entire body was trembling as he pushed all the way in. The snowy light from outside made his hair silver and his eyes an unearthly platinum. His cheeks and jaw were as sharp as his gorgeous mouth was swollen from kissing, and the look on his face as he looked down at me. . . Like his entire life had been formed by fate for the sole purpose of meeting me and fucking me.
“Fuck. So . . . good. Tight. Fuuuuuck me. So tight.”
I dropped my hand between my legs and rubbed myself, climaxing abruptly and hard, and even though he hadn’t even moved, Lennox followed me over, the slick heat of my ass too much to stand. Every muscle in his stomach and thighs tensed, and then his cock jerked hard inside me, over and over again, flooding me with his come.
And then after several long, breathless, urgent pulses, we both went still.
He looked down at his erection still gloved in my body and then up to my face.
“Marry me,” he said, and I laughed.
He didn’t laugh though. He pulled free, took us both to the en suite shower for a quick clean, and then he put me in bed and climbed in. He pulled me into his chest. “I’m not having a laugh, Sloane. Marry me.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. “We’re not even done with Pembroke yet,” I said, thinking he must still be joking somehow. “We’re way too young.”
“Then we wait until we’re not too young. But I said forever, Sloane, and I meant it. I need you to know that I meant it.”
I stared up into his perfect face. My former tormentor, the sole source of my misery for years. I loved him so much it hurt.
“Yes,” I said.
His arms tightened around me, but his face didn’t change. “Say it again.”
“Yes, Prince Lennox.”
He swore and his mouth came down over mine, his tongue in my mouth and his cock already stiffening against my belly again.
“But we have to wait to actually marry until after college.”
“Fine,” he said in the way of someone prepared to argue the point at a later date.
“And we can’t tell anyone we’re engaged until we graduate Pembroke.”
He sighed against my mouth. “Fine. But I’ll be reminding you every day. Every hour. You are mine, my sweet, fierce darling, and I’m keeping you.”
“I’m keeping you first.” I smiled against our kiss, and he swore again, rolling me onto my back and crawling over me, sliding into my still-slick body with no resistance.
“That fucking smile will be the end of me,” he grunted, starting to rut. “But never stop. It’s the way I want to go.”
“Killed by my smile?”
“Tormented to death by it.”
And then for the rest of the night, there were no more words. Only the best kinds of torments.
And smiles.
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