by Lee Jacquot
I giggle, backing away just as a strong hand wraps around my stomach. Spencer leans in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, and sends a violent shiver down my spine. “Can I show you something first?”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I nod.
He leads me inside the side door, down the dark hall, up a flight of stairs, and toward the room we used for our experiment. When we get to the door, he turns, his darkened eyes focus on me, a playful smile twitches the side of his mouth. “There was one color we didn’t get to try. Will you try it with me now?”
My heart thunks in my chest, my hand shaking in his, and when I answer, my voice is barely a whisper. “Yes.”
Spencer’s dimples deepen as a grin slips across his mouth. He pulls the door open and pulls me behind him inside.
It’s black, not like pitch black, but a weird muted color that somehow lights the walls up. That’s when I realize the desk and one of the chairs is gone.
Spencer yanks our connected hands, forcing my body flush against his, and takes my chin in his thumb and forefinger. “I am so fucking in love with you.”
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, and his tongue dives into my mouth. His hands waste no time, trailing down between the valley of my breasts, setting my skin on fire under his fingertips.
We enjoy the push and pull for only a moment before I feel his hand slide over, tugging the fabric away, exposing my pebbled nipple to the cold air. I gasp, and he breaks away from my lips, moving down to capture it in his mouth. His tongue teases over it, flicking it before rolling it between his teeth, sending jolts of pleasure into my core.
My head falls back as a moan escapes my lips, and I push my body closer to him, leaving no space where we aren’t connected.
A low, deep groan comes from the back of his throat, leaving my pussy throbbing. My hands find his hair, tugging it aggressively. He laughs against my skin but finally sits down in the chair, gripping my hips to follow him. He trails a hand down my exposed thigh, sending shivers through my body.
“Spencer.” It’s a desperate whisper.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pulls the draping of my skirt to the side and hooks a finger inside my drenched panties.
Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, and he takes a deep breath before pulling hard, snapping the thin material. Before I can even breathe, his thumb connects with my clit, rolling it in circles, making my entire body convulse.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
My mouth drops open, unable to focus on anything other than the waves of nerves shooting through my core.
“If you could be doing anything right now...” He pauses, slipping two fingers in my channel while his thumb continues its assault. “What would you be doing?”
“Spencer Hanes, if you don’t shut up and fuck me—”
“You’ll what?” he toys, curling his fingers and stealing my words.
Suddenly his fingers and the pressure on my pussy vanishes. My eyes snap down at the same moment his cock comes free of his slacks. He drags it through my slippery folds, hisses through his teeth.
“Spe— Fuckkkkk.”
The threat I had vanishes as he impales me, filling me to the hilt. His fingers dig into the fabric, pulling me up and down in a rhythmic tempo until I’m lost in the abyss. Heat pulses through my body until it rushes south and coils low in my belly.
“Fuck, I love you, Spencer.”
He smiles, letting his teeth graze against my jaw before he presses a thumb on my clit. “And I love you, Lily.”
He circles it twice, and my pussy flutters, the tingle of ecstasy spreading through my limbs like lightning across the sky. Not giving two shits we’re in the school, I scream his name as I shatter into pieces around him.
He fucks me through my orgasm before releasing his own, shuddering beneath me as he comes undone. I fall against his chest, greedily sucking in the air I deprived myself of. He strokes my hair, letting our heart rates return to normal as we come back down to earth. Suspended shivers still work their way through, and every time I shake, he laughs.
Truthfully, I could just stay here and skip the dance altogether, but I know Blaze will kill me when they crown us, and I’m not there to relieve him of the mystery of standing onstage alone. As if he can read my mind, Spencer stirs, letting me get up before he fixes himself. “Do you remember that contract we made?”
I stifle a laugh. “Yeah, I still owe you a punch to the gut for breaking rule two.”
He scoffs playfully, pulling me closer as we exit the room. “So you remember rule thirteen?”
Of course. I remember every damn thing on the sheet. Nodding, I curl into his chest. “Yes.”
He smiles. “Just making sure. Now, let’s get my queen to the prom.”
The End.
Preview
I love when a brat is good with her mouth.
Scratch that. I don't love anything. That requires the capacity to open one's theoretical heart, which is literally the stupidest shit I've ever heard. It's a vital organ that merely pumps blood through your body so you can continue to breathe. Yet, people seem to place some imaginary power that it has the capability to feel based on another human being.
Don't get me wrong. I feel things—hunger, annoyance, pain. Real things. Real feelings. Not attachments. Which is all love is. Well, that and hate. It's all connected, both emotions twisting around each other until they're nearly indecipherable.
That being said, I do take pleasure when a woman is on her knees, hair coiled in my fist, sucking the soul from my dick. Current case in point: a redhead I've snuck off with at my father's fundraiser. A gala for the richest in Washington state. All here to measure whose cock is bigger based on how many zeros are in their bank accounts.
My father, Mr. Steel F. Barot—CEO and founder of Clean Source Energy Incorporated, doesn't have to prove anything to the piranhas circling. He's the great white who enjoys watching them fight it out, eating one another alive, donating everything they can, leaving my father with more money than he makes in a day.
No matter how fucking horrible these things are, as the future heir, or pup as my father loves to spit, I’m expected to attend. Typically, my friend, Lily, accompanies me and provides an entertaining distraction, but she has some therapy sessions, leaving me stranded in the infested waters alone. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry thinks they can butter me up and get in good with my father. Little do they know, not even I’m in good with the old man. Still, it's something I use to my advantage quite often.
Like now.
This little lady was one of the many things that caught my eye under the dim candle lighting, and not in a good sense. Her red dress is the color of a fire hydrant, clinging to every bone that sticks out from her thin frame. There's at least four coats of makeup covering her face, and I'm relatively certain she came with her husband or maybe fiancé.
Even so, Sheila, or perhaps Stephanie, eye-fucked me the moment I walked in, and I've never been one to turn down a pouty set of lips. One of her surprisingly rough hands wraps around the base of my shaft, while the other digs into my hip. She's attempting to steady herself from the long strokes, and I'm beginning to grow tired of keeping her upright. She underestimated my size, and that in itself is annoying enough.
But instead of letting that ruin the fun, my eyes drift to a near close like they always do, and suddenly the red hair in front of me dims to an inky black.
The same black hair I think of far more than I should and can't seem to get off without. It's been two years since I've seen her, yet she's all I see when I find myself balls deep in someone warm.
Those oversized hexagon glasses that frame almond-shaped eyes that make it feel like I’m staring at a sunflower in the brightest grass. Her slightly toned arms from carrying piles of books everywhere she went. And that fucking halo floating over her head, that was a constant reminder that she was too good, too pure for the likes of me.
Remy Solace.
Acknowled
gments
First, I want to thank you! My readers. For taking a chance on a new author, who has some pretty crazy ideas swimming in her head. Out of all the books in the world, and you read mine. You will never know just how much that means to me! Thank you!
My’chal. Timon. Bae. NONE of this, not one sentence, would be possible without you. You corral the kids, take on dinner, yell at me to call Garnet when I can’t get out of writer’s block. You keep me going. You are my NUMBER ONE hype man. You talk me down from the insanely high rooftops and I will forever be grateful that our stars aligned. Because your love…it’s something out of a storybook.
To Hailey, Aaron, and Christian. My Sun, Moon, and Stars. You made mommy the person she is today. Thank you for telling mommy to keep going and for showing me it’s never too late to achieve a dream.
Garnet Christie. Girl. Where would I be without you? Probably still curled up in a ball letting imposter syndrome eat me alive, if I’m being honest. Our daily talks, venting, plotting, ideas…I can never repay you for not only your kindness, and love, but encouragement, and believing in me when I didn’t think I could do it. You are a gem, and I love you!
To the girls: Greer Rivers, Emily McIntire, Kayleigh King, and Sav Miller. Where do I even start. From Emily’s ability to cull the weak to make the strongest story possible, or Greer’s positive light that shines even in the darkest of holes. Y’all paved the way for me and told me about the speed bumps so I could see them before they happened. If it wasn’t for you ladies, I’d still be sitting around waiting on an agent. Instead, you encouraged me and pushed me to this very publication. Even when I said, what do y’all think about a female bully? Y’all said YES!! And that was all she wrote. Y’all are amazing, and I will forever be in your debt.
Beta readers! You wonderful ladies made me feel less crazy, and pulled me out of my head! It wouldn’t be what it is right now without y’all’s encouragement and awesome feedback! Hope y’all are ready for Blaze
Garnet Christie, Greer Rivers, Emily McIntire, L.L. Lily, M.L. Philpitt, AC Powers, Bella Grace, Kautharmm, and Jeanie Robinson.
To my cover designer, AJ Wolf of AJ Wolf Graphics. GIRLLLLLL. I don’t even know what to say! I struggled with this damn cover, and wanted something that stood out just like my trope. You dealt with my back and forth, my horrible drawings, and my second-guessing. THANK YOU! You made a dope ass cover and I am so excited for what we do this year.
Now. To my editor, Ellie, and proofreader, Rosa, at My Brother’s Editor. YOU LADIES TOOK A CHANCE ON ME! I mean WHAT?! How I got so lucky, I will never know, but damnit THANK YOU! You wonderful duo gave me that last nod I needed to know that this is it. I did it, and it’s ready to see the world!! Thank you for making it pretty, for being patient with me, and your kind words.
About the Author
Lee Jacquot is a wild-haired bibliophile who writes romances with strong heroines that deserve a happy ever after. When Lee isn't writing or drowning herself in a good book, she laughs or yells at one of her husband's practical jokes.
Lee is addicted to cozy pajamas, family game nights, and making tents with her kids. She currently lives in Texas with her husband, three littles, and fluffy cat, Olaf. She lives off coffee and Dean Winchester.
Visit her on Instagram or TikTok to find out about upcoming releases and other fun things! @authorleejacquot