Boys of King Academy

by Rose, Louise

  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I don’t answer him. I don’t want to talk about how wrong and right his lips feel against mine.

  “Shut up and kiss me.” I put a hand on either side of his face and pull him to me, kissing him deeply.

  He groans, pulling me harder against his chest and swirling his tongue around mine in a way that made my knees weak.

  “We shouldn’t do this.” He gently pushes me away. “You’re engaged.”

  “I know. We always seem to kiss at the wrong times.”

  “You didn’t know about Ally and that was my fault. She blackmailed me into staying with her, if I’m being honest.”

  “How?”

  Declan looks down, like he doesn’t want to admit it. “I ran someone over. By accident but I was drunk and I just left him there on the road. I passed out later on, I was super out of it and I don’t really remember it happening at all. Ally knew about it. She was in the car, and the man didn’t survive. He had a wife and kid. He was innocent.”

  “Declan,” I whisper.

  He clears his throat. “I told his wife it was me. She slapped me but still let me give her a big check. My parents never found out. I was ashamed.”

  “You didn’t do it on purpose. You should never have driven drunk though.”

  “I never have before or after that event. I can’t remember driving, or getting to the party. I don’t remember much, other than what Ally told me and flashbacks,” he admits to me. “Anyway, Ally blackmailed me into staying with her and threatened to tell my parents. When I broke up with her, she told them. My mother hasn’t spoken to me since and my dad is weird with me. I deserve it.”

  “It was an accident. I’m sorry though,” I tell him. “Ally shouldn’t have used that to keep you. That’s not real.”

  “Like you and Romy are?”

  “Declan, for once, I want something which is just mine. I want to be in control of my own life, make my own choices without someone making them for me. I want you, and right now I really couldn’t give a shit about Romy, Archer, or anyone else who says they love me but are just using me. Is that clear enough for you?”

  Declan sits back and looks at me. “Are you sure about this, Ivy? You have no idea how much I want to kiss you, but the last thing I want is for you to turn around later and say I was using you. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I don’t want to be that guy.”

  “Declan, right now, you’re about the only person I can trust. You seem to be the only person who doesn’t have a hidden agenda, except maybe to write good songs with me. And that’s not exactly hidden–we both want to be our best when it comes to music. So when I tell you I want you to kiss me, when I say I need you to hold me, I mean it. So will you quit jerking me around and kiss me already?”

  My heart falls as Declan stands up and walks away. But then a huge grin spreads across my face as Declan turns the key in the door.

  “If you’re serious, then I don’t want anyone to walk in and interrupt us,” he says. He crosses over to the sound system. Every music room has one so you could listen to set pieces to practice. He hits play and ironically Ravel’s Bolero plays.

  “How appropriate,” he smiles, loosening his tie and coming to sit next to me so that he is facing one way on the stool and I’m facing the other. “I always think the crescendo in this is vastly overrated when it comes to seduction…”

  He leans forward to kiss me and for the first time in a long while I feel I am finally living in the moment without worrying about what else might happen. Romy couldn’t be upset about me kissing someone else. Our engagement is a business arrangement. Yes, I am attracted to him, but I am starting to see that I am really too young to settle down. I need to experience more of the world before I am ready to say that any one person is the right man for me to settle down with.

  And the way Declan’s lips feel against mine tells me that I am right when I said I needed him to kiss me. I moan and lean into him, the physical reassurance of his body against mine telling me I deserve some happiness of my own.

  Declan reaches up to brush the back of his hand against my cheek, running it down the front of my body to cup my breast. He squeezes lightly, running his thumb over my nipple. I arch my back, pushing up against him as I enjoy the way he caresses me. I can feel my pussy clench in anticipation of what is to come.

  Declan continues to kiss me as he moves his hand away from my breast and down my body, squeezing and massaging my thigh before finding his way under my skirt. I open my legs to make it easier for him to touch me as he runs his hand over the outside of my panties before slipping inside them. He rubs at my clit, making me gasp.

  “You’re so wet,” he murmurs.

  “That’s the effect you have on me,” I say, moving to take my knickers off.

  Sitting on the piano bench with no underwear is such a turn on. I love the idea that I am fully clothed, yet completely exposed, as Declan moves to slide his fingers inside me. I grab his shoulders, my fingers digging into his flesh as he starts to move. I throw my head back, losing myself in the sensation as he finds the perfect angle to hit my G spot with every touch. He finds the perfect rhythm to drive me wild, and I bite my lip to hold back my cries, not trusting that the music would cover the sound of my orgasm.

  “Oh… my… God… Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!” I open my legs even wider as Declan continues to work his magic.

  He pulls his fingers out and plays with my clit some more.

  “Turn around,” he whispers in my ear, moving his hand away to let me swivel around on the stool. He moved so that he is on his knees between my legs. Putting his hands behind my thighs, he pulled me close, burying his face between my legs. I lean back, thankful the piano lid is shut so I wouldn’t randomly bash the keys and give away the fact that the only instrument being played right now is my body.

  His tongue flicks across my clit, teasing and tantalising me. I grab a handful of his hair, holding his head in place as I urge him to keep doing what he is doing.

  Putting his hand between my legs, he slides his finger in and out of me. I can’t keep quiet any more. (OR I struggle to keep quiet)

  “Yes!” My cries mingle with the music, and as Bolero comes to its inevitable conclusion, I explode into bliss, coming harder than I ever thought possible.

  “Oh fuck,” I murmur, as Declan emerges from between my legs, a smug smile on his face.

  “I take it that’s what you needed?” He grins.

  “And then some.” I pull him to me and kiss him passionately. His cock is hard and I can feel the bulge in his trousers rubbing against me. “We need to fuck.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  I fumble at his fly, but we are interrupted by the bell giving the signal that afternoon registration is about to start.

  “Oh, shit!” I say, my head dropping against his chest as Declan puts his arms around me and laughs. “We have to skip class. There’s no way I can focus on anything when I’m still so worked up.”

  “What–you mean that orgasm wasn’t enough for you?” Declan shakes his head in wonder. “Wow, Ivy. I had no idea you were so insatiable.”

  “It’s all you,” I tell him. “This is how you make me feel.”

  “Well, much as I definitely need to finish,” Declan gestures to his erection, “you’ve got another assessment to sit through this afternoon if I’m not mistaken and I can’t afford to miss my math class. I’m struggling enough as it is.”

  “And you think you’ll be able to focus on the teacher when you’re all worked up?”

  “I need to try,” Declan groans apologetically, bending to retrieve my underwear from the floor. “But we’re not done. Not by a long shot. There’s no way that’s the last time I get to make you come.”

  He kisses me again and I moan in frustration. “You’re right.” I sigh. “Pilkington will kill me if I don’t show up for that assessment. Why is it everyone else seems to care more about my education than I do?”


  “Because we see your potential,” Declan says. “Now, come on. We better go. If anyone spots us leaving, we were working on a song. And since we do have to write something for the fundraiser, what say we set another date for music ‘practice’?”

  I grin, knowing exactly what he is suggesting. “Works for me.”

  * * *

  My business studies assessment goes about as well as can be expected. Not only do I hate the subject anyway, memories of Declan between my legs haunt me. Mr Robson asks me a question and a flashback of Declan touching me comes flooding back.

  “I can see you’re as focused as ever, Ms Archaic,” Mr Robson says grimly at the end of the session. “It’s a pity. Nothing bothers me more than wasted potential. If you would only apply yourself, you could pass this subject standing on your head. As it currently stands, you’ll be lucky to scrape a pass–and that’s with the extra year’s tutoring I’m advising.”

  “You can’t be serious!” I gasp.

  “Of course I can. I would be doing you a disservice as well as whoever is currently paying your school fees. A place at the Academy does not come cheap, and you’d do well to remember that. If you cannot be motivated to work on your own behalf, perhaps you might consider who it is that’s working so hard to put you through your exams to give you the best possible future. You cannot rely on being an Archaic to coast through life. Not all of us had your privileged start.”

  I could laugh in his face, but I know it isn’t worth the grief, so instead, I cast my gaze to the floor so he wouldn’t notice me rolling my eyes so hard they practically fell out of their sockets.

  “Yes, Mr Robson. But I really don’t want to have to repeat a year. Mr Metcalf said I can continue in his class. If I promise to work extra hard to catch up, would you reconsider putting me back? It would be horrible to be a year behind all my friends.”

  “I’m afraid a little last minute on your part will be too little too late,” says Mr Robson. “However, out of sympathy for your position and not in the slightest bit because the head has emphasized how generous a donor your father is to the Academy, I am willing to allow you to continue in your current position.”

  “Thank you!” I could have hugged him.

  “On one condition.” Mr Robson holds up one finger to warn me not to celebrate too soon. “Your place in my class is on a probationary basis. You will attend extra revision classes with me and I will subject you to regular testing. If over the next two months I do not see sufficient progress, I will have no choice but to put you back a year. So it is entirely up to you what happens next, Ivy. Your future is in your hands.”

  Ms Dupree has offered me a similar deal which is the best I could hope for, so I smile and nod.

  “I won’t let you down,” I promise.

  “I am entirely indifferent whether you do or don’t,” says Mr Robson. “The only person you’ll be letting down is yourself. But that would be hardly surprising given your bloodline. The Archaics aren’t exactly known for their high standards.”With that he turned and stalked out of the room, leaving me gaping after him, practically picking my jaw off the floor.

  I wanted to yell after him that I’d tell Mr Pilkington what he’d said, but it wouldn’t make any difference. It would be his word against mine, and I knew all too well how that dance goes. When I was growing up in foster care, it didn’t matter how many times I told the truth about who’d started a fight; it was always me who got the blame. Now I knew when to pick my battles. This one isn’t worth it.

  But I am going to have to work doubly hard to keep my place in Robson’s class. I am under no illusion now that he’d take great delight in chucking me out if I give him the slightest excuse.

  Romy is waiting for me by the entrance to the Academy, he smiles when he sees me.“How was your day?”

  “Okay.” I shrug. I thought I’d feel guilty when I saw him after what happened with Declan, but I’m surprised to discover I didn’t care. After all, it isn’t like Romy didn’t play the field himself. There is no way he is going to stay faithful to me for the rest of his life. I am just taking something for myself for once.

  Yeah, right, Ivy. You keep telling yourself that. That justifies cheating on someone who’s been nothing but nice to you the entire time you’ve known him.

  “What about the assessments? Do you have to repeat a year?”

  “Not at the moment. But I’ve got to keep my grades up and have extra tutoring in politics and business studies.” I sigh. “That’s just what I need. Wasting more time in the two subjects I detest. But on the bright side, Mr Metcalf told me I’m one of his best students and he’s really happy to have me back in his class. That’s nice to hear.”

  “I’m unsurprised. My fiancée is so talented.” Romy beams with pride, and I smile weakly. Would I still be his fiancée if he knew what I’d done?

  “Isn’t that our driver?” I point at a car edging up the drive, a black limo in a sea of identical black limos. I have no idea if it really is our car, but it gives me an excuse to change the subject.

  “No. But the car behind it is.” Romy reaches out and takes my hand, and we descend the steps together to meet the car.

  “What do you want to do tonight?” Romy asks when we are settled in the back seat.

  “I really ought to study.” I think about all the catching up I have to do and sigh. It is a mammoth task, but all my teachers have told me I have the intellectual ability to get the grades, I’m simply not motivated enough about most of my subjects to want to do the work.

  “So why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?” asked Romy.

  “Because I’ve been back at the Academy five minutes and already I want to leave again. If it wasn’t for my music class, there’s no way you’d be able to get me to finish my A levels.”

  “Have any of your teachers set you homework to do yet?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Other than Mr Metcalf telling me I need to write a song with Declan for the fundraiser, but I can’t really do that by myself.”

  I feel my cheeks turning red at the mention of Declan’s name, but Romy doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Which means you can take tonight off,” says Romy. “Some guys are having a race and I thought you might like to ride pillion. It’s not as intense as the Bomber Derby and something tells me having you riding behind me will bring me luck.”

  “Don’t I get to compete as well?”

  “What? And make me look bad?” Romy jokes, but I get the sense there is more than a little truth mixed in with the sentiment. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea, Ivy.”

  “Why not? Is it because I’m female?”

  “No.” Romy looked awkward. “Well, yes, but not for the reasons you think. I know you’re incredible on a bike. I’ve seen you ride and I don’t doubt for a second you’d win most of the races round here. But you’re the only Archaic heir and the mother of my children one day. My father made it very clear that he doesn’t want you competing. It took all my powers of persuasion to convince him to let you have your own bike to go for a buzz around town, so you can take it to the race if you like, but there’s no way you can actually compete.”

  “But we don’t have to tell your father,” I point out. “How’s he going to know what we do when we’re out?”

  “You know better than that, Ivy.” Romy sighed. “He’s got eyes and ears everywhere. That doesn’t mean we can’t bend the rules a little, but if he finds out you did something as dangerous as race, we’ll both be in serious trouble and you wouldn’t like my father when he’s angry. Think Jack Nicholson from The Shining crossed with Sonny Corleone from The Godfather.”

  “I’d rather not.” Great. Just what I need in my life. Another psychopathic father figure.

  “But riding pillion’s almost as good as competing, isn’t it?” says Romy, a pleading tone to his voice that needs me to agree with him. “You’ll be my lucky charm and imagine the look on Archer and Declan’s faces when we cross the finish line and they’
re eating our dirt. Wouldn’t that be more fun than staying home sulking because you’ve got a ton of homework?”

  “I guess.” The way I’m feeling right now, I’d rather lock myself in my apartment with my guitar, but I feel guilty for letting Declan get so close to me, so I end up agreeing to ride with Romy.

  For a girl who prided herself on being independent, I seem to be doing an awful lot of bending over backwards to make the men in my life happy–and not in a good way.

  Chapter Forty-One

  “You’re not still sulking, are you?” asks Romy, as he makes a few last-minute checks to his bike before we drive to the rendezvous for tonight’s race. “Come on, Ivy. I explained to you how my father feels about you racing. If it were up to me, I’d let you race.”

  “‘Let’ me?” I haven't been in the best of moods and Romy’s poor choice of words make me feel even worse. As soon as we’d arrived home after school, I’d gone straight to my apartment, ignoring Romy’s suggestion we have dinner together. I needed time to get my head together, figure out why it is I’d let Declan lead me astray. I mean, I am the one who seduced him. I know that. But why did I take that step? What is it about Declan that made me cross the line?

  I’d always thought of myself as monogamous. Sure, I’m happy to have fun and fool around when the opportunity arose, but once I was in a relationship, I’d always been faithful. But ever since my father has first brought me to King Town, it is like I’m a different person and I’m not sure I like who I am becoming.

  I know I am being a bitch taking out my emotional angst on Romy and it isn’t fair, but who says life has to be fair? I am tired of feeling powerless. Racing is the one time I feel in control, and now even that is being taken away from me.

  “You look amazing, by the way,” says Romy, coming over to kiss me. He tries to put his hand around my waist, but I pull away.