by Sophie Lark
“Yeah,” Kade says, coloring a little. “Probably just ‘cause of my brother. He won three times, so maybe the Freshmen hope it’s genetic.”
“Sorry,” Valon says, stuffing a dumpling in his mouth, “ya got no chance, kid. We’re sweeping all four years. Gonna beat your brother’s record.”
“Yeah, I know you’re a bunch of all-stars. I’ve heard about Leo Gallo.” Kade grins, brash and unconcerned. “I’ve got nothing to lose. If he beats me, that’s what everyone expects. But if I win . . .”
“Then you’ll wake up in the morning and realize it was all a dream,” I say, laughing.
Kade laughs along with me, not offended. “Maybe so,” he agrees. “Can’t fault a guy for trying.”
I like Kade’s easy confidence. A year ago it would have irritated me—it would have reminded me of Leo. But somehow it doesn’t bother me on the younger boy. Maybe because I wish I had been more like him my first year at school. Less angry—looking for friends instead of foes.
Foes come all on their own.
Bodashka stops at our table, staring angrily at the seat he usually takes, currently filled by Kade Petrov. Without a word, he stomps off to join Vanya and Silas instead.
“Is this his spot?” Kade says guiltily.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “It doesn’t have his name on it.”
Bram raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. Bodashka is pompous and not that bright. Kade is better company and a lot funnier.
“How about you?” Bram says to Tristan. “How come you’re not sitting with the Frenchies?”
“I like the Paris Bratva,” Tristan says, in the surprisingly soft voice that does not at all accord with his large frame. “But Jules is kind of a dick.”
Bram laughs. “Yeah he is. His room’s right next to ours. He’s moodier than a girl.”
Tristan chuckles. “The only person who can keep him in line is my sister. And she’s in the library right now.”
“Your sister’s Claire Turgenev?” I ask.
“That’s right.” Tristan nods.
“Fucking hell, she’s gorgeous,” Bram groans in a tone of deepest longing. “No offense.”
“I’m not offended,” Tristan says, shrugging. “She is beautiful.”
Claire Turgenev has long been the standard of beauty and class at Kingmakers, one of the few female Heirs beloved by almost everyone. When she graduates at the end of this year, a hundred male hearts will break, and probably some female hearts, too.
Not mine.
I’m not as captivated by stunning blondes as I once was.
In fact, what I’d like to see right now is a shock of black curls, thicker than fox fur and darker than a moonless night . . .
As if I summoned her with my thoughts, Cat Romero walks into the dining hall with my collar around her neck.
She locks eyes with me, standing still for a long moment.
She looks like she might join me voluntarily, until she sees the lack of empty chairs at my table.
I curse the impulse that led me to invite Kade Petrov over.
Cat sits with Anna, Leo, and Hedeon instead.
Hedeon pulls her chair back for her because her hands are occupied by her tray.
That simple chivalrous act sends a bolt of fury down my spine. I’ve never thought about Hedeon Gray for two seconds, but all of a sudden I think he might be my mortal enemy.
He takes a bite of his roll and makes some comment to Cat.
Cat answers back politely.
I want to know what they’re saying.
No, fuck that—I want to rip out Hedeon’s voice box. Can’t he see, clearer than day, that Cat belongs to me?
The evidence is wrapped around her neck.
Cat can feel me watching her. Her eyes flit up to meet mine. Her cheeks flush deeply pink, darker than her lips. Instinctively, her fingertips fly up to touch the metal ring in the center of her throat.
“One hour,” I mouth.
Cat nods slowly.
That’s the time we set for her to meet me in the Bell Tower.
Blood surges into my cock.
“What are you looking at?” Bram demands.
“Nothing,” I say, returning to my food.
Bram glances across the room, but he can’t follow my gaze across the crowded dining hall.
I’ve been making improvements to the Bell Tower. I’ve brought up cushions, blankets, and candles, stolen from all over the castle. Other things, too: ropes. Chains. And a tool of my own invention . . .
I wait for Cat, blood pumping through my veins with the pressure of a fire hose.
If she’s one fucking minute late, I’m going to punish her . . .
I hear a pebble tumbling down the steps.
It’s the only hint that Cat is coming.
She’s quiet and light on her feet. Small and unobtrusive.
She really is a talented Spy, in her own way.
After all, even that consummate predator Rocco Prince had no idea that she was stalking him . . .
She stands just out of sight in the shadow of the stairwell. But I know she’s there, watching me.
I light the candles one by one, until they form a half-circle around the fallen bell, like the precursor to a seance. What will Cat and I summon tonight?
I start the music.
A playlist of my choosing, selected specifically for Cat.
Bound — Indiana
Spotify → geni.us/bully-spotify
Apple Music → geni.us/bully-apple
Only once my preparations are complete do I speak.
“Why are you still dressed?”
Cat steps out of the shadows into the candlelight.
Her face is still, but those big dark eyes never stop communicating with me. They betray all her secrets.
She begins to disrobe.
Something I’ve noticed about Cat: when she forgets to be nervous, she moves with surprising grace. She slips out of those over-large clothes, baring the tight body beneath.
And what a body it is.
Her small, round breasts stand at attention on her chest. Her waist is so slim I could close my hands around it. But she isn’t skinny or childish—those curving hips and that full ass add a satisfying sensuality to her figure.
Her bronze skin glows in the flickering light. Every inch of her is smooth and unmarked. For now . . .
“Come here,” I bark.
Cat crosses the space between us, silent and obedient.
“Stand against that wall,” I order. “Put your hands over your head.”
Cat stands with her back to the curving stone wall. She raises her hands over her head, wrists crossed. The movement lifts her breasts even higher, tilting the nipples up invitingly.
I’ve already passed a length of rope through the holes in the wall. I loop the rope around Cat’s wrists, tying them in place.
Cat’s lips part. I catch the sharp scent of adrenaline rising off her skin.
She’s already frightened, and we haven’t even started.
“Spread your legs,” I order.
Cat widens her stance so her feet are shoulder-width apart. I tie her ankles to the wall so she can’t close her legs.
Now her whole body is taught and trembling. She knows she’s trapped, in the most vulnerable position possible. Completely at my mercy.
And yet, she allowed me to do it. Which means she trusts me to some degree.
She really shouldn’t.
I stand before her, looking at her stretched frame, pinned to the wall like a butterfly. All that soft, tender flesh completely under my control.
Searching through my backpack, I pull out a leather scourge.
I made this myself, just like I made Cat’s collar, in the workshops adjacent to the old forge.
It took several hours to knot the leather thongs and attach them to the carefully-wrapped handle. The leather is soft and supple, but it can sting. I tested it out on my thigh.
I grip the handle loosely, letting the le
ather threads trail.
Cat watches my every movement, eyes wide.
With her hands up above her head, her breasts are bare and completely unprotected. I swing the scourge, letting the leather thongs nip at her left breast. Cat jumps and lets out a little shriek. A dozen pink lines mark her delicate chest.
I trail my fingers along the leather strands, letting the anticipation build. Then I whip her again, on the other side. The knotted leather flicks her nipple sharply and Cat shrieks even louder.
I step closer, trailing the scourge gently up her inner thigh.
Cat shivers, her knees weak, held up mostly by her arms bound over her head.
I bend to whisper in her ear. “I saw you sitting with Hedeon at dinner.”
I caress her left breast in my hand, feeling the warmth of the whipped flesh.
I seize her nipple between my thumb and index finger and squeeze it hard. Cat moans.
“I saw him talking to you.”
I grab her face and force her to look me in the eye.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing!” Cat cries. “He just asked about my programming class.”
I grab her nipple again and pinch it even harder.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not!” she gasps.
She’s sweating slightly, from fear and pain.
I grab her chin and run my tongue up the side of her throat, from collar bone to ear, passing over the leather collar, tasting the salt on her skin. Then I kiss her hard on the mouth, shoving my tongue through her lips, making her taste it too.
“I’ve seen him walking with you. Talking with you. He’s barely friends with Leo and Ares. Why is he friends with you?”
“I don’t know!” Cat cries, trying to twist her chin out of my grasp.
She’s not quite meeting my eyes.
She’s lying, I know she’s lying.
Her resistance infuriates me.
I whip her again, across both breasts and her belly. I whip her lightly at first, to bring the blood to the skin, and then harder, until I can see the marks of the lash everywhere.
Cat squirms and twists against the rope, until it bites into her wrists.
She’s not crying out anymore. Stubbornly she bites those pink lips with her sharp white teeth, glaring up at me.
I kiss her again, and this time I reach down and slip my fingers between her pussy lips. Her sweet little cunt is open and unprotected. She can’t even close her legs. I rub her clit roughly, and she does cry out, half plea and half moan of pleasure. Her wetness drenches my fingers.
“Let’s try this again,” I say.
I grab her face and I make her look at me. I drill down into those beautiful eyes, so dark that it’s hard to find the intersection of pupil and iris. Eyes that reflect only the tiniest flecks of light, like a glimmer of stars across a deep, black pool.
“What does Hedeon want? Does he like you? Does he want to fuck you?”
“No!” Cat cries.
I rub her pussy again, pushing my fingers inside her the way she likes. I’ve already learned the perfect technique to bring her to the edge in seconds. It’s not hard when the blood is already rushing through her body, whipped into a frenzy by the scourge and her own fear and arousal.
I know I have her right where I want her when she tries to press her hips against my hand, hindered by how tightly she’s bound to the wall.
She pants and groans, needing just a little bit more.
“Tell me,” I growl in her ear. “Tell me what he wants.”
“He’s trying to find his parents!” Cat cries out.
I pull back to look at her, surprised.
“What?”
Cat tosses her head angrily, making her dark curls fly.
“He wants to know his biological parents,” she says. “You know he was adopted by the Grays. He doesn’t have a crush on me.”
Her tone is disdainful, like that should have been obvious. She’s so irritated at me wringing this piece of information out of her that it must be true.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that,” I say, sliding my fingers inside her warm wetness once more.
Cat groans.
“Because he doesn’t want anyone to know,” she mutters.
“I don’t care what Hedeon wants,” I hiss in her ear, “I only care what I want. And you’d better share that attitude. Or I won’t be so nice to you . . .”
I pump my fingers in and out of her until her whole body starts to shake. She’s trying to squeeze her thighs together but she can’t. She can’t do anything except bite down hard on my shoulder with those sharp teeth.
“Argggghhhh!” she screams as I make her cum.
A rush of fluid runs down my hand.
I think I just made her squirt.
I wipe my palm off on the thigh of my trousers, for once not giving a fuck if my clothes are dirty.
I only care to look at Cat, at the sheen of sweat on her chest, at the lingering marks of the lash across of her breasts.
Her head lolls limp against her shoulder, wrung out by the strength of her climax.
We’re not finished.
Not even close.
I cut the ropes binding her to the wall. Cat falls into my arms. I lift her easily, one arm supporting her back with her knees draped over my other arm. She weighs almost nothing, even limp and exhausted.
I carry her over to the stack of cushions I stole from the gallery on the ground floor of the Keep. I throw her down on the cushions, watching her legs splay apart.
Her little pussy is like a soft pink shell, delicate and inviting.
I’ve never eaten pussy before. I always thought it was beneath me.
But I tasted Cat on my fingers and I want more.
I strip off my clothes and lay between her legs, pushing her thighs apart. I dive my tongue into her cunt, seeking the source of that enticing flavor, wanting it to fill my mouth. I lick her like an animal, ravenous and wild. I explore every part of her with my tongue.
When I find a sensitive spot, Cat purrs like a kitten. She lets out a long exhale that makes her teeth chatter together like she’s shivering cold. But she’s not cold—her body burns at a thousand degrees, and her pussy is the furnace generating that heat.
I lick her pussy over and over, bring her back to the edge again, until her back arches and her breasts thrust up in the air and she’s grinding against my tongue with all her might.
Then I sit up, my cock jutting out from my body like the prow of a ship.
I look down at her and she looks up at me, panting and desperate.
“Beg me to fuck you,” I growl.
Her little pink tongue slips out to touch her upper lip. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright.
“Please,” she whispers. “I need you.”
She opens her legs all the way, inviting me to thrust my cock into the softest, most sensitive part of her.
I need you.
No one has ever said that to me before.
I put the head of my cock at her opening and I push inside.
She’s wet, slicker than an oil spill. Still, it’s so tight that I have to brace myself with my arms on either side of her face so I can drive into her.
My cock plunges into her tight embrace. Her wet, hot grip is beyond anything I imagined.
“Oh, god!” she cries.
I silence her with my mouth.
I kiss Cat long and deep, while my cock fills every millimeter of space inside of her.
I’m falling into pure liquid pleasure.
Fucking hell, I might actually be dying. Can a man live through this?
I want to blow inside her instantly.
The only thing holding me back is the far greater drive to make Cat cum first.
Nothing arouses me more than controlling her orgasms. Denying them when she wants to cum, and forcing her to climax when she tries to resist.
I made her cum with my fingers and almost with my tongue. Now I want to see
if she can cum all over this cock.
I take both her hands, her fingers entwined with mine, and I pin them over her head. I suck and nibble on her breasts while I drive into her over and over.
Cat is in an ecstasy of pleasure and pain. My cock tears into her. She was a virgin until this moment, I’m quite sure of it. She’s killed a man but never fucked one.
And yet she’s urging me on with frantic movements of her hips, panting and gasping. Trying to grind that sensitive little clit against my body.
I bear down on her, giving her the friction she needs. Fucking her deep and steady.
Cat turns her face toward me, sucking the side of my neck. She licks and sucks all the way up to my ear, then bites the lobe hard between those sharp teeth. Her tongue dances over the edge of my ear, sending waves of pleasure down my spine.
She rubs her nose in my hair and inhales deeply.
“Me encanta tu fragrancia,” she moans, as she starts to cum.
I’ve never heard Cat lapse into her native language. Her English is perfect and unaccented.
That’s how I know she’s lost all control.
And so have I.
Her voice echoes in my head.
Me encanta tu fragrancia.
I need you.
I need you.
I need you.
The dam breaks. I explode inside of her, a torrent of cum pouring out of me. Cat’s teeth are chattering again and I’m yelling out, a cry that sounds like a sob.
10
Cat
I lost my virginity to Dean.
I guess I knew it was coming.
I agreed to be his pet for a month and then sucked his cock on the very first day. So I was unlikely to make it all the way to Christmas intact.
Still, I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Zoe gave her virginity to Miles, the love of her life.
I gave mine to an enemy. I wonder if I’ll regret it?
The truth is, I don’t regret it at this moment. I can’t regret it, because I’m already craving doing it again. And I don’t honestly view Dean as any enemy anymore.
Maybe I never did.
He’s frightened me from the day I first laid eyes on him outside Miles’ Halloween party, just over a year ago. And he’s frustrated me a hundred times since then.