by Sophie Lark
She notices me at once as I enter the large and cluttered common room, messy with abandoned shoes and pullovers and the detritus of forgotten snacks. I can see from how she sits up a little straighter and tosses back her fair hair that she knows why I’m here.
“Dean Yenin,” she says, batting those big blue eyes at me. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“I doubt it’s pleasant, or a surprise,” I reply coolly.
“Oh, it’s both, I assure you.” She smiles sweetly. “After all, when have you ever broken that brooding silence of yours to speak to me before?”
“I’d prefer to keep it that way,” I say flatly. “But you’ve been putting your hands on something that belongs to me.”
Lola pouts. “You can’t possibly mean Cat Romero.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“That shy little mouse . . . she’s not worth the time to walk over here.”
“And you’re not worth the breath that sentence took. So let’s cut this short. Cat is under my protection. You don’t talk to her. You don’t touch her. Is that simple enough for you?”
A flicker of anger crosses Lola’s face. She quickly smooths it away, putting out a hand to still Carter and Belkie, who shift menacingly in their seats.
“And what do I get in return?” she inquires. “After all . . . Cat lost the Quartum Bellum for us.”
“You did that to yourself,” I say coldly. “In fact, I should break your fucking neck for trying to break hers. As for what ‘you get’—how about I let your henchmen keep their arms. Unless they try to stand up from those seats again, in which case, I’ll use Carter’s fist to beat Belkie’s fuckin’ head in.”
Lola toys with a lock of her shining hair, her eyes bright with interest, as if she’d enjoy watching that happen, even to her own friends.
She stands up, crossing the space between us with an unnecessary swaying of hips.
“I’ve always thought you had a certain spark that I find quite . . . fascinating,” she says, trailing her fingers up my arm.
Her floral perfume fills my nostrils. It stinks.
I shake her off, roughly.
“There’s nothing interesting about you,” I say.
Now Lola isn’t smiling at all. Her face is pale and pinched, her lips disappearing in one thin line.
“Stay away from Cat,” I warn her. “Or suffer the consequences.”
I turn away from Lola and stride off, feeling certain that if she had a knife close at hand she’d fling it between my shoulder blades.
Trying to focus on my exams is torture, when all I want to think about is Cat.
Our last week is slipping away faster than I can believe.
Next Monday is Christmas Eve. The end of our agreement.
I’m determined to make the most of the time I have left, by executing every dark fantasy I’ve had on Cat’s willing body.
There’s one thing in particular I’m aching to try.
I want to fuck her in the ass.
I can’t stop thinking about it, ever since I put that plug in her.
I’ve never tried it before. Never wanted to.
But the way Cat responds to being touched there is so fucking enticing . . . it’s like I discovered this secret button that overrides every other impulse. She can’t resist it, no matter how uncomfortable it makes her feel.
That delicious combination of resistance and submission is irresistible to me.
I’ve been having a hell of a time getting the supplies I need on the island. With Miles Griffin gone, I’ve had to go to the much less effective Louis Faucheux for contraband and pay his goddamn outrageous prices. He charged me $400 for that steel plug.
Doesn’t matter—so far it’s been worth every penny.
Tonight I tell Cat to meet me earlier than usual up in the Bell Tower. I want to have plenty of time to work on her.
She arrives precisely on time, knowing the consequences if she’s late. Without me even asking, she begins to undress until she’s fully naked.
“What song do you want?” she asks, looking toward the silent speaker.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
Cravin’ — Stileto
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“And what do you want me to do?” she says, quietly, her dark eyes looking up at me.
“Get in position,” I order.
Obediently, Cat sinks to her knees in the middle of the floor. She sits on her heels, shoulders back, chest out, hands clasped lightly behind her.
I circle her slowly, examining her body from every angle in the guttering candlelight.
Her beautiful breasts have a rosy glow. Her slim waist flares out to a full, heart-shaped ass resting on those bare feet.
Yet it’s her face that draws my gaze—delicate, soft, with a hidden wickedness that flickers in and out of being like candlelight.
Her nipples stiffen and I know that when I touch her pussy it will already be wet.
I strip off my clothes slowly, folding them and laying them in a neat pile. Cat’s dark eyes watch my every movement. They slide over my skin. Now her nipples are pebble hard.
My cock hangs down heavy and swollen. It swings as I walk toward her.
I grasp it in my hand and trail the head across her lips.
Cat’s mouth opens slightly.
“Put out your tongue,” I order.
Cat extends her soft pink tongue.
I rub the head of my cock across it until a little clear fluid runs down onto her tongue.
“Swallow it,” I say.
Cat closes her mouth and her tongue darts out to lick the last drops of precum off her lips before she swallows.
“Good girl,” I say. “Go lay on the cushions.”
Cat crawls over to the cushions, giving me a deliberate, sensuous look at her perfectly-shaped legs and ass as she glances back at me over her shoulder.
She rolls over onto her back, her thighs parting automatically.
I drop down between them, thrusting my tongue directly into her pussy. Cat squeals with pleasure, her fingers plunging into my hair as she grabs the back of my head, her nails scratching pleasantly against my scalp. I lick her pussy up and down, swirling my tongue around her clit until she’s moaning and writhing against the pillows.
I dip my fingers inside of her, wetting them thoroughly, and then I rub that wetness all around her ass. Cat squirms, knowing what’s coming next. Sure enough, I start to apply pressure against that resistant little bud, pressing and rubbing gently until it finally begins to relax.
All the while I’m licking her clit steadily, warming her up, awakening every part of her to sensual pleasure.
I spend an achingly long time eating her pussy, bringing her to the brink of orgasm again and again, but not allowing her to tip over. All the while I keep fingering her ass, until she’s relaxed enough that I can slip a finger in and out with relative ease.
Then I turn her over.
Cat knows what’s coming and she instantly stiffens up, the muscles going rigid all the way down along her spine.
“Relax,” I growl.
Cat tries to obey, but she’s too nervous.
I massage that tight back, pushing my palms up her lower back and down again, kneading the globes of her ass, even rubbing her hamstrings. When Cat is sufficiently soothed, I lube up my fingers and start penetrating her ass again, slowly and gently.
She lets out a long moan of helpless pleasure.
Now I know she’s ready.
My cock is an iron bar, red hot and standing straight out from my body. It looks enormous as I place the head between those tight, round asscheeks.
I hold Cat pinned down with my knees on her hamstrings. I lube up the head of my cock, press it against her anus, and begin to push it inside.
“Oh my god,” Cat groans. “Oh fuck . . .”
“Shh,” I say.
I put barely an inch inside her. Then I wait.
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The pressure and tightness are phenomenally intense around the head of my cock. I can only imagine how it feels for Cat.
As her ass relaxes, I push my cock in a little further. Millimeter by millimeter I keep going, with long pauses to let her get used to it.
When it seems like she can’t handle any more, I slip my hand under her hip and rub her clit, until her ass relaxes again.
“Take it,” I growl, pushing in further.
I don’t stop until my cock is all the way inside her, in a vise grip that’s like nothing I’ve ever known.
It takes every ounce of my willpower not to explode. I’m holding still as much for my benefit as hers. I don’t want to spoil the party too soon.
Cat is making noises like I’ve never heard. Squeals and groans, but also little whimpers of pleasure. After a moment of holding still all the way inside her, she starts to rock her hips just the tiniest bit, feeling the insane friction of my cock stuffed deep in her ass.
This is the ultimate submission.
Me taking the ultimate prize from her, and Cat giving it to me.
Enduring the discomfort for me, because I want it.
Slowly, carefully, I fuck her ass with shallow thrusts.
Cat moans in a low, desperate way I’ve never heard before. She grinds her pussy against my hand, her ass squeezing around my cock.
I fucking love it.
But I want more.
Very slowly, I withdraw my cock from her ass.
Cat sighs with relief as I pull all the way out.
“I’m not done,” I tell her. “Get on top of me.”
“You mean . . . ?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
Cat straddles me while I lube up my cock even more. It has to be fully slippery to slide into that tight little ass.
This time Cat positions my cock, and slowly sinks down on it. I watch her face, delighting in every wince as my cock impales her ass all over again from this new angle.
“Do it,” I growl. “Ride me with my cock up your ass.”
Slowly, Cat rocks her hips, accustoming herself to this brand-new sensation. Her clit rubs against my lower belly, as it always does in this position. And just as I suspected, she finds her rhythm and begins to moan with every thrust, her cheeks flushing as the pleasure begins to mount inside of her.
She can’t ride me as vigorously, but the friction is so tight that neither of us could stand that anyway. Every tiny movement feels ten times as intense as usual.
Her breath quickens and her whole chest flushes as pink as her face. She’s panting. I know she wants to cum, but something is holding her back—either the edge of discomfort, or her own embarrassment at climaxing in such a taboo way.
“Do it,” I order. “Cum on my cock.”
She groans, biting her lip and riding my cock.
“I can’t . . .” she moans.
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“I don’t know!” she cries, helplessly.
I seize her by the throat and grab her hip in my other hand, forcing her down on my cock.
“Do it,” I growl, thrusting up inside of her. “Fucking cum.”
“Aghhhh,” she moans, her eyes rolling back.
The orgasm hits, her hips rocking against me, her ass squeezing around my cock in rhythmic pulses.
I’ve never felt so much power, forcing her to cum with my cock rammed up her ass.
I own her body.
I own her pleasure.
She’ll do anything for me.
With that thought, I explode inside of her, cumming deep inside the tightest, most forbidden place.
I ride the high of that encounter for several days, playing it over and over again in my mind.
I’ve never felt such a rush.
The wilder and more uninhibited I am with Cat, the better it feels.
And she feels the same, I know she does.
When she lay in my arms afterward, panting and sweating, looking up at the stars through the holes in the tower roof, she said, “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever felt.”
In this new universe we’ve created together, crazy is good. Insane is even better.
That blissful state only lasts until Sunday, when I’m expected to call my father.
We haven’t spoken in over a month.
I have to call him now, before Christmas, because I know he won’t want to talk to me over the holiday.
He married my mother on December 26th. She had always wanted a snowy wedding, and the weather obliged—their photos are filled with swirling white flakes, as if the whole sky scattered confetti on their heads.
He hasn’t celebrated Christmas since she left.
“Hello, Dmitry,” he says when he picks up the phone.
His voice sounds dull and echoing, as if his office is empty, though I know it isn’t.
“Hello, Father.”
“Did you call to tell me the results of your exams?”
“We don’t have all the marks back yet. But I’m in first place so far, on the tests that have been scored.”
“Hm,” he grunts.
No compliment. No congratulations.
“How is work?” I ask him politely.
“As it always is,” he says.
I grip the receiver tightly, alone in the bank of phones on the ground floor of the Keep. I’m filled with the helpless misery that always overtakes me at the coldness of my father’s voice.
Why does he speak to me like a robot?
You would never know he was talking to his one and only son.
Trying to force some response from him, I say, “I met someone, Father. A girl.”
“I thought you learned your lesson last time,” he says. “After that embarrassing affair with Anna Wilk.”
Oh, so we remember Anna now all of a sudden, do we?
The plastic receiver creaks as I squeeze it so hard it could almost break.
“This is different,” I say.
“This is not the time for dating,” my father briskly informs me. “You need to secure your place in the Moscow Bratva. Once you have done so, you can make an advantageous match amongst the daughters of our allies.”
“You didn’t,” I say, before I can stop myself.
We never speak of my mother. Ever.
A long silence follows in which I think my father might have hung up on me. Then he says, very coldly, “And look what a love match got me.”
“Just me,” I say bitterly. “Your son.”
“Exactly,” my father says, and he does end the call, without a word of goodbye.
I’m breathing so hard I think I might be sick.
I slam the receiver down, then snatch it up again and hit the display with it over and over, until the plastic splinters and half the numeric pads pop off.
Then I stalk out of the Keep, walking so fast I’m almost running, my head a churning storm of fury and my fists clenched at my sides.
I don’t know where I’m going until I pass the old wine cellar leading down to the Undercroft. I wrench open its door, descending the dark steps into the earth.
Jasper Webb passes me in the hallway, skeleton hands tucked in his pockets. He gives me a friendly nod, which I ignore, in favor of hammering on Cat’s door.
She opens it a moment later, looking drowsy and startled. She must have been sleeping in. Her hair is a bird’s nest and she’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Even in this state of fury, I feel my cock twitching in my pants at the sight of her small, bra-less breasts loose under the shirt, and her bare legs extending beneath its waffled hem.
“Dean?” she says, confused. “What is it?”
“Do you want to go to the dance with me?” I say.
“The Christmas dance?” Cat asks, as if there’s another one.
“Yes,” I hiss, impatient and already regretting this.
Regretting it because . . . if she says no, I’m going to have to burn this whole school to the ground.
> Cat hesitates.
The seconds stretch out torturously. I’m about to abandon this whole idea and leave when at last she says, very softly, “That would be nice.”
I search her face, trying to see if she really means that.
Cat has grown up a lot in the time I’ve known her, but right now she looks just as young and scared as she did on the very first day of school.
“Alright,” I say gruffly. “See you tonight, then.”
“See you tonight,” she whispers.
I leave, my guts still churning with anger.
But maybe just a little bit less than before.
16
Cat
It’s Christmas Eve.
I’m dressing for the dance with Anna, Chay, and Rakel.
We’re in Anna and Chay’s dorm room, which is one of the largest and prettiest in the Solar, where all the female Heirs have their rooms. They have a stunning view over the cliffs straight down to the dark, rolling ocean.
Anna’s battered ballet slippers dangle from the footboard of her bed, and several of Chay’s tattoo designs hang on the walls. Chay’s a master of classic pin-up style, as evidenced by the large Bettie Page portrait on her right thigh.
On Chay’s nightstand sits an 8x10 photograph of her and Ozzy riding four-wheelers, both of them covered in mud, only recognizable by the white slashes of their smiles as they laugh together.
Rakel and Chay are poring over each other’s substantial makeup kits, while Anna unwinds her waist-length blonde hair from a thousand straw curlers.
Chay’s brought out a bottle of pear brandy, which she informs us is a crucial part of any Christmas celebration. I took one shot and that was quite enough for me—I’m already giggly and much more talkative than usual.
Music blasts from Anna’s scratchy portable speaker.
“Why does that thing make every song sound like it’s playing on the radio in 1942?” Chay demands.
“ ‘Cause you’ve knocked it in the sand ten times over!” Anna scolds her.
“I’m not the only one who knocked it in the sand,” Chay huffs.
“That doesn’t make it play any better,” Anna says.
“I’ve got a speaker down in our dorm,” Rakel says. “I could grab it.”