by Becker Gray
And it was tight, it was so snug. His fingers were so much bigger than mine, longer, and even better because he knew just where to press and curl and stroke. The pressure and the pleasure became the same thing, the fullness marrying with the friction. I started riding his hand even harder, needing something, chasing something.
“Keaton.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“Keaton!”
“Let it happen,” he coaxed. “Let me make you come. Right here, fucking the hand I’ve got shoved in your innocent panties. Come around my fingers, Iris; let me feel it.”
It was his words as much as his expert touch that did me in. I came like I’d never come before, seizing and contracting and shuddering from the pleasure. Wet, sweet bliss crashed over me.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
And that was when we heard the ripple of laughter and animated conversation coming from the direction of the digital lab. Like someone was in the hallway just outside.
Or like someone had come in and now there was only a door separating us from them.
We were about to get caught.
Keaton clapped a hand over my mouth, but he didn’t stop massaging the orgasm out of me, the asshole. He just kept fingering me as I whimpered against his hand, until I was slumped against his hard body, completely spent and breathless.
And finally—finally—my brain started functioning again.
“Shit,” I said miserably against his palm. “Oh shit.”
8
Iris
Keaton eased his hand over my mouth. “Quiet, do you want to get caught?”
Meanwhile, I couldn’t catch my damn breath.
What had I just done? What was I still doing? You let Keaton Constantine fingerbang you in the darkroom. Hell, the asshole still had his hand in my panties.
“Keaton.” My voice was a whispered croak. I could not do this anymore. I had to stop.
But it feels so good.
He’s the devil.
He sees you for you. Good or bad.
He’s only out for himself.
No one has ever made you burn like this.
If we got caught, he would still carry on being Keaton Constantine. I would be disowned by my parents.
Silence came from outside.
We both relaxed as we realized no one was coming in to catch us.
His breath tickled the shell of my ear when he whispered. “Sorry. You okay?” He eased his fingers out of me. Gently, he smoothed my rumpled uniform skirt back down over my hips and thighs. “See? Right as rain.”
I turned my head to glower at him. “Right as rain?”
He gave me a sharp nod. No harm no foul? Right as rain? In the darkroom, my solace. The place I came when I needed to get back in touch with who I was as a person.
I had let Keaton Constantine finger me. Fingerbang me. In the darkroom. Oh my god, I was the worst kind of teenage cliché. Hooking up with the boy I didn’t like who didn’t like me. A boy I could get my ass kicked for kissing. And after I’d watched my older sister Isabelle date loser after loser.
Don’t be an Isabelle.
Keaton planted a kiss on my neck and my legs turned to jelly again. Damn him. I whipped around in his arms. “We have to stop this.”
His dark brows furrowed as they dropped and he crossed his arms. “What?”
I licked my lips and planted my hands on the table behind me. In the red light of the darkroom his features looked more dangerous. He was all sharp angles. It made him even sexier somehow.
“You heard me. Stop. We almost got caught just now.”
He rolled his eyes. “Would you relax, Briggs? Besides, if I’d gotten caught in here, no one would have said anything.”
I shoved at his shoulders, but the idiot was enormous and didn’t budge. “But everyone would have said something about me. Yeah sure, you do this kind of thing all the time. I’m the new girl. The headmaster’s daughter. I can’t do this. My parents will actually kill me. Not to mention, my father can think of a million ways to make both of our lives hell. I just want to have an easy year. I’m this close to freedom. Messing around with you is going to jeopardize that.”
I realized my breasts were still exposed, the tips still hard and aching. His eyes dropped to them, and I felt his dick throb against me.
He licked his full bottom lip as he looked at them, and I wanted to bite it.
Jesus Christ, I was in need of a psychological evaluation. Clearly I’d inhaled too many chemicals. That’s what I got for wanting to go analog for my college portfolio. I’d just switch to digital from now on. It would certainly keep my mind clearer.
“Does that matter to you, what Daddy says?” His eyes were still on my chest.
I rearranged my bra, wondering if there was such a thing as indignantly putting one’s tits away. “Don’t be a dick. Why can’t you see that the new girl with something to prove getting caught in a compromising position with the school’s golden boy isn’t good for me?”
He shrugged. “Relax. A, we didn’t get caught, so you can untwist your panties about that. B, no way in hell we’re stopping.”
I blinked up at him. Was he crazy? “What? What is wrong with you?” I started buttoning up my shirt. Well, the buttons that were left, at least. “Your rep is going to take a hit too.”
I couldn’t see very well, but I knew that his brow lifted. “How is this bad for me?”
“You have a girlfriend.”
His brows snapped down then and he ran a hand through his blond waves. “Actually . . .”
“No. No actually. This is madness. Neither one of us can be caught in here doing this. God, what is wrong with me?” I ducked under his arm and scooped my sweater off the floor, pulling it over my head as fast as I could.
I shoved open the darkroom. Despite the earlier noises, no one was around. Keaton’s pictures were still on the teacher’s table, along with our bags.
He sauntered out after me. His cocky grin plastered over his face. It was a grin that said, I just ate out the canary. “This wasn’t anything. You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it.”
“Okay, maybe you’re used to doing things like this. Maybe you’re used to cheating on your girlfriend. I am not. And truth be told, Clara could destroy me. I’m trying to get out of here with the minimum of fuss. Why can’t you see that?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked as his grin slid away. “I’m not particularly thrilled about this development either. But I do know that the more I try to stay away from you, the more I seem to find myself in a scenario where I want to know what you taste like, so instead of fighting it, I’m going with the flow.”
I shook my head. “Wow, such glowing affection you have for me.”
“You know what this is. And let’s not pretend you like me any more than I like you.”
The way he said that. As if it was obvious that he wouldn’t like me. That I wouldn’t like him. Do you like him?
Maybe. No. Hell, I didn’t know. He was more than the jock he portrayed. After all, wasn’t I more than the overachieving goody two shoes my parents wanted me to be? He was certainly more than the spoiled rich prick he pretended to be. He put that persona on like a suit daily. The real him was probably far more complex and complicated.
After seeing his illustrations today, I had to admit to myself that maybe the good grades he had weren’t a fluke. He was smarter than I’d given him credit for, and he thought things through. And he had the soul of an artist. A really gifted eye. He also was capable of working hard. Not to mention that it seemed like he had high standards like I did when it came to his art. He needed things he was putting his name on to be right.
And despite myself, I respected him. “You know I’m right.”
His brow lifted. “Do you think you can stop? I’m not particularly enthused about what’s happening here either. But my dick can’t seem to stay away from you, so why don’t we just keep going and see where it ends?”
“Where it en
ds is disaster. And let’s not forget the one basic tenet. I don’t like you.”
His panty-melting grin flashed, showing a hint of dimple. “I don’t like you either. But I’m stuck with you for this project. And, obviously, we can’t keep our hands off each other. So stopping isn’t really in the cards.”
“Yes, it is. I’m done.”
“Okay. Suit yourself. But you’ll be back.” He stepped close, and automatically, I licked my lips, readying them for his kisses. “I’m irresistible. No one can stay away for long.”
I was the problem. I had to build better walls and protect myself from whatever attacks he had against my defenses. I could do this. I stepped back. “No. Take that smile to your girlfriend. I’m out.”
He stopped immediately in his tracks and held up his hands. “Okay, you say no, I stop. But I will say this. Your nipples are still hard for me. I know exactly how they feel, how they taste. They like me. You don’t even have to. Not all of you has to like me, you know? But you come to me next time.”
“I am not coming to you. You are the most pompous, arrogant, egotistical—”
“You realize all those mean the same thing, right?”
I wanted to hit him. I’ve never been violent a day in my life. I had a vicious tongue when pushed, but violent, no.
But right now, I could have kicked him in the shins and have been perfectly happy to do so.
He didn’t take another step towards me. But he did lean on the table between us, planting his hands, and I could see the thick veins running through his very stellar forearms. Jesus Christ. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. The question is, don’t you want me to?”
“No, because we are being reckless. And you don’t like me either. You can get ass anywhere in this school. Like from your girlfriend.”
There was that frown again. “Don’t you worry about Clara. Worry about yourself.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not a violent person. Clara seems like she is. She threatened to kick my ass. I don’t even have a posse to back me up.”
“What do you call Serafina and Sloane?”
“They’re very nice. I call them friends. And friends don’t ask friends to kick somebody else’s ass on their behalf.”
He shrugged. “Guys do it all the time.”
I fussed with my braid, rearranging it over one shoulder. Keaton scowled at it. “Look, let’s just chalk today up to an accident.”
The corner of his lips tipped into a smirk. “An accident? One where I asked you if I could kiss you, and you said yes. And then you kissed me back. Then our hands were all over each other. And I was pulling down your bra and sucking on your tits. Then I turned you around against that table in there and slid my hands into your panties. You’re calling that an accident?”
If my panties hadn’t already been soaked, that would have done the trick. Every muscle in my pelvic region relaxed, and then clenched, starting this pulsing motion that I couldn’t stop. I wanted him.
“Look, that wasn’t supposed to happen, is what I meant to say. And it won’t happen again because you and me, we’re just too unalike. We don’t like each other; we don’t even know each other.”
“You want to know me? Why does it have to be like that? Why can’t it just be that we like hooking up?”
“That’s not who I am. I need to actually like the person that I make out with. I get it. You’re a guy. You don’t have to like anyone. Hell, I don’t think you’ve liked anyone in your day-to-day life. But I need that.”
A frown furrowed his brow. “You really don’t like me?”
I swallowed and then lied. “Nope. You’re a half-decent artist, but too rash. Too smug for your own good. Cocky. Used to being good at everything, and you think you own this place. You don’t.”
“Well, tell me how you really feel.”
I leaned on the table. I’d opted for the same casual attitude that he had. “I can’t do this. I already have all these stupid expectations. And I can feel myself in a pressure cooker. I don’t need you fucking with my head too. So just back off. I’m not going to say yes anymore.”
He lifted a brow then and brought his fingers to his lips and sucked.
Panties down. Panties down. They were on fire. He was licking my taste off them.
He closed his eyes and moaned, licking them clean before pulling them free. “Well, if I’m not going to have another taste, might as well enjoy the one I just had.”
My mouth hung open as I watched him march out of the lab. Keaton Constantine was an asshole.
Keaton Constantine was also the sexiest guy I had ever seen in my life.
And I was a liar. I liked him. I just didn’t want to.
What the fuck was I going to do?
9
Keaton
“Why the fuck are you so tense, man?” Phin asked, bumping against my shoulder. “Fucking relax.”
“I’m plenty relaxed,” I growled. Way to be relaxed, Constantine.
“No, you’re not,” Lennox drawled in his British accent. “You look like you’re ready for bloody murder.”
I took a drink of my lukewarm beer and made a face. I should have brought some of the good stuff from my room. Or better yet, I should have made Rhys or Lennox load me up with the high-caliber booze they always seemed to have on hand.
Bonfire party beer was awful.
The taste of victory, however, was very sweet, and I tried to savor it as I watched the Croft Wells bastards scowl and toss back shots of Everclear on their side of the fire. We’d handed their asses to them in the exhibition game this afternoon, and even though this aftergame party deep in the woods was supposed to be all about drinking and screwing and lighting shit on fire, there was still plenty of bad blood in the air.
Not that I minded. It felt good to win.
Then why is Phin right? Why can’t you relax?
“Is Clara doing okay?” Owen asked. I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely interested or if he wanted to move the conversation past an awkward moment—or if he was just bored. With Owen, it really could be all three things at once. Even though we were all rich motherfuckers, he was the most stereotypical rich motherfucker of us all, like he was trapped in an Edith Wharton novel or something.
Snooty, but also unfailingly mannered while he was judging your ass.
It was unsettling at times, like right now, when I couldn’t tell if he was simply being nice or not.
“Clara’s fine, she just needed to rest,” I said, taking another drink to cover the half-lie. We’d made the obligatory appearance early on—her clinging to my arm and loudly praising my skill on the field—and then she’d claimed a headache and went back to the dorms, where no doubt she’d be underneath her actual boyfriend for the rest of the night.
As usual, our act seemed to fool everyone, but it would only keep fooling everyone if I didn’t do something stupid.
Something stupid like kissing Iris in public again, for example.
Clara’s your friend. You’re keeping her parents off her back.
And you’re keeping your parent off yours too, Constantine.
Keep playing the game.
Trouble was, the game seemed a whole hell of a lot longer now that Iris was in the mix. Something about that copper hair and those sweet blue eyes. That gorgeous mouth, which could never seem to stop sassing off to me—except when I kissed it quiet of course. Something about those fucking freckles.
And her taste.
I’d been jerking off to the memory of that taste for over a week. I’d even caught myself licking my lips, as if I thought it might still be lingering there.
I had to have it again.
“You’re looking for her,” a cold voice said. I slid my gaze over to Rhys, who was staring back at me with something almost like malice. “The new girl.”
“I’m not,” I replied automatically, even though I knew I had been. “I don’t care if she comes.”
Even though I told her about the bonfire yesterday. Eve
n though I told her she should come.
We’d been working on the project out on the back lawn—her request, probably to avoid being in the same spots where we’d fooled around—and she’d been so buttoned up again, so remote. Quiet like she’d been the first day of school, with hardly a word to say to me that wasn’t about possible landscapes or integrating illustration.
Like I didn’t know about the freckles on her tits.
Like I didn’t know how she tasted between her thighs.
I’d known what she was doing, and it pissed me off. She knew when we argued, we ended up kissing. She also knew that when we didn’t argue—when we actually shared shit and talked—we also ended up kissing.
So she was keeping all that fire and all that sweetness locked up, far away from me and my kisses.
I’d hated it. I still hated it.
So I’d invited her tonight, hoping like a jackass that she’d also come to my game and see me play. How childish was that?
“I’m not looking for her,” I repeated, after Rhys wouldn’t stop staring at me. “I swear.”
“Hmm.”
On the other side of the fire, Samantha Morgan had waltzed over to the Croft Wells kids, bringing the gift of a beer bong and a short skirt. The losers perked up immediately, smiling and posturing and jockeying for a position next to her.
“Samantha’s going to be okay, right?” I asked.
“Emma and Romola are with her,” Rhys observed. “And you know Owen won’t let anything untoward happen. Not on his prissy watch.”
“Making sure assholes don’t do anything shitty isn’t exactly prissy.”
“It will feel a lot prissier after he gets on your case for making out with the new girl tonight.”
“I told you, I don’t care if she comes or not.”
Rhys looked away. His sharp mouth was curved in a frown. “Good. Because if she comes, she’ll draw attention.”
Anger surged through me as I realized he was right. All the Croft Wells boys currently salivating over Samantha would shred each other bloody for a chance with Iris, with her pretty eyes and her even prettier mouth. Every part of her practically screamed delicious innocence, and there’s nothing that dirty assholes loved more than innocence. I should know.