Caraway half expected Alexander to be offended by Brody’s offer, to be bothered. But he was full of surprises.
“Oh-ho, we can’t play doctor without a nurse.”
Caraway had to admit that he’d won that round. She had nothing to say. Nothing at all. She was sure her embarrassment was a palpable thing. Caraway supposed that arguing anything anywhere near the subject of sex with the resident sex god of the University of Magic and Mayhem would put her at a disadvantage. Although she couldn’t resist trying—after all, she was a saucy bit of baggage, if she did say so herself.
“Apparently, Brody wants to be the nurse,” she retorted.
“Really, I hadn’t decided,” Brody offered. “You can be the nurse.” He smiled as if the last week hadn’t happened and he hadn’t publicly humiliated her.
“Oh, maybe we can take turns.” Caraway smiled with a sticky sweetness that was obviously insincere.
Brody looked unsure. “If you want to...”
“Am I here? No, really. Are we having this conversation? Aren’t you dating Clarabelle?” She didn’t wait for his answer.
“You’re such an absolute bastard.”
“So, does Brody Bendopolous, the footballer troll, want to share his ex-girlfriend, or does he want to be shared?”
Alexander eyed him with an almost clinical intensity.
“I don’t give a bloody damn, because it’s not going to happen,” Caraway snapped. No, she didn’t want to do this.
She had no interest in doing anything with Brody Bendopolous ever again. Alexander Morningstar was another story. So was the idea of being the hot piece between two powerful men. It was something she’d fantasised about, but in her fantasy both men were focused on her. Not each other, as Brody so obviously would be.
“Why not, Caraway? You know you want me.” Alexander still hadn’t let go of her arm and she didn’t jerk away. She didn’t want to. Coming from anyone else that line would have made her laugh, but somehow, from him, it was a statement.
A fact. She did want him.
“Do you really believe all of your own propaganda?” She managed to roll her eyes and kept her features schooled to a mask of boredom.
“Propaganda is based on a lie.” As if that were all the answer that she needed. He turned his attention back to Brody, who still stood in the doorway, quiet and unsure of himself. “Well, Bendopolous. Answer the question. You can’t have what you want unless you ask for it.”
“I don’t know,” he said without looking up.
“Oh, I think you do. You are still a scared little puppy trying to play with the big dogs. If you can’t talk about it, you certainly aren’t going to be able to do it.” Morningstar laughed.
“He can talk all he wants. There is still no way this is going to happen.” Not with Bendopolous, anyway. Maybe with one of Alexander’s warlock friends. Besides, Bendopolous wouldn’t be bound to keep his mouth shut about what happened. One of Morningstar’s sycophants would have no choice about keeping it to himself.
“I think it will.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and leaned in to her, his breath warm and soft against her ear. “Yeah, it will happen. Bendopolous fucked you just now with that betrayal, and I bet it stung. Wouldn’t you like to watch him get fucked in return?” His fingers held her jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing over to her mouth as it had on the quad. “I heard your breath catch. Does that make you hot, little witch?” He paused to examine her mouth, to bring his lips within touching distance. “Does it make you wet to think I would shag Bendopolous there to get into your damp little knickers? Because I would. I’d bend him over the table right here just so you could watch. Would you touch yourself, watching the pleasure-pain on his face while I fucked him? Or would you join in and demand I lick you to orgasm while I fuck him?”
And, oh, how wet it had made her. She shivered and bit down on her lower lip, imagining the picture he painted, and he laughed again.
“I could have her right here.” Alexander said as he turned his smouldering gaze on Brody, sizing him up.
“What are you offering, Morningstar?” Brody asked him.
“I offer nothing. I’m telling you what I’m going to take.”
Alexander stood, but when he moved to leave the room he brushed past Brody with slow deliberation. He laughed as Brody’s eyes darkened, betraying his desire.
“Yes, Caraway. You want this. Don’t pretend you don’t,” Alexander said as he turned back to her.
“Bastard,” Caraway shot back. It was a weak reply, but she couldn’t deny she’d love to see Brody taking it, out-alphaed by his greatest enemy, his power gone and him in complete submission. But she didn’t need anyone to know what went through her head. Her fantasies were her own, and whether she shared them or acted on them was her business.
Not Morningstar’s or Brody’s or anyone else’s. She didn’t like having her darkest secrets out on display. She supposed that was the risk one accepted when playing games with the Infernal.
“You’ll have to take that up with my mother. But for now, I think we will continue working off your demerits tomorrow, Miss Wormwood.” Alexander strode from the room as if he hadn’t just been talking about shagging them both.
There was a long moment of awkward silence before either of them spoke. “I want this, Caraway.”
“I know.” Why had she said that? What about, ‘Who the fuck cares what you want, asshole’? A much better reply.
“I’m sorry,” Brody said quietly.
He was apologising? Well, she didn’t want it. “For what? Wanting to fuck Morningstar? I hear that’s a common malady.”
“You’re going to make me spell it out?”
“I’m not going to make you do anything.”
“Cara, look, I—”
She held up her hand to cut him off. “Skip it. I don’t need your apology.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. You can apologise until shit sticks to the moon, but I’m not shagging you and Morningstar. Tell Clarabelle what you want.”
“Why not? You want it as much as I do. I see it on your face. I smell your desire, Cara. Why not do this with me? We were together for two years.”
“And you lied to me the whole time about who you are and what you want.”
“I know.” He nodded.
“Don’t do the same to Clarabelle. I don’t like her, but you know what? No one deserves to be lied to like you did to me.”
“She knows, Cara.”
“Great. You’ve been dating her for a week and she knows something that took you two years to tell me. Fuck you, Bendopolous.”
“I’m trying, Cara. But you keep telling me no.”
The teasing tone in his voice stabbed at her. “Why? Why do you want this with me? Why not pursue Morningstar if that’s what you want? You don’t need me to hold your hand.”
“Remember when we talked about fantasies that night under the stars?”
Damn it. She’d told him, confessed how she’d wanted to try a threesome. He’d suggested Valerian and she’d...
“I can give that to you, and to me. Do you really think Morningstar would fuck me if it was just me?”
“He might.”
“And I want to see you with him. When he was talking earlier about you watching us, it made me hard, Cara. Visions of all of those things he said have been on a loop in my brain. When I go back to my dorm tonight, Clarabelle’s going to be there. I’m going to tell her everything that’s happened and she’s going to suck me off while I think about doing all of them. You’ll be in that fantasy, too. Not just Morningstar.”
“What am I supposed to say to this, Brody? You hurt me. Now you want me to live out your fantasies? Why couldn’t we do this before? This honesty?”
“I was afraid.”
“So your fear justifies wasting two years of my life? Not to mention that shit you pulled in the quad today.”
He had the good grace to look a little sheepish. “I shouldn’t have done
that, but seeing you with Morningstar like that... I admit, it pissed me off.”
“I don’t care.”
“I know.”
“Why did you come here?”
“To explain. After I talked with Clarabelle, I realised I owed you an explanation.”
“Well, you explained.” Cara grabbed her bag and pushed through the door, but he followed closely behind her.
“I’m coming back tomorrow night, Cara.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re playing your game.”
“No, we’ll be playing Morningstar’s game.”
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Four
* * * *
Caraway tried to avoid both Brody and Morningstar. She had surprising luck avoiding Bendopolous—he must’ve been avoiding her, too.
As well he should, the bloody coward.
Morningstar was another matter altogether. He seemed to be everywhere she went, everywhere she looked. While he didn’t deign to speak to her, he watched her coolly, his eyes openly calculating as they appraised her.
A feeling not unlike a brick settled in her stomach as the day drew to a close. She had to finish her demerits tonight.
With him. Where he could whisper close to her ear, his hard mouth uttering things she had no business hearing, and his predator’s gaze could seek out her weaknesses, honing in on the holes in her defences and burrowing inside. Where he could break her down, where he could use her as he wished.
The last thought caused shivers to race up her spine.
She shook her head, trying to clear the haze that had settled over her. She felt guilty, like she still owed Brody some sort of loyalty—not that she owed him anything after he’d kept something this big from her. Besides, they weren’t even together anymore.
It made her question her own motivations. How could she have been so in love with him, if it was so easy for her to lust after Alexander Morningstar after one encounter? The simple answer—she hadn’t been. Caraway supposed she’d known that all along.
She was more than a little uncomfortable with the way it made her feel—like that brick in her stomach had invited over a few friends. She wondered briefly if she was going to throw up.
Wormwoods didn’t hurl. They were made of sterner stuff.
Unless, of course, you counted Coriander and the whole affair with the Hexacology malfunction and the roaches, but that was permissible, considering.
She was only doing this to get back at Brody, and maybe put Morningstar in his place. Any pleasure she got out of it was strictly peripheral. She kept repeating that mantra as she walked those last steps to the Hexacology building.
The room was dark and smelt of things she’d rather not identify. A single candle burnt at the head of the room.
Caraway made her way towards the sickly, struggling light. It illuminated nothing, only intensifying the blackness that surrounded her.
She sat down, unable to shake the feeling she was being primed for some sort of mischief. After years of dealing with Coriander’s brothers, she knew when she was being set up.
The only question was, for what? The ‘who’ was obvious.
A slight rustle caught her attention and she strained to see in the pitch. Then she heard a very coquettish and feminine giggle.
As her eyes got used to the darkness, Caraway peered down over the edge of the desk—she was able to make out shapes with varying degrees of clarity.
The first thing that came into view was a very finely made pair of shoulders, wide set and defined, and her gaze followed those perfect lines down the ridge of a back—glistening in the flickering light—muscles rippling and contracting with exertion.
Then the details became clear. Limbs intertwined, sharp red nails scoring down that perfect back, a rounded hip—a shapely thigh wrapped around a waist. Very breathy sighs and stifled moans echoed around them. The scent of musk and jasmine filled the air, a co-mingling of male and female so primal Caraway drew a shuddering breath.
The shadowed countenance turned to meet her, and she found herself impaled by arctic fire. That hard stare held her riveted—she was unable to move, to think, to breathe. For a second, her heart stopped in her chest.
He was quite the sight, resplendent in only the glory Merlin had given him, and that brutal stare—it never wavered. Not that she expected it to, but he continued to thrust into the shapely creature beneath him, all the time his gaze locked with hers. She knew she should look away, she should run screaming...but all she could do was watch.
The chill in his eyes darkened with something else as he watched her, the faint light enough to detect the flush that stained her cheeks, the way her bee-stung lips had parted as she struggled to catch her breath—she could only imagine the desperate heat on her face.
He became more insistent with his thrusts, making the woman, a female warlock by the name of Lila, cry out beneath him, pulling her hips so that her legs rested on his shoulders—the angle of penetration impossibly deep. She thrashed and arched, her heavy breasts bobbing with the motion, and Alexander tangled his hands in her hair, pulling there at the nape of her neck. Never once did his eyes waver from Caraway’s, from the blatant invitation there on his face.
He was telling her that the writhing, hedonistic image splayed before her—it could be her. If she wanted it. If she wasn’t afraid to take it.
Lila growled as the waves of pleasure overtook her, clawing and grasping at her tormentor.
Caraway realised it had never been that way with Brody.
Never had he made her need so physical a thing. It had been quiet and shy, touches in the dark, almost mechanical movements of their bodies, never this...this raging fire.
Alexander himself seemed immune to the heat, as if he’d reined it in—had beaten it into submission. He was cool and controlled, his movements precise, but designed with the ultimate pleasure in mind, as it seemed Lila knew very well.
Yes, he was a sex god, and Caraway knew in that moment, when she watched him come, that she was destined to worship at his temple—a virgin sacrifice when measured against his experience and control.
Lila lay panting like a well-satisfied dog, her head perking as she realised they weren’t alone. “Didn’t know I had an audience.”
Caraway had no idea what to say. ‘Yes, good show’? ‘Good writing but would have cast differently’? Fuck!
“Haven’t you gawked enough? If you hadn’t been so rude I’d have invited you to join in.” Lila was obviously insatiable, as she looked at Caraway with renewed interest.
Join in? Caraway blushed.
“She blushes so prettily. I want to play with her. Get her for me.” Lila pouted.
“I’m trying,” Alexander said dryly.
She looked at Caraway. “Oh. He knew you were coming.”
Realisation struck, but the other girl wasn’t the least bit annoyed. “He is a naughty boy. Maybe we should spank him?”
“Some other time?” Caraway ventured, not knowing what to say.
Lila pouted again, her full lips protruding, making her look rather like a sullen child. “You must promise you will at least consider it. Girls are so much fun.”
“You hate me.” Cara was sure she was stating the obvious.
Lila was the head of the most elite dark-sider sorority on campus. She made it a point to belittle and demean those she considered beneath her—which was everyone who wasn’t a member of her inner circle.
Lila looked as if she was concentrating on something that baffled her. “Not you in particular... But forget about that, sugarface—if we play together, I can be very nice...” She licked her lips.
“Is Alpha-Omega just one ongoing orgy?”
Lila laughed. “No. But it could be. I suppose you will be able to say that about Delta-Kassia soon enough.” That was Caraway’s own sorority.
“You do realise that you’re naked?”
“I do suppose I am,” Lila drawled. “Are you sure you won’t be playing?” Sh
e looked at her clothes, then at Caraway, weighing her options.
“Yes, Caraway. Are you quite sure?” Alexander smirked.
She arched a brow. “Quite.” Caraway was definitely rattled. She didn’t like it. Not one bit. So she opened her mouth. Even as the words were coming out, she wasn’t exactly sure that she wanted to say them. “I’ll wait for the next performance. The one you promised Brody.”
“Oh, really.” It wasn’t a question.
“Now, I would like to see that.” Lila licked her lips, anticipating a tasty treat.
Alexander shot her a look.
“What? He is fairly well made as footballers go. I wouldn’t mind a go with the two of you.”
Caraway almost choked, and she wanted to say something else along that vein—she really, really did—but self-preservation actually won out, briefly. “I have to work off my demerits. So can we get on with it?” she snapped.
“Oh, right.” Lila gathered her clothes and dressed as if Caraway watching her dress was a common occurrence.
Caraway couldn’t help but watch her. She was all curves and had a languid sort of fluidity in every move. She’d be tempted to call it grace, but Lila was too sultry a woman for such a shy word.
Her body was lush and full, made for sex, built for pleasure. Caraway wondered if anyone ever looked at her and saw what she did when she looked at Lila. She doubted it.
Caraway turned her eyes on Alexander, who was still completely naked and completely unashamed.
“See something you like?” he questioned. He studied her as if she was the one bare-arsed.
Her mouth went dry and she nodded. Caraway could see herself, could see the wide-eyed look on her face, the timidity that seemed to have infected her. She was nothing short of disgusted with herself. She turned away, doing her best to act unaffected.
“Like I told Bendopolous, if you want something...” He spoke as if she were the silliest of girls.
“I know how to get what I want.” Caraway spun back to face him.
“Oh, that I know. I think the trick is keeping it after you get it.” Morningstar had the audacity to wink at her.
“Fuck you.”
Hex and the Single Witch Page 3