Not This Price: A Dark Bully High School Romance (Roman Academy Rules Book 3)

by L V Chase

  Being connected to Grayson in this way evokes a type of intimacy I could never imagine before. It’s the kind of feeling that sinks deeper than my skin, following me wherever I go and reassuring me that I’m cared for.

  I didn’t know that was possible. I thought I’d float on the surface of love, taking the scraps left behind, and never expecting anything deeper.

  And here we are. He’s gazing right down at me, burning with lust and care as he fucks me.

  “I love you,” he says.

  The words come out slowly, but in a way that each word carries weight. A bursting sensation shakes my heart. For a split-second, I wonder if it’s because I think I’ve finally captured the heart of a wealthy man—my mother’s deepest dream. But in the next split-second, I know that’s not the reason. I’m overjoyed because it means that I’m not alone with my feelings. It means I haven’t lost my mind, risking everything for a man who might throw me away.

  “I love you, too,” I say.

  He pushes forward, his face burying in the arc above my collarbone. My leg falls down off of his shoulder, but as he pulls back, he slides it back up.

  He fucks me with the reckless abandon of a man without regrets.

  His thrusts force me forward, sliding me up against the hotel’s throw pillows. He grabs my shoulders, his arms pinning my legs tight against my chest. At first, it burns, and it’s hard to breathe between his thrusts, but the sensations quickly rise into rapturous anticipation. The way my thighs are pinched close to each other creates the smallest friction against my clit, which sends shocks of needy pleasure, but he’s also hitting a spot inside me that ricochets a deeper high inside.

  I grip the back of his shoulders. They move with his thrusts, but I hold on tightly. He’ll be marked-up by my nails, but all I know right now is that I need to keep him close. I need an anchor to stop me from getting pulled out with the riptide. He’s the anchor and the wave, both keeping me in place and pulling me away at the same time.

  He pushes my thighs aside, letting them fall off his shoulders. He kisses me, deep and intense. He thrusts deep inside me, grinding against me with enough pressure to almost hurt, but I don’t want him to stop.

  His upper arms are covered with red scrapes. Sweat gleams on our bodies. His lips are chapped from breathing so hard. It’s all easy to miss, but I commit it to memory as he pushes me closer and closer to the peak.

  He pulls my thighs back up, fucking me relentlessly. For a moment, panic sets in as I feel the orgasm coming. I’m not ready for this to end. But it hits me. It’s a torrent of moans, tensed muscles, and unrestrained ecstasy. My body isn’t even real anymore—it’s just a hypothetical vessel of moonlight. It’s all too good, pressing through my pores and spreading throughout my body.

  Grayson thrusts into me once more before coming inside me. He stiffens over me, beads of sweating falling down onto my chest. His face squeezes with an intensity before relaxing in release. It sends another orgasm through me, the elation rattling me so thoroughly, I see it.

  The aurora borealis. Our bodies twisted together. Just like in my painting, our bodies have changed into strokes of color, bursting with emotion on this bed. Our canvas.

  He presses a kiss on my throat, pulling out of me, and collapsing beside me.

  “Absolutely not delicate,” he mutters. He takes my head in his hands, kissing my forehead, between my eyes, and my lips. “You’re phenomenal.”

  “Keep telling me that, and I might keep you,” I say.

  “I’ll tell it to you every day.”

  I stretch out beside him, settling my cheek on his shoulder. We have a million things to do, but we’re lying in a beautiful hotel room in a stunning city, and we’ve made art in our own way.

  It’s better than revenge. It’s better than winning art scholarships. It’s better than sex.

  Well, usually.

  THE END

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  About the Author

  I love stories that are fast, twisted, heart-wrenching, and alive, because the happiest ending can only take place after the most delicious struggle.

  After years of being a bookworm, I finally got around to writing down all the things tumbling in my head. I have plenty of more contemporary, dark, and new adult stories planned!

  I swear nothing in these books is remotely related to my actual life, which mostly involves mundane suburbia interrupted by the antics of a growing toddler.

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