Chapter 19 #2
Fuck, yes.
I’m fumbling with the buttons on his coat when he breaks the kiss. I want to protest, but he looks at me with such adoration and lust that I lose my voice. “We should go to my room,” he says, his voice rough, like he’s barely keeping himself contained.
I blink at him, confused. “Now?”
“There’ll be more space,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “And, um, condoms.”
“Oh.” I reach into my pocket, sheepish, and brandish a foil packet. At his raised eyebrow, I say, “I was feeling lucky.”
He rolls his eyes, kisses me again.
By the time we actually make it out of the car, I’m straining against my jeans, panting. Duncan’s not much better, with mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips.
He’s too composed. I want to see him thoroughly debauched, splayed out beneath me, breathless and wanting. Spurred by the mental image, I hurry after him.
Duncan’s dorm is in one of many pretentious towers scattered around campus.
Dragoncrest Tower, announces a sign on the front lawn.
As soon as we slip through the doors, I feel out of place.
The walls are paneled with mahogany. Sconces flare to life in greeting.
A fully stocked kitchen waits just off the main hall.
Beyond, there’s a private library. I can’t shake the sense that I’m trespassing.
“Don’t you have a roommate?” I ask, staring up the spiral staircase in wonder.
“These are all single rooms,” he says, and I nod. Right. I’m here on scholarship. I’m barely even magical. He’s from a long line of both fae and shifters. Of course he lives in a nice tower.
I follow him up several flights of stairs, my hand in his.
When we arrive at his floor, I stop in my tracks, mesmerized by the ostentatious brass door knockers, all ocean themed.
I gawk at a mermaid with pendulous breasts, relieved when Dominic directs to me to the room with the ugly embossed fish knocker instead.
We’re on each other before the door has fully closed behind us.
I toe off one of my boots, get stuck in the other one as I crowd him against the door.
His hands are on my hips, then my ass, then the backs of my thighs, hauling me closer.
I groan, tip my head back as he presses a line of searing kisses down the column of my throat.
My fingers bunch in the back of his coat.
“Fuck,” he growls against my jaw, and then I realize he’s inhaling my pulse point, which shouldn’t be hot but kind of is.
When I grind against him, he pulls away, unbuttoning his coat with feral urgency.
While he’s busy doing that, I hobble around on my socked foot until my second boot finally pops free, taking my sock with it.
My jacket joins Duncan’s coat on the floor.
When I look back, he’s watching me with that intense glint in his eye.
I hate myself, but I can hear my mom screeching in the back of my head.
She’s ruining the moment and I—I have to interrupt.
“I got tested at the end of summer,” I tell him, just short of breathless.
“I haven’t been with anybody in, like, eight or nine months. If you were wondering.”
He stills. Nods. “Good. Yeah.” He cards a hand through his hair. “I took one recently, too. Clear. I, um, haven’t been with anybody in… a while.” His voice sounds a little odd, almost thick. I’m afraid to ask what that’s about.
“Great,” I say, but I’m certain I’ve ruined everything. We should’ve talked about this in the car. At the sandwich shop. Literally anywhere but here and now.
“We can do whatever you’re comfortable with,” he says and pulls me to him.
I don’t want to talk anymore, so I just press my lips to his, hooking my fingers in his belt loops and dragging him closer until we’re flush against each other.
He makes a desperate little moan, and I chase it with my tongue.
Firm hands grip the backs of my thighs again, and I startle as he actually manages to lift me without even breaking the kiss.
I groan, wrap my legs around him, trying hard not to topple us.
There’s not much of a height difference between us, and I’m solid enough that I’m not easily manhandled.
It’s a shock that he was able to pull that off with ease (seriously, I’m strong and I couldn’t fucking do that).
And hot. Really, really hot. Turns out, my dream was kinda prophetic: I do want him to ravish me.
Then I’m deposited onto the mattress and he’s crawling over me, working at the button of my jeans while I wriggle out of my shirt. It gets caught on the headboard when I toss it, but he doesn’t notice; his gaze is glued to me.
“See anything you like?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows at him, hooking a foot behind his thigh and urging him closer.
“Holy shit,” he says, hands planted on either side of my hips as he looks me up and down. There’s something feral in those gray eyes, a glistening darkness that I should be afraid of, but I’m not. I’m drawn to it, no hesitation. “Do you even know how good you look?”
The compliment goes straight to my dick. “I own a mirror,” I say, trying to find the right balance between flattered and cocky.
A hand splays across my abs, moves downward, catches at the V of muscle above my hips. “I have to tell you,” he says, biting his lip. “This looks fucking amazing above a fish tail.”
That does something to me. A little flash of vulnerability, of aching wonder. It never occurred to me that someone would be attracted to me as—let’s face it—a glorified fish, let alone look at me like this, so soft and full of lust all at once.
It’s fucking dizzying. “Oh,” I say. Then, because I’m an insecure piece of shit, “But you like me when I’m human, too, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” he agrees, nodding vigorously.
He pulls off his shirt, and I finally get to see what I missed out on that night on the beach.
A lean torso, firm muscle, slim waist. He’s stronger than me, but also less defined, slender and elegant where I’m more brick shithouse. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
A little thrill runs through me. “You gonna prove it to me?”
Duncan grins. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe.” I wink, graze my fingers across his abdominals. The muscles clench beneath my touch.
My hand travels lower. He hisses, reaches to catch my wrist, then thinks better of it and withdraws just as I palm at his arousal. Even under a layer of jeans, I can tell he’s well-endowed. And about to bust out of his jeans.
But his reaction has me worried. “Is this—”
“Don’t stop,” he says in a strangled voice. His eyes have fallen shut.
I move closer, adjust my grip, wonder if I’m getting him out of these pants tonight or if I’m going to have to wait to find out what’s under there.
“You’re pretty pent up,” I say. Normally, I might unbutton his jeans, tease his cock free, maybe blow him.
But Duncan is kind of… different, and while I can’t imagine a blow job is ever a bad idea, I figure it’s better to just wait until he can articulate what he wants.
When he opens his eyes, they’re yellow instead of gray, watching me intently as I stroke him through the fabric. “It’s been a while,” he says, voice tight. “Fuck, hold on.”
So I wait while he takes a shaky breath, then shucks his jeans onto the floor, until he’s standing in only silky black boxers, tented from his erection.
I’m not sure why he’s wearing them, but then again, I’m still in my jeans. Deciding now is probably a good time to remove them, I kick them off, along with my underwear. To my irritation, the remaining sock does not come free.
But there’s no time for that. Before I can lean over, he’s on me, pushing me down onto the mattress, kissing me hard as his hand works its way between us, first thumbing at the head of my cock, then wrapping around the shaft.
My lips part in a gasp, legs falling open as my hands scrabble at his back. His strokes are firm, rhythmic, quick. Is this how he touches himself?
I melt into the mattress. It’s been too long, and I’m determined to enjoy myself. I could come from this alone, but I haven’t even seen his dick yet. And that’s unacceptable.
Suddenly determined, I push at his chest. He backs off immediately, blinking at me with hooded eyes. “What’s wrong?”