Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FRANCESCA
Kincaid greets me at the carpark the next morning and holds my hand as he walks me to my locker. Between the envious stares and covetous glances, I’ve never felt more exposed and want to tug my hand free, head down, crossing my arms and hunching my shoulders.
But I did stab the guy last night. I figure he’s earned the right to flaunt our relationship in public.
It’s a relationship now, is it?
Last night, falling asleep in Kincaid’s arms, it felt that way. Then I woke to an empty bed and a mind blossoming with new doubt. He seemed easy to trust when he confided in me, becoming vulnerable enough to share his childhood trauma.
Perhaps if I’d done the same, the closeness would have lingered.
I saw the openings. The chance to share my own internal scars, to bond over our shared circumstances, the similarities that forged our broken psyches. I saw them and my mouth stayed shut.
As it should. One sob story doesn’t undo his damage.
While my internal voice applauds me keeping quiet, I recognise the missed opportunity. Kincaid isn’t going anywhere and the longer I spent in his company, the more I admit our connection goes both ways. Much as I rail against the blatant manipulation and control he employs, his presence eases my worries.
His deranged brand of calm is the only thing that lets me sleep. A monster in my bed the only cure to subdue the one stalking my memories. And he gave me a free pass when I tried to kill him. It’s like we’re the same kind of sick.
He pushes his bag into the locker and winces.
“How’s your arm?” I ask, nervous to remind him. He flexes his biceps, pushing my fingers against the taut muscle, and a curl of desire winds through my core.
“It’s terrible,” he scoffs. “Ow. The pain.” The wide grin belies his words, and he bends closer, lips twitching with mischief. “You’re going to have to make it up to me.”
“Mm-hm. And how am I going to do that?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll give it some deep thought over the next few periods.”
“Are they study periods?”
He shakes his head. “No, you’re completely derailing my education, and when I fail half my subjects, you’ll have to make that up to me as well. It’s a vicious cycle.”
I wrinkle my nose, his playfulness infectious.
When I reach my locker, I glimpse Aidan farther along the corridor and wave. His gaze snaps away the moment he sees me looking, and my heart drops.
“Good morning,” I call, hoping it’s a mistake, but instead of answering, he turns and walks away.
“What’s that about?” Kincaid asks and I can’t tell if he’s for real or being disingenuous.
Either way, I don’t have an answer.
“Keep your phone turned on,” he reminds me, removing my hairclip to smooth my fringe, his fingers always busy, tidying my messiness. “And follow my instructions or those punishments will just keep snowballing.”
I nod but the sense of fun is gone.
A slew of mental gymnastics might make my present bearable, but they won’t save me from reality. Just because the prison became more appealing doesn’t mean I should stop trying to escape. A fact brought home two hours later when I receive a message.
King
Auditorium
Second period
Don’t be late
Please and thank you don’t appear to be part of his glossary. He hasn’t even softened the command with an emoji.
I get to the right place at the right time but can’t see him, and hover anxiously in the doorway. The choir that had been practising disbands and the members exit, leaving the hall empty.
My footsteps echo across the cavernous space as I walk to the stage and mount the steps, peeking behind the tall curtains. I’m not a theatre or music aficionado, so haven’t seen it from this angle before.
I stand mid-stage, soaking in the expectation of the empty hall, and a figure jumps out from the wings, making me shriek.
“Scream every time you see me, and it’ll give me a complex,” Kincaid teases, grabbing me by the waist and walking until I’m flush against the back wall. “Especially if you’re about to stab me again.”
“Dick.”
“It is a highlight, I’ll agree. You wouldn’t be the first girl to fall in love based on nothing more than my dick.”
He chuckles and I laugh along with him, enjoying the burst of good humour. “This is my ‘trying not to hurt you’ face, not my ‘in love’ face.”
His lips press against mine, the touch gentle, his fingers curling around my neck. I shuffle closer, then my sanity reconnects, and I jerk back, smacking my head on the wall.
“Careful.”
“Don’t kiss me. I don’t like it.”
And part of me wishes that were still true because Kincaid sees straight through my deception.
“You need to listen to your body, Freckles.” Everywhere his hands caress, my flesh sings in response. “Because it’s telling me a different story.”
“And you need to listen to the words coming at of my mouth instead of the delusions swirling in your head.”
I shove him and he doesn’t move except for his grin growing wider. I arch my eyebrows, the sensations I deny clamouring louder and louder until it’s no wonder he can see my body’s betrayal.
The apex of my thighs throbs with such heat I worry it will catch on fire. “Was there something else you needed?”
“Hm.”
He trails a finger along my hairline and my throat catches at his adoring expression.
I’m not the only one who’s at war. For all that Kincaid acts like a domineering hardarse, tiny acts of kindness spill out to soften his steel backbone. “That’s an intriguing offer.”
“It was sarcasm.”
“Are you sure? You might need to check the dictionary again. And all I wanted was to see if you followed instructions, this time.” He curls a lock of my hair around his finger and tugs. “You don’t know how hot it makes me that you obeyed.”
“I’m missing a study session for this. Maybe next time you want to check if your threat to have me murdered is still working, you could plan it for a more convenient time.” I leave a long pause, then add, “Or just stop fucking around with me altogether.”
His mouth finds my throat, knees bending either side of my thighs as he contorts himself to reach down so far.
The pull against my skin is sweet torture, sending an avalanche of sensation shuddering along my torso until my skin turns hyper-sensitive, brushing painfully against the tight fabric of my blouse.
A mark blossoms under the powerful suction of his tongue, a stamp of ownership far more revealing than his bracelet on my wrist or his shirt on my back.
“But I enjoy fucking around with you,” he murmurs, coming up for air. He presses a row of kisses along my collarbone. “Fucking around with you is the only thing keeping me sane.”
I push him, needing to gain some distance but he doesn’t allow it.
“Girlfriend experience, remember?” he growls. “Settle. Since you don’t want anything else, I’ll just take what I need, and you can go. Sound good?”
I screw my eyes shut as his fingers play with my hem, brushing against the sensitive skin on my outer thigh. “Sure.”
“See the desk?” He nods to a wooden bench with thick electrical wires snaking in and around it, chunky consoles on top to control the sound and lighting. “Go put your hands flat on top, no turning around. Got it?”
A push between my shoulder blades gets me moving. My cheeks burn as I walk over and lay my palms on a clear space, eyes straight ahead.
“Move your legs apart,” he says, and his proximity makes me jump.
I didn’t hear him move. Quite a feat for someone his size.
He bunches my kilt, throwing it up over my lower back, leaving my thighs exposed. A warm hand slides between them and my centre pulses, an ache growing when he slowly peels away my panties, one large hand squeezing my arse cheek.
His sigh makes my muscles clench.
Something cold and liquid lands on my tailbone and his fingers work it, spreading the lube down to my hole, circling it.
“No, I haven’t—”
“Shh.”
His fingertip presses inside me, and my muscles immediately grip, making the intrusion seem twice as large.
“Relax,” he says, voice lilting he withdraws then presses forward again. “If you’re a good girl, I won’t take your arse right here, where anyone in the school could walk in on us, but only if you keep doing what I say.”
The threat in his reassurance sets my core on fire, pulsing at the idea of someone stumbling across this scene like our eavesdropper in the library. My arse clenches even tighter when he removes his finger, and the cool press of silicone replaces it.
“I’m going to be away tomorrow, working, and thought you’d like to ease the boredom by sending me a lovely video.” When I stiffen, he adds, “No one else will ever see.”
Warm fingers snake around my throat, resting there, not tightening. The silicone eases inside, my muscles still resistant.
He taps on my windpipe. “Relax or this will hurt more than it needs to.”
A whimper slips from my mouth, and I try but tighten again when the bulb pushes deeper. He bends double, chest against my back, fingers firming on my throat.
“Lean back into me,” he orders. The same tone he used on me the first day, when he instructed me to open my mouth wide, proving I could take him. It helped then, and I let myself trust him now, pressure easing around the slippery silicone, breathing through the experience.
Kincaid’s hand leaves my neck to rub my lower back. “You look so good, stretching to take the plug the same way you’ll soon take my cock.”
The sensation of fullness increases, my legs shaking as it eases me wider, and wider… until with one last push backwards, the entire bulb is inside me. The hand stiffens on my back, and he slides the plug out a little, then back, then out again, the rhythm of the movement turning from discomfort into desire.
My knees tremble when he taps the jewelled head of the plug, the reverberations echoing deep inside, prompting another whimper.
“Stay,” he warns, and I hear the burst of photographs. “Okay, you can move. See how sexy you are.”
He shows me a picture and I bite my tongue. Fuck, it looks hot.
I straighten, tugging my knickers up and my kilt down before turning to face him.
“How does it feel?”
“It’s… odd.” The fullness eases as my body adapts. “But if you really want to know, I’m happy to shove it in you instead.”
Surprisingly, he looks intrigued. “Maybe, but not today. I’ve sent other toys to your house.” His voice grows rougher. “Send me a video using each one. I need a reward to keep me going through the job.”
He pockets his phone and yanks me against his chest. His hand turns rough, thrusting between my legs and cupping my pussy, the heel of his palm as broad as a shovel head as it rubs against me.
Despite the brutality of his strong grip, another jolt of arousal spins through my head until I’m dizzy, my hands lifting to clutch at the front of his shirt.
His skin smells of leather and spice and the zing of citrus as I bury my nose in his chest, clinging as his hand slips past the worn elastic of my underwear and my knees weaken. The thrust of his finger inside my pussy while the toy presses against my walls from behind, the groan of satisfaction in my ear—they combine to make me wet.
I didn’t know my body could feel this way, and the discovery fills me with desire and low-key desperation.
“And if I send you all of them, will we be done? Does that pay my debt?”
“You’re so funny,” he growls, finger working inside me while his thumb circles my clit, making me gasp. “Tell me again how you don’t want this.”
His arm goes around my waist, clamping tightly as he lifts me, turning to pin me against the wall, adding another finger until the stretch and friction makes my hips tilt, blindly seeking more.
“Tell me all about how you want to be left alone. Pretend your pussy doesn’t drown my fingers every time I touch you. How you hate the way I fuck you.”
His teeth bite onto my earlobe, then suck the pain away, the press of his tongue making shivers ripple across my back while my legs move apart to give him easier access.
“Go ahead. Beg me to stop,” he says while his curled fingertip brushes against a secret spot deep inside me. A place that sends an electric shock of desire jolting through my body, catapulting me to the edge.
My muscles clench around him, the spill of my desire soaking his hand as he sweeps me over the cliff, catching me in freefall and guiding me to a gentle landing. I adore the slip and slide of his fingers inside my folds as he coaxes forth another spasm of pleasure.
“See how good girls get rewards?” His voice is husky and thick. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your juices off my fingers.”
Then he withdraws his hand, thrusting his wet fingers into his mouth and pulling back just enough to catch my eye, holding it with the intensity of his gaze as his tongue wipes them clean.
He goes back for more, this time forcing them into my open mouth, making me taste myself before he yanks them away to kiss me, my arousal sweet on both our tongues.
For a minute the world is full of our panting breaths, each of us trying to recover from the heat sparking between us.
“Or just tell me the lie again,” he teases, steadying me until my feet find the ground, the muscles in my legs forgetting how to stand. “Tell me the fib about how you don’t want any of this.” His lips find the shell of my ear, whispering so softly it’s barely audible, just another insistent voice in my head. “That you don’t want me.”
“I don’t…” I whisper, then my voice dissolves into a whimper as he presses my panties against me, his caressing fingers turned to steel, sweeping the fabric along my folds until the material can’t absorb another drop, then yanking them to my knees.
“Step out of them,” he orders me, voice ragged. “Every time you lie to me from now on, you’re paying a penalty.”
I obey and he slips them into his pocket.
“Once you send me the videos, you’re off the hook till next week, but I expect you to be at the rugby match on Wednesday, okay? I’ve got an agent interested and seeing you in the crowd will help my game.” A featherlight kiss brushes my cheek, making my pulse jump. “And while you’re sitting there, getting wet at the sight of me despite all your denials, you can think of how, after we win, I’m going to drag you home and fuck you sideways.”
He taps the nestled plug again.
“Take this out tonight. A few hours is fine for the first go. But practice with it over the weekend and insert it before Wednesday’s match.” When I screw up my nose, he chuckles. “I’ll be taking your arse either way but if you think you’ll enjoy the pain, go ahead and disobey. It’s your ring getting destroyed.”
He pulls away, adjusting himself where his gigantic cock deforms the front of his jeans. Even trapped under his waistband, there’s a throat-gagging bulge.
As my eyes rise from the sight, Kincaid smirks. Noticing exactly where my attention drifted.
“Unless you want something more right now?” His voice turns singsong. “Go on, Freckles. Be brave and ask for what you really want.”
“For you to bother another girl?”
The light dulls in his eyes, smile transforming into a hard line. A tiny wriggle of joy burrows into my belly at the evidence of his irritation. At him being denied something he wants.
Nice to have the shoe on the other foot for a change.
Although, when he removes his hands and my body clamours in disappointment, I can’t imagine it staying that way for long.