Chapter 17 Sutton #2
She hesitates. I swallow as her eyes trek over every inch of me, my soul torn between arousal and unease.
Fuck, it could be a crime how badly I want her. My entire body vibrates under the weight of her speculation as if my sole point of existence is to be seen by her. Like my reason for being alive is just for the possibility of more.
Finally, she shrugs. “I was trying to get to know the school a little. It’d be nice if I really understood the hatred for the Anderson bloodline, don’t you think?”
“Ah, so you’ve brushed up since our chat on the first day,” I say. “Not everything has concrete, rational reasoning though. And I’m not sure you’d find many answers out here. Have you checked the Obeliskos archives?”
“Yes. They’re boring. I’m not surprised you recommended them.”
“Perhaps if you spent less time hanging on the arm of Lexington Abbott, you’d be able to unlock the town secrets.”
I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, hoping that maybe she’ll ignore them and continue the conversation in the direction it was going. When she smirks, I know I’ve fucked up.
“You sound jealous, Boy Scout.”
“Do I? How odd.” I lift my shoulder, walking away to reenter the path from earlier. “I suppose some people will hear what they want to hear.”
She trails after me. “Some people are determined to play pretend.”
“Not everyone has such glamorous choices. For some, ‘playing pretend’ is the only way to survive.”
“Aren’t you, like, town royalty?” She appears at my side, keeping pace. “They wouldn’t actually fire you for fraternizing with a student.”
“Avernia’s policies are very strict.”
“But Dean Bauer’s a gutless tool.”
I cock an eyebrow, glancing at her. “How well do you know Justin?”
“Not well enough to know his name is Justin.” She meets my eyes. “But I can tell he’s the kind of dean who accepts bribes and back-alley deals. I find it very hard to believe you’d be in as much trouble as you say.”
Something twists malevolently in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I stop in my tracks, turning to face her. “How would you know that?”
Elle slows to a halt, confusion threading through her brows. “I just mean he’s easily persuaded—”
“Is that how you managed to get into my class? By persuading him?”
She blinks, as if trying to process what I’m asking. I don’t know why I’m asking it, why it matters, but the idea of anything transpiring between her and the dean sends white-hot vitriol spiraling through my veins.
It’s one thing to subject myself to the sight of Lexington flirting with her every class for a few weeks now—and even outside it—but Dean Bauer putting his hands on her isn’t something I can live with.
My sister’s tear-stricken face flashes in my mind for the briefest moment, but it’s immediately replaced by Elle’s thoughtful one as she stares up at me, waiting for some explanation.
“You’ve heard the rumors then,” she says softly, looking at the ground. “That I was sleeping with people for parts in LA?”
Blood rushes between my ears, making my temples ache. “Are you denying them?”
“I think… I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. Believe what you want, Professor Dupont. What’s it matter when you say we can’t do anything about this anyway?”
She starts off again, walking away from me, and I move without thinking. My arm lashes out, grabbing her wrist. She pauses, as if waiting to see what else I’m going to do, but nothing happens.
It’s like I’m frozen in place, unable to do anything other than keep her here for a moment.
Of course I don’t believe the rumors, I want to say to her. It wouldn’t make a difference if they were true.
I just don’t know if my disbelief is rooted in a genuine ambivalence toward all rumors curated by Pythia, belief in Elle’s honesty, or because I don’t want to believe them.
I can’t very well admit all that. Revealing every card to the one woman who tempts me is a dangerous game.
“Let go,” she demands, but I don’t. Fury colors her face, and I find it so fascinating how easily she allows emotion to shine through, like a crystal ball warning.
“What is your problem? You think if you hold me hostage here long enough, I’ll, what?
Offer you a ride for the lead in your next production? ”
Horror etches on to my face. “Of course not—”
The sound of hushed whispers and crunching leaves spurs a wave of panic through my bones. I whip my head to the side, peering past endless trunks of trees to see who’s coming.
They’re close, whoever they are, and there isn’t time to run. Not when I can’t tell which direction they’re coming from.
Elle’s resistance falters a little as she perks up, apparently also hearing the noises. “Um, what—”
“Shh,” I tell her, yanking on her arm. I pull us in the direction of the gazebo, scrambling to get behind it before someone pops out. She trips, stumbling over a rock, and goes down hard; I swing my body toward her, trying to soften the impact as we roll into the burnt structure.
She lands with her face in my lap, her cheeks pinkening as she attempts to pull away. An enraged expression colors her features, and I ignore the dual sensations erupting within while I maneuver us out of sight.
“Stop fucking touching me,” she snaps.
“Would you shut up for a second?” I shoot back, clenching my teeth at the thought of us getting discovered out here.
There’s no innocent scenario anyone would believe in which the two of us could have been alone together. It would create more questions than we have answers for, and frankly, if it is Death’s Teeth—which is highly likely—I don’t want her seeing them.
Or vice versa.
I scoot behind a solid piece of the structure, bracing my back against the bottom half of the wooden wall, and manage to drag her into my lap as the voices and footsteps grow closer. Alarm registers in her gaze, and she tenses, her knees digging into my hips.
“What—”
The look in my eyes must answer whatever was on the end of that sentence, because she cuts herself off, swallowing hard.
Her fingers cling to my sweater, and she ducks her head, pressing her nose to my neck.
Each breath she releases breaks on the surface of my skin, warming me against the cold air. I let my hands fall to the ground, trying to maintain a modicum of clarity with her straddling me.
My legs are stretched out but hidden enough.
Unless someone comes from the left, past the abandoned house. They’d see me for sure.
Bending, I draw both knees against Elle’s backside. She moves, as if trying to keep me from blocking her in, and my dick takes notice of the squirming.
I grip her hips, stilling the motions. My bones suddenly feel too large for my body.
The footsteps enter the clearing. Elle trembles violently as they speak in quiet, almost inaudible voices—but voices I recognize regardless.
Fuck.
“See? I told you no one’s out here.” It’s the Director, her obscured tone undeniable. “Your paranoia’s getting the best of you lately.”
An answering grunt, followed by words I can’t make out.
Something slams against one of the gazebo columns, and Elle jolts in my lap, clawing closer to me. She makes a startled noise, and I close my eyes, hoping they didn’t hear.
My hand comes up, cupping the back of her head. I press firmly, fitting her mouth flush with my neck even though the very action is distracting.
Better I be distracted than they learn she’s here. It’s improbable, but on the off chance Death’s Teeth doesn’t know of Elle Anderson’s presence, I’d like it to remain that way.
“All I know is we can’t afford a fuckup like last time,” the other voice chimes, closer now, as if they’re standing inches away.
Elle stops breathing altogether. I dig my fingers into her hip, pressing harder on the back of her head. It’s as much to shield her as it is to maintain my sanity.
“Relax,” the Director says. “It’s all happening according to plan, all right? Everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Good. Because you know if we don’t—”
“I am aware of the consequences. Do not mistake me for some bright-eyed fledgling who thinks sacrificing herself for Incarnate’s sake will have any bearing on my survival. I am not that naive.”
My muscles clench. What the hell are they talking about?
There hasn’t been an official sacrifice—the third piece of the Death’s Teeth puzzle alongside Incarnate and the Maiden—in years. Since they have no acting Incarnate, just me standing in limbo, there’s been no reason for one.
But the way they’re talking now makes me think something’s changed, and I don’t like the sound of it. Is that what the rumored ceremony was supposed to be for? To force a choice from me?
Perhaps I should’ve looked deeper. Should’ve gone into Tenarus.
Eventually, their conversation grows quieter, and their footsteps fall faint before dying off. Elle moves, trying to twist out of my grip, but I hold her still—just in case.
It’s hard to tell whether they’ll come back or not. I don’t want to chance it.
And if I’m honest with myself, I don’t particularly want to move from this spot either. The scent of honey and vanilla envelops me, and Elle’s hair is soft against the underside of my jaw, her breathing harsh against my skin, leaving damp patches where it brushes.
If we get up now, if we move before I’m ready, she’ll see the evidence of my lies. That I want her—want to touch her—more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.
That I’d sacrifice just about anything—my career, reputation, you name it—for her to kiss me. Even if it was the last time.
“Who was that?” she whispers.
“No one you need to concern yourself with.”
“You dove for cover, but you’re telling me not to worry?”
“I dragged you in here because we were going to be caught.”
“But we weren’t even doing anything.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply. “How do you think it would have looked for us to be out here together all alone? Avernia students and staff talk, Elle.”
She shifts again, tilting her hips in a way that makes me bite my tongue accidentally.
A heartbeat passes, and she does it a third time, bearing down in a more concentrated effort. Like she knows what she’s doing—like she can feel me beneath her.
Fuck. She can, can’t she?
I shouldn’t like it so much. In every other similar situation, only disgust filters through my veins when another person chases intimacy, yet I don’t ever want her to stop.
Her lips curve against my neck as her hips continue their undulation, slowly working over me. “You’re a liar, Boy Scout.”
“Elle.” I offer her name like a half-hearted prayer. “We shouldn’t keep pressing our luck.”
“Okay, but what if we just pressed right…” She slides back, then forward, practically riding me through my pants. “…here?”
My jaw unhinges, falling open as arousal spins through me. Her teeth nick my jugular, making me shudder, and I realize how close to coming I already am.
“Elle. This is a very bad idea.”
“Bad ideas make the best stories.”
I can’t think, can barely breathe as she continues, dragging her cunt firmly along the rigid length of my dick. Deep down, I know I need to stop this, especially considering we could both be in danger or get caught, but I don’t.
I’m not sure which would be worse right now, and I don’t fucking care.
Instead, I scratch at the dirty gazebo floorboards and let her have her way with me.
Desire spins a vast and colorful tapestry through my veins, and she pulls back to look in my eyes.
Her fingers touch my chin, sweeping over my lips; I part them, allowing her to slip her index finger inside for a moment.
“I don’t know what’s going on at this school,” she says softly, bearing down so hard a whimper escapes me. “But this is undeniable. You and me. Tell me you don’t feel it.”
“All I feel at the moment is your pussy soaking my pants.”
“Don’t say that like you don’t wish it was wrapped around your cock right now.”
Every muscle in my body strains. “You have a filthy mouth, temptress.”
She grins, leaning in to suck at my bottom lip before flicking her tongue against it. “And you have no idea.”
When she threads her fingers through my hair and switches angles, my restraint snaps.
Like a frayed rope hanging by its last thread, I come, adding my climax to the mess on my clothes.
Stars dance in my vision, swirling around my face like some sort of angelic aura, and it takes several erratic breaths for me to return from the high.
As I do, regret and fear wedge themselves between the euphoria.
Elle seems to register my feelings before I voice them. She frowns, climbing off my lap, and rolls her eyes. “Don’t say it. Please. I don’t…I don’t want to hear about how this was a mistake.”
A pang tears through my chest. “It wasn’t a mistake. Just…something that could get us in a lot of trouble.”
“Avernia can cover up literal murder when they put their minds to it, but you’re trying to convince me they’d actually fire you over something so trivial?”
“It’s the policy—”
“It’s bullshit, Sutton. It’s you trying to put up a wall between us, although I’m not sure why. Maybe the people we just hid from have something to do with it, but either way, you’re a fucking liar. Maybe a coward too.”
Raw emotion makes her voice crack, and I clench my jaw because I can’t deny her accusation.
My fingers ache with the desire to grab her, feel her, make her cry out my name. But I don’t, reminding myself of Bellamy. Beckett. The curse.
Things I can’t really share but are thinly veiled excuses anyway. Ways for me to distract myself from the things this woman makes me feel and the things I’ve been avoiding for years.
I am a coward.
It’s just that no one ever really calls me out on it.
When I don’t reply, Elle glares at her hands, then brushes them off and pushes to her feet. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait, I’ll walk you—”
“No thanks. There are people on campus who aren’t too chicken to be with me, so I won’t force you to do it.” She rips the Band-Aid from her forehead, letting it fall on top of me. Dried blood stains the interior, and I ball it into my fist.
“People like Lexington?” I mutter.
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “But if you keep making excuses and refuse to admit you want me… I guess that isn’t really your business, is it?”
As she starts to leave the clearing, I stagger into a standing position, willing my dick to soften the rest of the way and ignoring the cool sensation of dried cum in my pants.
“You need to stay out of these woods, Elle. If nothing else I say resonates with you, at least promise me you won’t come back. ”
Her spine straightens, tensing beneath her hoodie as she crosses her arms. She says nothing, no acknowledgment of my words whatsoever, before she takes off toward campus, leaving me there wondering how long my resolve will actually hold out.
And where the fuck my mask went.