17. Wes
CHAPTER 17
WES
Typically, I dread going to Statistics class on Tuesday morning. Math has never been my strong suit, which means I study for this class more than all my others combined and still struggle to keep my grade up. Professor Astor is a nerd that’s clearly chasing a vendetta against his former bullies, because he singles me out more often than any of my other classmates when he asks questions, and I fucking hate being put on the spot and made to feel stupid when I can’t figure something out. Basically, Stats class is the bane of my existence, which makes Tuesday mornings hell in my world.
I always double up on my caffeine intake before heading into this class, so I’m clutching two paper coffee cups in my hands as I make my way across campus to Stoker Hall– the math building that was funded by Travis Stoker’s great great grandfather– to endure two hours of torture at the hands of Professor Astor.
“Hey, Wes,” a leggy brunette purrs as she sidles up alongside me, falling into step on my left as I walk the main path through campus. “Great party this weekend.”
“Yeah, it was alright,” I reply coolly, glancing over at her. She’s hot, and something about her looks familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
“I was hoping you’d take me up to the loft again.”
Ah, so that’s where I recognize her from– the end of semester party at the boathouse last spring. She let Ford and I fuck her from both ends.
“Maybe next time,” I say with a wink.
Her smile widens, cheeks flushing pink. “Yeah, for sure. When’s the next party?”
I shrug a shoulder casually. “No clue. I’ll make sure you get an invite, though…” I trail off, looking at her pointedly.
“Julie,” she supplies, beaming a smile at me. “Can’t wait.”
I lift one of my coffees, tipping the cup in a little wave, then take the fork in the path toward Stoker Hall, leaving Julie behind. I’ll probably forget all about her by this afternoon.
It’s funny, I used to obsess over girls like Julie, and they never looked my way. Now, these vapid little social climbers won’t leave me alone. It’s amazing what a few years in the gym and an attitude adjustment can do for your game.
Another student is exiting Stoker Hall as I approach, and as soon as he sees me coming, he pauses to wait for me like a good little pleb, holding the door open. I thank him with a nod as I step through, the musty smell of the aged building tickling my nose as I make my way down the corridor to the lecture hall. Another student rushes to hold the door for me to enter, and I step through and pause just inside the double doors, eyes scanning the rows of co-eds until they land upon the one I’m looking for.
Ava’s dressed in one of those plaid skirts again that drive me absolutely fucking crazy . She’s leaning back in her chair, one tan leg crossed over the other as she reads something in the book spread out in front of her, chewing absently on the end of her pen. Nobody else is seated in her immediate vicinity, which is a testament to how fast news travels on this campus. There’s no doubt in my mind the entire student body knows Ava’s tangled up with the Kings, and they’re wisely keeping their distance as a result.
I grin to myself as I start down the stairs and weave through the rows to join her. Stats class may be the fucking worst , but having Ava here to endure it with me from now on may just change my mind.
“Morning, sweetheart,” I croon as I approach, claiming the seat beside her.
The look she throws me can only be described as a death glare. Seriously, if looks could kill, I’d be done for.
Whipping her head back around, she focuses in on her book again, resting her elbow on the table. She raises a hand to the side of her face to block me out of her line of vision, pointedly ignoring my presence.
I set the coffees down on the table with a heavy sigh, leaning over to reach down into my backpack for my textbook and laptop. “And here I was gonna offer you a coffee until you started acting like a stuck-up bitch,” I murmur as I dig around in my bag.
I’ve got my back to her, but I feel her turn to look at me in offended indignation. When I straighten and twist at the waist to set my things on the table, I catch her glaring at the side of my head in my peripheral vision.
“I’m not acting stuck-up!” she whisper-shouts, brows furrowing in anger and a little crease forming between them. “I’m just trying to catch myself up in this class that you guys added to my schedule without my consent. So excuse me if you don’t have my full attention.”
I arch a brow, slowly turning toward her until I meet her eyes. This definitely isn’t the shy, meek little girl I met in the Registrar’s office last week, and it isn’t the pleading little crybaby I saw puking in the sand over the weekend, either. Ava’s all fired up like she was when I cornered her in the library on Saturday, and I’d be lying if I said this feisty side of her doesn’t get my dick hard. It seems the more we push her, the harder she fights back.
They break so much more beautifully when they’ve got some fight in them.
“Here,” I offer, sliding one of my coffees toward her. “You seem like you need this more than me.”
She purses her lips, eyes narrowing on me in suspicion. It’s clear she doesn’t trust the gesture.
Before she can question me about it, Professor Astor walks in, clearing his throat to get the class’s attention as he steps up to the podium at the front of the room. I flip my textbook open to the chapter we’re on, spread my knees, and sink back in my chair, getting comfortable.
Ava’s eyes ping between me and the coffee cup in front of her as the professor makes his introductory remarks to the class. After a minute or two, she begrudgingly reaches forward and picks it up, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. I grin to myself, nursing my own coffee as Professor Astor starts droning on about probability and statistical interference.
Ten minutes into the lecture, I’m already bored. Ava watches our professor with rapt attention, chewing idly on the end of her pen as she drinks in the knowledge he’s imparting on us, while my focus is decidedly diverted elsewhere.
She really shouldn’t do things that keep her mouth busy when I’m around. Suddenly, it’s all I can watch, and I tune out Astor while zeroing in on the way her lips pout and twist around the pen cap as she rolls it between her teeth.
My gaze slowly rakes down her body, mapping out every curve: from the swell of her tits against her sweater to the slope of her thigh, still slung over her other leg. Her tan skin is practically golden, soft and supple and just begging to be touched.
When I physically can’t resist anymore, I reach over, brushing the backs of my knuckles along Ava’s outer thigh. She flinches at the contact, shooting me a warning glare that says to knock it off, but I’m not so easily deterred. I continue sliding my hand up over the top of her thigh, spreading my fingers and gripping onto it firmly.
She shifts her weight in discomfort, leaning toward me to hiss a whisper through her teeth.
“Stop!”
“Shhh,” I hush, smirking to myself as I flex my grip around her leg. “Don’t make a scene, babe.”
Her thigh muscles stiffen beneath my touch, spine going rigid against the back of her chair. She stares straight ahead at the professor, trying her best to act like she doesn’t notice I’m sliding my hand up higher, tucking it beneath the hem of her skirt and cruising toward the apex of her thighs.
“Wes!” she hisses, fidgeting in her chair and discreetly elbowing me in the ribs. “Stop!”
I lean in close until my lips are hovering right beside her ear. “I don’t think you want me to stop, Ava,” I murmur, gliding my tongue along my teeth. “I think you’re still aching for relief after the other day in the library, and lucky for you, I’m in a giving mood.”
I delve my hand down between her legs and Ava jerks in her chair, hands grasping onto my forearm and fingernails digging into my skin.
“Stop!” she whispers again, squeezing her thighs together tightly to deny me entry. “I mean it, Wes!”
I chuckle lowly, trailing my tongue up the side of her neck. “Wrong safe word, baby.”
Tucking my fingertips beneath the seam of her panties, I shove my hand down further, forcing her thighs apart. She clenches her jaw and digs her fingernails into my arm deeper, sucking in a little gasp when I slide the tip of a finger along the seam of her pussy lips and find she’s already slick with desire.
“Liar,” I chuckle in her ear, gliding my fingers down to plunge a thick digit into her tight heat.
Ava bites her lip to stifle a whimper, her body going rigid as she stares toward the professor at the front of the room. Though she’s still clawing at my arm, she’s not trying to pry it away anymore. She’s holding on tight to keep it exactly where it is.
The little slut fucking wants this.
I shuffle in a little closer beside her so I can whisper filthy things in her ear while playing with her sweet little cunt. “Do you feel how wet you are for me, Ava?” I rasp as I pump my finger slowly.
She’s tight as fuck; I can only imagine how she’d feel wrapped around my cock. Her inner walls clamp down around my digit, a little whine getting trapped in her throat.
“You’re fucking soaked,” I grit out. “It’s making my dick so hard right now.”
Her breathing quickens as I slide my finger out of her and drag it up to circle her clit.
“Wes,” she whispers shakily, in a voice that sounds a whole lot more like a prayer than a protest.
“Think you can stay quiet?” I taunt, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Or is everyone in this class gonna know when I make you come?”
She lets out a barely audible squeak, biting her lip harder as I strum her clit.
To her credit, Ava holds it together remarkably well. To anyone else in class, it would appear that she’s fascinated with the lecture Professor Astor is giving, and I’m discreet enough with my body placement that nobody can see what I’m doing to her underneath the table right now. But I’ve got a front row seat to the show, and let me tell you, it’s one worth watching.
Ava’s lashes flutter, her chest rising and falling more rapidly as she quietly pants, still gripping onto my forearm for dear life. Her knuckles have gone white she’s holding on so hard, which means that I must be doing something right. Then again, it isn’t difficult to get a girl off if you know your way around a clit, and I definitely do.
“Tell me you want it,” I growl in her ear, nipping the lobe. “Tell me you want me to make you come, Ava.”
Her thigh trembles as it presses against mine, her eyes going half-lidded as she stares blankly ahead.
My cock is pressing painfully against my zipper, rock hard and ready. I could push my luck and try to get her to take care of it, but I decide I’ll give her this one for free. A gesture of goodwill, so to speak.
“I enjoyed fucking your mouth, but I’m gonna love fucking this pussy,” I murmur, pinching her clit between my fingers. “I can’t wait for you to ride my cock as hard as you’re riding my hand right now.”
Her breath stutters, body tensing, and a whoosh of air leaves her as her climax hits, pussy pulsing in my hand as her body trembles against me. Her hips lift ever so slightly, chasing my fingers, and I continue rubbing her clit to prolong her pleasure as she silently rides out her orgasm. I watch with rapt fascination as her eyes squeeze shut and she pants quick, harsh breaths until she’s so spent that she sinks back in her chair with a quiet sigh, her muscles going slack.
Sliding my hand out of her underwear, I bring it up between us, shoving my glistening fingers against her lips. “Taste how sweet you are when you give in and let go.”
She turns her head toward me and opens her mouth to protest, but I shove my fingers inside before she can get a word out, pressing them down on her tongue until I feel her gag.
“Delicious, right?” I taunt, dragging my fingers out of her mouth and raising them to my own, holding eye contact as I lewdly lick her arousal off them.
She scowls, her cheeks pinkening with a deep blush as she whips her head back around to stare toward the front of the room.
“You’re a hell of a lot more compliant when you’re in public,” I murmur, reaching up to toy with a strand of her hair. “I’ll have to remember that.”
She swats my hand away, refusing to turn her attention on me.
Pretty fuckin’ rude since I just got her off.
I chuckle softly as I shamelessly adjust myself in my jeans, then pick up my coffee, kicking back and bringing the cup to my lips.
“Make sure you take good notes for me,” I say between sips of caffeine.
Ava begrudgingly turns to look at me, eyes narrowed in suspicion and lips drawn in a frown. “Aren’t you supposed to be a star student?”
“I am.”
“Then why can’t you take your own notes?”
“I could , but now you’re here, so I don’t have to,” I say, tossing her a wink.
She huffs an annoyed sigh, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face and turning her attention back to Professor Astor.
Ford probably doesn’t even know that he did me a solid by putting her in this class when he hacked into the system to alter her schedule. Some of this shit might actually start to make sense if someone other than boring ass Professor Astor explains it. Ava doesn’t even know she’s about to become my new favorite study buddy.
My friends give me shit for all the hours I put in studying, but they don’t get it. School comes easily to Ford and Raf, while I have to work harder than both of them combined just to maintain my GPA. They don’t know what it’s like to not have the luxury of a trust fund and family name to fall back on anymore. If we fail our trials, there’s nothing left for me.
They don’t understand how hard it is to keep up an image, knowing it’s all a lie.