Chapter 27 #2
Neither of us bothers looking.
“You think you’re so fucking smart,” I snarl, my face an inch from his. “You think you know everything about me.”
“I know enough.” He’s not fighting back. Not even tensing. Just watching me with those dark eyes. “You kissed me first in that alley, Kai.”
His hand comes up, fingers wrapping around my wrist where I’m gripping his collar. Not pulling me off. Just…holding.
“Poor boy.” His thumb strokes across my pulse point, and I hate how my breath catches. “So confused. So conflicted. Telling yourself you’re here because you’re worried about Haven, when you’re hiding—“
I tighten my grip, twisting the fabric. “I’m not hiding!”
“You’re hiding in her pussy.” The look in his eyes is as brutal as his words.
“Every time you fuck her, you’re thinking about me.
Every time she comes, you’re wondering what I’d sound like.
What I’d taste like.” He leans closer, our mouths too close—but not close enough.
“How often have you wondered if I’d let you be on top, or if I’d pin you down and take what I want? ”
I shove him harder against the shelf. A vase wobbles precariously before crashing to the floor.
“You don’t know shit about what I want.”
“I know you want to hurt me.” His voice is infuriatingly calm. “I know you want to fuck me. And you can’t figure out which one you want more.”
My grip falters.
Because he’s right. He’s fucking right, and I hate him for it.
“What’s the matter, boy?” He’s smirking now. Actually fucking smirking. “Afraid you’ll like it too much? Or are you afraid of what Haven will think when she finds out her big manly boyfriend is gagging on her professor’s cock again?”
I don’t decide to kiss him. One second I’m snarling in his face, the next my mouth is on his, brutal and furious.
When his tongue pushes against mine, I fight it back. When he grabs my throat, I bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.
He groans into my mouth. Not in pain. The way he grinds his hips against mine so I can feel the hard length of his cock, I can tell the sick fuck actually likes it.
Fine by me.
I’m not planning on going easy.
I yank his shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor. My hands find his chest, his stomach, the trail of dark hair disappearing below his belt. He’s lean and hard and his skin is so fucking warm under my palms I can’t help but dip my head and trail my tongue up his neck.
“Kai—” he starts, but I cut him off with another kiss, shoving my tongue into his mouth like I’m trying to choke him with it.
His hands are in my hair now, gripping tight, pulling hard enough to sting. I groan and grind back against him, my cock straining against my jeans, desperate for friction.
“Is this what you wanted?” I pant against his lips. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”
“Yes,” he rasps without hesitation. “Christ, yes.”
I drop to my knees without thinking about it. Without second-guessing.
My fingers are on his belt before my brain catches up, yanking it open, tearing down his fly.
He’s hard. Jesus, he’s so fucking hard, his cock straining against black boxer briefs, a wet spot already darkening the fabric.
I want to say something slick and nasty. But all I can croak out is a breathless, “Fuck.”
“You just gonna stare at it, boy?”
I mouth him through the fabric. The broken, guttural groan he lets out goes straight to my dick. His hips buck, pressing his cock against my face, and I let him rut against my mouth while I breathe in the smell of him and try not to come in my fucking pants.
“If you’re going to do this, then fucking do it already.” His fingers tighten in my hair. “I’ve been patient for much too—“
I pull down his waistband and take him in my mouth.
He’s big. Bigger than I remember from Halloween. The stretch makes my jaw ache immediately. I want it to hurt. I need something physical to focus on besides the terrifying realization that I’m on my knees for Bastian Rooke…and it’s by my fucking choice this time.
Every logical circuit in my brain is warning me that this is a bad idea. That I’m unlocking Pandora’s fucking box right now, and I’ll never be able to put back what’s about to escape.
I don’t fucking care.
“Fuck.” The word punches out of him as I take him deeper. “Your mouth is so—Christ, boy, you—”
I don’t know what I’m doing. Not really. But I know what feels good when Haven does it to me, so I try to replicate that—tongue flat against the underside of his shaft as I gently suck, bobbing my head in a steady rhythm.
And it’s working.
His hips start moving, shallow thrusts that push him deeper down my throat. I gag, eyes watering.
He pulls back with a murmured sound that almost sounds apologetic.
“Mm!” I grab his hips and yank him forward again, taking him even deeper.
Fuck his apology. I don’t want gentle. I want him to lose control like I’m about to.
I want to break him the way he broke me.
“Christ, Kai.” His head falls back against the bookshelf, throat working as he swallows. “You’re—fuck—you’re a natural.”
I pull off him with an obscene pop, fisting his shaft as I glare up at him. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Never.” His eyes are pitch black as he gazes down at me with what might be adoration, if this wasn’t fucking Rooke. “You’re…you’re fucking perfect.”
Before I can respond, he’s hauling me to my feet and spinning us around, slamming me against the shelf. More books cascade around us as his mouth finds my throat, sucking hard enough to bruise.
“My turn,” he growls against my skin.
His hand is down my jeans before I can protest—not that I was planning to. I nearly sob at the contact when his fingers wrap around my cock, my hips jerking into his grip.
“You’re so fucking hard for me, boy.” He’s stroking me slow, too slow, thumb dragging through the precum leaking from my slit. “How long have you been like this? Since you closed the door? Since you followed me up the stairs?”
“Since—fuuuck—since you started talking about self-destruction. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. About this.”
“This?” He squeezes my cock hard enough to make my body quake. “What is ‘this,’ Kai? Use your words.”
“Your hands on me.” I’m panting now, fucking his fist like I have no self-control. Which I don’t. Not anymore. “Your mouth. Your—” I swallow hard. “I want—”
“What do you want?”
I can’t say it. Can’t admit that I’ve been imagining him inside me, wondering what it would feel like, whether it would hurt, whether I’d beg him to stop or beg him for more.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, nipping at my earlobe. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
“I want—I want you to—to f-fuck me.”
The words come out cracked and desperate, and I’ve never hated myself more because it sounds like I’m going to fucking cry.
Rooke goes still.
For a horrible moment, I think he’s going to laugh. Going to push me away and call me a pathetic simp again.
Instead, he presses his forehead against mine, breathing hard.
“Christ, you have no idea how much I want to. But not here,” he says quietly. “Not like this.”
“You fucking serious?” I grab his face, forcing him to look at me. “You’ve been playing this sick game of yours for weeks, pushing and pushing—“
“This isn’t the time or the place.”
His hands come up to cover mine, and there’s something in his eyes I swear I’ve never seen before.
Affection.
“When I fuck you—and I will fuck you, Kai—I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make sure you’re ready—“
“I don’t need—“
“You don’t know what you need. I do.”
He presses his lips to mine, but doesn’t kiss me. He’s too busy explaining himself, and that’s probably the only reason I listen to him instead of taking what I want—whether I know how to or not.
“You’ve never done this before. And I refuse to be the reason you end up hating something that should feel incredible.”
My throat tightens. I don’t know what to do with this version of him. The one who sounds like he actually gives a shit.
“So what?” I manage. “That’s it?”
His laugh is low and dark. “When you’ve been such a good boy for me? How cruel do you think I am?”
Before I can reply, he’s sinking to his knees.
What—
Jesus motherfucking Christ.
Bastian Rooke—my professor, my tormentor, the man I’ve been telling myself I hate for months—is kneeling in front of me, tugging my jeans down my thighs, and looking up at me like he’s about to initiate me into his cult.
Hand me the fucking blue Kool-Aid already.
“I’m going to teach you something,” he murmurs, breath warm against my aching cock. “You’d better take notes.”
When he closes his lips over my cock and slides me into his mouth, I nearly fucking black out.
There’s no hesitation, no teasing. He swallows me down like he’s been starving for it, throat relaxing to take me deep, and the wet heat of him is so intense I have to slam my hand against the shelf to keep from collapsing.
“Holy fucking shit.” My voice cracks. “Holy—Fuck—Bastian—”
He hums around me, and the vibration makes my knees buckle. His hand flattens against my stomach, holding me in place against the bookshelf while he works me with his mouth.
Tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing, throat constricting every time he bottoms out.
He’s way too fucking good at it. And the fact that he’s so open about what he wants? It’s an insane turn-on.
“I’m—fuck, I’m not gonna last.” I’m babbling now, one hand fisted in his hair, the other white-knuckling the shelf. “Bastian, I’m—“
He pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing my tip as he glares up at me. “Think I’m sucking your cock because I’ve got nothing better to do? I expect you to fuck my mouth and come down my throat like the good boy you are.”
Eyes still locked with mine, he spits on my cock and takes me back inside his mouth.
Until now I’ve barely been thrusting because I don’t want to choke him or have his teeth scraping the skin off my dick. But neither seems to be an issue, and I can’t hold back anymore.
I grab the back of his head in both hands and fuck his mouth like he commanded.