7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
T hat evening, Connor appeared in my bedroom doorway and leaned against the empty frame.
I’d finished my homework, so I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, because there was nothing else to do, other than masturbate some more, and let’s be honest, I didn’t really want my clit to fall off from overuse.
I ignored him until he cleared his throat.
“Really like the improvements you’ve made to this place,” I said. “I won’t have to make the effort to open the door to come in and out. Makes my life so much easier.”
“We’ve been ordered to feed you,” he said, his tone flat but with unmistakable annoyance barely contained beneath.
I sat up and looked him over, waiting for the punchline.
With a sigh, he jerked his head toward the kitchen and turned, leaving me to follow. Part of me almost wanted to call out, “Fuck you and your food,” and stay right where I was, but my stomach had other ideas. I’d grabbed a sandwich from the dining hall for lunch, but that was hours ago.
Call me a glutton for punishment, but I was morbidly curious as to just what Connor would serve me up. Dog food?
When we reached the kitchen, I blinked, just as sure I must’ve been hallucinating as I was when I saw the twins finger-fucking each other during my first class. An actual meal covered the length of the table—no, more like a feast. Golden-skinned roast chicken, buttery mashed potatoes with chives, a salad, a basket of bread and…chocolate cake.
My nostrils twitched, and my belly sounded like King-Kong lived in there, beating his chest.
“Wow, this looks amazing. Do you cook?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“Yeah, I’m a regular Julia Child,” he deadpanned. “No, I don’t fucking cook. Seniors get privately catered meals.”
“But I’m not a senior.”
He heaved the most put-upon sigh I’d ever heard. “Which is why I said we’ve been ordered to feed you. If it were up to me, you could eat dog food straight out of the can with your cunt-smelling fingers.”
Knew it.
Connor picked up a plate and, without a word, started dishing up a portion of everything—a slice of chicken, a spoonful of potatoes, a heap of salad, and a humongous slice of cake. He set the plate on the counter next to a fabric napkin rolled around flatware, slid a glass of ice water next to it, and looked at me with a raised brow, like he was annoyed I still stood there, unmoving.
“We have to feed you,” he said, “but we don’t have to watch you eat. Take it to your room.”
I eyed the plate suspiciously. He’d gone to a surprising amount of effort, but something about the whole setup made me hesitate.
I stared at the food, then at the glass, and folded my arms. “How do I know it’s safe?”
“Safe? Right.” He let out a low, humorless laugh. “If you think I went to the trouble of drugging your food so I could fuck you, you need to wake up and realize sex with you isn’t worth what the roofie would cost.”
“Well, it’s nice to know you took the time to ponder whether or not I’m rape-able. But no, I was thinking more about the kind of poison that would keep me from ever having sex again. You know, except posthumously.”
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and turned away. “Take the damn food and get out of my face.”
I picked up the plate, the napkin with the flatware inside, and the glass and went back to my room. After I placed them on my desk, I decided to say grace for the first time in my life.
Please don’t let this be my last meal. Also, please forgive me for my sins. And tell my mom I love her.
Then I dug in.
Home-cooked meals weren’t really a thing for me growing up, unless you counted ramen, so I savored each bite, poisoned or not. The only time we ate like this was when we were living with Xander. Maybe he used the same caterers as the college? Either way, the food tasted mouthwateringly delicious and, to make it even better, an hour later, I wasn’t dead.
So that was a good sign.
“I’m going out!” Connor’s voice boomed, the ultimate jump-scare. “Dishes better be done and kitchen spotless when I get back!”
No one responded.
Was he…talking to me?
A moment later, a door slammed.
“He was talking to you, back-alley icon,” another voice called.
Malcolm. He must’ve heard me say I preferred the term “back-alley icon” to Connor while he was getting his dick sucked by Kade. Kade must not be very good at it if Malcolm was pulled out of the moment enough to hear us.
But it sure looked like he knew what he was doing, despite the mask on his head.
I took my empty dishes into the kitchen, where I washed and dried them, wiped down the countertops, and put everything away in its proper place. Not because Connor expected it, but because I was used to pulling my own weight. If I could eat like that every night, cleaning up after was a small price to pay.
When I turned to head back to my room, Malcolm’s voice stopped me.
“Keep me company,” he said in his strange accent.
He nodded to the couch at the itty-bity empty space next to where his bare-chested, muscular body sat man-spreading.
I gave him a shrug, barely looking his way. “I’ll pass.”
“Wasn’t asking,” he replied, his voice a low rumble. “Things will go smoother here for you if you do as you’re told, the first time you’re told.”
The corners of my mouth twitched, but I swallowed my argument. Sitting alone in my room didn’t exactly sound better, so I joined him in the living room, squishing my body up against the armrest so there would be no accidental brushing of his parts against mine or vice versa.
The TV flickered in front of us, some Italian movie without subtitles filled with shadowy figures, exaggerated sighs, and a plot I couldn’t follow. I pulled my knees up, trying to act casual, but the quiet between us hung heavily, the kind I could feel crawling over my skin.
It wasn’t long before his hand touched my thigh, his fingers tracing up, inching higher.
I glanced over, shooting him my glariest glare. “Do I need to slap the meaning of the word consent into you?”
He just smirked, leaning in closer so I couldn’t smell anything but him—dark leather and soap. His hand grazed me through my panties.
“You can say no if you want to.” His voice sounded like a dare, low and thick. “But we both know you won’t.”
I hated that he was right.
God, I needed to get laid.
My breath hitched as his fingers pressed harder, making my heart boom, my body betraying any sense I had left.
He leaned in to kiss me, his tongue aggressive, his mouth possessive. His hands roamed over my skin as if he owned it, and at that moment, he did.
I wouldn’t just give him my body. I’d beg him to take it.
The thought of that cock of his, huge and pulsing, inside me… I really didn’t care who was attached to it. I just wanted the emptiness within me filled.
He pulled away, giving me a dark, dangerous look that made his pale-gray eyes almost silver.
Based on that kiss and that look, I knew this would be a rough fuck. Exactly what I needed.
Without warning, he yanked my shirt up and over my head. Deftly unhooked my bra and tossed it across the room.
“Lie back,” he demanded.
I obeyed, lying back on the couch while trying to lower the volume of my panting. He glanced down at me, smirking, as I started to take off my panties.
“No need for that. I don’t put this D in any bitch,” he said. “No way to know what you’re carrying around.”
My face flushed, my chin, my forehead, my ears, even my damn nose, hot with anger. I sat up, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me back down. The very recent memory of those same rough fingers around my neck jolted me out of whatever idiotic state of idiocy I’d been in.
If Connor hadn’t stopped him, Malcolm very well might have choked me to death after the shower incident. What was I thinking even being alone in the apartment with him, much less fooling around with him? My sex drive was getting more and more out of control, clouding out all logic and reason with a hunger that demanded to be fed. No matter what.
“Malcolm, stop,” I said as he shucked off his sweatpants.
No surprise that he went commando.
“Stop?” he asked, stroking his massive cock.
I licked my lips at the cum gathering at the tip. “I… No.”
“No?” He arched a brow, giving himself another quick pull.
I shook my head. “I mean… Yes.”
Fucking idiot. The horniest fucking idiot to ever live.
I needed whatever he would give me. We both knew it.
He all but pounced on me, straddling my bare stomach, scooting up on his knees. As he leaned down, my clit was more or less breakdancing. Malcolm knew how to work that magical tongue, and I wanted it tangled with mine again. Plus, if we were making out, he couldn’t say anything douchey.
But then I realized he wasn’t thinking about kissing when he hocked a mouthful of spit between my cleavage.
Gasping, I turned my head away. “Dude, gross! I’m not into that.”
More of his saliva splatted onto my skin.
I didn’t know what the fuck the Lifewell was or why my mom wanted me to come to Whispering Ivy so bad, but I was certain it wasn’t to degrade myself with rando asshats.
Like mother, like daughter though , I thought and immediately hated myself for it.
Malcolm slid his impressive length between my breasts, and I couldn’t stop the way my body reacted. The way heat pooled low in my stomach, the way my breaths snagged at the sight of this gladiator above me. Still, shame twisted into something undeniable inside me.
“Push your tits together,” he commanded through clenched teeth.
With a whimper, I shifted so I could cup them, squeezing his girth between them.
I hated that I liked it, but that didn’t change the way I moved with him, arching into it, my breath coming faster as he thrusted harder. I wanted it, every brutal second.
If I ever had any self-respect, it was long gone.
But the way his hips moved, how his eyes flashed silver… The man was a fucking god.
He came like a beast, loudly, his hot cum spilling all over my chest and neck. When he came back to his senses, he barely glanced at me as he put his sweatpants back on, his eyes flicking back to the TV like nothing had happened.
When I reached for my shirt and bra, he said, “Don’t.”
Did he really expect me to just watch television with him, half naked, with his pearl necklace falling apart all over my chest?
Trying to catch my breath and ignore the way my skin still tingled, I stood, facing him, my chin lifted defiantly. “I’m going back to my room.”
At that exact moment—because of course—the front door opened. Thank fuck it was Kade, not Connor.
But the way Kade looked from my cum-covered tits to the back of Malcolm’s head, and back again, I almost wished it had been Connor.
In the shower, Kade had said labels were beneath him, but was whatever he and Malcolm had going on exclusive?
“Sir,” Kade said, “do you want me in your room?”
Without turning, Malcolm waved him off. “I’ve already been taken care of.”
“But—”
“We’ve been over this, Jones. You snooze, you lose.”
“But I can get you hard again. Fast—”
“Your desperation is stinking up the place.” Malcolm turned to glare at him, the power of it making even me shiver. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Kade’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, sir.”
He crossed the apartment toward a room I assumed was his and closed the door quietly behind him, even though I got the feeling he wanted to slam it. I would’ve.
“What’s the deal with you two?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
Malcolm turned to me, his expression dark. “None of your fucking business. Now sit your ass back down and shut up. I’ll be hard again in a minute, and you’re going to give me a handy.”
Ohhh, wait… What was that strange feeling bubbling up inside me? Could it be…self-respect?
“Fuck you, Malcolm.” I headed back to my room, and if it had a door, I definitely would’ve slammed it.
But I wasn’t sure who I was angrier at—Malcolm or myself.